A fallow season, a time of trivial hungers.
Scissoring illuminations sheared his eyes.
Petulant lips pursed.
He laid himself down, yet again
covered himself over with a bone deep hurt.
Light cut and snipped
at the tangled hairs of a grey despair,
it swung him open
until a self-interned corpse flickered awake
in the pale eyes of cave bats
No longer were stone angel's graveyard attendants,
the world unboxed itself, he had been doornail dead,
now a gateway swung wide.
Was this life, or was this death by light?
Snails had left silver poems
on that part of his mind, he had yet to find,
yet it was near enough to dream of.
I remember back in the day
talking the night away
with all of my Jewish friends
Could Hitler’s Germany ever happen again?
‘Never ever,' Al said, 'Naziism is doornail dead’
‘Certainly not in America,’ added Ned
‘For here we have a strong democracy
checks and balances to keep us free…’
I finally spoke up, staying ‘calm and cool’
‘America is but a country of ex-Europeans, you mules...'
Though my point was well-taken, 50 years later I’m shaken
~ my 'gotcha prophecy' proven tragically true
Ignorance is bliss said the uneducated Miss
Take the tiger by the tail, and then give a hiss.
A snake in the grass thought outside of the box
You can’t judge a book by its cover, said the ox.
Like a kid in the proverbial candy store
Good things come to those who wait said Moore.
In the nick of time there was a loose cannon swarm.
All together it became the perfect storm.
Cliques are like cans of worm said a tiny newborn.
But like all God’s favorite things, every rose has a thorn.
Grandma said, “The apple does not fall far from a tree.”
She was referring of course, to that arrogant baby, Little Lee.
What goes around comes around, Daddy interjected.
That’s the pot calling the kettle black, Mom said, feeling rejected.
No sense in beating a horse to death, said the uneducated Miss.
The grass is always greener on the other side. She blew them a kiss.
There are plenty of fish in the sea, they told Uncle Hank.
But now he felt dead as a doornail, he was sweet on Miss Lank.
He must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed someone said.
If only walls could talk! Hank lamented. His face was quite red.
I would give an arm and a leg to see him, she said.
She was going to meet a new guy by name of Ted.
Only time will tell if things will turn out okay.
I am weak as a kitten, I heard my friend say.
At the end of the date she had the time of her life.
She expected this guy Ted to make her his wife.
I said, I hope you did not speak of your crazy short leg.
No, she nodded. I avoided that like the plague.
I took the tiger by the tail, she told me smugly.
Thought outside the box, called myself May Puggly.
There are plenty of fish in the sea, I reminded her.
Just in case the expected outcome did not occur.
It is as plain as the nose on my face she said later.
He was not much of a man, a notorious dater.
He is now as dead as a doornail me, that hack!
Was she actually the pot calling the kettle black?
Time sure did fly when I was having fun.
But now that he has stood me up, this creep had better run!
Behind the door,
Lay your shattered tears in seafloor,
Pardon my betrayal outdoor,
My heart wandered away indoor,
Through the trap door,
Never let this guy indoor,
She recalled his spoor,
Washing the floor,
Broken doorknobs,
A love stopped to a hidden doorsill,
He laments in the dooryard.
Doorways dispersed the doorstops...
Crying her heart, a home withoutdoors,
Dead as a doornail...
Never to be hurt, by another so called man.
My heart is now shattered, in pieces like glass.
You drug me thru your hell, now it's my turn.
I'll gladly strike a match, and watch your demons burn.
Ashes to ashes dust to dust.
Will be the words I'll scream, at the top of my lungs.
Forever gone, dead as a doornail.
Whatever you call it
Beware your ex fairytale.
I Should Thank Her
So often thought that I should thank her
For being such a glorious and big banker
And miracles she does with all our bills
So truly amazing how she gets her thrills.
In kitchen with cupboard is quite a chef
While always trying to worry me to death
As to what on the menu may be next
With her phone me she tried to text.
