Revolution on Canvas, Volume 2 Read online

The Big Reveal

  It’s the big reveal.

  All the people standing around you a second ago were just actors in your life.

  Now they’re clapping and laughing and walking over to you.

  You figured it out.

  Ten thousand dollars cash.

  Paid vacation to Bermuda.

  It was all just a game.

  Nothing was ever as bad as you thought.

  A test for some reality TV show.

  RICH PALMER

  Buddhah

  Do What You Need to Be Happy

  I was chasing Ewoks on a motorcycle today. It was such a sight to see their furry firm rumps bounding side to side with each gallop of their cute little padded bear feet. They screamed in gloriously choired beeps and pulses as I revved my gilded stallion faster and harder into the frantic mass of bear dolls. Some hid behind garbage cans and fire hydrants; some ran into houses through cat doors and peeked out through cracked venetian blinds as I continued to chase down their friends.

  For some of the heavier ones, the thrill of fast sport was too much in the sullen mid-July sun, and they collapsed on the pavement.

  Some of the fallen I would swerve not to hit.

  Others I would aim for.

  The cute ones, I would swing a rusty crowbar toward the crowns of their skulls. Clipping bloody bone fragments into parked car doors and pedestrians, a fan of blood and fur would often erupt from these departed playthings, while an etching of matted hair would stretch the concrete as I rode on after the last visible Ewok, huffing and dragging its sorry battered soul into an abandoned alleyway for safe haven.

  I dismounted my gnarly steed and crept slowly up to the alley delta.

  “It’s only Luke, your old friend, don’t be sad about the others, I want to help you little man,” I soothed, palms outstretched, on my knees in the alley opening.

  With an uncertain rustling, the hairy ball appeared from out of his Dumpster hideout. Its gleaming eyes projected a light blue beyond ethical description, and an ecstasy of purity and innocence seemed to glorify and define a race of immeasurable serenity.

  I got up as the Ewok bumbled toward me with little furry feet and wrinkled hands collaborating in a tattered waltz of contentment.

  When the creature was about two feet in front of me, I reached into my back pocket, grabbed and cocked my P228 police-issued, loaded handgun and unwound a single bullet straight through the front of its face and out the back, sending the stunted round skipping along down the alleyway.

  With a sudden slump, the delicate creature collided with the ground by my feet, splattering fur and crimson on my boots and jeans. Its big blue eyes glazed erect and straight into the sun. I turned and walked back to my bike, and drove to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts for some coffee and an éclair.

  PORTER McKNIGHT

  Atreyu

  Come tell me old man,

  Whilst I am bathing in our wounded,

  ankle-deep in what remains of family

  Why do we fight this war?

  For fame?

  Or fortune?

  Here I see my brothers,

  White faced, lying still beside me,

  I feel contempt for what you’ve brought us.

  The ground here is like a morbid canvas.

  Necks contorted in fashions the mind could never comprehend.

  Wasted frames of men.

  Sinking.

  Wallowing.

  Writhing in perforated agony.

  Cleanse us of this offense!

  This sickening excuse for glory.

  (A feeling arises deep in his breast)

  The world goes dark

  I cannot refuse death in this moment.

  This all can end!

  This all could save us.

  O sweet death, deliver us from evil!

  This is suffering of another level.

  Bring mercy to my pitiful name.

  Rise.

  (The firmament isn’t ready for you.)

  The stench of death is not easy to portray.

  I wished for an Apocalypse.

  I’m surrounded by a catacomb.

  Where are the others?

  No spectator in sight.

  Just revengeful calm.

  Look at what has become of our feud.

  Bravery, in this circumstance, takes many forms.

  Grace granted by the loss of a single soul.

  One whose name is now set free.

  An overwhelming stress lifted from his chest.

  Their violence is a legend told in every land.

  KIRK HUFFMAN

  Gatsbys American Dream

  My apartment was muggy when I awoke.

  The ceiling at first blurred until its white-dulled-yellow

  smoke-stained

  color bloomed into focus.

  Shit that sunrise is bright.

  Maybe I will open a window.

  At first it was the chirping of birds, the rustling of the fresh

  green ivy

  in the breeze which had slowly conquered the old brick red

  of the antique hotel.

  All of it flowing in front of an awe-inspiring blue.

  Slowly.

  I admired it with all five senses.

  “You’re about to see some kung-fu shit, like you ain’t ever

  fuckin’ seen”

  bam.

  Hello. Do you know where you are, Stan?

  your garden of eden.

