Insurmountable Odds

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 05, 2018

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Submitted: September 05, 2018



I would like to dedicate this poem and its style to Anne Sexton. I am confident that if we had the chance to live at the same time and meet, she would have ceased trying to kill herself. Sometimes it takes someone's vulnerable honesty about the things nobody wants to talk about to penetrate hopelessness and kick your own ass back to the good places. I love Anne and I am forever grateful for her honesty.. Here is some of my own...

Insurmountable Odds

By Lindsey A. Bryant


Transform involuntarily,

When the conditions are just right,

DNA becomes angry,

Overtakes the humanity in man,

This feels kind of like that must feel,

Howling in the moonlight with the bite mark still fresh in the skin,

Instinctual ugly behavior getting you through the night,

While all your old friends grab up their torches and best lynchin ropes..

Step right up!....

It’s a regular soul tearing in the moonlight..

So, I liken to lichen tonight, so what?

Monsters need some lovin too..

Just ask the friendly neighborhood red dot,

And his attorney...

It’s just a small shift in the food chain anyway..

Species go extinct all the time,

Funny how humans become such advocates of vegetarianism,

When they’re on the Sunday special,

They serve each other up every day,

A regular survival of the fittest Real Housewife,

I wonder if vial tongue is on the appetizer list?

Can I get that smothered in country gravy?

Seems we may all be better off if I could,

Must be a delicacy in the good old US of A to consume vial tongue appetizers,

If the hurtful things they say can taste so delicious! MMmmm..

Our dysfunctional black survival tool belts must be like that,

Just take out the opiates and breathe them,

It doesn't hurt..

Quite the opposite

The white of it deceives pain receptors in the periaqueductal gray..

"Add three tablespoons of criticism"

A regular recipe for conscious living,

Pft! “constructive criticism” in a recipe for happiness,

Rediculous I say!

What’s so constructive about criticism?

A simple loving compliment and saying nothing at all after that,

May have bigger dicked the criticism and annual NCOERs after all,


Who would have thunk it?

Surely Humpity Dumpity sitting on his trailer house,

Getting high out of his yokey mind,

Wondering why every noble man wanted to devour him,

Instead of dip him in wax and food coloring,

Lift him up on the mantle as proud decore,

No wonder he broke into pieces,

Now no one gets the pleasure of his fun loving eggy demeanor.

No one is the champion to a unique love,

My soul wanders through the fog,

of insurmountable odds

It must kind of feel like that,

Sitting all alone getting high and wanting to die..

I look up and raise my hand to God,

Surely He must have the answer,

To continue on to the next grade,

That will ease all this strain,

But the classroom is full of uplifted hands tonight,

Tonight He must answer with deafening silence,

I continue to wonder, to wander on alone with Anne..

I writhe as my soul is seared

With my appropriate ”placement”,

Maybe do it like the doctore says,

“Embrace the pain. It is the only way.”

I wrap my arms around my shoulders,

Try to hug the pain away,

As the whip exacts my “punishment”,

I know there must have been something I've done,

To deserve it to hurt this way,

Screwed for loving too much,

Isn’t that just the way?

I gasp and ungrasp my own embrace,

The pain forced my skin from the flesh beneath it,

Like stubborn seeds from unripe avocados..

“Fuck the only way, there’s got to be something else.”

So I grab a grapefruit spoon and start digging,
No one else is offering any suggestions,

I’ll just try to find “it” within myself,

While the rain comes pouring down on the fading deck,

And leaves me to the seductive masochism of Grimm’s Fairy Tales..

I'll just keep digging according to,

The Wicked Stepmother Cookin Book,

Until I reach the other side of myself..

And my DNA finds it good enough,

To leave the world a creature and be human again..

Just to be human with Anne..


© Copyright 2018 Lindsey A. Bryant. All rights reserved.

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