out of here, a ballad.

We’re getting out

of here
discharging bullets

in our heads
with the one hand

torn, & bloodied
paper money nailed

to the other,
blowing the planet

to a gaping hole
in the dark expanse.
We’re getting out

of here
digging deeper

into the black veins
of the earth

now slit open wide.
We’re getting out

of here
plowing the land

with living bones,
& unearthing the stars.

Napalm hearts
& agent orange minds

scrape life from the ground
like the hot,

raspy voice
smoldering on the steel

strings of a worn
guitar as it stones

its blues away
out in the now

empty space.
We’re almost out

of here,
out of light now

out of soul

stripped of air
we’re getting out

of here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

__________________

voa-photo-d-markosian-d-markosian-one-day-in-the-life-of-chernobyl

Photo: D. MARKOSIAN, “A radioactive sign hangs on barbed wire outside a café in Pripyat”

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s