Treasure Island

Gengis Capote

(October,27,1968 / Havana, Cuba)

Yankee Blues...insanity diaries

Without a wing
nor a prayer
I stand alone
at the threshold
of hell.

In modest cool standings
surrounded within my
cancerous cigarette-smoke
and hardly caring to fear
knowing the end is so near.

My eyes give way
a slight heavenly glance
but only in spirit
as the translucent blues
overwhelm me entirely
on realities bed of nails.

Outside! in minimal distance
from the hellish atmosphere
of anxieties death defying grip galore
I gather clear thought
grounding concrete future to
a man made paradise.

A metaphorical perfect utopia
within humanly possible acquisitions

Is true I rebel the past carefree
and landed on the side of Yankee Blues
as regrettable read future
predicted! out of wise mans-crystal-ball.

If only ears sounds and hear says
would have penetrated my cerebral cortex
and sever the beginning of my personal civil war
{{{a wasted battle to acquire needed punishment
to become a premeditated conscious objective,
in the art of will over matter}}}.

Maybe then!
Less knowledgeable
and dangerous
against the forces within this
hive of less than human
conspiring witches from hell.

I could have walked
another life long stretch of
under appreciated,
incisively demoralize
fundamentally brainwashed-mile.

More so!
than your average naive male spider
arriving to the death kiss of a black widows lips

mist smoke and tar fill lungs
I can breath anew life and future
Reading native Indian signals
scribe atop the constellations.

Guiding my last breaths will
to last far beyond the very same
wise-mans incorrect possibility
Bestowing king and crown to
the once prince of misery
now governing lord of a perfect utopia.
within reasonable human boundaries.

___now one last breath before
I enter hells kitchen
till my next smoke break
amidst sanity's fresh scented fragrance.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 01, 2010

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