Put the animal in a cage
and put your pulsating rage in my pocket.
I cannot escape the heatwaves,
but I can empty my eye sockets.
Put the cynic in a cathedral
and play ethereal songs on loop.
We are really not making strides,
we are just stuck on an endless hoop.
-Jackie
When I knew there was no light left in my windows
And there was no steel left in my sinking heart,
I let the streets know the name of my only traitor.
Not even the wind could catch that killing dart.
-Jackie
The darkest storms pass
and the nicest words rot
and I wish things would last
when my stomach’s in knots.
The good times spill
and the bad days fade
and I outsmart my will
but never outrun my fate.
-Jackie
I would have been so relieved if I saw your eulogy
Stating in no uncertain terms that you lost your legacy.
I would have jumped up and down like a joyous kid
While my rage trapped and suffocated you under a lid.
-Jackie
The lemons I cut on my kitchen counter
Still taste sweeter than your biting lips.
The money I spent on chasing your love,
I made it all back in generous tips.
I do not want to hear that you’re sorry.
You can save your reasons and your voice.
The times will catch up with thunderous traitors
And screams will overcome the noise.
-Jackie
You were not kind enough to leave me,
You were not wise enough to stay.
Am I only a sore topic to you?
Or a sour remark that ruins your day?
-Jackie
You said you would ruffle a few feathers,
You swore you would leave this battle early.
So, why am I losing my guts left and right?
Why did you paint my city gate pearly?
-Jackie
All the birds you’ve ever seen crash against tall windows.
They chase their deaths, trying to outrun your wisdom.
All the women you’ve trapped keep becoming widows,
But you keep staying alive like a loophole in a system.
-Jackie
Even the worst parts of this city cried for me when you wounded my spine,
And I knew then that you are a cross to bear,
A red light or a finite line.
Even the slickest of my enemies shed a few tears that dark August night,
And I knew that your wrongs were a journey,
A test for my wicked might.
-Jackie
Will they write your initials on my headstone
or will it be the other way around?
Will they cite me as your cause of death
or will they lay me in the solid ground?
Will the little flowers stay fresh and green
or will they crumble out of pure spite?
The jewels you gave me are worthless.
They turn to ashes when brought into the light.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 