  9:48am

  dante’s inferno.

  fucking junkies.

  starbucks parking lots

  jake whoops on by and engine pistons roar the commuting

  swarm car alarms

  7 story condo buildings featuring studios, 1 and 2 bedrooms with 9,500 square feet of street-level retail space

  my apartment was muggy when I laid back down and lit up a smoke

  ALEX HOVIS

  Paper Models

  Never Forget Her

  Models, stacks of magazines

  Read between the lines of speed

  We can’t trail, move so slow anymore

  The way she wore neckties, and her crack eyes

  The Xenadrine, she does it for me

  Get excited, not today

  Show emotion, not today

  Warm Vanilla Sugar lingers on my sheets

  Your green eyes, your real brown eyes

  Endless late drives, oh how hard I tried

  Drink yourself into a mess

  We do what we wish for best

  I’ll keep you up all night without your consent

  Out your window is the road we’ll never know

  Your bedroom door, though, it remains closed

  You’ll never, never forget her

  But sooner or later you’ll wish you never met her

  And I’ll warn you but you’ll soon only regret her

  GRETA SALPETER

  The Hush Sound

  You are the moon

  Shadows all around you as you surface from the dark.

  Emerging from the gentle grip of night’s unfolding arms

  Darkness, darkness everywhere, do you feel all alone?

  The subtle grace of gravity, the heavy weight of stone

  You cannot see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear

  That floods the sky and blurs the darkness like a chandelier

  All the light that you possess is skewed by lakes and seas,

  The shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe

  I want to bring a mirror, so silver and correct

  So precise and so pristine, a perfect pane of glass

  I will set the mirror up to face the blackened sky

  So you will see your beauty every moment that you rise.

  New Year’s Eve

  Green bottles glow on the floor

  Scattered around a warm bed,

  Your silhouette is soft on the edges.

  Let’s fill the bottles with all of our wor
ried words;

  We’ll throw them in the cold, dark lake

  And follow our breath as we walk home.

  ROB MORRIS

  The Hush Sound

  the mess i’ve made for you

  Please use cup holders.

  Click …

  A camera is never around when you need one for that perfect shot …

  A 6, and a 5, and a 7, ate, 9, in a deck scattered at who knows what time …

  Casino’s time flies by and no one notices the minute hands devouring brain cells …

  Half-empty glasses are full at the bottom with condensation rings on the table …

  Leaving traces … memories … anything …

  Fall is here again and the bottles are almost all empty

  The truth is in the air like cheap whiskey.

  Click …

  A little piece of you is staying with me,

  A little piece of you is within this photograph,

  A little piece of you is coming with me,

  Like it or not …

  A little piece of you still cares.

  The decks missing cards in a game made for pairs.

  All the same suit … no suitors …

  Click …

  I ran for a pen to draw you a map … Of the fastest way home tonight.

  I’ll dot all the tollways, dash all the freeways … And shade every mountain range for you

  Color me caring …

  With contrasts of regrets … on the darker faces …

  All face cards but no queen.

  Put on my poker face and never show you the hand that hides my face …

  The joker I once was is shuffled and lost in figures and odds …

  Click …

  Kiss goodnight … while I know they’re looking at my cards …

  The house always wins … I act so well like I don’t mind …

  It’s just fun … It’s just a kiss … It’s just a moment that I won’t miss …

  You’ve got a 15-hour drive … with some plain states ahead and you’re tired.

  But I don’t offer lodgings … my house always wins …

  no I don’t offer comfort in the coldest shoulders I impose on you.

  Say cheese honey … then hit the road …

  Click …

  the sinking of some great ship

  Quiet! A heart speaks out, can you hear it?

  Quick! Stethoscope, scalpel, hurry damnit.

  “What’s it saying?”

  “It’s flopping around.”

  Myocardial infarction. Heart attack

  Lung sounds breathing agonal respirations

  Last breaths escaping in such a common manner

  Blood cells crying,

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “You’re hurting me like they all did.”

  Speaking out against the madman in the spoon.

  “Do you feel safe here?”

  “Our safes empty and ravaged.”

  “Thanks to you … I’m here …

  Without a penny in my pocket I would still hold you

  When you’re shaking, screaming, and turning blue”

  Sterilized for your lack of protection.

  “Is it because of lack of attention? Affection?”

  On the table surrounded you’re getting all you need and then some.

  Were confused on what a “last time” really means.

  We’ve heard it so many times lately.

  Fighting four on one to keep you in the basement

  Dotted arms like tiny chicken pox on your forearms

  Squeeze through the crack as we try to close the door

  The tears in our eyes could have filled riverbanks to flood levels

  I can’t help it … I’ve got a temper … I can’t lose it …

  “Sit down shut up, because the last straw has been drawn, and my temper is at its shortest right now, so please stop trampling my heart.”

