This is a special poem that I decided to write, because I felt like it.
This is dedicated to the events that have happened to me the last few days.
********
Blood On My Face (One Week In July)
By Jo-Ryan Salazar
Satisfaction.
It runs in my veins
Like a thoroughbred winning the Kentucky Derby.
And it flows like Niagara Falls
On a champagne Sunday Morning.
It is like blood
That runs on my face
Like a tumbleweed
Rolling down Cripple Creek.
One can find this satisfaction,
This blood on my face,
Wrapped up in one neat
Week package.
I found it to be a heavenly
Piece of mind.
Even before the One Week In July
Where heaven and earth met
In a worldwide diplomatic revolution,
I felt it run in my veins.
I couldn't get sleep, I didn't need sleep.
Everything was fed on pure adrenaline.
It's like being a football coach,
Where tactics meet the gods of success
In a decade.
You need to hit the line hard,
You need to be successful,
Even if it means losing your sense of consciousness
While discerning your tactics.
And I have blood on my face.
Day one, and a nation
That was wrapped in snow and cautiousness
Rose up, a year older,
A year wiser,
A year happier
Than ever.
And I have blood on my face.
The next day brought sheer happiness
In the online agora, as over 140 journeymen
Pondered its streets, expecting a decision
By international bureaucrats
Who feast on disciplined reward, and advocate it.
The winner was a small town,
A small town that knew how to hit the line hard,
Be successful, and bibulously reward the
Long-reaped, long-awaited, long lost effort.
Actually, it was not just one small town; it was two,
But the second one was a stepchild-village.
Both had respect,
Both had friendship,
Both were ready
To strike out in style.
And I have blood on my face.
A couple of days after the
Sugar-coated ecstasy
And cyanide-laced agony,
Another country,
One that was superior to
All its peers
As one of the finest societies
Man created,
Turned a year older,
A year wiser,
A year happier.
Firecracker, fireworks, cherry bombs, and cocktails Molotov.
Everything, and anything, swayed the atomic giants
In the sky.
And I have blood on my face.
It's very decadent, the life I live.
And, god bless the mark, this week in July
Is far from over.
This blood on my face
That runs down my body
Is not mines, nor anyone else's.
It's the blood of the fate of the world
That runs down my cheeks
Like lonely teardrops.
This is not blood of agony or sorrow.
It is the blood of satisfaction
And silent closure.
It won't go away.
It needn't go away.
It will stay, a sign of promise and hope
As I roll my eyes
And dream away
Drunk, drugged, drizzled without drought
Of my many tomorrows
That appeared to me
On that One Week In July.
Halle, halle, hallelujah.
********
Give my your thoughts, please.