a nation of assholes with guns - scars.tv

a nation of assholes w/ gunsjohn sweet poemsscars .

publication

like distant music, like quiet sunlight

blood rising up from where thecross is planted, just like dali promised

streets laid out in meaningless patternsuntil they give birth to cities

the body of a homeless man foundout by the railroad tracks,body of a second grade teacherfound tied to her bed

not too far to theempty fields from here

not too far to the forest

a few miles down 26 south, over the river,over the interstate, and there you are and, after you’vegotten dressed, after she’s called herhusband to say she’ll be home in afew hours, she tells you she wants to drive

says she wants to get lost

doesn’t mean it, of course,but still

it’s an idea that never quite goes away

. john sweet .

. 2 .

our lady of sorrows, dreaming

ancient down some sightless avenue w/broken hands

w/ faith in the governmentand in godand the trees all recoiling fromthe flames that surrounded him

the powerlines all snapped

electricity mixed w/ blood andthe woman who screamed soundedlike my sister

the city lay in ruins

words written in ash and tar on thewalls of abandoned factoriesand the carefully considered words of priests

their addiction to violence

no greater than anyone else’si guessbut it still felt good knowing howpainfully they’d die

. a nation of assholes w/ guns .

. 3 .

the blood of yr father

don’t make yourself a victim don’tdig yourself a grave

don’t pray unlessyou understand the alternatives

god is like television

the human mind needsno reasons for its actions

just scream and fuck andsqueeze the trigger

close your eyes and pull the earth up over your head

. john sweet .

. 4 .

take your time

said this is the storyand then he diedand you think this shit is funnyand you’re probably right

you’re brought up to believe injusticeand then the killer takeshis own life

leaves behind a pile of corpsesand a dozen movies-of-the-week andif you have childrenyou no longer know where

they are

if you love this womannext to you in the bedit’s only by accident

it can be undone

you should know this by now


. 5 .

Looking for the Big Dipper

And the lions, yes, and the poets,all of them with the chance toapologize, to make a difference. The air dark and cold and thephone never quite ringing. Yourlover at home with her husbandand daughter. Dust on thebookshelves. Words like corrosives.No answers, just this endlessgoddamn noise. Just this needfor affection. Father dead, sistervanished, car payment overdue.Walk outside. Sit in the yard.Sound of passing cars, and ofyelling teenagers. Barking dogs.Close your eyes and stare atthe sky. Your future and yourpast, both right there.

. john sweet .

. 6 .

poem for myself in a dark blue room

what you seek is in the palace ofthe last idiot king,and there is no forward there,no backward, and so you only movein circles

you only tread water until you’retoo tired to stay afloat

it’s one thing to die,but another to forget what it means to be alive


. 7 .

sometime

had the dogs on leashes& had the women

drove 400,000 miles w/ noheater and no headlights

spent two weeks working w/ the guy,but this was before he killedsomeone in a bar fight

this was when i could stillremember what 20 felt like

knew this girl who was 16but, when the cops called, i hadn’t seen her in weeks

when her stepfather called, itried to tell him about cobain’s suicide

i tried to tell him there wasn’tenough time

could only make these smallfrightened noises thatno one else was able to hear

. john sweet .

. 8 .

civil war

was born with wingswas lovedbut never blessed

never promised god or heavenand when she bledyou could only laugh

when she laughedyou could only leave

a million miles to the oceanand all of the bodies youfound there


. 9 .

without water

And she is beautiful in her moment ofdying, and the word is salvation, but thedogs aren’t buying it. Their world is flat,their mouths are empty, and the ambulanceshave nowhere to go. Are always arrivingtoo late to save the burning child. Six yearsold and laughing in an empty house, endof October, and the man on the sidewalkstarts to run when the cop approaches him.The girl is fourteen, but says she wasn’traped. Says she loves him, and at three inthe afternoon I am sitting at a clutteredtable, am missing you, and you are twohours away, are at your husband’s side,and what none of us talk about anymoreis the war. What we refuse to give up isour belief in happy endings. Our addictionsto the ghosts of gods. Our failure

. john sweet .

