Some stories get told and they can’t find rest inside your soul.  The stories fight like ghosts trying to find a way out.

Well…

This week I read two stories that have left a huge battalion of ghostly visions inside my mind and writing is my way of making sense of it.  The stories are hard to read but in the end they are full of hope. They are stories that need to be written and need to be read.  They teach us about human flexibility and the power of making choices.  I intend to share them both with you.

This poem was inspired by GOOD TIME.  Read the post first and the poem might make more sense.  I love you Samara.

I hope you don’t mind
But I visited you today
Inside that place of horror
Part of you is confined
The place where humanity
Had placed your broken will
Trying to bury your resolve
Under its deformed depravity
Bricks fell under shadow
Cracked mortar stained
With years of neglect
With tears of sorrow
An alley where history
Outstayed its welcome
Littered by ammonia
And decayed stories
The place dreams died
Killing countless lives
Needles stealing screams
Condemned and tried
Racial slurs echo still
Inkblot patterns of rust
Look like demons
Locked in chains of steel
And
I heard that part of you yelling
Disembodied from this world
Your voice finally fucking found
As I witnessed this final quelling