She never noticed
books of poetry.
Her life was busy
with empathy
for those troubled
from pains scratched
on psyches from
neglect, abuse
or sacraments to fallen Gods.

She seldom heard music
except when,
heartsick from lost love,
she wallowed in vain misery
or during her youth when
hit parades blasted from
solid state radios
in dashboards, or from
jukeboxes flashing
come hither.

She thought little of flowers
nor paused to note scents,
shades or grace on
stems of green.  Her head
was busy with
important matters,
day-to-day grinding
away on work or play.

Now alone,
she absorbs whiteness from
clouds,  motion from birds,
or fragrance from flowers
with senses dulled by
age, injury or illness.
She sifts through her
day looking for
fresh tranquility.

Streets filled with bodies
Dead or alive
Nobody knows
Blood runs through the streets
Like floodwater
Innocent blood
Flows like runoff
Through concrete veins
But only because we let it happen
Because of judgement
Because of ignorance
Because of prejudice
Prejudice that we carry over
From our predecessors
The violence and hatred of our ancestors
Continues on through us
But only because we let it happen
Because our naïveté lets us see the world
As monochrome
Everyone belongs in one solid genome
Straight white cis
So they lock us up in a cage of exile
Invalidate the opinions that don't sit well
On a stomach full of lies
So we stand in solid lines
Hands locked together
Silently screaming
NO!
With the ******* hidden in their claims
It hurts but the pain isn't enough to break our chains
At least until the weakest link caves
And the flood gates open up
Our nerves sting with rubber bullets and tear gas
Police brutality and 'controversial' crowd control tactics
Resulting in the blood of innocents.

The truth comes out
Oppression
Recession
We deliver new life
Spoon feeding democracy
Cookie cutter
Build your own government kits
Follow the instructions with a gun held to your head
Puppet government
Corporations pulling strings
Calling the shots with a mouthful of greed
Blaming tragedy on street rats with golden teeth
Hiding behind business suits and briefcases
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtains
Take part in the rat race
Get distracted by the fast pace
Pay attention to your own **** problems
And forget to see the big picture.

Another ride on the metro
Catcalls and wolf whistles
To the wrist to the neck to the ankle
I'm breaking the dress code
The double standards are air tight and unbreakable
I'm stuck in the choke hold of the patriarchy
Kicking and screaming
Perverts jacking off to the sight of me
Objectified, and only fourteen
Take precautions stay safe
Because we have reason to be afraid of the dark
When we have to assume that everyone is a ******
The world is out to get us
Plaguing the younger generation with pop music and photoshop
Shellshocked by the devastation of self confidence
Short hair means you're a ****
Long hair means you're property
The American dream is four walls a roof and a wife to call your own
To own
****** assault is normality
I'm appalled at the way my peers think I owe them something
My virginity
My body
I'm not a carcass to be picked clean by vultures:
The beasts who sit next to me
Who view me as a threat because I'm intelligent
A ***** because I'm intolerant to their ignorance and oppression
The gender roles and discrimination
Objectification
A one woman war
That every woman faces.

Hopelessness stands at the alter
Spouting discrimination
Dug from the depths of the bible
New age bigotry
Picket signs versus pride parades
Spot the queer in the crowd
Wipe them out
We are not a virus of humanity
Your hateful words aren't the only thing that cuts me
When coming out equates to ear splitting arguments
"Get out of my house"
"you are not my son"
LGBT blood on the streets
****** of trans teens
Pop culture is enemy to androgyny
*** education skips over me
And change is met with board meetings
Conservative parents complaining
Claiming they know better than the mouths they feed
Age is not a crown of wisdom
The 21st century witch hunt
Discrimination spills from the mouths
Of little Hitlers
Screaming "God hates ****" before they know what the words mean
Wrap my coffin in a rainbow flag
When they find my mangled body on the street
The product of a hate crime
The product of the war I'm fighting
Brittle bones riddled with stab wounds
Every one carries weight with the words they were paired with
Queer
***
******
I don't have invisible amour
The words pierce me in a way that can't be seen
My blood leaks silently and joins the masses.