. 10 .

preparing the requiem

these things happenof course

you marry the wrong manthe wrong woman

you have childrenyou get divorced

connections are broken

accusations made

something is thrown in angeror maybe a door is slammed too hard

a window shatters

little pieces of hopespill everywhere


. 11 .

the fucking waste

in the year of finished basements, inthe summer of bitter sunlight where all ofour truths are spoken beneath theshadows of clouds, where ginsberg’sdeath is a small relief, where bukowski’sis an obvious blessing and with theknowledge of burrough’s hollow tongue,with this woman nine months pregnant,disappeared, and her two year old sonthe only witness

will you accept any blame?

will you allow yourself to be spoonfedguilt by these priests w/ theirpoisoned god, their guilty tongues?

the truth is such an obvious thingonce you step outside theroom of mirrors

. john sweet .

. 12 .

static

stepping out into the light,disoriented,godless but warm,and when i ask you what the difference isbetween a thing that has no meaningand a thing that’s meaningless,you shake your headand smile

when the man pulls his hand out fromunder the seat, he has a gun

shoots the cop in the face and,stepping out into the light,i turn to you and ask how manyorphans it would take to fill an ocean

i turn to you and ask howmany more miles until we’re there

don’t want an answer,just the soft weight of your voice


. 13 .

the empire, returned to sand

nine months pregnant and found inthe dirt, in the weeds, found murderedlike you knew she would be, andthe killer is her boyfriend, like youknew it would be, and we are nevergood enough at pretending, none of us,and the sunlight at six thirty in themorning is soft and unfocused butalready filled with the threatof violence

already heavy with the promiseof crucifixion, and i am kissing mysons goodbye at their mother’s front door,am telling them that i’ll see themtomorrow afternoon, and in the back ofmy mind there is always a list of peoplei hate, of people i would like to seedead, and by three in the afternoon thestorm is almost here

by four, it’s already gone

the heat returned like a lover whonever gets tired of beating you

. john sweet .

. 14 .

these newprayers,

burning


. 15 .

even years now waiting to be firedand always thirsty,always pulling away from theoutstretched hands of others

waking up from adream of impending disaster

a shower,a bowl of cereal, bottle of pepsi,then off to work

bills like the iron fist of god,always squeezing,always looking for one last drop of blood

eternal,like the starving

like the insaneand the tortured

do you see now?

we are not here to help each other

we are not here to cure thecommon coldor to reinvent the wheel

the men you’ve elected havelearned how to turnthe corpses of soldiers into money

your freedom of speech onlyextends so far

all braveryis punished in the end

the truth

spent a lot of timemaking no one happy

tried doing it drunk, tried doingit with a headful of speed, thenfinally just let it happen naturally

sat on the edge of the bedwhile kathy cried

listened quietly to andrea onthe other end of the phone

so many wasted hours filledwith so many meaningless wordsuntil finally the house wassilent

until finally the kids wereasleep

both of them perfect insuch obvious ways

. john sweet .

. 16 .

singing independence day

soldier w/ his feet cut offfor the boots they wear

w/ his hands cut off for the sheerrush of power that destruction bringsand you will watch him burn andyou will listen to the dogsgrowl deep in their throats

we are all of us alone in thesame windowless room

we are all of us blind andscreaming at the deafand there is no such thing as eternity

there is no such thing as peace

you can’t fight a war againstan enemy w/ no fear of dyingand ever hope to win

the child of any corpse will tell you this


. 17 .

The story, as it was told to me

Says Lift those tiny islands.

Says Dream the gift concealed.

Simple requests from the lipsof Conquistadors, and so the room issmall, is quiet, is filled with dustand sunlight.

The killer has taken his place.

Waits behind the door,and the woman is his wife.

The islands are his children.

No one leavesuntil all of us are dead.

. john sweet .

. 18 .

if nothing is all

Wanted to name the baby,but her tongue had been cut out.

Wanted to walk in the rain,and so I gave her the funeral crownto cover her head.

I gave her a basket ofbroken hands.

An ocean of blood.

Tried to make her smile,but no longer had the gift.


. 19 .

In the season of obvious wars

And do you remember how it rained

all day on the 4th of July?

Stood there naked in the bathroomlike I was 38 and divorced. Watchedmy reflection spit blood into the sink.

Had the house, but the roof leaked.Had the truck, which was paid for atleast.

Was tied down to this fucking townby my job, which I hated. By mychildren, who I loved.

Cleared my throat against the coldblur of the afternoon, and spitagain.

. john sweet .

. 20 .

past and present

Someone in another room, dead or listening,and your father on the floor where theyfound him, back against the stove, cold cigarette in an ashtray on the counter.

You tell the story or you listen to it,and it has nothing to do with you.

you turn to the woman, a stranger’s wife,and you run your hand up the soft curve ofher stomach and then back down,and then the phone rings.

