jr

More poetry. . .
Feedback welcome as always. . .


Emergency Calls
by JR

I - Voices

Follow emergency instructions.
We don't want the heretics taking over.
We don't want the speed of God.
We only want his children.
We're not in the business of selling clothing.
We sell dreams and prom dates, 100% attitude.
And there's always something new here,
under the death rays of Reagan.

II - Scenery

Computers in the sky.
Machine guns in airports.
Nukes up in the stars.
Vietnam in the Arabic desert.
A pink haze settles over
sycophants seeking Zen.
Chittering children chase each other in circles.
The man in the blue dress shirt is dying slowly.
His children grow up so quickly.

III - Personal

My beautiful blue-eyed wife, the ballerina.
It was all a lie.
She has panic attacks in traffic.
This is not the place for her.
It will eat you alive.
The cancer, monogamy, my sin.

IV - Local News

Don't write poems that read like lists.
We've been waiting for Jesus Christ so long,
(the bad sequel that won't happen)
that we are prone to waiting for Jesus or Jessica,
whichever one, to swoop down, and love us.
Forgetting, or never learning I suppose,
that love is less like ascension to heaven,
then a dirty Boston tide.

V - The Plot

Don't kill her in the bedroom.
Maybe there is something to be said
for eavesdropping on my neighbors.
Their windows show a life that looks
more interesting then mine.
Waiting for Jesus, I have nothing to lose,
so I just sit and stare,
sometimes turning my head
to cup my ear against the glass.