  SCOTT WALDMAN

  The City Drive

  Is Bette Midler a True Star?

  Is Bette Midler a true star?

  Nah.

  Stars shine in the sky.

  Bette Midler ain’t no star.

  Polaris, now that’s a star!

  DANNY SMITH

  The City Drive

  Hesperia

  Tell me what it’s like

  Living under lights

  And stares

  From coffeepots

  And secondhand newsprint

  I’m listening

  Tell me what you like

  I’ll shut off the lights

  Downstairs

  There’s a Carpenter

  She’s singing her heart out

  We’re listening

  And lucky stars are counted

  Lucky stars are counted

  In Hesperia tonight

  Daughters grow up fast

  She’s the smartest in her class

  She says, “Wake up!

  It’s suppertime!”

  (shepherd’s pie. Heather’s new recipe)

  Donuts for dessert

  Uncle Wiggly skips a turn

  I lose

  I hang my head

  Cheryl says, “Let’s go to bed”

  Sounds good to me

  And lucky stars are counted

  Lucky stars are counted

  In Hesperia tonight

  TRAVIS BRYANT

  Goodbye Tomorrow

  save the boy

  i had to do something with the loose ends

  so i tied them around my legs

  i saw patience in the water as i gazed in

  deserving so much less

  as i sank the noise and colors left my head

  in perfect clarity i’d missed

  nineteen years old when numb killed cold

  forever

  i wasnt gasping so tell them when theyre asking

  tell them what i said

  there was nothing i could do with the things left to prove

  so i gave up on them

  i couldnt save the boy who used to feel alive

  the boy who had his mother’s smile

  he used to swim but we’re losing him

  to the current

  missouri

  can you tell me

  about missouri

  about the weather

  on the drive

  was it raining

  in missouri

  windshield blurring

  when you arrived

  did you drink enough

  not to worry

  or feel sorry

  for the child

  you were leaving

  with nothing

  and no one and nowhere

  just eighteen years of life

  that youre sorry doesnt make a damn thing right

  no good intentions will ever change her life

  that you fear the dark doesnt mean you love the light

  i never thought missouri would be the reason that i cry

  is it worth mentioning

  that she had a sibling

  that hasnt been clean

  for a day in his life

  hes been popping pills

  and brawling men

  in every state from texas up to washington

  do you blame yourself

  think of someone else

  is it taking all you have to stay alive

  is their grace for men

  or only consequence

  are you prepared to bear them for everyone

  you cheated in this life

  that youre sorry doesnt make a damn thing right

  no good intentions will ever change her life

  that you fear the dark doesnt mean you love the light

  i never thought missouri would be the reason that i cried

  i finally see

  why she believes in me

  never having the luxury

  of affording dreams

  or chasing them
/>
  to all the places i have been

  the seas of faces through which i swim

  on my way

  AARON CHAPMAN

  Nurses

  I spoke with GOD last night, and being the benevolent being that he is, he had some surprisingly keen insight he’d like me to pass on. GOD said he would like the word and notion “god” to be replaced with the word “life.”

  That it should be worshipped as wholeheartedly as he was. GOD went on to say all the idolization was beginning to make him feel a tad “big headed” and that worshipping existence would make him just as happy.

  GOD thought it would be a good idea for people to take an hour (or 5) out of each Sunday to go somewhere new and appreciate anything at all. GOD also thought it wise to brush up on science (or another field of interest) in that time. GOD mentioned that doing service or just being really nice would suffice as well.

  In LIFEism:

  All donations are to be researched contributions to a worthy charity or to the community in which you live.

  Sins are completely relative to environment and genetics, and are to be taken up with your fellow man. Repentance likewise.

  Clergy will be self-appointed mentors that know anything you don’t.

  The only commandments are:

  1. Be a good person as best you can. All cases are relative to the individual 2. Live as much life as you can 3. Pursue something you deem worthy of your time in your relatively short amount on earth.

  4. Love all

  GOD’s last words were: “Have all the ladies put ’em on the glass!”

  DAMON DAW

  Nurses

  Musicalism

  The sad state of the music industry today can be attributed to one thing and one thing alone: it has in fact ceased to be an “industry” and has become a “business.” An industry differs from a business in that it is a system involved in producing and marketing tools to the public that aim to maximize the standard of living of those that purchase and implement them. One might say that an industry is concerned with the creation and distribution of technologies, music being one of these. A business, on the other hand, is an organization whose primary concern is selling products at a maximum net profit with lowest overhead costs, while placing a secondary emphasis on the impact of the product on the lives of consumers. Present-day companies that finance bands and individual performers (primarily, but not limited to, “major labels”) have effectively changed most mainstream music from a tool of technology, to a product.