We pretend no one’s home.

A doorknob rattles, then footsteps in thedriveway, and I can’t remember whether ornot I locked the back door.

I creep upstairs to tell me son thatit’s okay, but his room is empty. Isn’twhere I remember it being.

Only boxes here, and sunlight cuttingthrough dust, and a stack of books on anunused kitchen chair.

Only someone else’s past.


. 21 .

church

sign in front saysJESUS

LOVESYOU

but there’s no oneout here

fields filled withsnow inevery direction

cold blue sky andthe shadows ofhills

nothing to do but drive

. john sweet .

. 22 .

Sleepless and Bleeding

Not the power of memory,because it’s the future that matters.Write this down if you have to.Stand in your back yard on thethird day of the flood and feelthe water wash over your feet. Thereis no bravery in despair. There is noforgiveness in the next 100 years. Warmth,yes, and simple pleasures, and also theocean on fire. Also the deaths ofeveryone you love. Remember thislike you would a prayer.


. 23 .

credits

man says he wants tomake a movie of my life andi laugh because the poemsare what interest him andwithout them there’s reallynot much left

the rest is sleepingis waitingis being afraid

nothing any differentfrom anyone else

. john sweet .

. 24 .

another war

All day long, grey light throughdead branches.

Nothing to write about,because it’s nothing you can escape.

The moment is what you want,but it’s always in the past.

It’s never arriving.

She smiles in her tentative,beautiful way,and looks at the clock.

You tell her you have to get going.

Everything is a lie,but it’s better than silence.

It’s better than starving.

You’re always forgetting this.


. 25 .

apology

You are yourfather’s son, andthis is all

You will hear ituntilthe day he dies

. john sweet .

. 26 .

A massacre: notes and observations

Said it was frostbite, said itwas simple fear. An axe throughthe baby’s skull. Rememberedthe details. Handed them out likepieces of candy. The Indiansweeping. Screaming. Gunfire &drunken laughter. Fires built tothaw out the ground. A shallow trench, and so quickly, so easilyfilled. Not human, she said, and was obvious she meant one sideor the other. It was obviousshe was telling the truth.


. 27 .

industry

fuel pump went in the price chopper parking lot, and itwas $1000 gone just likethat

it was the age of unpaid ransoms

seventeen degrees in the useless glare of early morningsunlight

cell phone deadand i had spent most ofmy adult life making enemies

i had stoppedtalking to my wife

was hiding from a girlfriendand from her sister,and the air stank of exhaust,and of suicide, andof gasoline

my kids were laughing inthe back seat

my fingers werecracked, were bleeding

they turned the key one lasttime before i walked away

. john sweet .

. 28 .

with love, so long

you in a nation of assholes w/ gunsand the driver says he’s lost

two young girls wavinggood-byeout the rear window

people downstairs drunkand their tv up loud

nothing to watch butthere’s never really beenany future in talking


. 29 .

. 30 .

. john sweet .

Magazines: Children, Churches and Daddies (cc&d magazine); Down in the Dirt magazine