We are a generation so full of hatred
Promised so much that wasn't delivered
And so we raise our hands and salute the mother ******* rebellion
Our sweet saving grace
America isn't free and neither are we
We are slaves to misogyny and bigotry
Police brutality
Crafty government puppetry
Patriarchy
The enemies that we face aren't the ones we see
Well **** society
We can create our own
Carry in the revolution on our shoulders
On our knees
Plastered across our twitter feeds
We fight with words
With fists
Whatever it takes
Speak out across our dashboards timelines and comments
Word of mouth
Engrave them into your skin
What was started needs to be finished
We have a price to pay



It's time for a revolution *****.

bloodied hands rub walls of confessionals like a cheap imitation of the most beautiful stained glass

theres beauty in the way you whisper my name followed by the words not good enough

your body is colored in someone else's fingerprints and i've been burning my hands to shape mine in just that way

kiss my lips until they crack like the sidewalks of the city that we used to dance in

bare feet on dashboards, cigarettes in your mouth, and hands around my neck: a list of things that make the most sense

a sunset reflecting off a mirrored building, eyes watered down until dark blue is nothing but the color of blue jeans

thunderstorm veins and lighting in my skin as my jaw becomes a platform for your kiss

your eyes are pools of holy water, but my lungs are full and I've been drowning for quite a long time now

bitter air pours through cracked windows at sixty miles per hour
dashboards turn to focal points turn to the only sight i'll keep from these days
and the nighttime pitch black glosses over moments of eyes glazed
the week's exhaustion turns each of us up, empty and dour

we work through our days and leave the waking hours to devour
sprawled over small couches and cold basement floors, always dazed
we come alive to mood music and greasy food at odd hours, forever unfazed
we make each spontaneous saturday night, uniquely and quietly ours

the clock in the dash reckons 3:46am in a thin, strobing green
he blinks hard, weary eyes and overworked body, fighting against the morning
and the neon signs of the little old marketplaces, oh, how they sing

we wire ourselves and electrify our moments with caffeine
we crash and burn and forget every night, ignoring our own warnings
and the sleepless sacrifices for each other's wonder, oh, the upswing.

hes in good with the junkyard owner
and he likes that

they are both old men
trying to patch up their fractures
beer bellies coming along nicely
hands lacquered with paint
and modest discretion
and cigarette
blazing yellow

ABSOLUTELY NO SMOKING IN THE SCRAPYARD!
but he does.
killing time.
he does, fat eyes laughing
at blood on dashboards
metallic toe jam
and irony only he
finds
evident

he knows he can
stroke his vices
wherever
he so chooses
around here

the owner,
Dave
says so

and he makes sure he tells me
as he lights up
halfway out the door
Dave staring me down
with grease in his eyes

that 'not just ANYBODY
gets these
kind of privileges'

i know dad
i know

Every now and then
I find myself catching glances
Of faces
Behind dashboards of
Yellow myvis
Hopeful
To see your face again
Even if its just a mirrored shadow
Of your silhouette

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Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com


                                   Moo. Herd Immunity. Moo.

            "I don't know what herd immunity is, but when you
             add that to the people who have acquired immunity,
              it looks like it could be very close to herd immunity.”

                             -Texas Governor Greg Abbott,
        as quoted by the Washington Post via The Houston Chronicle


Moo. Herd immunity. Moo. Simple math.
Moo. Very close. Moo. Vigilant. Moo. Proactive.
Moo. Efficacy. Moo. Calculation.
Moo. Dashboards. Moo. Trackers. Moo. Asymptomatic.

Moo. 70% Moo. 80%.
Moo. Fourth surge. Moo. Waves. Moo. Gaps. Moo. Pockets.
Moo. Complications. Moo. Misunderstandings.
Moo. Factors. Moo. Threshold. Moo. Duration

Moo. Emerging. Probable. Moo. Data.
Moo. Equation. Moo. Very close. Moo. Died.

“I don’t know what herd immunity is…”

Moo.

Plastic Jesus on dashboards and in celluloids
Expressionless face
Mouthing great wisdom in monotone
Hanging from a cross of suffering
As if in peaceful slumber
Heart and soul of passion
Displayed emotionless
Written words
a Weak reflection of His true meaning

This is not my Lord and my God
Who is great
Beyond depiction
This is not His message
Which overflows human language

When will creation accept
it was born of God’s Vision
and Not the other way around?

