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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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JD ROLAND
Surrender the night It seems unlikely the easy path would hold me, this fit of confusion that swirls over me like a whirling dervish, holds no harbor, less a pattern, opiate release so foreign now. That I could, somehow, be capable of collective thought simply regulates my bewilderment further, like a ‘51 Chevy spinning out of control, I hold fast, shutter speed slows reaction, the more stable surroundings diffuse. Then, when Eddie took the stage and I was there to egg him on, he seemed reluctant to make a splash, I clapped my hands over my head, my Bic tucked away, safe in my overcoat pocket. At 3am life seems less notorious, sidewalks turn up to greet me, I list my reasons for living with each step, it seems unlikely the lint in my pocket would be considered litter but I have been accosted for much less. The drizzle pixilated walkway reminds me of the media constant, vying for my attention at any cost, disappearing as fast as the rain spots, permanence seems an abstract, fleeting reminder of my early life, dysfunction greets me at every corner. The traffic light blinks yellow, on, off, on, like slow motion strobe, just as hypnotic, less chromatic, more room for pleasure, Lisa once said, “life is for the living” her razorblade blood stain left no room for doubt. I stall at the front door, understanding this threshold brings reality home, my front lawn slowly grows up around me, each star cutting through the overcast reaffirming my need to keep reality at bay, if just until daybreak, dream big. Backstreet Avenue sparse streetlights glow, their condensed perimeter giving way to periods of dark foreboding spells of loneliness. slight glimpses of failed dreams catch the rain passing through each beam as if to wash away each broken promise’s reflection. the tarmac whispers brighter days, its sheen caught in secondary reflection, gutter river flow gives motion where stillness has tried choking resilience. a single traffic light at the far reaches announces stop, go, slow as if to beleaguer the cycle of life, slow, stop, go in radiant color bursts filling a peaceful night. a lone breed interrupts the calm, sulking, head low, hunger overwhelming despair, hunting curb to curb, in zigzag affair, a deliberate ritual lost to repetition. JD Roland is a visual poet and creative writer. A canvas painter with words. He has been a singer/song writer for over thirty years. In 2004 he settled in a small town in southwest Colorado to begin writing fulltime. He has self-published one book of poetry “Beyond the Blue Door”. He has been published in Ezines – The Blue doodle, World Speak Network, Helium, and two Anthologies: Satiated Heart and A World of Love. Graduated from Colorado Institute of Art in 1991. |
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