~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XXII:~

By WordWulf, 17th Mar 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/mp0ev81f/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Letters

~I’m real~I’m human~but I’m not an ordinary man~no no no~Jim Morrison ~does the hellbound howl at you?~Nietzsche~ you haven't got long before you are all going to kill yourselves, ~Charles Manson~thus I pacified Psyche & kissed her~Poe~Jesus is the bomb~do you see him~

~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XXII:~

~Dead Pennies~

~Dead Pennies~

There were too many for me to count, three or three billion, I don’t know. Confused and out of focus, sometimes I struggle to breathe. The guy singing the song is dead, the woman who wrote it alive. She cried at his funeral, attempted to sing it herself, put everyone to sleep in the process. The dog jumping through hoops;
everyone’s amazed but not the dog. It doesn’t know how to be amazed, craves affection and the hanging bait, hook.

The audience is bored stupid, drunk and drugged out of its mind, mad to be out of itself in ones, a group casual sex collective, thousands of heads and eyes twisting, turning, waiting impatiently to be entertained, turned on, and set free. The masturbator of ceremonies adjusts his watch, prepared to practice his art upon twelve little girls in the front row smoking, passing a joint and drinking beer given them by someone’s daddy in the second row. The show is late by design and generally disrespectful.

Worship begins promptly at eleven unless it doesn’t, then it will run late. Jesus is stuck in the elevator going down-down to lower levels. A thief stole the candles unlit, pissed on the hymnals and pews, an irregular stinking son-of-a-bitch. The choir went seeking Amazing Grace and there simply wasn’t any left. There are pictures of soldiers on the wall hung next to the images of the boys they were, empty spaces, the men they might have been. Amen. I blinked my eyes and worship was over.

~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XXI~
~Subterranean Junket~
~No Guts/No Glory~

Tags

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Meet the author

WordWulf
Tom Sterner lives in Redding, California and Arvada, Colorado with wife Kathy. He has been published in numerous magazines and on the internet, including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review, The Storyteller, and Flashquake. His interne...(more)