detroit soapbox. 5-12-12.

Ah so on the verge we are here, yet what homage we pay to a past that so abused us.

So and so..

That old so and SO! So and so, you say? Who is so and so? So and so is INDUSTRY! So and so rose up from a hard clay earth of difficulty and little fruit to bare and sought solace within the minds of an innovative people who were quick to learn, and took them, post haste.. deep.. into the bowels of injustice.

Bodies big, bodies small, bodies young, bodies old, bodies black, bodies freckled, bodies pale, bodies yellow, bodies red, bodies distorted, bodies disfigured, bodies beautiful, bodies clothed, bodies naked, bodies healthy, bodies sick, bodies young, bodies old, bodies alive... bodies dead... all that came... are all that went, but not all that come back, are not all who were taken, into the stomach, digested and eaten, by industry starving, for a new cog...

in a machine head. cold and invasive, distant and hurtful, cutthroat and barren, ruthless and baiting..

baiting a people who are eager,

eager and waiting;

for opportunity and knowledge;

knowledge for wisdom.

in love in humidity

you know you say do not want me
wide black eyes
the center of my body
empty there


my card is guilt, manipulation..
awh see, i know you.
awh see, i know you.

you know you say.. you say you don't couldn't want
you say you don't couldn't want
couldn't want

all of it you couldn't want

rolling thunder black eyed bride stinging needle fading pride empty bucket chicken wing broken bow and sudden grin lowly bow in parlor trow the midnight bell is ringing in a nonsensical violent trap of minds eye over thinking

falling tower ceiling mat the sickly sound of falling back into red velvet in a haze the prickly feeling against your skin. the bananas peel the apples juice the round babe green and sinking the pie should crumble healing stacks of omens good and giving.

in a bathroom

Into the mirror she spoke through thin rouged lips and a veil of shower steam:

"Intermingling with the stars at night was my pale disposition and a worse affliction for I was in love with someone who did not love me. All the while I'm sitting and waiting wondering why this has to be the very core of my being now, after all this time. All this time spent wondering if I will ever feel anything more than just plain sad, now it is just plain bittersweet hurt and disgust for myself, and this disposition. My outlook has tarnished and my ashes are piling, stories high up and up they go into a sky I am unsure of. Into a sky I do not trust and do not know. Uncertainty you unduly rule me now and forever sore.

Oh, this crummy view. This yellow and rotted place how you own me. You own me into the day following night and over and over again. You rule me into the pits of disdain. You rule me into the false hope of certain happiness, of certain pleasure away from pain."

just the usual business of things.

The Confessional was a red wooden booth with a television and a stack of pornographic movies. For 10 dollars you could go into the confessional for 30 minutes and watch a portion of any film. At the end of the thirty minutes a red siren on top of the confessional would sound and the door would unlock.

At first the owner did not think The Confessional was worth installing. He said people would much rather purchase a movie and watch it at home. But the confessional wasn't for people who had that luxury. The booth drew in heards of repressed homosexuals, cheating businessmen, sex addicts, priests, nuns and anyone else whose daily life had to otherwise be void of such carnal pleasures. You could usually tell a customer who wanted to use the booth, they always came in the same awkward way, looking around as if someone was watching them and making sure the door closed all the way behind them. Then they would pretend to look at the toys and videos for awhile, until making their way nervously to the counter and presenting the 10 dollars. I'd show them to the booth and let them in. I'd explain they had 30 minutes and at the end the siren would sound and the door would open.

Sometimes I'd have to drag people out of the booth. Some of them were practically licking the television screen when I went in and others were still going at it like a crazed fiend, completely unaffected by my presence with a glazed look in their eye.

Other times I'd have to stop people trying to steal the videos, some people shot their mess all over the place and didn't bother to clean any of it up. Other times people would leave strange things in there, once I even found some money. I suspected it just fell out of the persons pocket. Other times I found food, cigarettes and even sex toys.

oil

The oil as it uncoils, into shades of milk and grey.
The oil as it uncoils, into hatred and dismay.
The oil as it uncoils into beauty, lust and life.
The oil as it uncoils from the palette, onto knife.
The oil as it traces, under every curve and every dive,
to mark a history of a being and portray its very life.
The oil as it uncoils into a somber and evening song,
the oil as it uncoils for every deed done wrong.
The oil as it uncoils, for the sirens deathly song.
the oil as it uncoils for man and for the bird,
the oil as it uncoils onto a stumbling yet charging heard.
The oil as it uncoils into sex and death and light, the oil
as it uncoils into vex and hate and might. The oil as it
uncoils into a den of earthly sin, the rousing of your spirit
and the tainting of your kin? The oil as it uncoils into a sour,
wispy sound. The oil as it uncoils from the caverns of your mouth.
-bnf 2007.