battling addictions
smelling like I’ve thick skin
but shelling out for th'thin wins
of hell in a moment
and wings on the winds
of infinity’s remission from sin--
Let love begin.
Minds inscribed
with th’hateful wrath of God
Spewing lyric on the wrongs
of the ever-bloody dawns
and th’every good intention
leading us from happiness
deep into the barren sands of hell--
So ring the bell.
Th'eternal salvation
ever promising a station
to the willful,
but the ignorant
ever "in-procurement"
who would never think to mention
all the sadness in suspension
and retention of emotion
deep inside your ocean
Of infinite suppression and eternal devotion.
But not to the notion that
hearts
would open to the sound
pounding, heaving in my chest
of melodies writhing
out like drips from lemons
handed cheaply out to felons,
with the shiny paper coupons
issued by the "Gods" of nations.
freely stolen from our minds and
five-finger discount finds
filling the near-empty hope chests of
the many praying, starving dry-eyes
who couldn’t even tell ‘em why
they couldn’t buy food for their children,
'cuz who’d be there to listen?
While we're sitting here fishin'
for the right might
to share all'a'their bright hind-sight.
they go on cryin'
afraid of dyin'
So tip your Jameson, son,
into that glass and listen
to these words
that be slippin' from my mouth:
We’re quickly falling south
Climbing up, but sliding down
ever seeking superficial dreams
shattering against
the images and memes
and intelligent themes
from the pressing keys of
those who are
fighting for his scene
or her seams
and maybe for the right team--
I wish it were more serene!
Subtle moves cut infinity
from the hearts of everybody
so let it end, mend and spend
the moments that you have still have alive
with the people who derive
joy
from the sight of a little boy
smiling at his mother’s eyes
unencumbered with lies
of the broadcasts of the “wise"
So let your mind be free
to see inside the real "Me"
not the illusion “they” would convince me to be
and stop living in confinement
of other judging mindsets
who would rather mindless cogs
be ran like dogs till you
bend, crack, break and lose.
Now I see, we have to choose.
-Kyle Goodman
I wrote this a few years ago when invited to join a friend at an Open Mic Night in Chico, CA. I was going through a rough time, and this piece became like a handcrafted lantern in the darkness of my dispair. It helped to remind me that I am whole when I am creating, that I am home on-stage, and that by sharing myself through public forms of self-expression I wouldn't have to go it alone.
