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The Almighty Dirty Dollar

  Wake up Slave.

  Do not be late or the master will beat you with the whip of unemployment

  Dress in a sophisticated suit

  Impress the overcompensated boss

  Despite your feelings of undeniable disdain

  Businessmen drink another cup a Joe,

  Maybe overtime will be tolerable

  Grocery store cashier

  Wear a pretty smile and a dirty apron

  Regardless how the greedy consumer acts

  Backbone is grounds for termination

  Stripper

  Remove your revealing attire for the drunk and horny

  He waves a buck, scoff and moves towards the champagne room where it rains twenties Or hails quarters

  Millionaire

  Count the millions of sins committed for greenbacks

  Digest the delicious disease of greed

  Remember a Mercedes makes you better than the poor

  We’re all working hard for the one controlling necessity

  The Almighty Dirty Dollar

  Glass Houses

  They say that I try too hard

  That I make a big deal,

  That all I do is worry,

  Perhaps-

  But I see society as an unstable structure

  That we need to build upon every day

  Or it will crumble before our eyes.

  When you don’t say please

  Thank you

  Or sorry

  I want to punch you in the face

  I want to take back my nice gesture

  And spit on your discourteous desolate heart

  But

  I would not want to compromise my values

  For something so petty

  And small

  As you

  I tip well

  Not because I am rich,

  Or have something to prove,

  But because it is the right thing to do

  I open doors for others, and say thank you when they are opened for me

  I always say excuse me

  I remain polite,

  Retain my manners

  And

  Revel in the fact that I am better than the trash that does the opposite

  Queen of the Clouds

  She walks on clouds of vagrant velvet

  Lined with exotic silver streaks

  Looking down on a pitiful planet

  And sees me,

  The delusional cast away with little to offer

  Just pretty words and simple trinkets of proposed admiration

  The soft texture of her skin hides her insides

  A cold heart that yearns to be warm again

  A soul unfulfilled

  Lungs that gasp for knowledge, prosperity

  The desire to change an uncompromising and ugly situation

  We are all dead today

  Lifeless zombies starved of creativity

  Somehow set into stone

  I know I can break this rock

  But not alone

  I need her poetic compassion to guide me

  Through the silver lined clouds of her existence.

  Forlorn

  Pieces of my life

  Slowly slip through bandaged appendages

  They say;

  When it rains it pours

  Well,

  Noah must be building another arc these days

  I pace through this desolate apartment building

  Waiting for a response

  From my last text message to you;

  It never comes

  It’s not lonely-

  When her cats need their supper

  And I can’t find the meow mix

  Only because

  She always was in charge of that

  It’s not lonely-

  When the wine pushes painkillers past my tonsils

  And

  I climb the staircase with a dislocated patella

  Sliding in and out of place

  It’s not lonely-

  When I open up our closet door

  To get an extra blanket to sleep with

  And hear the sound of unused plastic hangers

  Smacking against each other,

  Her dresses and pretty blouses use to dull the noise

  No it’s not lonely-

  Until I crawl drunk into bed

  The scent of Pantene on the pillows

  Lingering

  Like our first kiss at the crooked picnic table

  Like making love after running through sprinklers

  Like the three years it took you to say goodbye

  I stretch my arm outwards with my eyes closed

  Hoping to touch your soft flat stomach

  Or

  Feel the warmth of your breath against my neck…..

  It’s going to be a very cold night

  Push

  It’s been days since I’ve slept

  The sun seems brighter

  My eyes lost all focus

  The muscles behind the iris is growing weak

  All of the conversations seem rehearsed

  In this state, I’m susceptible to anything

  I wander the halls

  Searching for a cup of coffee

  A dose of sugar

  An energy drink

  I quit smoking months ago

  Just to start up again here and now

  The butterflies

  That circle inside my empty stomach lining

  Have butterflies, which have little baby butterflies…I’m nervous

  But confident

  Back through a set of double doors

  To a set of double doors

  To an elevator

  That leads to a set of double doors

  The room I finally arrive in is full

  Of people

  Of screams

  Of an odor so pungent my nose bleeds

  I look down at this shell of a woman

  Both of us dizzy and exhausted

  Then I join in with the screaming and yelling

  The grunts… the moans….

  I tell her this is how it is

  To hold on

  Breath

  Everything will be okay if you stay calm

  Hair

  Eyes

  Nose

  Mouth

  Neck

  Body

  I grab the ball of blood acceptingly

  Our eyes match, both crystal blue and full of tears

  A first glance of a new life.

  A new love.

  Kira.

  Metal Monsters

  Steel demons strike under a starless sky

  Cops only leave the doughnut shop

  When riots break out

  The baton battalion of Chittenden Avenue

  Break up yet another harmless keg party

  Power is corruption

  The devil with a blue dress carries a badge

  He preaches to all the children in regards to the new way

  Everyone ignores police brutality

  Except those it inflicts

  Tear gas kisses and rubber bullet sex sessions caress the youth

  We’re all getting fucked by the system

  Dance in your goodie two shoes little one

  Soon the song shall be over

  What will happen then?

  Will they applaud you for being boring?

  Or shoo you off stage awaiting the next carbon copy to perform

  Goodbye

  “Miles away”

  She Says

  “Miles away from here”

  There is nothing left except withered flowers

  Degraded love

  Broken glass tears

  -Where ya gonna go-

  “New York, New York

  Where buildings fall

  Broken hearts scream for crazy glue

  And every girl is an actress

  Away from Ohio Valleys


  Columbus Concrete

  And boys like you”

  “You have no soul Mr. Thompson”

  -I love you-

  “You lust with every inch, and bruise with every insulting word”

  -Goodbye-

  Off she goes…to a train…to become a memory,

  to become nothing but a blueprint of how I’ll try again

  About the Author

  Kurt Thompson is a twenty five year old writer who lives in Columbus Ohio.

  Follow on Twitter @kurtsoapbox

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