Permanent JanuaryA Poem by Kenneth The Poet
One third of the day,
he lives in an artificial winter during the season of polar opposition while he lives the other two-thirds of the day in polar opposition to the complement of his borrowed time, his paid time. The cold snap of cold snaps solidifies his blood and the organ that pumps it throughout his body, and since life comes from the blood, his heart, mind and soul have hardened harder than the heart of Pharoah. Even the complimentary time spent apart from each other is not enough to melt his ice block of a heart, mind and soul. And they are just yards away on the same premises, he in his cold morgue of a warehouse, she in her hypothermic cell of an office, so it might as well be a permanent January all year round. They only speak when necessary, and that's only when spoken to, otherwise they are roommates with benefits and nothing more. As the old saw goes, matrimony is on the rocks because their connection has frozen over and not even the inverse force that Kirk Cameron capitalized on could reverse how far cooled their bond had become. Maybe that's why the cliche had become so cliche, because many an alcoholic has been created by marriages that have made the trip southward. And so they sit frozen, and when the inverse force is finally applied, it will reek of rotten eggs and pure, raw volcanism. And maybe that's why the legal fire was developed by the more advanced cultures like the art of reckoning. And when the final reckoning occurs, the maybe the ice block that is his heart, mind and soul can became the polar opposite of Pharaoh, that the artificial winter he lives in can become the polar opposite it yearns to be, no more permanent January ever again. Of course, if he followed The Way of the Master like Kirk Cameron does, then the marriage would have been fireproofed in the first place. And then maybe the thought of a permanent January wouldn't be as mentally excruciating as the thought of a permanent July. Of course, what does it matter when a permanent death sounds solidly better than a permanent life? No more January, and no more July. © 2011 Kenneth The PoetReviews
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13 Reviews Added on June 25, 2011 Last Updated on July 6, 2011 AuthorKenneth The PoetBismarck, NDAboutKenneth The Poet is an optimist wrapped in the candy shell of moroseness and cynicism. He lives between the two parallels marked 46 and 49, all while living in the state marked 39. He pretends that he.. more..Writing
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