ROSCOE BOULEVARD REMAINS

I am drenched
the sweat pours
Off of me
The streets are lined with Debris
Thrown away Twinkie Wrappers
Cigarette Butts
All sizes
Crushed beer cans
And cheap whiskey bottles
Scattered all over the road
Except
For a sanitized Galpin Ford Dealership
All the cars are lined up
In symmetric proportion
A factory of Car salesman
A 32 year old dinner
Where the Roscoe Boys caught
A quick Meal
Last night
For $12.82.
It all centers
Around
$50
This organism
Is bombarded with
A Million different points
Of pulls
And pains
Like laser beams
Colors run right
Through me
Attack me
Try to grab my attention-
Some penetrate the skin
The eyeballs
The consciousness
Others pass through me
Conflicts
And Impulses
Vibrations and Blockage
Frozen feelings
That I stopped
That have never been resolved
All dangle there
Some are trapped on the skin
And gradually develop
And grow
Trying to overtake the organism
I am dangling
On a highwire
Tring to keep
My balance.
This organism resists
The assault
It tries to reverse it
And regain equilibrium
It keeps
Regrouping
Reassembling itself
Into a new shield
That will last
That will protect it
There is War Talk.
The thousands of cars
Run over me
As I yell out
At the top of my lungs
I keep popping up
How will I survive
The onslaught
What is left of me to fight with
How did I drop 20 notches
In a second
I am fucking screaming
But the volume is muted
The sound is trapped
Can not come out.
Roscoe slips back into the night
Another lesson
Another day
Of school
I want to graduate
No grad school for me.
No god damn
Gold Watch
Why are you
Holding back
My wages
My royalties
My vacation pay.
You know they
Are screwing all of us
Those who have figured
Out the system
And want to keep
the SECRET HIDDEN
Do you really think
They are that much smarter
Than we are.
They know how to milk it
The Gates and Companies
Of the world
Do you think
A totally
honest soul
Can do this?
What illusion
'Do you live under.
The blood
Under the pavement
Is paid with a
Heavy price.
When will a true savior come
And unravel the mess
Clean out the Garbage
And the Filth?
Behind the white teeth
Are the fangs
That will devour you
Behind the beauty
Is the hand in the pocket
Who the hell
Believes
That being beautiful and charming
Is enough 'To allow
you to have a life
Without working for it.
You have to pay sucker.
You never see in the Want adds
One pussy
For New House
And a luxury life
Send applications to
P.O Box 000
Anytown
World.
We are better than this I think.
I hope-
Roscoe retires for now.
It settles into
The dark windy
Coldness of the night
That almost blows
The trees down
That raise skirts
And makes the eyes water.

Stephen John Kalinich © 2003
All Rights Reserved