Formerly Badass Horrible Poetry

This isn't just a poetry blog. Let's be honest, a lot of what I post is poetry but there are more often than not also postings about short stories. I do try to keep this blog separate from my others and post strictly creative work here. Some of it will be better than others, and much of it is in first or second draft stage when posted. These are raw works, and there will be spelling and grammar troubles at times because I use this blog to gauge what works and what doesn't. I use it as a place to get feedback. That's the reason it is "horrible". Because it's not finished-- And why should it be? We all want feedback but most of us are too afraid to put ourselves out there.

Welcome to my word.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Taking Shots - Dec. 14th

I don't normally preface poems, but let me say this: This is a persona poem. It is from a point of view I do not quite understand.


Taking Shots - December 14th

Cock it.
America is free and proud and did I mention free?
And we were promised bullets to protect our children.

Nutmeg blood only boils
Don’t spill in gallons – only a splash and it never hits pavement
Hard. We were born to mousy upstanding snoots
Brought up never to lead in hate only to follow
The letter of the law-

Cross off tick, tick, tick, tock

We always hire that flowery man to design our rooms
Just don’t get too close with my son. That’s why I pistol whip him
 over to the targets. Where we can shoot
the shit of privatization and freeloaders or
Bless His unchangeable slang-

Clang clang cling clang bang

I only want that smell of spiced oak
welded and waxed; don’t go digging through
my purse- on all history.
You can’t use my past shells to
Dead bolt my personal liberty

Ratta-taw-ratta-taw-ratta-taw-ratta-taw

Protests drive up in Mercedes bends afraid to get out and muck up
 their shiny shoes so they throw around acronyms
MDA,CSGV, CDF
Like there’s some kind of problem
With kids getting dropped one by one
Off to practice training pistols. Mothers always worry

But we know this isn’t a Colorado theatre,
Columbine or little Mary Ann Vecchio cryin’ at Kent State
It’s just cold and crisp and red in the trees till
I’m sinking my car on i-84 near my saucer shelf town.
just before exit 10.

the traffic is silenced to a stop. I hear This blaze of sound. and a

 pop pop pop

Near the wheels I put the clutch to idle. I hear the sirens go off.
 I wonder what drunk kid’s dumb decision made
me late to the range.
A siren wails in anguish.
so I roll up my window.

Bam. Bam. Bam. damn

America is free and proud and did I mention free?
And we were promised our bullets to protect our children.
Traffic is gumming up this December 14th afternoon
cause I can’t get off on exit 10 and I need to pick up my son from school.

We’re supposed to go shooting tonight.


 ©2014 Lex Vex

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