Short Dead Eyed Poems

Works of fire and thunder
flower the surface of a dark river.

When the rockets
are dead-eyed and spent,

muffled calls remain -
a flap and gabble,
of the peevish and ruffled.

Night stumbles over the edge
of gunpowder clouds.

Ducks deliver themselves
to the dark-dinged sky.
Distant cannons sigh....

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Daylight Saving time again.
I guess we have never
had to make egg sandwiches,
at 7a.m.
deep in the dead-eyed dark of night,
then run out of must have mayo,
drive to the edge of a pale-faced light
to bring some home
then crawl to work half-asleep
with an aching head.
and already punch-drunk,
from leaping when told to....

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The electric daffodils have dimmed now
Orange tulips back their guest arrival,
mechanical stem's,how they glisten
The arcane Robina tree is stet
no leaves this spring
Autumn is a long way off
Borage fills in the gaps
from corner to corner
they cover the ground
The dead eyed roses 
grasp for sunlight
like mad mayhem
they last, in disordered  array...

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Brave hearts beat
Hidden in silent men
Boots hide exhausted feet
Yet no complaints tumble with their tears

Brave hearts beat
Chasing death on foreign soil
Targets placed on dusty streets
Hollow death parched days on end

Brave hearts beat
Dodging dead eyed schoolboys' guns
Nightmares of red defeat
Yet waking to go back again. 

V Anderson Throop
Nov 2014  ©...

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Hello...I love you until the end, 
until we break on through 
to the other side of sainted death; 
Touch me, I love you madly, 
light my fire with the feline fuel 
of sweet thigh juice and perfume breath. 

Hello...I love you like a hurricane 
when my roadkill reincarnation writhes 
in dead-eyed resurrection rites; 
Touch me, I love you two times, 
for the ghost songs in your angel voice 
define me through my endless nights....

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SHADOWS

Actors on a dimly lit stage... 

SCENE 1:

dead-eyed audience
whispers behind the black curtains
plastics smiles
reluctant hands
chained feet
pouted lips ...

SCENE 2:

...  arctic hors d'oeuvre
copious food
wines, beers - pride Irish!
trivial tattles
inebriated
blank heads...

SCENE 3:

... crawl upstairs
darkness, touch and feel
snores, toss and turn, toss and turn …
cock craw
morning …
a vicious circle

SCENE 4:

cold eyes bores to sky ......

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Still frames with dead eyed memories.
Magic marker’d promises;
open ended lies
that I can’t seem to forget.
No matter how far I bury this thing
inside my closet. You always find your 
way back, with a smile blooming
like a drunken rose. 
Fingers run to the edge
of our little world’s grave yard;
flipping the nights over..
Trying to find the picture;
 a moment that will sate 
the hunger of regret.
But I haven’t found it yet..
-James Kelley 2013 All rights reserved...

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There are five likely females                  
(not counting the barmaid),
plus a few calculating men.
There are others,
dead-eyed drinkers
and such, who don’t count.

Time to figure odds.
The five likely women,
followed by the calculating dudes,
schlep each other out the door.

Not counting the barmaid,
I subtract myself
then add the daytime loafers.
The drunks have pissed away
each other’s money
and are out of luck again.

It’s time to strike,
I count the barmaid in....

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