tragedy

Our Proud, Blind Youth

Quote bernardsbarnes Musings , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

woman

“Getting strangled to death
was the last thing in the world
she imagined she would be doing
Thursday night,
the day after graduating university.”

–BSB

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Witness

bernardsbarnes Musings, Poetry , , , , , , , , , , ,

There is always,
in every dive and bus bench
and street corner and bar-stool and bank line-up

some shifty gent with cracking skin, thick glasses, scars or scabs,

who mutters curses under his breath to no one,
seemingly,
but me.

jbl-hernstedt-mural-1

I am the chosen one
who soaks up the confessions of the lonely and lost and forgotten.

Lucky me.

One of these days. I’ll witness a death. I just know it.

Why do bad things always happen to me?

-BSB

Cody

bernardsbarnes Articles , , , , , , , , , ,

When I was eighteen years old, my wisdom teeth were pulled.

It was a fairly painless procedure in and of itself, as I was unconscious at the time of its occurrence. The maxillofacial surgeon’s assistant sat me in a chair and put a mask over my face. She told me that the gas worked fast and that I should try to breathe normally, then she left the room. Immediately, I began pulling the deepest and fastest breaths I could muster. I had never gone under anesthesia before, and I wanted to suck the biggest narcotic high off this rare opportunity that I possibly could. After a few deep pulls, the assistant poked her head around the door frame and said, “Um, I haven’t actually turned the gas on yet. Just relax.” My cheeks flushed briefly. Continue reading →

tragedy

bernardsbarnes Poetry , , , , , ,

the father crouches in the dark, naked
the skin splits apart and the son emerges
out of the father’s back
the son rises, looks around in sadness
headless
post-birth loneliness
he knows not what he has to do
the son ventures into the streets – still headless
and dripping wet
people shove by – fast – too fast – can’t keep up
the son dodges a car, horns blare
he finds refuge on the other sidewalk
the son stands by a bus stop and then meets
her
the blind woman, she is beautiful, and she reaches
reaches out tenderly, lovingly
to him
he, the son, takes her hand
the blind woman raises her other hand to touch
his face
but she finds nothing
her smile fades and her hands fall limp
she walks away
the son cannot move for a long time, except
to reach his arms out to the air in hope
she will run back into them