John Sweet

not a dog, but a dog on fire

a house maybe, or a
trailer filled with fire

maybe all of the empty fields
that lie between us

a statement

an act that can’t be taken back
can’t be reversed, and
which of us is to blame?

imagine the answer
being that simple

imagine being smart enough
to be able to separate
the future from the past

we were in love and
we were high

gave the baby a name
but the baby was dead

no punchline

no songs of hope

just the terrible shape of
god’s smiling face
where the
refuses to heal


such believers

at war w/ some random stranger over
nothing, just keeps screaming he’s
going to kill you while the
audience laughs & claps

late summer in
the kingdom of oblivion

a small scene in a quiet movie that
brings yr father’s death
right back to the here and now

17 years wasted lying to everyone
around you, and for what?

unpaid bills and a house on fire and
you can never quite see the flames

can smell the burnt sugar as you lick it
from yr lover’s fingertips but
when she goes back to her husband all you
                                     have left are ghosts

and you kill what you love and
you kill what you hate and just don’t
waste yr breath on the lie of resurrection


i have stood naked in
the palace of bones

i know you all from the
age of victims

we will find only joy as we drag each
other to such desperate graves

© John Sweet

John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include A Flag On Fire Is A Song of Hope (2019 Scars Publications) and A Dead Man, Either Way (2020 Kung Fu Treachery Press).

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