Salt & Light

Preface: now that you fine DUP folks might know me a tad better, this is another repost, along with another reference article, to help (maybe) guide the reader to a better understanding of where I've been & where I'm going. I like it when people draw their own conclusions, though. I often learn from that. Sometimes, it does alter my own perceptions on my own writing. & feel free to call it a nonsensical piece of tripe, if ya wish! I won't mind. But this is one of my personal favorites, hence the repost.

Also (just in case the reader infers something from the Wiki article)...I'm no Christian by any means, but I have nothing against normal, everyday people of that Faith. Some of my closest friends are Christians, & I respect their intelligence very much. Some of them are a LOT smarter than I am, in fact, & know a LOT more about the world than I do. This one's about my own personal experiences, & not the sensible, everyday Christians out there.

Now, that my dramatically self-indulgent preface has concluded, here's the article & poem...


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salt_and_light




  I am

  the salt of the earth,
  an unfinished business,
  a personal space of price
  at the drop of a dime.

  A crack in the window
  beams my seam,
  a shotgun shakes
  my nerves awake.

  This highway calms
  impending doom
  with a familiar
  (& autonomous)
  rage of light.

  This road to bleed
  is a pillar of salt
  over my shoulder
  with a crunching pace.

  White blood cells
  killed with glee

  where I made my bones
  by stampin' smokes
  & takin' jokes,

  see!

  A wet work network
  breaking moxie
  behind the wheel
  of making wrecks.

  Rubbernecks the fact
  with a knockabout knack
  for the gallows laughter
  that's always after.

  Spattered faces
  braining chance
  & gambling grace
  on a trail of spit.

  It grindstones
  a workzone
  roundabout trap.

  My reveries winging
  pace to a place
  where the road is blind
  to coyote grins
  buzzing with the risk
  on the hunt for the stench.

  Like two to the skull
  & one wakes up
  to a cloud of insects
  roaring rote
  where pissing matches
  tool my rage.

  My knotting spots
  are seething roots
  in the daisy pave,
  shattered to the point
  of a pothole eye
  & jointing lines
  of brigand nerve.

  A fishtail of light
  on the lee of the night.

  I bleed & see
  my every need
  for the steely thorns
  that clean my wounds.

  My call to arms
  impending doom,
  thoughts & prayers
  discharging age, this
  road of blood
  is stand-alone.

  The hidden dark
  is a chittering past.

  I am

  the light of the world,
  I feed my bones
  to a beaming seam.