ChessyCat

The bar stool was hot, the bar even hotter – a sweltering mix a' drink n' smoke that seemed to squeeze the air outta the room and filter in between ev'ry stir of breath. Men sat in noisy circles in the back, shoutin' and laughin' and swearin' in a chorus; but up at the front a' the bar, a scattered row of men sat, all quiet. Ev'ryone knew that men with lives sat in the back, drinkin' for fun and for bein' young. Eve'yone knew that broken men sat at the bartender's lefty, just in reach for pint after pint teh drink their brokenness 'way. That's where I sat, near the far wall of the bar and on the oldest stool – waitin' there jist fo

We were flawed, and we knew. Born from oppression and blue-blooded Reds To fight and to die with values we didn't steal – But created. We made our land, brought it out of ashes To be our own, unaggrieved, uncrushed, Free – and born of our own morals Our own laws. We would have rights; we would have equal edict. The son of war and given life on the Ashes Of parliament and powdered wigs – Carried atop the backs Of men and battlefields. These are our brothers and our fathers joined together in what we've undone Undone to recreate, to steal and make our own. Freedom. We were men that day, men in our own Rights a

Man as like a little boy, Ever is the spring set in your mind – A heaven-heart engraved behind Your eyes of bashful joy. You grin that ghost of wishes Long dismissed by doubted dreams. But scars remain and bruises scream From old invented twinges. Don't think on dreams forgotten. You hurt your heart with what you miss. You have your hope, you live the kiss If only lived within the pen.

He is encompassed, surrounded by a Nameless Noise, only a gasp of a voice. "Stupid, Stupid." One that makes his title personal And worms its way through Holes in his Heart and his Logic. It eats and it eats, Stuffs food in its face until it's full but it never seems to be. Eat Eat Eat Eating at the edges of his mind and spreading cracks through it Like cement. "Stupid, Stupid." It grabs fistfuls of his skull and Chews like A Demon with Six Stomachs, Never setting down or letting go – A very hungry, hungry man. "Stupid, Stupid." The boy is in the middle of his mind, Besieged by all sides and beseeching For Cease-fire.

A garland to grace your neck am I, A beacon etched in black. My strength lies in the light of eye, the Herculean task. Neslon's Eye I sit before – Living proof of loss. My pawing hands and nails ignored, How heavy is that cross? You shut your eyes and shut me out Blind to what I vomit up, Of truth you cannot see to shout – Let me drink the cup. I am here with no salute, Your mind is on the watch. Yet when I urge you not to scream – I am nothing but a dream.

I can hear it. I can hold onto the curve of time and how it Falls and twists like dying worms laid out on the pavement, I can see it in the back of my mind, lurking there with the colors of a faceless killer. I know what it really is, what it pretends to be, but it still strokes at my spine, still pebbles my skin with every Flickering air. The silence is a threat on its own, A denial of muddled memory. What is that? That - just on the edge of divinity? I used to know it; I can recognize the lights - the faces - the sting in my feet, in my eyes - I know it all, somewhere hidden in my head. It was quiet then, only lonely pictur

Thin, sick, dying. A tree stuck in the clearing with bare branches pooled over broken earth, to suck in rattling breath over rattling breath like waves of twitching fingers and dry eyes, but he is only a ridged shell of sentience. Who never was and never will think or be thought of. To wilt stoically, Caring only for its ward, Living only to die as companion to a master known to none  -- This is the tree of life, Caretaker to the grave for as long as he may live

Hey Hi Missus Passion, you're thinkin of him, Hummin a love song, or maybe a hymn. Wherever the heart is, the home follows suit, But I'll never mention that I knew it too. Hey – Hi – Miss – Us Hey – Hi – Miss -- Us So where is that life that you keep in a jar? The one full of laughter and cigarette tar? Eyes far away and playin the days Of a life even farther than any today …. Hey – Hi – Miss – Us Hey – Hi – Miss – Us Hey – Hi – Miss – Us So pack up your bags and go kick off the dust! No one is trying to gussy up trust. Hey – Hi – Miss

He is another shapeless figure of advertisements and labels. Note the sneakers and the stickers on his shirts, the gel he wears in his hair, the badge across his breast -- It doesn't matter anyway. Notice the ripped denims that hang off his legs, a popular Billy bootcut. Take it in and analyze in a blink. Labels like a plastic product on the shelf, the final piece on the assembly line, to you, the least important of the whole. But notice the socks: homemade and knitted like a grandmother's stitch, purple and striped, only he pronounces it 'purmple,' like his father and his father before him, so on, so on. On the side dance silly frogs, acr

Ridin down the track a-chugging Came a train a-chugga -tugging, Tugging home for me a daddy Coming, chugging home – the lug – Drugging and a-slugging home, fleeting home for me to meet; Here he comes, the treaty lug – comin home on treaty feet. Feet a-sore and tired plenty, Brought a twenty (or a penny) found a-chugging 'neath his seat, brought a pretty little penny when we fin-a-lly a-meet -- Found the money chugga-tugging, Brought it home, the little lug! "Here, yeh little caddy laddie!" said m' slugga-chugging daddy, shrugga-tugga-hugging daddy. "Pretty penny from m' daddy!" Said I sweet on tired feet, "You's a natty little