reports

Kim Rose's John....
I prayed for a week.
simply dropped to my knees,
in utter defeat,
unable to speak.
unable to rescue
my fleeting sanity
fading into
a sea of voices
I did not recognize
as my own.
or if they were,
I simply could not
muster the strength to control
them.
reality’s been grappling
my weakened conscious.
and night mare’s have
seized my waking hours.
a month ago
the moon handcuffed the sun,
imprisoned the moon
and barred the stars.
I’m lost in eternal darkness.
wandering
in grayed confusion,
cloaked in my subconscious oblivion.
last night the weight of the clouds,
cracked the earth’s surface,
and my world,
came tumbling down upon me
one after one painful mistake
at a time.
gathering what I could,
slicing hands,
palming pasts,
i thrust bloodied
jagged memories into
my pocket
hoping to g.o.d
that on the day we meet
he would provided the
good ones,
the missing ones...
which never allowed me to feel complete.
once searching for desperate comfort
I grasp the tail of a comet
flying over head.
but
the cold burn didn’t allow me
to hold on.
unable to withstand
the heat,
the rush,
or the pressure.
I simply let go.
however,
I can never forget the taste of
heaven’s due,
the breeze of fluttering angel’s wings,
and the warmth of happiness's glow
which rushed through me like
sand from a cracked hour glass.
we're unable to capture this moment
or this lifetime.
so I continue to search,
with my head hung low,
hunched back,
insecure gape,
mumbling undecipherable mantras
my eyes pushed upward,
rolled in my head,
seeing my thoughts
before they're spoken.
insanity is stalking my reason
and like a jealous lover,
it’s peeking ‘round corners,
hiding in the shadows.
making accusations,
arousing suspicion
frequently calling,
panting heavily into phone lines
I don’t have.
and i can't stop the mysterious
ringing hysterically in my ears,
even after I answer.
I feel its death's breaths
slipping through my fingers.
So I force my hands deep
into my jean pockets
hoping to suffocate them.
my booking papers in the right,
my hands
frantically clinging
to the lint and thread in the left.
you see,
that’s all that’s holding me together.
my jeans are holier than any biblical texts
as they recite the beatitudes with each step...
blessed are the poor in spirit
they scream..
I can feel the cool of
your judgment chill my bones.
and for a moment,
I silence the voices
sliding down my cheeks,
as I fall to my knees,
hear the snap of the break.
I prayed for a week
until they found me.
man made halo,
six feet in length
quarter inch knot.
my mind the alter
my body the sacrifice
g.o.d i offer myself to thee
and the voices cried upon the wind
"I will rescue him; I will protect him."


kdtaylor, 2007
section 8 coffee publications
all rights reserved

My coworker and best buddy (we now share an office space)had an assignment to read the death reports of persons who committed suicide this past quarter. The deceased were recent releases from state funded mental health programs. one evening after work, she cried as she read me an autopsy report. she then looked over and asked me to write a poem. this was a difficult one as it hit a little too close to home. currently it's just in the just finished phase, no re-write, no clean up. like me in this moment, the piece is raw....