Books: Hope Chest in the Attic, the Window, Close Cover Before Striking, (Woman.), Autumn Reason, Contents Under Pressure, the Average Guy’s Guide (to Feminism), Changing Gears, the Key to Believing, Domestic Blisters, Etc., Oeuvre, Exaro Versus, L’arte,The Other Side, The Boss Lady’s Editorials (regular and 2005 Expanded Edition), Duality, Seeing Things Differently, Change/Rearrange, DeathComes in Threes, Moving Performances, Six Eleven, Life at Cafe Aloha, Creams, Rough Mixes, The Entropy Project, The Other Side (2006Edition), Stop., Sing Your Life, The Beauty and the Destruction, cc&d v167.5 (Writing to Honour & Cherish, editor edition), Blister & Burn (theKuypers edition), S&M, cc&d v170.5 Distinguished Writings editor edition, Living in Chaos, Silent Screams, Taking It All In, It All Comes Down,Rising to the Surface, Galapagos, Chapter 38 (v1, v2 & v3), Finally, Literature for the Snot ty and Elite (v1, v2 & part 1), a Wake-Up CallFrom Tradition, (recovery), Dark Matter: the Mind of Janet Kuypers, Evolution, (tweet), Get Your Buzz On, Janet & Jean Together, po•em,Taking Poetry to the Streets, the Cana-Dixie Chi-town Union, the Written Word, Dual, Prepare Her for This, Uncorrect, Living in a Big World,Pulled the Trigger, Venture to the Unknown, Janet Kuypers: Enriched, She’s an Open Book, “40”, Sexism and Other Stories, the Stories ofWomen, Prominent Pen (Kuypers edition), Elemental, the 2012 Datebook, Prominent Tongue, Chaotic Elements, Fusion, Stabity Stabity StabStab Stab, a Picture’s Worth 1,000 words (color art book and b&w art book), Life, in Color, Post-Apocalyptic, Burn Through Me, Under theSea (photo book), Partial Nudity, Revealed, 100 Haikus, Give me the News, Let me See you Stripped, Part of my Pain, Rape Sexism Life &Death, Say Nothing, Twitterati, when you Dream tonight, the Periodic Table of Poetry, a year long Journey, Bon Voyage!, Sulphur & Sawdust, Slate & Marrow, Blister & Burn, Rinse & Repeat, Survive & Thrive, (not so) Warm & Fuzzy, Torture & Triumph, Oh., theElements, Side A/Side B, Balance, Chaos Theory, Writing To Honour & Cherish, Distinguished Writings, Breaking Silences, Unlocking the Mysteries, the Book of Scars,We The Poets, Life on the Edge, Revealing all your Dirty Little Secrets, Decrepit Remains, Charred Remnants, Hope & Creation, Bending the Curve, Layers of Creation, DarkMatter, Survival of the Fittest, Crawling Through the Dirt, Laying the Groundwork, Weathered, echo, Ink in my Blood, (bound) (4 editions), Enriched Poetry, cc&dEnriched Prose, Enriched with Dirt, An Open Book, Literary Town Hall (2 editions), Prominent Pen (2 editions), 100 Words, 1,000 Words,the 2012 Literary Date Book, It Was All Preordained, Cultural Touchstone, the Mission (issue edition and chapbooks edition), Purpose, Falling,Cheap Thrills, After the Apocalypse 2013 date book, After the Apocalypse (poery edition), After the Apocalypse (prose edition), Entanglement, Guilt byAssociation, don’t forget it, don’t listen. read., bare minimum, Poet as Sociopath, Drowning, Art is not Meant to be Touched, the Beaten Path, aNew Pen, Need to Know Basis (redacted edition and extended edition), the “need to know” 2015 literary date book, one Solitary Word, What Mustbe Done, Adrift, Salvation, the 2016 literary date book anthology, the Chosen Dew, Sunlight in the Sanctuary, from Smoke, the Intersection, Infamous in our Prime, Anais Nin: an Understanding of her Art, the Electronic Windmill, Changing Woman, the Swan Road, the Significance of theFrontier, The Svetasvatara Upanishad, Harvest of Gems, the Little Monk, Death in Málaga, Momento Mori, In the Palace of Creation, R.I.P., Bob the Bumble Bee,Remnants and Shadows, I Saw This, the Drive, Thomas at Tea, Crashing Down Nineteenth, Blue Collar Ballet, nopoem, In Your Heart the Apostrophe’s Teardrops of God, the Adventures of the Key to Believing Bear, Anais Nin: an Understanding of her Art (second printing), Deckard K inder / CharlieNew man, 12 Times 12 Equals Gross, a Marble Nude Pauline Borchese with a Marble Apple in her Marble Hand, Challenge of Night and Day and Chicago Poems, Lighten Up, Not Far From Here, Watershed, You Have Finally Won, Avenue C, Suburban Rhythms, Down Syndrome,the Dark Side of Love, The pill is a man’s best Friend, Angel’s Syllable Is Good Boss of Devil’s Spine, Poems and Stories from The Blue Collar Book of the Dead, Cat People, Death of an Angel, Ghost, Science: A Curmudgeon’s View, Ghost Dancers Leaping from a Tome, the 4-DWindow, Open Wounds, Anime Junkie, Interstice, Gunther, Cuts, Scream Cloud Island, When the World was Black and White, a Petal Under Pavement, The Holy See of CEE, Book 15 * Thailand to Volcanoes, Lost in an Echo, I Was Charles Bronson’s Secret Hostage, ErasableBond, Royal Dano’s Death Scene ‘tis of Thee, Understood, Akashic Shotgun, Champagne - Hot Water, How a Bullet Behaves, the Thing in the Lounge at WagonWheel (I Come in Avarice), Postcards from Exile, the Five Stages of Macbeth, Stay in Formation, Shadowing OtherFootprints, the Girl Next Door and Other Poems, Major Arcana, Sine Peoria Nulla est Gloria, Short Takes, Seeing Strangers, Re-Viewing Anais, The Tribes Joshua Drove Out of the Land, Butchery of the Innocent, Hammer-Chained, No Raft — No Ocean, Daning in the Abyss, Give What You Can, Come Fly with Me, Out of the Web, Don’t Tread on Me, Entering the Ice Age, Entering the Ice Age, the Line to Power, Fear the Forsaken, Falling Into Place, Unknown, Forever Bound, Exploding on the Scene, Moving the Earth, Autumn Again, Up In Smoke, No Return, Wrapping ItUp, Link in th Chain, Shot out of a Cannon, Incisible Ink, a ew era, Idols, Friction, Sea Drift, and Then he Moved, Approaching Front, Beyond the Gates, the Curve of Arctic Air, Idea, a Mad Escape, Testament, the New Deal, the Captive and the Dead, When the Walls are Paper Thin, Down in the Dirt v084, Clearing the Debris, Skeletal Remains, When the World Settles, Along the Surface, Into the White, Life... from Nothing, Down In It, Wake Up and Smell the Flowers, Looking Beyond, See the World Burn, America the Lost, Catch Fire in the Treetops, Wisdom inBroken Hands, Symbols Manifest, Grounded, Perfectly Imperfect, I Pull the Strings, am I really extinct, Home at Last, Spiralling, a Rural Story, Treading Water, Black Cat, a Bad Influence, Too Many Miles, the Path of Least Resistance, hello goodbye goodbye hello, Planet Apart

