| Anticipation/Disappointmentanticipation
i can feel the rough hours
scraping off the clock
i can hear the thundering
grains of sand
time so vast, it seems infinite
but it can't be
because it's running out
my mind races reluctantly
like a marathon runner
who's heart is about to burst, but he can't slow down
with the end so near
will you be there
to catch me when i collapse?
the hourglass is draining
my muscles are screaming
my eyes are straining
but
i don't see you there
I quote Kill Bill: "This is me at my most masochistic."
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| The Hope, The Fire, The VoiceI am
the last hope of mankind
clinging desperately
to a sliver of morality
that I'm not fit to grasp
I am
the self-consuming fire
that lights dark paths
my belly burns
with charcoal hunger
for destruction,
not destruction
but change
which often amounts
to the same thing
I am
the voice at the edge
of the abyss
crying, "Marco...
Marco...
Marco..."
to guide lost souls
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| Old ManHey there,
Old grandfather man
living by the train tracks.
What moves those old bones today?
Crazy eyed,
wild shouts,
arms a'waving frantically
like a seizure.
"You got yo gun, boy?
Gov'ment gone come take 'em
so you best hide it well.
Gone keep track of dem bullets,
so they know who done the killin'.
Yessir, there gone be blood a'plenty."
Crazy old prophet man,
spit flying from furious rants,
bullet eyes striking down
all sinners in sight.
They say
you're an alcoholic,
but I know
your mind's just gone sour
from the war
and the broke years
shivering against the wall for shelter
while the world slept
in king sized beds.
Lucky Thirteen old man,
it ain't fair the way
you can't die,
but they never really
let you live.
"Lost mah eye in the war,
caught the clap from some damned
frog prossitute,
and now I got that ol' gout somethin' fierce."
Nameless
forgotten old man,
who once could have been
Earl
or Paul
or Charles,
now reduced to a flicker
on the edge of my vision
as I look
the other way.
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| Reflections on My Grandmother1
sitting in a flowery chair
mad with age
carrying conversations
with the travel channel
"beautiful...
Mexico...
beautiful Mexico...
sixteen...
day...
cruise..."
bright colors and sounds
her faithful companion
2
"I'm hungry
I need food
they don't feed me here"
holding a half-eaten sandwich
3
"who's your mother?"
grasping at wisps
of her old self
recognition just beyond
the horizon
does the memory of me
linger
in the back of her mind
or does she ask everyone
this question?
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| the GOD-CLOWN is near...all hail the GOD-CLOWN!
moral abomination
holy
and terrifying
above reproach
condemnation to the extreme
expect no mercy
as the slate is
wiped clean
huddled, naked souls
suspended in righteous agony
on the scales of justice
there is no love
only righteousness
there is no forgiveness
only damnation
heavenly hell unleashed up the earth
abandon all hope
for the GOD-CLOWN is near!
This poem was inspired by the short story "The God-Clown is Near" by Jay Lake.
Check it out, it's a great read.
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