Possible light show
power lines drooped over fence
long night no power
I feel your eyes,
Heavy as cold lead,
Resting on my chest---
Great dauntless weights
Pushing me through the couch,
Crushing me through the ground
Through depths of Hell.
Naturally enough, I begin to panic
And jabber
Aka zuzu non biz fo metacomf
Sternly, I tell myself,
This Will Not Do.
But it is too late.
I have made a fool of myself,
And you cannot love me.
A thundering spacecraft arriving out of nowhere,
a crashing, crushing presence
hurled downward until lamps blink, doors tremble
and roof shudders.
I count seconds into an electric darkness.
The next boom is distant, miles away,
just weather, not the menace
of an alien attack.
Then the next mighty boom
sounds like a salvo from a battleship.
A fizzing pause, a weak flapping, a scrabble,
as if a stricken angel had been downed.
Will a rescue mission be mounted,
some frontline extraction?
No wait...just a thunderstorm.
In the daylight will I find a few wing feathers
some mangled pigeon parts,
relics that must be ferried to the trashcan
under the watchful eyes of mourning doves?
A loud squawk heralds a cry for help
Indicates something’s not quite right up there
A white seagull spirals down head first
Wings tucked to the side for safety
The impact signals something else
With a thud that meets the burning sand
The flight plan? Suicide? Friendly fire?
In silence the ocean waves over the expired
Giving blessings as best it can off shore
Clouds bulk up in cumulus nimbus numbers
In slumber the sun keeps social distancing
In gray the bay teaches crabs to dance
To stay back. Don’t walk on land.
Don’t talk to strangers.
Hawks, buzzards, circle the situation
Never far from home are troubles up above
Heaven recovers nature in an hour glass of sand
Mounds of sands are another term for dunes
Smoothed over by the hand of God
Still intact, winds lift a phantom wing
Animated feathers salute. Wave good-bye
From what we can surmise
From the bird demised
Those slow trains in my downed days
were so adventurous and relaxing,
I wasn't traveling into a dark tunnel
and focus on a novel: my view was bright;
I was getting somewhere: jotting down
words from thoughts that were so lively!
" Bite Size Poem no 25 "
It is not much better in the city turned the corner, it hit me in the face A cold wind brushes against my brothers shoulders I shudder to think of the cold but there it is clipping wings Judge and jury, the claws are cold turning a corner to no hope I shy in the corner, as the cold winds blow next to skin and somehow, we cope the gawk’s
The storm-toppled tree,
cut up and quickly removed;
and now I miss it.
A word dropped deeply in this wretched mood, completely
blind in time.
Where are you headed? Do you need me to
guide you? Is there some force that denied you?
Are you physically restrained? Has your body been emotionally maimed?
I must say this one runs deep...
Down a rocky steap..
Path of internal terror, something that has me say,
I need you to be strong, to help me carry on, I'm sorry
But I must say, I will be gone one day.
I want you to be able...To finish things with the power of your mind.
Leave all those bad habits behind.
Just a lonely soul Preaching to the choir.
The thoughts at the surface of the
Black sea, that which is me... The Downed Jester
-Downed Jester
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