I render the image
and lean away from the screen,
certain that this
is my ultimate scene,
crowded with nothing
but a dull, dark-gray sheen
and the reflected eyeballs
of some daft, distant fiend.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Poems and Prose #71 - Nerve
Paranoia creeps
into every cranny and nook,
giving chance passersby
very interesting things
at which to look,
and lending darting eyes
ample reason to be brooked,
as they slide along
the sidewalks, stars,
and heavy, word-filled books.
Shadows lingering still,
though noon comes sometime soon,
the pupils of the paranoid
expand like taut balloons,
held gingerly on braided strings
tacked to a skull-caged loon,
preferring always to deflate
and wheeze a long, un-rested tune.
into every cranny and nook,
giving chance passersby
very interesting things
at which to look,
and lending darting eyes
ample reason to be brooked,
as they slide along
the sidewalks, stars,
and heavy, word-filled books.
Shadows lingering still,
though noon comes sometime soon,
the pupils of the paranoid
expand like taut balloons,
held gingerly on braided strings
tacked to a skull-caged loon,
preferring always to deflate
and wheeze a long, un-rested tune.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Dialogue #9 - Chuckle
(+) Is this some sort of joke?
(-) Does it look like I'm laughing?
(+) From behind, yes.
(-) Does it look like I'm laughing?
(+) From behind, yes.
Poems and Prose #70 - Asterisk
Place an asterisk
in this spot,
to mark the making
of a blot.
I guess it's good
the star's not hot;
I like excepting
things a lot.
*
in this spot,
to mark the making
of a blot.
I guess it's good
the star's not hot;
I like excepting
things a lot.
*
Poems and Prose #69 - Mirror
Questioning the questions
that emerge from indirection,
I deflect some refutations
that I'm bereft of introspection.
Now, if, in my solipsism,
my id meanders by convection,
I welcome the assertions
that I'm less than a recollection.
Tread lightly,
for you tread on my delusions.
that emerge from indirection,
I deflect some refutations
that I'm bereft of introspection.
Now, if, in my solipsism,
my id meanders by convection,
I welcome the assertions
that I'm less than a recollection.
Tread lightly,
for you tread on my delusions.
Poems and Prose #68 - Mortar
Glorifying war;
first a blast
and then some more.
I press my ear down
to the floor,
not for preservation
but just to keep score.
And when I hear
that awful roar,
feel that hoary heat
and taste shrapnel's bore,
I'll know then
the truth of lore,
and into the wind
drifts yet another spore.
first a blast
and then some more.
I press my ear down
to the floor,
not for preservation
but just to keep score.
And when I hear
that awful roar,
feel that hoary heat
and taste shrapnel's bore,
I'll know then
the truth of lore,
and into the wind
drifts yet another spore.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Poems and Prose #67 - Slurk
Tacitly, indeed,
I creep,
seeking some
slick sights to peek.
A semi-sweet sucker
in my cheek,
I sneak along,
my eyes antiqued.
And lo, uncertainty
breeds sleep,
while fluffy friends
pollute my sheets.
And with this stick,
I pick my teeth,
the residue rid
spat on my seat.
I creep,
seeking some
slick sights to peek.
A semi-sweet sucker
in my cheek,
I sneak along,
my eyes antiqued.
And lo, uncertainty
breeds sleep,
while fluffy friends
pollute my sheets.
And with this stick,
I pick my teeth,
the residue rid
spat on my seat.
Poems and Prose #66 - Bulge
Pill-perplexed,
I ask what's next,
and through my neck
the rest reflects.
I ask what's next,
and through my neck
the rest reflects.
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