Eighteen (Part 2)
Life in green

The runaway son
could not run away
from the ineluctable green
ending up unglamarously glabrous
when eighteen came rolling on tanks;
on a blitzkrieg bang bang boom boom
but the doctors/psychologists
physicians/medical officers told him-
he could not go into the frontlines
to get slammed into by an aircraft
to die gloriously for
the dynasty we live in-
because he is a pink ranger
and we all know pink to
go with green and smoke
and face paint
is so last season.
(Well, they are no fashion gurus)

So the father's prayer
went unanswered
and the runaway son
is still run away
snoozing on a desk job
nine to five
laying waste to life.

Then again
the runaway son
is still (also) the pink ranger
and has a world to save
and pixie dust to scatter.


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 2:03 pm

  Eighteen (Part 1)
and ran away

He is the
runaway son
the pink ranger
scattering pixie dust
on the sidewalk
as he runs away from
the father's axe
the invectives
the patriachal obscenity
that knows only
the son's anatomy
but not his fire.

So the lord of the house
screamt like a girl
in distress or
a bitch with a chipped nail,
at the psycopathic,
mentally derailed,
sick in the mind-
oh yes, he knows synonyms-
no son of his
and prayed to God
to allow the culminating
green to savage
chomp if not severe
or corroborate
his endowment
when he finally turns
sweet eighteen.



cuRRent...jer  ¶ 4:39 pm

  Sounds
of paradise lost

As waves crash,
the sea can break into a million pieces-
the fustian of nature's routine;
the waves break stolidly
into the shoreline once again.

The faraway sea glimmering;
the nearby foam
sizzling at the top and
the sound of sand s-
pilling unto earth.

Then swallowed into depths
of edacious time.
We hear our hands.
Held and clutching.
Onto hope.

The sunset blazing
and the connubio said,
underneath a rhythm-
a steady raging pulse
that is only ours.

There and then,
an impeccable symmetry-
etched into the horizon
far beyond
and only ours.

Across the sandy beaches of Candi Nasa.
This is the sound of paradise
lost in the moment of us.
A moment that is.
Only ours.

And we will walk
into the sunset
together on these sands,
no different than
how other roads are walked.


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 5:32 pm