Going Down?

Going Down?

All good things come to an end
Standing on the edge of the precipice
Looking down into the void
Of creative oblivion
Too close
Distracted contemplation
Is a dangerous venture
Lose your sight
Lose your footing
It’s a long way for where
You intended to be
Once you start to fall
There is no stopping
Faster
Faster still
No slowing
Or coming back
From a misstep
Upon
The slippery slope

As Jim lie there, stage cold, lights
Turned ON. But not him. Sweat.
Leather. Dying breath. He felt the wine, dying on the vine… recognized the Indians, and the smell of antifreeze. With the breath of an angel, he heard the voice, There Are No Partners, Friends, or bruthas….
In this world, like all worlds
You are alone…
Atone for that
Pay for your belief in kindness
He lie, without a voice, as do I
Silent evermore…

Slippery Slope~

It’s a dangerous game
Russian Roulette
With pen and paper
Committing suicide
With a note
Drafted to the gods
Depression see
Repression
Too high of an expectation
People, humans
Will always let you down

As you look to the shadows
For answers
Perhaps hope?
The frequency resonating
Is “make yourself scarce”
You’re invisible in their minds
Out of touch
In what they believe
This world wasn’t meant for you
Now
Take a breath
And let That sink in

Horrible monsters
Snake oil salesmen
Repo-men of souls
Out to get yours

Bargain bin lives
Cruel jokes and lies
Heddie Tempest Uniform
All the better to disguise
Their intentions

Did you believe in the Sun God
Monotheistic spiritual revolution
Did you take
The power away
From the priests and the fools

I walk across Broadway Blvd
It parts like the red sea
All the homeless
beggars
and junkies
Staring through me
I wear a sign on my back
KICK ME WHEN I’M DOWN
Folks come from miles around
To get their two cents in

Florence Nightingale
Jeanne d’Arc
Marie Curie
Cyprian
All kissed by Judas lips
Hailing a taxi back to Echo Park
There’s no sense in the violence
Or the word’s never spoken
Like a tree bearing strange fruit
I swing in the breeze

The laughter at loyalty
The christening of other’s sins
Dreams and Rules
We’re meant to be broken
It’s the comedy and drama within
I basked in the glory of loneliness
I’ve held ritual in it’s delight
The people
The shadows
Are best from a distance
Behind closed doors
I can no longer let you in

There’s pain from experience
Fools justify the means
As long as it’s at my expense
Their record remains clean
As the town crier
Rather, Longfellow’s muse
Celebrating madness
Self imposed abuse
The house of cards I’ve erected
Crumbles down
From generations
Of built up karma
If you can believe…

Slipping
In between the cracks
Of the sidewalk
Spat on each day
Trash accumulating psyche
Reaching hallowed chambers
Of the end
As ravens fly
As the blood moon will rise
There’s a Calling
At the end
Of That rope
The one
That whispers my name

*(matthew bowers)* ~93
© 2021