I feel so disconnected
Trying to reach out to my closest friends
is now a multi-step chore.
And I hope for them, I haven't become a bore.
I hope these cables and signals keep us from drifting apart
because if that ever happened, it'd break my heart
to know that you don't want me around.
It feels like you wouldn't care if I were laying in the ground.
All I ask is how you've been
But all I get in return is that you're nowhere to be seen
anywhere on my feeds,
on my dashboards, no texts to read.
If you don't want to hear from me, that's your choice.
I mean... I guess this distance does damper my voice...
I feel so disconnected.
Maybe this time I've gone in under my head.

look / at the city
crying / and / starving
in great hunger / they cling to

dreary / dreaming
dashboards / dissolve
empty / essences
crying / circuses

red lights / tame business
green lights / offer pursuit
suits / oppressed
manipulated / scarred

help / help

Prologue-

The guide doesn't show the way.
Only the end.
There are no math/maps to the number of ****-ups that led me here.
But I'll fill you in on a secret (keep them whispers).
1 plus 0 equals 1
Do you understand my reasoning?


Chapter One: Shame

Fourteen was so easy!
Endless number of cigarette butts
taught us the ways of coughs and dry vomiting
You are such an amateur! Can you do better?
should have known that that road led nowhere…
But back alleys and the introduction of such sweet surrender
"honestly the high isn't even that good"
Then hit this and hit it hard
My nose still stings from the pharmaceuticals grounded into fine powder
You had me hooked.
I was an addict.
Soon I'd have jumped through burning bridges for another ****** snack!


Chapter Two: Dodging bullets

Kind of think they should teach a class on S…T…Ds
Or maybe I shouldn't have dropped out
the night before Ms.
(pay attention to the lack of a ring on that finger)
gave the lesson
Then again
a proposal for ***…class
probably would have ended up with more than me in detention
Or would have found us in the girls lockerroom
(she was only five years older after all)
Screaming obscenities between thrusts and moans
And lighting up underneath the bleachers
"I didn't know you smoked"
And I didn't know you were so experienced
Pity fantasies are only fantasies
Mistakes are still mistakes
And it wasn't till three years later that I wish I hadn't missed that class.
Countless used condoms found themselves on the side of abandoned roads/streets
with just as many left forgotten on dashboards
A miracle the tests came back negative


Chapter Three: Cross One

So call it superstition, but reminders are needed
nothing stains more than that of ink
Cross one (of four) finds itself now on my chest…
three nails intertwined. Tight.
You might as well as have crucified me then love
I introduced you to the life of falling stars
and you introduced me to fact
You get hurt! Deal with it (stop being a baby)
Tears meant nothing to you,
Even though you were my atlas we're free falling now
and glass shatters when it crashes down
We'll pick up the pieces later
if they matter…


Chapter Four: Snakes

Emotions became taboo.
I locked them away in the dark (lost in some circle of hell)
Praying light would never find them
A warning scrawled in blood-
This is Pandora's box
You would have thought that that was a euphoria of aphrodisiacs
A mess of mating hormones
because soon I had a line of woman (what is this? Wal-Mart?)
Promising me they could show me what love truly is
And I found myself trapped by snakes
(why was this so cool for Indiana Jones?)
Where's your whip? is the only thought coming to mind
Their promises sounding like hisses
"You willllssss lovessss meeessss…."
I wink back at them- keep on thinking that


Chapter Five: Spoiler

1 turned out to be multiple choice
A) Me
B) Me
C) Me
D) All the above
Were you able to make a decision?
Truth is that I'm still guessing…
Process of elimination
Ignorance was so much easier when we were young
Parents wrapped everything up in innocence
Such little angels but…
(where did our baby blankets go?)
the facts still remain-
we knew what we were doing
Still do…you whisper
Spoiler
Read on at your own risk-
At this point there is no more denial
((pay attention mother-
pay attention father!)
This one's for you…)
I have been asking what my biggest problem is?
Answer: ME!


