#ASMSG

Haiku Poetry

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Break Up

I thought watching you

walk away would bring closure.

Clearly, I’m a fool.

HAIKU

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Sweet Nothing

Carmel drips from her

perfect lips, but her sour

words kill the flavor.

C. L. Swinney (c) 2015

Good Riddance

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Good Riddance

Most of me wanted her to go.
Take the pieces of my soul she’d crushed.
What remained were emotions I
was not prepared for, nor wanted.
The door shut loudly this time,
confirming the ink had dried and this was final.
The view from the weathered window,
brought tears, but not the sad kind.
He waited there for her, younger and
what she wanted. My hands began to ball as
the fancy car roared away.
Minutes later the feeling returned,
and a wry smile danced across my face.
The beer is colder tonight, and the pizza has
anchovies. Not because I like them, but

because she never let me. And

when my appetite returns, I may just eat one.

C. L. Swinney (c) 2015

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What I Saw Before It Was Too Late

Normally clear eyes sting then blur.

Pedestrians scamper dodging siren echoes

smashing off buildings. Radio waves disappear,

my head flutters with life’s thoughts:

the dog needs her teeth pulled, my

wife is mad at me, the kids

start school soon, my cover car

is miles away…Calm down, you’ve

got a matter of minutes to save her.

She’s trapped in a burning vehicle

and I’m queasy. I’m there, she is not.

Tiny hair stand up on the back

of my neck. Is someone in

the shadows? What the…boom! It’s

over for me. A second Boom!

It’s over for him. Two

dead bodies, no answers, no purpose.

A Poem

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Nothing Sexy About Dope

No matter how one spins it,

the dope game is dirty, from

every angle, in every state, even internationally.

We pay bad guys, commonly

called “CI’s,” to buy dope off

other bad guys, sometimes their

competition, so we can get paper,

and knock their doors down legally.

The war on drugs, although a

righteous idea, has failed, without

a doubt, for over thirty years.

The cartels have greater resources

than every law enforcement unit combined,

and they profit tens of billions annually,

live like kings with gold-plated rifles,

Siberian Tigers, and mansions built

with walls infused with bundles of cash.

Dead bodies pile up in Mexico, and

that violence seeps into the United States.

Cops, border patrol agents, and other

law enforcement groups take the bait,

get a huge payday to look the other way,

yet they always get caught and tons of

drugs penetrate the US with alarming

magnitude. This stuff consumed me

for six years…but I have the perfect plan.

Choke the borders with money sniffing

canines, intercept every penny of drug money

heading into Mexico, use it to get

Americans off drugs. Death doesn’t

bother them, losing drugs to the police

is expected, but taking their money?

Yeah, it infuriates them to no end,

causes severe grief, forces them to

pop pills pacifying ulcers. Only then

will the real war begin.

-C.L.Swinney © 2015