BANG (a poem)

Words by Kielan Ellis


BANG,

a feverish, mind-altering, shuddering pulse, one followed by the next,

BANG,

thoughts and shouting tumbling about the spiralling chasms and slowly dripping stalagmites,

the sparks and notes and plugs and song are a banshee’s incomprehensible shriek, with the power of a broken down Honda accord, as what is incomprehensible to my own cluttered thoughts is plain as the written word to another, yet somehow more mystifying than a speckled band to some,

like you, i know you, neither foul, fish, fantastical or fiction-less, like an irreversibly fixed force of life, one which despite my flaming, roaring efforts, i found myself bound to like a dead man to his concrete dockers at the bottom of the Hudson, but unlike that man I do not lack air, or life, or love, or lust, for in spades they appear like a silent dream of oozing mind, wet skies and fluorescent streets, neon gods and angels falling to the broken halls and subway lines, affixed with sores and calluses, beautifully broken scars that made eyes shine like stars on blue silk,

bumps and marks like perfect imperfections, with strategically random, insatiably satisfying, proportionately disproportionate impropriety,

but perhaps the street bound man is simply whispering in my ear,

then I stop, some hand plucking the proverbial pen from my synapses, some otherworldly falsehood, fighting for fate, fated fracturously, ferociously, farcically to fuck with me, but fucking me over can’t stop the joyous, frolicking hedonistic life lead high from euphorically escaping me, my head, my back, my bones,

BANG,

it’s back, the familiar

BANG,

to wake my sleep and break my spine,

BANG,

i see you, your cornered smile and cat’s eyes shattered with care and laughter, sadness and fear,

BANG,

and action, watch, follow, cry, wait, fix, watch again, crush, kill, leave, stop, wait,

sinking, screaming, dry eyes, suits and ties, a two of hearts stabbed through the seam, splitting him twice, the suicidal king and hopeful jack, the quiet queen and the silent laughter of the discarded jester wearing a letterman jacket and a back brace, high on far too much LSD

BANG BANG BANG, (thanks for nothing)

BANG BANG BANG, (thanks for everything)

BANG, (hold your bleeding chin up)

BANG, (apply pressure)

BANG, (cut it open)

BANG, (smile)

BANG, (jump)

BANG, (three feet)

BANG, (i’m smiling)

BANG, (it’s easy)

BANG, (fake it till you)

BANG, (make it)

BANG, (i made it)

BANG.




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