Under The Gun

About my friend Andrew commiting suicide and the effects it had on me after.

Under                  All Rights Reserved   2011   

The

Gun

 

Back bend

Bend back

Tear    crushed    rip

Under

The

Gun

Pressure building rising

mounting

rising higher

 than ever before

I stood there alone wishing to be catapulted back into your stare

That 2 quarter sun

I stood on a snowy bridge hoping to be part of free light

Cutting shadows at right angles from tall buildings and mountains in various places between time zones

I stood frozen in winter storm staring down at your memory as if a leaf passed by me on the swift river current,

I stood gazing hard into that cold river water wishing to see past shadows

Wanting to penetrate illusions for one more chance to see your face laugh

Only You could see me, only You could feel me

Wanting to give up

Under

The

Gun

Under

The

Frozen

Tree

Her long branches sweeping the grass in 360 degrees

but still her protection could not save me

While I tried to fall asleep

Half dead by the thought of your death

7 degrees out

Back pressed hard into frozen pine needles,

Each one seemed to stab me with scattered puzzles

Of elusive memory I could hardly see

I lay there curled up as time brought your face to me in waves

And each piece of memory I could not stitch back together

With my mortal, clumsy hands

Under

The

Gun

Sweating bullets to find you as you were

Clean  clear   crisp

With music blasting from your room and us,

 2 rebels trying to express that hard, undying rebellion swelling wide and contagious inside us.

It out grew the planet, soared into another galaxy and took over

Back bend

Bend back

Crushed

Tear

Rip

Under

The

Gun

Pressure building

Mounting

Rising

Climbing

Rising

Higher than ever before

Under

The

Gun

I lay there thinking how much I wanted to float away with that leaf that just went past me

Down the river to the sea

I lay there

Under

The

Gun

Remembering when our struggle to find beauty in our souls

Clashed like Iron swords against our own created demons,

When our own battle sent us into the underground

To find a voice of reason, to express our fiery rebellion into mics

That knew our rage.

Under

The

Gun

I lay there dreaming about that time in LA

When we were walking and you pretended to be crazy

“Watch This”      You said.  You put your hands on your head and took off, screaming to yourself,

Some kind of free rant screeching from the streets of the damned.

 Your wild eyes piercing at the sidewalk

Your speedy gait so perfect while you plowed  past people as if you just escaped the loony bin.

Your black anarchy jacket patched with punk bands glowed under the decadent LA lights like exiled stars.

Everyone on Hollywood Boulevard ignored you, if I hadn’t known you I would have too.

You had me convinced you were just as insane as anyone else who I’ve seen do that.

You secretly became my hero in that moment.

You made me fall to my knees in laughter, the stars on the sidewalk sparkled, all my worries dissolved.

It was a gut wrenching bout with hilarity.

Needless to say hilarity kicked my a*s

remnants of puzzles is all I have now

Every night I lay there dreaming, trying to see elusive pieces of memory floating far away at sea.

Under

The

Gun

I breathe

Waiting for a final bullet

To find me

Please   please   please

Send me to my friend

 Floating            far away at sea…..