The Gospel According To The Guest List
“What is this? This is sacred. What would love do?” [ TRADEMARK ]
a mantra from my next NYT best-selling self-help guide
that will whittle you more accessible to world-class healing
100% guarantee (or your $$ back) to remove the “ow” from “Now”
[ disclaimer : warranty void in faith’s absence ]
so come! come!
wash your soul in the offshore markets of Galilee!
We’ve got cruise tickets for the less leeching your worth!
We’ll rake together your old leaves,
you baptismal candle burning blooms
Your complaints your ego your bling all those old Yous
will drown
so You don’t have to.
Simple. Effective. Cleaner than bleach, cause the Jordan
ain’t got shit on me! Krishnamurti
ain’t got shit on me! Jodorowsky, Pachita, Eckhart, your dashboard Buddha statues
ain’t got shit on the Gospel According to the Guest List!!! aka Saint Icy Grip
aka Saint Woke aka 3rd Testament Jesus Tee Master Hood Royal Grave aka
All You Are Going To Be You Already Are. So relax
in a glass of your hungerpunch. No kool-aid here.
...
Regardless the # of faces Wallace shaves from his body
steel wire sponges never dig deep enough for light to reach into him
& reveal what his cells remembers
but his consciousness won’t let him.
If Lawrie knew him, she’d mock Wallace.
Call him an unplugged panic button.
Lawrie is rabid scissors in a room full of puppets.
Each night, she spits fluent Fury at mouths that speak Family, Safety,
or of any other clinical beast
known to hold out on informing their patients
of the scalpels slick up their wrists.
The razor her mother used to exit this world couldn’t cut Lawrie of her shadow’s strings…
Bill’s shadow squishs ancient couch cushions. The only light he recognizes
is that of 3am infomercials stirring Bill’s body with animal things like hunger.
He’s docile. Doesn’t bother with anyone that doesn't respond to the TV remote
his left hand sprouted. Methadone fertilized,
Bill is a knife-swallowing Netflix marathon Psychonaut Wiki doesn’t have a page for yet.
In his stomach, steel lips pucker. They’re ready for relief to melt them down the couch’s cracks
as his eyes drown bloodshot in the next episode’s sockets.
Joshua, pulling his head outta a bucket of tobacco spit & father
coughs into his reflection
as it turn his back on him, & asks
“Why do the nails hammered into you
scare you less than the holes they’ll leave?”
Jenny isn’t scared of the hole she’ll leave. Suicide isn’t her first choice
but she doesn’t know how long she can be the bed childhood hides under.
Lawrie. Wallace. Jenny. Bill. Joshua. All this pain….
Now what?
Let’s look at James.
James inhaled the world so deeply
he didn’t dare exhale.
with cheeks lookin like a spanking
James came to me
& I opened him
to page 34, of the Guest List
& gravity
released his breath
from the bear trap snapping in his heart
faster than the crumbs of love Lawrie feels denied
dissolves under her tongue.
These are real people. These are products of a culture
that preaches prescriptions not worth the ink they’re printed on.
So come! Come! For $29.99
[ plus shipping & rebate ]
you will find--
Posted Apr 9, 2022, 5:55 AM UTC