apparently damned

I grew up, 

with expectation hormones.

in a time and place,

where there were yearly plagues of pleas.

most of the people 

suffered from out breaks of hearsay.

we grew acres of pandemonium annuals,

as if they were of heaven scent.

Scourge and Proclaim 

were popular first names.

drama was a second language, 

taught in all our schools.

our local drinking had impurities.

some of the local nearby towns 

had water falls and lakes of picturesque. 

we have a plethora of confessionals

and local holidays based on sympathies.

surely there was a notable level of inbreds,

and lots and lots of similar last names.

it seemed that almost everyone here 

was inter-related.

it was hard to date 

outside of the gene-pool clan.

there was an unsaid trust of lust 

in common place.

for us then, it was an acceptable blend 

of the human race.

very few of us had an outsider perspective.

you'd easily think that I grew up

in a very remote region of means,

somewhere removed, 

far from the mainstays,

with dirt roads and back country ways.

mind-sets far removed 

from any sense of big city life.

and you would be a healthy version

of drinkably right.

for we had seasons of ongoing night

and summers of constant daylight.

passions wore miner's hats.

most conception were by candlelight, 

with most of us were born as fall births.

it's a wonder 

that we ever experienced progress,

for a people who are,

so collectively and habitually bound.

most of us know a second language.

it's a dialect of unsaidness

that is rarely ever spoken outside of town.

lots of times, when visitors come,

they seem to get the creeps. 

we offer them sips of active imaginations,

stiff drinks of sympathy to wash it down.

knowhow is served in smaller portions.

deliverance is part of community pride.

the local news is usually published 

in incomplete sentences

and its seems that almost everyone 

apparently knows why.

generally, in in-town crowded situation,

there appears to be 

more outcries than yawns,

more heads bowed than skyward-sightings,

more spoken as mentions of moans.

and the animal population seems to be

without identity chips and collarless.

and people nodding 

is a commonly shared refrain.

we surely do have a sense of community,

even tough outsiders call it a damn shame.

we seem to all be of a displaced breed,

as a people vagrant in their wants

and their obvious needs.

as a collective population,

maybe a failure at the human race.

whatever there was to win,

no one from where we come from

ever won, placed or showed.

we are the captives of masterful disaster,

still-putty in the hand of life,

a simple purgatory of pleasantries,

and apparently damned, 

to be living it outright . . .