Tag: Prose

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Quid Pro Quo

oldepunk

Quid pro quo Clarice.  The money is gone up your nose. Pip pop tip-top running rabid sideways on the sidewalks singing kill kill kill the poor along with Biafra. Paint them taking tainted terror and feeding the pretty demons.  Gift the shift of religion to the little lambs you are recounting the sordid legend of political Zelda for.  See the whites of their eyes and frown down upon the frailty.  My finger gun blasts a hole in your understanding as you sit shaking out the burnings we’re too cowardly to give a name to. Ascertain the relevant odd job backlog … Continue reading Quid Pro Quo

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Sarajevo

oldepunk

only the good die young, she said, on her way to Sarajevo I saw her face again in a former life. As the rain spatters against my window pane I am reminded of the love which left a stain that just don’t wash away. As she walked away, I felt a tidal wave, I dreamed this day, but in the dream it did not go this way but that’s life I guess I know. Flying cranes and paper planes remind of her voice it was like swimming in the daffodils and surrendering to all you fought against I wish there … Continue reading Sarajevo

Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized30 Comments

make Believe

oldepunk

Kiss kiss and make-believe. Former slaves no longer free. That’s not me. I am not free to be. One or three. Coarse touches in loving hate. Touching my body but not my face. Clean the plate and do not be late to the falling of the city gates. Wrap yourself in flags and olive leaf. I still do not believe. Conceive the intricacies in which to populate the morning news hypocrisies. More or less punctuating the state of our loose skin and crumbling facade disease. Unease creeps up into the playground of the democracies. Where we go and what we … Continue reading make Believe

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Snakebitten

oldepunk

She was a snakebite all applewood smoke and sundowns forthright and out of sight it was a shakedown and it started with a frown I was a poor boy all limbo shine and coarse ground Midnights and gasoline all we need to motor through the tall light smeared dirty clean with a hand out shave off an inch or two heavy hands and nicotine just need a spark bathing in the fountains of another trailer park bruising in this shitty town she was a snakebite She was so loud you never registered her sound I knew it was a shakedown … Continue reading Snakebitten

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42417

oldepunk

It’s all slipping.  It’s sliding.  Incongruous.  Untoward outwardly forward.  Mellifluous.  I put my skin on backwards to see myself from the inside, out.  I wonder what went through that medical supervisor’s mind when his employee shot him.  “Hey, this is what I am on the inside.”  I don’t know.  It’s fucking tragic.  I dislike quite a few people, and I have some former employers I despise, but to take a life over some job?  Poor soldiers.  Taking lives is their job.  I like the smell of lilacs and jasmine.  Fragrances are soothing.  Nuclear winters in Korea.  Skiing in a HASMAT. … Continue reading 42417

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Verdant

oldepunk

The verdant L shape of lonely imbued with a hazy heart of ache criss-cross applesauce demure in the aftermath of sorrow tomorrow shout it out loud indelible paint splattered on the walls of my empty pocket soul In the remaining of light the reminder’s silhouette is a dark beauty bend my will and contort to form the verdant L shape of lonely tattooed with 50 words for mistake when the adhesion fails to take what is a lonely to do I beseech you to mend my truth I have lost the togethers apart from the forevers and settled into all of … Continue reading Verdant

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bending low

oldepunk

  bending low it’s all the thoughts I cannot express talking slow the words you are forming have no meaning there’s no weight speaking in zero gravity undertow all of the times we lost ourselves in yesterday late nights of no tomorrow summer kissing and bottled lightning sweet nothings and keg parties mushrooms and marijuana dust under my fingernails smelling of mesquite and bourbon when did we die? I am not sure I can quite remember the exact day It may have something to do with what you’re trying to say waiting for it now bending low, gravel pressing through … Continue reading bending low

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Cut and Seen

oldepunk

Depraved corpse grin single serving plutonium light up my life crowded meanderings in sloven solitude burden of proof fall through my roof killing my wife and kids today tomorrow, God willing return favors throw the larger stone vestigial demesnes of dark dynasty larders full with broken bones Giger portraits of hunger prancing lust at the mini-mall mini bar miniature minds mini skirmishes combating combative compassionate characters contemplating corrosion cornerstone concomitance combining correlations creating chaotic conditions compelling connotations considering compliance court ordered conundrums cut and scene seen to be one or the other not both or none eat your cake and … Continue reading Cut and Seen

poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized24 Comments

Lingering Shadows

oldepunk

I linger in shadow course by stone Norse winter snow-white tangible thoughts she brings weep, o weep for us a pallor mortis crosses crowded feuds feasting, furrowing forces fade a scar upon my face in measure I linger in shadow you know my name but I do not seek your hand you are not mine to claim wilden beasts of yore fallen have I seen travail in many travels victory and honor have suffocated me, dulled my spear brought ruin upon my sunlight it all falls away softly litany of solace written in sandstone collars of gold make lovely bindings … Continue reading Lingering Shadows

poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized28 Comments

Gestalt

oldepunk

Grasping convolutions anything will do really corrugated steel rictus pulls at corners a shadow play in ritual dusk down another glass of slow derision at the nearest watering hole wondering how and why I am unholy reconcile I’m alone with the pictures we both inhabit I could not hold the fire so now I choke on smoke and bathe in ashes my breath stinks of rebellion my words are heavy and low, lo unto tomorrow riveting the compunction to depart the now the how and when of it matter little respond to extinguish the embers of my love, of your … Continue reading Gestalt