Issue
#4

July
2009

2 poems by John Grochalski

my soul craves peace

my soul craves peace
but it comes out in faces that smile
a perfect hatred, and laughter that
sounds like birds being strangled to death.
my soul craves peace
but it comes out in between slugs of scotch
in argument and fear, and evenings where
the dinner almost hits the wall.
my soul craves peace
but it comes out in chest pains and bum ankles
in acid curling up the throat
in night sweats and insomnia
my peace comes out in broken shards
of glass that cut the foot and imbed themselves
into the flesh.
my soul craves peace
but my eyes see gray lumps of flesh that have gone
cold and ugly and dumb at the same time
they've reached some plastic zenith.
my soul craves peace
but the wind sounds like a pack of rabid
dogs barking into the quiet blackness of night
disturbing the still on the street.
my soul craves peace
but it has none to give, nor a kind word,
a hand, a gesture, nothing.
nothing is important, nothing ever is.
my soul craves peace
but my arm is numb and my back hurts
my soul craves peace
but my legs wobble as if sick on my toes
and the sun is nothing but a whore enveloping
buildings and swallowing the shade,
making the days look blotted and ill and devoid
of texture.
my soul craves peace
but i cannot taste it on my tongue
and i cannot feel it breeze my hair or kiss my lashes.
my soul craves peace
it is like a wound, my soul,
it is like a stomach that has never been fed
that knows hunger only too well
in the midst of the joyless and overfed masses
clamoring for the bite of another coagulating meal.

© John Grochalski

chopin's heart

chopin's heart
is nestled in a column
in the holy cross church
in warsaw, poland,
bathed in alcohol.
and the scientists
want to pull it out
and cut into the flesh
and do dna testing
to find out if freddie
had cystic fibrosis
instead of the tuberculosis
everyone thought he had.

we seem to never stop
testing our technological
boundaries,
becoming less human in
the process.
and while i guess it is good
that there's a public interest
in chopin again,
a want for insight,
perhaps those scientists
should simply listen
to the man's music
instead of piercing
a piece of flesh
all of their talents
and combined knowledge
could never surmount.

© John Grochalski

 return to top       printer-friendly