Monday, May 29, 2006

Well

I created this blog to share my poetry, but tonight I write to be writing, to be talking. I have a lot to say. At the top of my morning is a star, my brother's first child. I cry now at the mere mention of the word child. But today it is a *smilecry that I have on my face. I read that word in a poem today while thinking of the child. I cry again. But you know, "I thought I'd something more to say." And indeed I do.

I hope my brother will take our legacy of violence and insanity, crumble it up, toss it in the backseat like a mad man tosses a speeding ticket written by an intimidated Georgia state trooper. And speeds away. Far away never to look back. Teach him a better way. Better than we have been taught. Teach him that the shame not lie in crying, but in not feeling, not knowing all that is beautiful in this world. Teach him that sadness, oh the sadness, doesn't have to tower over him. It doesn't have to love him in that strange way that sadness has loved us.

I guess the point is I love my brother. I like to think we are special. Not because we're better than someone else, or could harm them, or are more talented than others, but because we made it. We made it through that shithole life. We stand here proud men, today with YOUR son. I will protect him the way an angel's flaming sword might protect Eden.

I've switched zig zag my tenses here. But that's how I am right now. Raw. Sniffling. A true zig zag man for sure. The other fucking thing that on my mind is a terrible fucked up fucking wrong that has occurred to my friend Joe. Joe's a big mother fucker. 6' 8" or so. 260. Been my nearly my best friend through my teens and twenties. We were really something. Stupid. The cops were afraid of us. I digress. Anyway, my friend Joe is feuding with his dad's renters. The state police has been poking around, busting meth. That god damn evil fucked up shit. But Joe doesn’t fuck around. He drinks beer. Acts goofy. Is fun to be around. So joe knows his rights. He tells the mother fuckers (or officers) to leave. They don't like the words he used, so he cracks Joe in the shin. Joe goes inside. Four Kentucky State Police officers follow him into the house. Mace him. Beat him. And take him to jail. ALL in front of his children and wife. His son nearly got his head taken off by one the cops flashlights. There were witness. tHEY SHOULD LOSS their fucking jobs. But who knows in this crooked fucked up town., AHHHHHHHHHH!!

3 Comments:

Blogger Erin said...

You and Keenan (and Kriss too) ARE special, better than some, more talented than many, and I hear tell you could hurt a few too, but you're special because you love, and I'd say that's a hell of an accomplishment, after all the violence...
Love you James
~Erin

1:56 AM  
Blogger westcoastmama said...

Ah, my friends...you are all so wonderful and we have been blessed and so honored to have been able to become your friends. And, yes...you should be proud, all of you. I am :-)

1:38 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The boy will be more. I typed about ten various opening sentences to this comment before stumbling across the one that you have just read. I wavered back and forth between elaborate sentence structure and creative acronyms for a few moments;all the while struggling for nothing short of greatness-but at the same time-nothing more than the truth. I thought of myself-my dear brother-our father...and then I knew that the boy will be more. More than a man like me. I have always strived to make peace out of chaos-no matter how compeling the evidense stacked against me-I always do what I feel is true and just. Sometimes that makes me the bad guy,but every once in a while-it makes me the hero of the show. Anyway-the bot will be more. His mother and I have choosen the name Keenan Eric Ashley Quist Watkins-and as I look at him now, I swear that no combination of words could ever describe him more accurately.

As for My friend Joe and his attackers: Men who have decided to become members of law enforcement are no more or less accountable for the actions they take-and this will not be an exception. Police or not-if justice is not carried out within the boundries of the law that these cowards were sworn to uphold...another,more ancient brand of justice will then be brought down upon thier brows. You heard it here first. It's almost over now,
Keenan.

5:42 PM  

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