Here Come the MenAntimatter - Here Come the Men https://www.youtube.com/watch?vKZsjGFiygc
Here come the men, they understand
Each other's need for other men
For all alone there's no defense
There's no saviours
Here come the dogs they're on the path
They sense each other's comfort breath
They're sickly drunk with confidence
So give it up
It's not the way they change, but how they stay the same
In the coldness of the hollow streets here
Here come the men they're in their cars
Here come the men with scarecrow arms
Here come the men, let's be alarmed
As the contest begins
Get on the daisy chain, and forfeit sense for gain
In the coldness of the hollow streets here
wasteland by Shahsepramwasteland by Shahsepram
Are you big enough?
Are you strong enough?
Are you hard enough?
Are you flush enough?
Are you hung enough?
Are you straight enough?
Are you white e
Barefoot in the SnowYou ask me how I am; I’m fine, I’m fineBarefoot in the Snow9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My toes have fallen off from walking barefoot in the snow
But I didn’t need them anyway, I’m okay
It’s you I’m worried about, grey –faced and dull-eyed
What’s going on, old friend? You’ve lost weight
Your step is slower, your shoulders stooped, are you in pain?
I see you’ve lost your toes as well
Let us walk together then; daylight will come in time
Mad Trees of NovemberWhat dire wind blows now, to madden the trees?Mad Trees of November1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Their branches shake and tremble in all directions
Like grasping boney fingers, enraged, wishing to pluck out the eyes of anyone who nears them
Free from leaves and snow, they stand naked against the sky
Stark and ugly and venomous in a wind-whipped frenzy
Here in the lost days of November, they seem to scream
They are screaming your name; do you hear?
Head WoundThe world at large spins and soars around the sunHead Wound1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It’s all red to me, peering at it beneath a bloody rag
I drove my bicycle into a brick wall today
Strange things leaked from the cracks in my skull
Tiny spider-monsters, oven cleaner, crumpled pages
Ashes and diamonds, pieces of eight, stardust, milk
I lay behind a dumpster leaking for years and years
Below the ‘No Exit’ neon sign, before it was replaced
With a Wal-Mart, where I was a Valued Customer
They bandaged me up, gave me a shot of morphine
And one of those little carts so I could continue shopping
I bought a gun
ScabbageCrust clings to skin, puckered edges spreading redScabbage9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
On elbows and knees, shouting out where you’ve been
Raised white lines across wrists indicate attempts
Salvation, damnation, maybe just blissful sleep
Fog rolls in your eyes, bees buzz in your head
You paint the world bright and colorful, sarcastically
Because all you’ve ever known was darkness
And you do like your primary colors to dream in
Walk down the street, head hung low, mumbling
Expecting nothing from the world, and getting it
Knives in your eyes and poison on your tongue
Born to be crucified; who am I to deny you?
Love does not conquer all, not the likes of us
Festering wound souls finding a moment’s solace
Before the wind howls our names again
I am you, you are me; together we are we
Briefly opening the coffin lid to daylight’s touch
You raise your head high for me, and indicate love
Clasping hands, we jump together into the maelstrom
Leaving two hearts carved on an aging tree
StringTiny green spots on winter-dead branchesString7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
A holocaust, a death-march, a tiny string of hope
Braver souls than I have retreated, phoned it in
Fascinated by that string, I want to pull it, I
Want to know
Close to the borderline, red drops, white snow
A stench hovers over the city, mad yellow cabs
Ray of sunlight glints through broken window
I begin to pull the string towards me, heartbeat;
The string breaks
Old fallout shelters revived, black planes fly
God isn’t here today, playing cards with Buddha
I look for you in the empty Wal-Mart, still hoping
That none of the blood on the barbed-wire is yours
You’re not there
Out in the field of old televisions, night falls hard
Sleeping beneath cardboard by the blue-screen light
Tomorrow I will find you in an abandoned garage
We will find the string, follow it to freedom, I think
It will happen
HeadI awoke. The terrain went straight from desert to ocean. If you’d been out in the desert long, you’d have thought it a mirage. A nude woman stood there right on the edge, holding an umbrella. Autumn leaves were falling from the sky. I think she was called Gaia. As I approached her, I noticed that her eyes were small versions of earth. I asked her where I was. She told me that I was where I should be, as always. I asked her why I was the only one there. She said “Just wait.” Snakes crawled into the sea and fish jumped into the desert. There was a great turmoil in the skies and on the earth. Autumn had come.Head1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I awoke again, the street was filled with people. They were looking at the side of a building on which I’d painted huge lips, with words coming out like smoke. I was rather proud. Even if the rain and snow washed it away eventually, this was my work.
The third time I awoke, I was dreaming. I dreamt that I was sitting at my computer, writing down wha
Wings Of GraceWhen everything comes aliveWings Of Grace7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
a sweet song surround my heart
and beyond the sadness and insecurity,
I start to fly on the wings of grace
calling the name of Joy.
Hoping that generosity of the Universe
will caress my soul and gentle will touch my hand,
I let my emotions to spread in a special dance
and like a beautiful dream of the beginning,
the colors bloom in the mystery of an unreal light.
I'm still flying and without fear,
I feel my wings translucent like a dragonfly
and in my ears, a pale voice whisper:
"Never call my name again because I'm always with you,
as long as you are able to fly over your pain
and find the miracle of Spring."
