THE DEVIL & CJ
poems by leum
“It is the duty of the living to atone for the dead.”
“When the game is over, the king & pawn go back into the same box.”
“The world’s a hungry place.”
for my family, for the world
The kings and queens are all but dead. Palms now grate the wheel. Streetlight-kissed city goths curse in American spirits, spit gutted cowboy killers, PBR cement. It’s all a good show, I’m on next.
O this constant chess game against O this constant monster of a machine! O my consonants against O your vowels! O against Death! O memory against memory! O serpent against the dragon! O madness against madness! O constant against constant buttering of the witching knight! O veil against honest painting! O edit after edit against the first words I spoke! O lake against manmade! O construct against reeds & rivers! O bone against rye! O song against rimed! O chore against timed!
O blasphemy against rhapsody! O retreat against surrender! O tit for tat, O mother’s back! O Yakuza, O KKK, O Cartel, O NRA against stuttering tears! and then tears! Why is it always love shutting the door late at night, but the door was never shut? Whatever happened to our eyes, were they always missing? O winds against rapture! O deafening clouds against the holy sun! O yellow butterfly, let’s walk a while before the rain wets your wings.
There’s too much dusk on these fallen leaves. In other words, you see destiny flood the stars catching my shadow in circle after circle.
This is how you die. A solemn somber sublime stalemate scythe held by gargoyle mausoleums springing up from underneath the underworld swoops down like Inquisition pendulums to write down on the derelict streets, “You have spoiled rice crops none of the gods can eat.”
yo soy el monstruo que te va a comer cada noche que no puedes dormir. Those are not my words, but I do not object. I understand now why the river ends to an endless sea. The moon weighs my heart against the weightless sun. God puts me down & nestles me in a cradle of her arms & legs. It is almost morning, the trees have yet to sing. These are my last words, I’d like to believe, until once again I speak in coniferous rage.
la lune crece, crece con las lágrimas de la tierra
cómo llamas a un monstruo que quiere ser amado la esperanza esperando al matador? una pared para las olas
black is the power of God like the well where life is drawn like water in the moonlight like the ocean in a dark sky like ink from the sea you guzzle like beautiful & powerful skin but red is the rum that stains the good book of license & registration and blue are the eyes of America weeping black pilgrim black bee black orphan black king black trinity black queen blackberry black river black eclipse black lips black backs & black tits black liberty black dusk black hole sun kissing Venus black mercury midnight black rain black fire spitting cold snow white gold black air beyond infinity black dreams ringing from abandoned fields black prayer black love black song like black like black till the page is black
i wanna be the goose in your mirror eating the flowers that I once picked knowing damn well i’m dead in the reeds if you, my lord, choose me to be so lower your damn rifles and shut off your waterfall streams because my eyes will never forget the memories & if i have to put it on a damn post it note someone will find the right words to remind you of why we run all this bullshit & what it means to pull out of this misery
did you forget that every gun’s pointing right at Him? all this money a blessing but not shared? blood-spilled infinities? clots clobbered up by the teeth of your masters? daily-bread answers scorched by the dead & their leadlike killing of the unjuried & unquestioned? a fucking cycle, man. feeding the snake, man. biting your own fingers, man. drinking Hell, man. shooting the mirror, man. walking the devil, man. but whatever, man. when it rains, it rains. and no one can swim forever.
it’s dark. it’ll only get darker. i’ve become antiquated with soliloquies in the moonshined valley. a complete overhaul of my discrepancies. for your viewing pleasure, of course. i could brighten up the twilight in your eyes, bring the sun down so we’re all blind. would that make it right? more or less, i guess. how many dances will it take before you twirl away from midnight. you’re dark. you’ll only get darker.
this constant hurt. this constant heart. knock on metal. see sweet graces of light in the dark.
All Rights Reserved. © 2022 Luis Eduardo Utrera Morales