Sepia Tone Graffiti

The sky cracks open like a bullwhip and

I was taking nothin’ but lip from the night before

Trying to find my footing in this three ring circus side show Ice Capades

Nothing but clowns and bystanders on these streets tonight

Just like my check bouncing, rubber necking to get their fill of the horrors of this world

All you have to do is look out your bedroom window on any given night

And my coat full of receipts from nights I don’t remember

In cities I can’t name to keep all the parties involved safe and sound

In their little bungalows

I have a better chance of seeing Jesus walk through this door

Than to see you do the same, but the thought keeps me walking

It’s colder than a shotgun gut shot b***h Labrador with 6 pups sucking

On dried out teats draggin’ an empty trap in the dead of winter

In a goddamn blizzard with no hope, no hat and all the shoulda’s and woulda’s

And coulda’s ringing in my ears

And cursing all the beers I had the night before or

Wishing I had at least a few more to stave off this hangover

And my rents going up another 50 dollars

I saw an old man pulling a rickshaw with one wheel missing

And I thought I would ask him for a ride ‘cause it looked like

He knew a thing or two about walking in circles and never really

Coming up to speed

And I’m 1, 2, 3, 4 sheets to the wind

Blowing through the holes in my jeans, but

I didn’t buy them this way, my holes were made

With dumb luck and dumber decisions

The sky cracks like a bullwhip

And all the cars in the parking lot are growling at me

And the streetlights look like spotlights

And I’m glad you’re gone, but

I wish you were here

And my head is splitting

I think I may lose my mind

And I’m still taking lip from the night before

Sepia tone graffiti; old timey debauchery

Somehow seems more whimsical then menacing

And the light sneaking through the stained glass

Makes this place look like a kaleidoscope

And the stars like fireworks bursting a beautiful

Yellow-blue impression

And the roads like rivers carrying everyone to the

End of the line

End of the world

Heat from storm drain, steam like a tea kettle train whistle

Blowing it all to hell

Sirens singing the night song like a lullaby

Through secret concrete twilight gardens

The moon is a bright oasis lighting our way

Through this concrete maze as it rises up

Like some old Irish novel

The frost on the cars sheen like lacquer

This abstract canvas covered with black and blues

There’s no gold at the end of these gasoline rainbows

As the sky cracks open like a bullwhip

Reviews

[Erica Daubert]

First and foremost, I would just like to say... WOW. As I sat in my South Philly apartment smoking a spliff after calling out of work today out of sheer laziness and thinking a few extra hours to primp before the bar adventure I'd be embarking on later this evening, I stumbled upon this piece. I must say when I read,
"I saw an old man pulling a rickshaw with one wheel missing
And I thought I would ask him for a ride ‘cause it looked like
He knew a thing or two about walking in circles and never really
Coming up to speed"
I actually stopped reading, and said "holy s**t" and reread that line a few times. It blew me away.

I appreciate the brutal honesty of your own actions through your writing. I tend to do the same on a regular basis, and then vindicate my reckless, thrill seeking behavior by realizing I wouldn't have much to write about if I gave into the "normal life" and did the 9-5 scene.

The reference to the holes in your jeans was brilliant. If I had a dollar for how many times I've woken up with holes, burns, rips and tears in my clothing... well, I'd probably be able to buy a few new pairs of pants.

Another thing I loved, was that you didn't break the poem up into stanzas. The overall feeling I got from this is that the thoughts wandered from one to the next in sort of a chaotic and scrambled manner, yet very well-written and poetic. Sometimes it's hard to make sense of it all when our thoughts are racing in different directions.

Overall, this may be my favorite piece on Writers Cafe. Bravo.

[Jack Isaac]

Oh man, that's really cold! I mean... the weather... in your poem. Hmmm.. One can nearly hear the mating calls of emergency vehicles as they seek out their morbid conquests, just as so many morbid onlookers might do; you can almost hear all that it in this poem were it not drown out by the sound of the sky cracking. Then again, I also see oil tanks exploding, what a contrast of hot and cold you have here! Nice write.

[Sbernie18]

great piece and work of poetry. great insights. can't wait to read more!

[Seshat Nidaba]

Straight off I'll tell you what this distinctively reminded me of, these fellas: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_School

I enjoyed the happy-go-lucky everything goes sort of slipstream this created. Fast pace, conversational tones, embroidered with many interesting lines such as:

1. This abstract canvas covered with black and blues
2. And my coat full of receipts from nights I don’t remember

[Kenneth The Poet]

This is a typical night in Spillane's mind, in my opinion. And I mean that, honestly.

[Rene Velez]

A toss of the dice, head cracks or snake eyes yet and still the human content is real...the imagery displayed is jagged and real, I raced through the lines like I was speeding on the city streets...solid work.

[Lily Mae]

I always find that I smile when I read your work.. It's not comical yet it holds such a raw truth to it. And it makes me smile because I love that it shows us little glimpses of what's inside that mind of yours... I love this top to bottom..x