Joey Sims

FROM REVOLVING DOOR

63.
(Digital Crucifixion)

I can no longer afford to dodge bullets or put myself in the line of fire; I’d rather conquer myself and let nature take its course like my mother said I brought you in this world and I’ll take you out; I won’t fight against the free will of others their victory depends on overcoming the flesh and only they can take that step even with guidance; the flesh wars against the spirit. I wuz once on a teenage death trip then I wanted to save the world now all I wanna do is pass down culture to the children; the older generations should know better and will perish by their own hands, all us apostles can do is bystand. (these people can hardly be led and don’t know who or what to follow). My sadness is because I’ll never get to see the people I knew as they were and if I saw them as they are now there would be an awkward distance; I remember you all I was forced to go out into the world now I reminisce the world that is no longer; Jesus was supposed to come back in the year 2000 after that was untrue something left the planet; we went from neon colors siphoned out to black and khaki; Jesus didn’t come and love left, it’s been 15 years of self-destruction and desecration since… Jesus didn’t come or came and went every prophesy hence has been suspect; all are redeemed in the new covenant but all aren’t safe death was conquered but torture and desolation are abundant; the soul leaves the body after the threshold of pain is exceeded; the body heats up to burn the virus out. What are we to do? When Jesus came they mocked him, when Jesus didn’t come they were let down left to the corporate wolves the old world is alive and well the mold spores are dormant in the wood even those who do good are funded by the adversary. I no longer wanna wake out of a light headed stupor; when you feel good you drink, when you feel sad you drink, when you celebrate you drink, when you mourn you drink; walkin on thin ice with a broken crutch clutching the bottle clutching memories. How carefree we were even if we had a curfew we were sure Jesus was comin it was like the homestretch of an arduous race a relief; how the dance was impossibly telepathic, how the candy was cheap and the hairdos fresh, the kicks laces loose, the 12 bit graphics, the community center, the community babysitters, the candy lady, the step squads, the beaded headed girls doing their keychain braids, the basketball tournaments and church picnics; the bad boys won the championship and changed the name of the game an electric blur through Reagan Bush and Clinton after y2k the celltowers reigned Jesus crucified digitally. Will we get with the program and reboot pass this haunting season will another star appear will another Mary give birth to a savior expected to deliver us only to be feared and scourged the worms swooped up by a bird taken to a nest and that nest pillaged and all its eggs eaten and the vultures fight over the dried up remains. (passing on the virus) nothing has ever been true since I’ve been alive and what used to be is gone the grief weakens my stomach and is expelled through song; lord who has heard our report even those who were delivered from Egypt went astray; the congregation in a unconvincing tone mutters the lord’s prayer cellphones on vibrate; there are no more covenants we are on our own we may be better off that way mother… let us earn the glory of finishing the race by our own strength; mother you sent me out into the world in a turbulent escalating light still we fight a battle already won a seed already blossoming man’s biggest weapon will never outdo creation; my brothers and sisters I’ll see you there in the great regeneration.

© 2016 Joey Sims

The Big Windows Review 7 (Spring 2016)

 

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