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M W R' Profile


Legendary Poet

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▲ 60 points in the past 7 days

About Me and My Poetry

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About My Poem

Arthritic butterfly
flies tired wing,
aging dandelion puffs
... continued
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Cookie crumbs in my beard
fall back to the plate
oatmeal raisin precipitation
... continued
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Purple faced screams
roast fisted hams
pound puffed
... continued
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monarch wings flutter,
feline predatory pounce,
butterfly salad.
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You in your hard backed seat, 
cabin pressure, 
recycled chilled air, 
30,000 feet, autopilot over nighttime Pacific clouds. 
The man behind is snoring, 
the woman to your left is drooling on your shoulder, 
courtesy thread bare blanket keeps you covered. 
The man across for you stands up, 
you hear his knees pop and crack, 
a face peers at you from the stewart's cabin. 
Lamp bright eyes, 
feral face, 
it smiles, 
pointed teeth, 
imp's teeth, 
knee high scaly body. 
It twitches towards you on all fours, 
barbed tail, 
dripping molasses stink poison, 
long forked tongue flicks the air, 
rapid darts, 
tasting the air ... or you? 
closer closer closer, 
you cower under your blanket, 
heart slamming lungfull gasps, 
closer ... 
its clawed fingers inch up your leg, 
rap tap tapping on your shivering knee. 
the man across from you, 
the knee popping guy blows its head apart, 
government issued air marshall, 
yellow blood sour stink splatters your face, 
it gets in your mouth, 
you retch. 
A hissing sound to your left, 
coming from the window, 
oh sh*t! 
the window! 
we're all gonna die! 
knee popping man screams, 
alarms go off, 
the fasten your seat belt sign blinks heart attack blinks. 
the monster, 
dead and bleeding all over your socks, 
blood sucked back in, 
cranium refused, 
grinning razor teeth, 
eyes shining malicious lamps, 
barbed tail dancing in your eye, 
it winks, 
you scream ....   
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He birthed the cloud 
of thick grey smoke, 
with each great gulping lungfull 
he did toke. 
He wandered round the town, 
late late at night 
in his teeth a massive pipe 
jaws clenched and tight. 
Hands in his pocket 
he sang a song, 
for his long lost lover 
and her psychedelic bong.  
The hobos joined him 
begging for cash, 
following along 
his long thick 
trail of ash.  
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The ground was fattened, 
engorged, a yellow-brown, 
digesting the bodies of 
young men, bombarded horses, 
twisted metal cannons, 
bludgeoned trench rats. 
Petrol stenches,  
oil and grease pools, 
mustard gas coated the mud, 
tree roots, blasted pine trees, 
whittled down to punctured poles. 
In a flooded trench I shared 
a hand-rolled cigarette 
with a 17 year old kid, 
his eyes black circles, 
red blistered whites, 
too large pupils. 
Private Mason, sniper, 
all five foot four of him, 
the schoolboy turned killer, 
for country and empire. 
We huddled together under 
woolen trenchcoats in the mud, 
our feet destroyed, 
turned to soft fleshy trench-foot mush, 
our lungs racked by gas attacks 
and winter exposure. 
Under my coat I could feel 
my ribs jut forth, 
starvation  diet, dysentary, 
fear sick day upon day. 
Me and Private Mason passed that 
smoke back and forth, 
under a canopy of screaming artillery, 
our ears were deaf, 
the screams of the shells had grown 
into its own raging, 
death march animal. 
An officer blew the whistle, 
we charged over the top, 
me and Private Mason, 
my great-grandfather, 
who had four more years of this hell to survive, 
And he Did.  
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meth head's pine casket, 
government issued grave stone, 
a raven watches. 
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The peak is silent, 
but for the gentle bubbling of lava, 
rivers flowing slowly down, 
the obsidian crags shine orange-cherry, 
angles of the rock, 
obtuse fire brands, 
heat spots - window clear clouds - spiral air, 
the sky dances with sparks, 
falling over crimson mandarin 
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Experimental oranges, radioactive valencias, 
squeezed into fresh juice, 
swallowed a slurped by the cupful, 
army soldiers, 
and prodded, 
army doctors write down heart rates, 
men tied down tight, 
military hospitals, electroshock, 
checked off, 
great fat lists and communiques 
blacked out 
families notified, death certificates 
need to know 
no need to know, 
eyes only 
reads the fat red stamps 
out in the cordoned desert, 
passed the barbed wire 
is that 
little orchard 
with shining mutated oranges. 
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