archives, poetry

Endless Rain Falling Without Mercy. {poetry}

From town to town from house
to house
and without joy and without sorrow

without history
which is only a human weakness

the need to love bones
to hold them close
to drag to the bottom for answers
without stopping to consider the
futility of questions left
floating on the surface

or this

politics are for assholes

war is nothing more than
the logical conclusion of ignorance

why would you ever trust someone
who would ask you to
die for what you believe in?

Why aren’t they doing it themselves?

And you answer the phone on a
wasted Saturday afternoon,
and it’s your son telling you he hates you

it’s the sky too bright and too wide,
blinding light without heat,
and you can’t remember the name of the
woman in bed next to you and
so you say nothing

you turn away

it’s the small gestures,
you see,
and it’s the poisoned memories

myself as an adult but
standing at the
edge of my childhood playground

cold and motionless,
sun through bare trees, low
and sullen, but where are the bones?

Where is anyone who ever
meant anything at all?

Listen, someone calling in the distance
and the familiar feeling of
a cliff somewhere behind me,
down a short dirt path

the taste of barbed wire

the laughter of opposing armies

and what was the point, really,
of growing up?

Fear is a bottomless well

me at 10 became me at 25
became me at 40 and the
hills never changed

houses faded, turned as grey
as cancer patients

escape was contemplated
but then I fell in love

then her brother jumped to his death

winter, and he punched through
the ice with no waste motion,
with no time for regret,
and then in the spring we made a
failed attempt at warmth

we moved backwards

memory of birds’ wings, of a
birch tree in a tiny yard

the silence of Sunday morning

picture window reflecting where
people might be hiding,
but no people

teenagers, three or four boys,
the one who wants to show you
his cock, the one who wants to spit
in your mouth, some of them brothers
possibly, and when their house
burns down you feel only
regret that they survive

you feel only savage joy

season of the resurrection in the
year of the bleeding horse, dead sky in the
water’s surface, weeds pushing up
through rusted shopping carts and forgotten daughters

season of blind gods in the
year of murdered nuns

we drive 50 miles to find your
father and, when we get there, he
has no idea who you are

asks for money

can’t stop coughing

has his kingdom, his one barren
room in shades of sickness
and despair, and the thing about the
desert is how familiar it
always is

dead trees and splintered glass and
abandoned trailers left on the shadowed
sides of the circling hills

he road to the cemetery

the washed-out bridge on blodgett road

had to find a different way to
reach this girl I loved
and then one day she just wasn’t there

one day, 20 years later, she turned up
again on the shore of someone
else’s ocean and wrote to tell me
that nothing had changed

sent me flowers and
the bones of angels and
what matters finally
is that none of it matters

the priests are rapists
but they’ll die

movies will be made about starving
children, but nothing
will be done to change the reality

those who have the money will
only hold on to it that much tighter

something to laugh about maybe
if that’s the kind of mood you’re in

a small bitter song to sing against
the walls of your house
when your children no longer visit

this endless fucking rain
falling without mercy
in all of these empty parking lots

the morning you wake up
and finally realize how lost you
really are.


John Sweet is a believer in writing as catharsis. He’s opposed to all organized religion and political parties. He avoids zealots and social media whenever possible. His latest collections include Heathen Tongue (Kendra Steiner Editions), A Bastard Child in the Kingdom of Nil (2018 Analog Submission Press) and A Flag on Fire is a Song of Hope (2019 Scars Publication). All pertinent facts about his life are buried somewhere in his writing.


{Join us on FacebookTwitterInstagram & Pinterest}


Rebelle Society
Rebelle Society is a unique, revolutionary online magazine reporting daily acts of Creative Rebellion and celebrating the Art of Being Alive. Rebelle Society is also a virtual country for all creatively maladjusted rebels with a cause, trying to lead an extraordinary life and inspire the world with their passion. Join us on Facebook, Instagram & Twitter for daily bites of Creative Rebellion. Join our Rebelle Insider List along with over 40k Dreamers & Doers around the world for FREE creative resources, news & inspiration in the comfort of your inbox.
Rebelle Society
Rebelle Society