'Warrior Souls… '
I sigh.
Then step into the morning…
Wind swept snow falls, swirls, whirling, as a dervish across this barren asphalt tundra.
The peel and wail of a siren screams, rushing to collide with the echoing clap-clap-clap & rat-a-tat-tat of gun fire, just South of the “8”.
The crisp, clean moon hanging high, dangling there; sharing with me it’s reflection of light that’s yet to come, smiling on me in its wicked way, seeming as if to say, "I know you wish that you were here".
I sigh again.
Off in the near distance, a woman screams, her rambling rant echoes wildly across an empty, early,cityscape.
No one about to hear her. No one around to care. Her lunacy is thus her only friend. She seems thusly accustomed.
The click-click-click of a broken wheel on another stolen grocer’s cart, pushed by another broken, wayward soul; repeats-repeats-repeats, draws near, nearer, then falls, fading on away.
I fumble with frozen phalanges to find, ignite and inhale another hand-rolled smoke.
I stand starkly still in this moment, letting its essence enter me, its poison course through me.
I absorb its smoky calm. Exhale. Slowly, a plume to contrast the still purity of an empty street.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Until the cycle is complete.
In these moments,
pondering.
Recalling the sleepless night that preceded this savored moment of simple silence.
The cries and coughs, mumbles and moans, laughter and lewdities uttered.
My small space, in a huge room allotted for unwanted, unclean and unseen such as I.
Surrounded by the dolts and drunkards,
vandals and villains,
sociopaths and savants,
con-artists and convicts,
the boogie-men & the buffoons.
Their scattered soul sketches shatter the still of a nighttime peace.
Constant.
A bombardment.
Like mental M-16s firing across a messy minefield behind an enemy’s line.
No peace here.
No rest.
I sigh.
Yet again, I remain still in my tiny space.
Resting only until the pre-dawn raid of chaos;
as this mecca of madness alerts itself,
and awakens to arise to face the battle of just…… Yet another day.
Another sigh escapes my lips;
another tear slips slowly, silently down my cheek. I ponder it.
Ponder and wonder upon it all, this life, this place, this condemned clutter of a place to be.
The dreams I once held sacred and dear have led me on to this.
Gone now, they remain jaded, faded echoes of memories,
I sigh.
Yet again I arise from my space, fall in line and align with the cadre of survivors.
Suit up in the mind-splattered armor of my tattered sanity;
and go off into the stark, dark, pre-dawn to fight today as every day.
The simple mental war.
I stand as I can as that which I am,
I am…..
Indeed;
One of these,
The Warrior Souls.
C. 2013 MVLT/D. Jones
Micheal Valentino-LaTraviato/Detroit Jones
I hope you enjoyed that piece.
I wrote it one early am while i was homeless and freezing cold.
It truly is all that crossed my mind in and around that moment in which it was conceived & written.
speaking of Warrior Souls,
Here is a video of & by another Warrior Soul;
Mz. Doro Pesch.
As well, some more warrior Souls from the Motor City & L.A.; simply, Warrior Soul…
As The Mind IS the GREATEST Weapon
of CHOICE…
Use it Wisely,
Use it WELL!!!!
Ciao for now;
Via Con Dio, mi Amici!!!!!
Detroit Jones
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