Chapter Six: Denial

We look the other way, scream out in defiance
"There's no way!"
"This is not my fault!"
Where have we heard those words before?
Give it up-
This is a movie
And you are right on cue
Keep up the emotions
Maybe give me a little more
(yes daddy…)
The camera loves you
Even more than I do
I already knew that…
I can't take it anymore.
I know it’s my fault.
Will they catch the subtle differences
between drip drops?
Or will it be too late when they realize that the iron smell
Isn't me hitting another joint (thinking they don't know)
but a redecoration of scars…
Will they care?
I doubt it.
I can already hear my father's voice-
This'll be one hell of a cleaning bill
Thanks for the sincerity old man…


Chapter Seven: Cross 2

Ten years of absences-
Broken promises and empty "I love you"s
I've heard them all before!
I'll hear them all again.
Part one:
FIRE
"we'll go next week"
You lied like all the times before.
Wasn't long before Washington was in the rearview
and California filled the windshield
Like bird ****
at least that's how it made me feel
Not Alaska, just you
"I'll be back"
You don't need to lie, I know you won't
Just like all times before…
Part two:
ICE
You were less rewarding
and with all my problems
It was no surprise they were your favorites
Guess 2/3 isn't so bad when looking for angels
I must have been one hell of a devil
with how quick you downed that cocktail
(opiates and narcotics)
As if you were drowning yourself in pain relief
My soul shattered,
but you'd never see anyways
Frostbitten
Desolate
Goodbye was all I could manage
before your eyes glazed and the door slammed behind me


Chapter Eight: Zero

Always loved the term melting ***
Throw in:
tears,
lies,
fears,
blood,
hollow cries,
too late goodbyes
and my favorite of all
Refutation.
Call it what you will, but denial is still denial
You can tell where the pieces were jammed together
Picasso would be proud
Amazing what you can do with super glue
a shot of whiskey
and the promises of no more (you)
It was heaven at first
Each star blinking out like nightlight bulbs bursting
A sunflower affect across the skyline
Call me Tyler and
I'll forget you
with a 9mm to the throat
Steel tastes different then I imagined
Explosion
"goodbye…"
And when you add one to zero-nothing changes love


Chapter Nine: Devine

Let’s have a moment of peace
Or not…
wink wink*




Chapter Ten: Last Cross

And X marks spot
where cannons burst.
Flares ignite
and love ones die.
Call me Hawkins, Jim Hawkins
but we’re traveling in style now
the freighters of before give way to cruise lines
and instead of running from pirates
we’re the ones waving banners of
blackened skulls
"Never wanted to stay young anyways"
Now dig boy!
What's funny is that you never had to ask,
because I still have the key to oblivion
Atlantis/Pandora's been discovered
(Hell is escapable apparently)
And where you cut the flesh from my chest,
The cross solidifies
opportunity in its place
I'm still bleeding
You snicker. Insert. Twist.
Then…
Nothing…
"I'm sorry," there's a smile on my face.
"For bleeding on your white shirt"
WHERE IS IT? you ask
You'll never know though,
Nothing was ever there…


Chapter Eleven: One

From conception we were ******
innocence dies quick (what, at like nine?)
And if you knew then that I'd be a burden
I'm sure you would have wrapped that tool tighter
Don't worry, I feel bad for you too
Who wants disappointment?
but I am a poet
Can't you tell?
I wrap all of this sadness, self-deprivation into prose
where you laugh because of the wit
which is really nothing more than my-
Inability to articulate…


Chapter Twelve: Solution

Echo-
The guide doesn't show the way.
(where are the road signs?
did you forget to mention something boss?)
Only the end.
There's no math/maps to the number of ****-ups that led me here.
(I'm sure you lost count.
I know did.)
But I'll fill you in on a secret
You can scream it out if you'd like!
1 plus 0 equals 1
Do you understand my reasoning?
Of course you don't…


Epilogue

Clear as day,
the question is simple-
How do you **** up your life?
Answer is no new news.
It all starts with 1 (you)
add everything that amounted to nothing (0)
and you are left with 1 (you)
But don't worry, you were destined to fail from the start…
Alone…
but we aren't are we?
Why did you join me?
No answer.
Just the smile that started it all.