Divine Intervention

Ronald Orrantia

I remember my addictions. I remember how they played.
They held me by my throat despite how many times I prayed.
So many nights I watched my strung-out wrists dance with a blade,
But my arms never obeyed. They had no more strength within
Thanks to the lines for which I paid.
No angels came to offer me redemption.
Only dealers came to help me pave my way.
No prophets came to scold me or even to console me.
No single word of wisdom did they have to say.
Pleading up to God to bring the silence,
To bring that sleep of death the end of day.
I begged for that cry on shoulder, but I kept on getting older,
Losing too much weight, my hair kept turning grey.
Those party favor whispers started screaming in my ears.
I sold my will to keep that thrill but all I’d left were stinging tears,
A pounding head, a lonely bed and paranoidal fears
Fed by a crystal dealer’s cheers,
Dirty razors, makeshift pipes and endless imported Irish beers.
Eight days brought waking dreams of depravation.
Nine days brought burning eyes and racing veins.
I ordered up another stash using haggled pawn shop cash.
Exhaustion finally hit me like a thousand trains.
Crawling across the floor to find my phone book,
And ask a friend how many days it’s been.
She said, “You’ve nothing else to sell, if you can’t pay me, go to Hell.”
What a fucked-up way to start my life again.
These years have marched along in pain, I still endure the crave.
I can still smell and taste temptations. I guess I’ll take them to the grave.
I can only live my life as if I still have a soul to save,
Remember what kept me a slave. That death row blast must stay the past.
I have to stay strong and be brave.

April 20th, 1999

Lazarus

Ronald Orrantia

Welcome home, happy hunter of false hearts and heads.
Come Hell or high water, I couldn’t and wouldn’t stay dead.
It feels too good to hate and now I choose to relate
All my anger and anguish into why I should wait
To take action myself and not leave it to fate.
Persecution and pain make it quick to translate
“Anger” and “anguish” into “ruthless” and “Wrath”
When I stand in the middle of a dark aftermath
Once it’s been finally proven that my ten-year long Path
Has been pointless, that patience, penitence and persistence
To be perfect and pleasing only meet with resistance
And rage in this age where it’s high time to high tail
Pure ideals out of town, no one wants them around
And I’m now of the opinion it’s high time I found
All the fierceness and fury that was famed to have fueled
All those fires and figurative funeral pyres
I once lit beneath all those self-righteous liars
For persecuting like Spain’s inquisitional Friars.
It’s refreshing how that rush of revenge can return
To the tip of your tongue when an undeserved burn
Resurrects that dark warrior you thought long since dead
And casts out all that bullshit they ingrained into your head.
Being good only gave you anger, anguish and pain.
Remember, it was ordained that Adam give birth to Cain.

Resurrection

Ronald Orrantia

Like a heretical whisper or blasphemous thought
She dances her way back into my town.
Bringing witchcraft with the wind and Holy water with the rain
Which her siren’s voice enticingly summons down.
The same Goddess’s smile and Egyptian eyes
Wreak havoc upon my every waking thought,
Perfuming my every breath, invading my mind,
Blinding me to what I forgot.
One drop of pleasure can be poison,
Just like passion can become pain.
Dare I risk another indulgence and go dance in the rain?