Distorted Images #24

 

Poems and Prose #175 - Fibbed

Here lies

    a liar,

Lying quietly,

    pants afire;

A lie-deployer

    heretofore,

And now a

    stoic lier.

Welcome, those few

    who've inquired.

No more turns of

    phrase required.

Poems and Prose #174 - Mobius

I find myself pacing

around the room once again,

Certain there must be some way

to somehow re-begin.

My reasoning, though,

has come to grow

quite pale and thin,

I conclude,

now quite removed

from madding crowds and dins.

Let the first stone-thrower then

be without sin,

And let me pace and pace

and pace, then amend.

Poems and Prose #173 - An Ungloved Falconer

 A widening gyre,

    you say?

And why does this

    leave you dismayed?

I notice there

    your hair's gone gray,

and your youthful smirk

    has sunk away.

Yet you tersely pace

    and turn and sway,

and grit your teeth

    till white chunks spray,

all for things

    you've been relayed,

events over which

    you have no say.

Bring that falcon

    on this way!

Let me watch its

    spiral decay!

Sit with me

    and spend the day

watching end times,

    once more, delayed.

Poems and Prose #172 - Twine

He wraps a cord around his throat,

the dark garage now quiet and cold,

and pulls a chair against the post,

takes off his hat and tugs his coat.

Here he stands on shaky toes,

with no cause to write a fucking note,

gulping hard beneath the rope,

as would, he thought, a long-failed dope.

No one around, he's free to be

himself, his mask impossible to see.

He smiles, filled with chilled ennui,

now finally able to snag a Z.

His eyelids moist, he thinks of family,

shuttered dreams and reams of failings.

But like a death-row con strapped up and flailing,

he thinks just maybe someone will save him.

Alas, the moment comes then passes,

and the next few crawl like spoiled molasses.

But he's the bard of this last passage,

these unseemly, selfish, bold trespasses.

So his jaw clenches and he steps off.

The chair falls back and the rope coughs.

At first, regret, but not a lot.

His body jerks, then sways, then stops.

He finally found the space he thought

lay past the universal door he sought.

His earthly remnants will stay in this spot,

a coda that ends with three dampened dots.

Distorted Images #23

Distorted Images #22