EndlessI am staringEndless6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
at a clock
but the time
are the hours'
I am staring
out a window
and my vision
I see the
I see the
and yes those
I am staring
at a bed that
is always empty
except for me;
but still I see
you in my dreams
We know where
each other are
yet we are still
-Brian Shuffett/Dawn ?
October 25th, 2009 (original)/ June 11th, 2010 (collaboration)
pistol priesti want a dance that destroys the dancerpistol priest6 years ago in Open More Like This
as if he is wrapped in barbed wire and as he spins
he is gently shredded, unraveled like a piece of
yarn or a piece of clothe or a young smile
stopped at the corners of a mouth
as a bud. cut as he dances
i want air like a razor, a song like a knife
an imagination that limits heaven to a smile
imagine that as i dance my legs unravel
around you. around this silence
and religion people, like so many
beings i know. i want this dance.
i want it in me like a mountain
down by the roadway railway
in my churches vestibule
i place my hands on your head
and you fall down a foot
and your hair is smooth as silver
the shaft of a gun.
imagine that this flower peels me
each time i see you are older
and i am more and more gone
each time i see you my mouth is heavy
with my dissipation and the dance in me
is a spiral, the hand on me pushes me in
a circle rasping, be healed! be healed
but you are but a broken creature
telling me about healing?
i feel your pistol wel
With the Strength of a Child His ripped shirt is barely visible in the dust and smoke. He kneels in the rubble, bloody faded jeans loose on his hips, tan skin lined with ragged cuts and bruises underneath. Long dark hair, now dusty white and matted with blood, ripples in the wind like a tattered flag of surrender.With the Strength of a Child6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He can't feel the pain.
Broken jaws whisper of sadness.
Broken voices scream of loss.
And his broken eyes turn toward the ground, shadowed with fear and weakness. He clutches his head in scarring hands, ignoring the sharp debris biting his legs. He stares vacantly at the cracked concrete lying in the dust.
He can't see it at all.
Young eyes glisten with tears.