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Walter LaVerne Jones

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Human Waste
by Walter LaVerne Jones

Saturday, July 02, 2005
Not rated by the Author.
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City rats and alley cats all about the same.







Author Note: Fear a man with nothing left to loose


Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains strong sexual content.






Haze fell across the blend of love and life. In everyday life we live the fortune of keeping mind clear for the wind that comes in face to face contact with an image better left in the mirror. So wonderful a dream keeps a man reaching for the perfect mate. I leave the mirror of life left on the ground. Tears strip the emotions from a church visit in cold winter. Pew hard mind lost in the way of the cross station three, that is me. When did I die, all the days fall to waste in practiced hate left in city streets with gangs fire and shooting. Drugs and children of the night. Pimps die at my hand. Needles glow fire red already too much said.

Walls dance the wild-eyed freak not seen
cuts a nerve or two as her face lights fear
beer bottle breaks another face and dream
pick glass from her soul count the little left
peal junkie off the wall 911 call DOA

Strip the blood soaked clothes from a life dead
scream the tried and true and death was already too late
pain escape livid and ripping faith in the middle of hope
one more piece of the world being buck naked in drug sea

Partner wraps his daughter in a sheet, unloads his gun in a john
Pimp screams you will go to jail one between the eyes dies slow
kick in what's left of his face daughter dies later overdose
cardboard box city goes up in flames no tears only fear
death wins again in the night drug king sends us message

They are found in a dumpster out side his new home
a note left in their blood will be reminder not all play fair
wife died inside my home a shotgun to the head
suits reached for the bottle in my hand careful not to wake me

Danger hits the street partner and I nothing to die for worse nothing to live for
silly man sits in restaurant, you're under...bang ...bang .....four friends
find a safe haven in the seed of life given up for another
hip hop drug snorting addict willing to do anything for the next fix
hanging in cell downtown shoe laced left in his shoes wonder how

Captain says time for retirement bottle sings a song
Dung still not gone streets full and elephants dance
Little left of me soul empty mind screams at elephants
we never had a chance D stops I'll cut a deal
street cop laughs how does it feel partner splits his head

Montana needs people FBI protection we live and die
inside the heart of a bad dream and the wisdom drops
we walk the tight rope still we load guns shoot cans for fun
we died along time ago slow real slow stars fall ours.



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Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 7/14/2005
Walter--

Shattering, visually disturbing write; but a reality for far too many. Thank you for not shirking away and bringing it home realistically and powerfully.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 7/9/2005
You paint a stark portrait of reality that cannot be ignored. Thank you, Walter. Love and peace. Regis
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 7/3/2005
Wow a very vivid write about life out there!!

Powerful my friend!!

Happy 4th of July!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Rosemarie Skaine 7/2/2005
Very descriptive of street life. Excellent write. R
Reviewed by Sue Hess 7/2/2005
wow..the story of a street cop? the street itself...the night life, it's all here..terrific poem
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