Stolen Car Alarms Have No Need

Stolen Car Alarms Have No Need

A Poem by Husam Salman

Profit to his followers                     ripe        falling down                      fruit                         from under the canopy         of life         before the break of day      eyes              gazing           drumming questions            he              edged answers                                 but only strode towards a long                  drink                      and looked into the eyes of            the actors           that ourselves have become         

I love it in the morning when I wake up                            and Barak Obama IS president!

      Restraint of joy           why           glee flowed from my eyes          for drunken wants       of unfulfilled hopes in regard to                          love                       love                       love            of the end            as though                      we wanted it to arrive                    new banner ads                illustrating          life again           Facebook is starting to remind me of                         Friendster and MySpace           just before                    radio  silence,                                 would you stop before                  the time calls     or

your liver/lover                                gives up on you         ...              transition time sacred                     dawns the end words.

        Mentally sketching patterns           over your FUCKING ugly outfit                 me in your head, “reading”                 commenting grace          and the easy to drop compliments      I always say it all        

 irritating though it may be                           this stolen car alarm has no purpose                no need                 in the language of modern progression

Your advice         based on your experience           to follow as you say        not as you do

                then      what good is it                   if you don’t have no data             Yo chatta don’t matta

       ruby lights by              night      fall      pulling the covers up                        masturbating mornings

cold nights          hugging the lonely to sleep               raw rainbow flesh waiting for loving                 pearl         necklaces          move for sharp possibilities           upon them trolling                         the streets that lie dormant                                wintered boulevards            urine smell   and    beer goggles gazing hard

eyes         rebars fences                  and they call that cage ‘interesting’                             Beat and branded faces                  embrace the battlefield                   willingly                                with wantons   edge      though Damocles has something hanging               just   overhead            liquid texting                  twinkle in his slurred smile            mind is allowed to     make up              its’ own   mind                 ramble

talk         failing     yet I let him arrive                      he rides for              pit smell          like man                language best unspoken

     Hoover and Santa Monica              racing to fuck             where is he now?

  the play over                   gamer                late embrace clutches tighter                  he was lost in the forest                                             It was thick with trees in there         doorbell silence              reading bitches             desperation nets being cast          rodeo almost over      fleeing rainbow shafts             on the way to ride rails           or hop on some long late night train         and ride the wild.