Each message was madly revealing
When I read it head hit the ceiling
Of seasoning she completely ran out
Meal was in question with much doubt.
Was then that I knew right off the bat
Her biscuits then doornail were all flat
Ate whole meal as if Tommy Tucker
Then my two lips started to pucker.
Was me who had to pick and choose
More then likely will probably loose
Wife meal destroyed and did slaughter
Cook next one will allow our daughter.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
DOORNAIL (love song from a zombie)
I’m alive despite the rigors
Day by day believing
In a world so fraught
With each and every feeling
One thing keeps me moving
The very thought of you
Wanting now more than ever
Fast or slow, I pursue
Times I feel dead inside
Times so alive think I’ll burst
My desire may be raving
But for me, you come first
chorus
Life weighs heavy
It feeds off the heart
Famished, I am
Crave more than one part
Is it really living
To feel oh so much
Yet nothing in one’s stead
Not knowing another’s touch
Rend my clothes in fury
Rage surges through my head
Sufferings of the damned
Shuffling as though undead
Anguished moans
Drift on the wind
Over your compound
My longing drifts in
You fled in terror
From love that sought
You can run
You may hide
But some day you’ll be caught
chorus
i never saw the doornail die
never caught sight of a fox that sly
i didn't cure a dog so sick
didn't steal a glance of thieves so thick
i can't walk tight a rail that thin
can't see some sight as ugly as sin
i didn't ever take any punch so pleased
or been flashed by lightening that slippery greased
i can't light bituminous coal so black
or pointedly aim as sharp as a tack
didn't touch a witch's tit so cold
- i'd feel it's not as good as gold
i can't squish in any mud so clear
or finger a lobe cute as a bug's ear
folks shout i'm as deaf as a post
in fact i'm even worser, than most
i can't hear a fiddle so fit
in fact i don't give a - damn
a simile is as cool as winter's rain
so i utter them like, again, and again
true, i'm as buzzed as a bee so busy
but i don't think a bee's like a simile, is he?
© Goode Guy 2013-03-06
I look through these trinkets
You've collected since birth
I'm left here to wonder
Do they have any worth
People didn't matter
For them you had no use
It was things you cared for
people you gave abuse
Your life partially lived
Didn't end soon enough
You created pain
In the pursuit of stuff
Dead as a doornail
your things left behind
Given away to others
Now in death you are kind
I'm feeling mentally unstable
Apparently I just lost my cable
Television done gone on the fritz
Gonna' miss my Monday Night blitz
Telephone dead as a doornail
Can't check my freekin' email!
This service ain't nothin' but trash!
Guess I'll go to the bar and get smashed
What's this? It's back on? How 'bout that?
Guess I won't need this baseball bat...
Why Didn’t the Armadillo Cross the Road?
By Elton Camp
We see them on the highway dead as a doornail
Despite a suit or armor over all but head & tail
Is it because they’re stupid or are they just slow
That so many deaths by cars armadillos undergo?
It is because they have such a strange survival skill
It works well in the woods, but on roads will kill
When its natural predator happens to come around,
All its legs go down and shoot it high off the ground
So that whatever enemy of the armadillo stands there
Will quickly run away because it got a frightful scare
But in the event a speeding car, the armadillo is atop
It hits the bottom of the car when it tries its usual hop
Take note if you are the operator of a road-kill café
From armadillo and its meat you better stay well away
A small percentage of them, the germ of leprosy carry
So as to carving them up for food, you should be wary
Certain it is to be at steady aim
at any time
at any place
the dead mans eternal race
Shock the barstool
take the shots
given by the winged sculptures who gawk from the pughes
A pecking order in the house of flocks
Not important enough for dirt
decomposition of the minds eye comes last
Anatomy has no hidden agenda
just a set of character traits it’s amassed
Forced entry
Chalk it up to bad luck
dead as a doornail
stiff as a board
the cliches have run amuck
Just a standard breach of contract
between humanity and oblivion
Don't take offense
Trust there will be no forgiving
So what is said
at the end of your life
if the question is "how was it truly living?"
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