Sacrifice

I know about the sacrifice,
How you strapped your love
to the chopping block.

I know how wet your eyes
become, endowed, above all,
By your never-stopping clock,

And your blood, how it boils
When you think you might miss me,
and how, so, you turn away from my memory.

I know a mind, unmatched. It toils
Just to See each day have meaning.
I know now, too, your burden is your revelry.

I know the sacrifice you made was right,
Because there is no night I worry, anymore,
No day I don't embrace, knowing both of us

Forever, Aim to be Happy-
Such is the fruit of sacrifice,
From seeds of pain, that first must leave,
Before growing into a new thing.

Crisis 2018

We Were

Sitting on the plushest couch, 

smoking joints to pass the time, 

comatose, the three of us, 

remained atop our leather cloud. 

Tethered to the tele, that screen

had but one story, 

the horror kept developing 

Like weather every morning, how

with precision and no warning, 

the creatures were released. 

"From what is known 

we think they’re clones 

of cannibals, they crave flesh,"

 and don’t you know, 

the epidemic grows and grows,

Snowballing, end over end,

While the legislative trend

Begins to shrivel as it's driven

In upon itself to make decisions

on a Life or Death Threat.

 Stupidity tried to make a civil resolve,

But sending out political diplomats to barter 

just extended the reach of the disease’s sprawl.

Weekend warriors in the coast guard 

were the next to fall, within a week

Our leaders were directing a retreat,

"Good people of this great country,

We are faced with the greatest adversity

Ever seen in our history, A blind Enemy

That cares not about allegiance.

Please remain in the safety

Of your homes, until further notice,

These clones are dangerously contagious

Remain strong, Vigilance is not advised,

I repeat vigilance is not advised,

Lock your doors and conserve your resources..."

It was a call we had envisioned, 

hypothetically; 

Projected fears of fallout woe,

Suspecting monstrous men to raise from the grave,

but never, ever, expected to get 

These crimson scenes of gore injected 

and imprinted to our memories.

For once,

The tele censored nothing.

The shock was not ephemeral,

Mom and Pop left five days ago

To see if they could spot a safer location

Where we could go, hole up

And hide for a few days. . . 

They might have found one,

But my money's put down

on the chance they drowned

In that sea of Crazies.

Responsibility augmented upon me so quickly,

A fifteen year old, face peppered with pimples,

Frame lanky, frail, pale skinned, In a panic 

I called my friends, Amigos Joseph and Mary

No relation, I swear, The sweetest, smartest

Stoners in the area, a few years older than me,

Joseph was my lab partner in the local college community,

We hit it off and lost sight of age lines.

They were the only two I could trust,

SO I called em up, offered them shelter

in my peaceful abode, with enough food for a few weeks

and they sprang at the opportunity,

Commuting stealthily, avoiding police,

Evading the crazies, their arrival brought more pain

Than I asked for, But I didn't complain, I had to comply

Had to survive, through my worst fear; Dying.

So, We got to work quick, cut-throat, defiant. 

After boarding up the windows and 

Barricading doors, A fortress now, 

Is this three bed home, 

protection from the danger zone.

A moment of silence, to bask in our safety. . . 

Joseph and Mary brought a full pound 

of that THC blessed leaf.

Vicodin and Morphine were abundant

My mother couldn't sleep and my father

Broke his back doing Contract construction.

I popped one of each, While the other two Ground

the weeds to a soft, seedless lump, Storing the keef

To Brick up, when there's no more green, it'll be about 

Time for another plan to seek. For now, we don't bother,

Toking to laugh and think back to before the destruction.

We’re still scared even after thinking it through,

This world seems beyond any limit of Cruel,

How could someone do what they did on the 25th, 

of December, 2017. The creatures were released 

into the crowd surrounding Macy’s, up north 

in New York, simultaneously, In San Francisco, 

LA, Miami, Kansas City, Chicago, Houston, Dallas. 

An unknown army caused such chaos, 

the television had one story. 

We watched as

The catastrophe swelled like a wound 

with endless flows of human juice 

expanding the elastic skin to burst; 

first came reports o’ raids and riots all without order,

Then Vigilantes Made a play to stake out the source,

And families disappeared in search of something safer. . . 

 the span kept spreading like a spill, 

soon maps were stained with Danger Red, 

our house about to be enveloped in it- 

But worry we don’t, we know the rules, 

Keep quiet and stay out of sight, 

there’s not a chance we lose.

And I'm losing my head to spinning sensations,

Elated off drugs I never would have taken, I hear

 A Banging on the door! 

Who’s Banging on the door? 

I pass off the doob and swiftly shift

 my position to the blinds, 

scanning outside, 

this neighborhood is full of ghosts, 

not a single home left has a host, 

except for one and In it 

looking out I see nothing.

THEN A THUMPING

At the front door, 

alluring every nerve in me, 

blood vessels push electrically, 

and my body –FREEZE- s. 

Over my shoulder I shoot a look of worry, 

My partners In hiding now shook themselves 

and scurried to my side, a triplicate of wary eyes, 

scanning the outside, quietly, No words to say, 

Remember, Keep quiet. Out of sight we aim to be, 

but then comes another THUMPING, 

My left side shifted, as my amigo deftly 

drifted to the door, Exploring the chances of the door, 

on the other end the 

THUMPING started dissipating power, 

Losing steam, I had a craving for a cold shower,

Turned my back, walking up the stairs to the bathroom

I overheard  The thumping turn to rustling, 

fingernails for sure, scratching at the base, 

I make no haste, 

After cooling my jets I assume my place 

back in front of My best friend,

The television, 

light another joint, 

now I’m sippin full that mental ointment, 

sittin back, and trying to enjoy the 

forgetting of the siblings I locked out.

Dual

Gunsmoke smells like a shot at destiny it lingers devastatingly astringent, strange. Peculiar how that powder penetrates the senses, perpetuating the hairs to stand erect on my neck. The haze remains a looming sensation of doom, groomed in the echoes of the chamber shifts, as the hammer lifts to trigger ignition, Ammunition now sent on a one-way expedition down destiny's fine pipeline in between what is and what could be, as the axis of these poles, making love around the point neither can touch, Oh how we're swirling in orbit at exorbitant speeds, I see both barrels flashing wishes of greed, heeding another day to see come and go-

That's when it all went Black.

Hell- That's all I'll ever know.