"poem for a stranger," "poem for when the truth is finally enough," and "blues for the living and the dead"
poem for a stranger
and you can believe in god or
you can not believe
and in the end you die
and do you want an apology?
do you want to be remembered
as a great poet?
as a good father?
or maybe you just want
an addict like everyone else
and probably lost
and almost always afraid
and listen
i have spent the last twenty years
running away from my
childhood
have spent the last five
worrying about
who my sons will become
worrying that this house has
too many mirrors
too many windows
too much glass waiting to be broken
and i am remembering
the woman who loved pain
and all of the ways that she knew
how to bleed
all of the forms of abuse
that she swore were love
and i am thinking that i should
find her and beg forgiveness
i am thinking that i should be
a better man than i was
but i'm not
look at the bones i've
built my life on
without hesitation
look at the lies i've told to
the people who trusted me
understand that
all i've ever been sorry for
is myself
poem for when the truth is finally enough
everybody laughs at
the news of your pain and
why not?
the age of wounded animals has arrived,
the age of children locked in
cages for entertainment
and listen
i am not a prophet but
i have foreseen the death of your god
i am not a starving artist
but i will eat his heart
i will watch your enemies
get drunk on the taste of his blood
what history has taught me
is that victory means nothing
unless some sorry asshole
can be made to suffer
blues for the living and the dead
white sun in
a heavy yellow sky
or the names of people i
used to call friends
the empty rooms left behind
by stolen children
you tell me that
these spaces are sacred
and i agree
you ask me if i loved
the burning girl
and i don't answer
things grow too complicated
in the wide open blur
of august
your sister learns how
to bleed again
and none of the wars have\
names
but the innocent are
still massacred
the false king still says
victory will be ours
he understands
the need to devour
John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate New York. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in poetry as a reason for getting up in the morning. He has been publishing in the small press for 30 years. His most recent collection is There's Only One Way This Is Going to End (Cyberwit, 2023).
