NO PoETs ALLOWED / aralee strange

I saw the fine hewn stones lined with dripping candles dedicated
I trampled on the living muddy memory of the dead
I read the mean handwriting on the wall
& listened long as able to the morbid wail
heard the hot blood roar at the ones who teach dead to the young
lives pale in comparison
who grade them
I kicked ape in the pit & spat out some poems for the living

who are unafraid
who forgive us our trespassing
who sing
who see gardens growing in a dark empty place
who long for Resurrection Day when all the good
dead come back & rise for once to the top
in joyful noisy thronging triumph of life
over everlasting death

& I came like a one-legged duck full circle to
now is the time
now is the place
now is not a horserace

Give me a back seat a jug of rye whiskey
& singing thou to remember this by
give me my daily break
give me one realized moment a day
& I’ll give you my chunk of pyrite
blessed by a pure heart
& a one-way ticket to paradise

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