Blackeyed BluesThe blue bus that only makes left turnsBlackeyed Blues6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Collided with a moonbeam and crashed
It was all in slow motion, we were hypnotized
On the pavement at four AM, eyes wide
Wide as black holes where dreams go to die
Do you remember the Pinecomb Motel?
It was the only one in town, then, out by
The Flamingo Drive-In, fallen to ruin
Near the college where we used to get high
It used to be so far away from town, back then
Silly old men out at four AM watching
Waiting for something to happen, grumbling
When it does, it never satisfies our blackest eyes
We want what can’t be had, in the ashes
Where things used to be, in their proper places
The bus is allright; it turns up from its side upright
We board it solemnly, but without hesitation
It’s time now: we all know it, time to get out
It makes a left on 74 and we cross the bridge
Black eyes staring out rain spattered windows
HaloIt could be shining; it could be goldenHalo10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Why isn’t it?
An iron halo, still smoking from the welding
Rust and corrosion will claim it
Angels will laugh
Remorse does not make an acceptable halo
There is no inner light, only that reflected
Dully and dim
Even the crows have no eye for it, it hangs
Low and unremarkable
A useless contraption
It should be shining; it should be golden
I am so brittleI am so brittle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am so brittle I could crack
and fall in pieces at your feet.
Sweep me off into the corner -
all I want to do is sleep.
I am so hollow I could melt
into a smaller puddle than
you might expect to see.
No need to step on me -
I only want to sleep.
Is there a code I have to crack,
is there a solid I should melt?
Give me the key and raise the heat -
let me sleep!
poetry for non-poetsI guess he was wrong when he saidpoetry for non-poets1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
'you are poetry'
because all you were made up of
were line breaks and phrases
that never, ever went together.
The disharmony between your heart and lungs
was something he liked listening to,
just thinking there was a thunderstorm in your chest
but never considering that maybe
you were hungry or drunk or hurting.
No. These were all so beautiful
and worth writing about in the dark.
But I guess the best decision he ever made
was to pull his head away from your shoulders,
take a good long look at your shaking form
and run farther than he ever thought
those bent knees could take him.
A Winter MorningThe morning fires are lit. That weak little strip of light on the horizon strengthened, and pushed up the darkness of night to the other side of the world. This world is clothed in winter white, a sparkling new day, a new beginning. Every day is a new beginning, full of promise. Every night is a tired revelation that another day has passed without keeping that promise. Minstrels sing of the dawn, lovers embrace the night; the tired old holy men try to sleep, hoping that a new day will bring the change they’re looking for. King Day and King Night in an endless fight, one never winning for more than a few hours. Still, the dreamers dream with each new morning. Maybe this day will be profound, maybe this is the day that something great will occur. The morning fires are lit, and for now all is well.A Winter Morning10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Crank2:30 AM coffee and cigarettes, rain dripping from the ledge outsideCrank4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Exhausted, but hopeful; a universe in my cup waiting to spill out
I look inside; this is no new world of wonder, only the one I know
A terrain of coiled barbed wire that engraved my battle scars
Stumble once more down the dark scrubby embankment, naked
Thin-ribbed dogs of waste howl my name; they know me here
The dreamcatcher is full, there will be no more allowed inside
Knives in my back twist like an old song I’ve heard too often
Is that you, looking down from the highest places of light and love?
Do you know what it’s like to be a graveyard worm in soft soil?
How many fingers am I holding up? That’s right, I have none
Little stumps that can’t hold on to anything, can’t even make a fist
SheepLincoln’s hat was ten feet tall as he gave the Gettysburg address. He’d have to remove it to don his helmet before boarding the spaceship. The in-flight movie was Mel Brooks’ “History of the World Part 99.” Who’d want to miss that? My fingers and toes ached from the cold, but I held my place in the crowd, shivering. Oprah said we could all go, and that was good enough for me. I still didn’t see how thousands of us would fit in, but I’d learned to trust her over the years. Ed McMahon (or was it Manfred Mann?) stood by me holding a huge Publisher’s Clearinghouse check. He didn’t look well. We were going to the toppermost of the poppermost, Johnny. Cat Fred be damned. ‘50s housewives be damned. We were on our way to heaven, and God was the pilot. A small man with a colander hat began to shuffle us into the ship. We were on our way, warts and all, bleating like sheep. All happily ready to board the USS Abattoir.Sheep6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Three FlamesThree figures, arms outstretched, heads aflameThree Flames9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Long black limos with headlights on pass
Babies with teeth and angel wings fly by, grinning
In the twilight shadows move, tiny lights flicker
The end of summer has come, three flames light my way
A door floats in space; all must enter at some time
Those who survive winter may see spring again
Those far from home may find it, lit up and waiting
The devoid of dreams may find new hope there
At the least, the restless will find peace at last; all must pass
The names of the ancient cities escape my lips
I thought that I’d forgotten, but they come easily
The One whom I denied will not deny me, but welcome
The long tiring day succumbs to sweet night
It is finished; a thousand stars burst into flame; let it be
BloodRunning away, again and again through the yearsBlood7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Moving from white square to black and back
Packing and unpacking things without meaning
Carrying them from here to there religiously
The doctor says there’s nothing wrong, but still
I’m up at three, drinking coffee, coughing up blood
Watching the same old ghosts watching me
I don’t have to pack them when I move, they follow
A cannibal who’s eaten everyone around him
I’ve turned on myself now, three toes already gone
Watching the lights of the modem blink yellow
No connection; another cough, another coffee alone