Compact Discs: Mom’s Favorite Vase the demo tapes, Kuypers the final (MFV Inclusive), Weeds and Flowers the beauty & the desolation, The Second Axing Something is Sweating, The Second Axing Live in Alaska, Pettus & Kuypers Live at Cafe Aloha, Pointless Orchestra Rough Mixes, Kuypers Seeing Things Differently, 5D/5D Tick Tock, Kuypers Change Rearrange, Order From Chaos The Entropy Project, Kuypers Six One One, Kuypers Stop., Kuypers Masterful Performances mp3 CD, Kuypers Death Comes in Threes, Kuypers Changing Gears, Kuypers Dreams, Kuypers How Do I Get There?, KuypersContact•Conflict•Control, the DMJ Art Connection the DMJ Art Connection, Kuypers Questions in a World Without Answers, Kuypers SIN, Kuypers WZRD Radio (2 CD set), Mom’s Favorite Vase and The Second Axing These Truths, assorted artists String Theory, Oh (audio CD), Life At The Cafe (3 CD set), the DMJ Art Connection IndianFlux, the DMJ Art Connection Manic Depressive or Something, Chaotic Radio Chaotic Radio Week #1, Chaotic Radio Chaotic Radio Week #2, Chaotic Radio Chaotic Radio Week #3, Chaotic Radio Chaotic Radio Week #4, Chaotic Radio Chaotic Radio Week #5, Chaotic Radio the Chaotic Collection Collection #01-05 (5 CD set) etc. (audioCD, 2 CD set), Chaotic Elements (2 CD set), Chaos in Motion (6 CD set), 5D/5D Screeching to a Halt (EP), PB&J Two for the Price of One (EP), Kiki, Jake and Haystack An American Portrait, Kuypers/the Bastard Trio/Paul Baker/the JoAnne Pow!ers Trio Fusion (4 CD set), podcasts the Evolution of Performance Art (13 CD set),Kuypers Live (14 CD set), the DMJ Art Connection the Things They Did to You (2 CD set), Kuypers Seeing a Psychiatrist (3 CD set), Kuypers St. Paul’s (3 CD set), Kuypers the 2009 Poetry Game Show (3 CD set), Kuypers and the HA!man of South Africa Burn Through Me (2 CD set), Kuypers “40”, Kuypers Sexism and Other Stories,Kuypers the Stories of Women (amazon.com release), Kuypers “Dobro Veče” (4 CD set) Kuypers “hmmm” (4 CD set), Kuypers “Letting it All Out”, Kuypers “What We Need In Life” (CD sngle), , Kuypers “Made Any Difference” (CD sngle), , Kuypers/Hardwick “Across the Pond” (3 CD set).

john sweet a nation of assholes w/ guns

Writing Copyright © 2015 John Sweet Design Copyright © 2015 Scars Publications and Design

http://scars.tv ! scarspublications

Documents

a nation of assholes with guns - scars.tv