birthday


I swarm out of mama’s rabble

With horns for liberation

Lips sealed with the silence of poetry

And a horseshoe clamped on my feet.

Mama called me Jon –

And I blinked to her beam

My mind speaking. I WILL LIVE

But the sky was gray

And I saw death in my mother’s love.

Today when nobody is more believing

I remember my days inside mama’s core

When I stayed awake to sleep

Throughout my now- berserk existence

Thinking. GOD MADE ME and joy

Is within the solitude of my tiny world.

After, I saw that life

Is not a gift but

A journey – a sinful journey

Where there is no God

And nothingness comes after somethingness, so.

Here I bow and strike

Here I breathe and spit

Here I sin and cry

Here I sing songs and watch the pigeons.

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