Still Breath

Dreams so bad
You want to abscond
To a land of absentia,
To the bottom of a pond.
And perhaps you are,
Your forehead's sweaty,
And so are your palms,
You just can't get a grip.
You shriek silently
Into the opaque surroundings
Which smother all that rings,
Where all hopes perish.

You breathe so hard,
Inhale so fast,
Your heart beats quickly
As a race horse bolts,
And as you tremor all over
Like a fish lying on ice,
Every little breath
Is like a thousand needles:
Piercing your lungs,
Filling them with blood
Until the still breath is past the last.

Jack O'Lantern

Hall full of mirrors,
Dozens of screaming banshees,
Yet I'm the only one,
And all visuals are me.
Sculptor's knife in my hand
And an artist's temperment,
This mask I wear
Must be put into prospective.

'Tis like shaving,
Only the cuts go deeper.
A slit there, and there's a new dimple.
Half of a smile, yes,
But I want to feel whole.
Blood flows down my face
As a river's rapids gush,
But art reflects pain,
And I add another bit of inflection.

There.  Now my smile is whole,
A face not predicated by a frown.
I laugh ceremoniously,
Then the tears rush forth,
Blending in with the blood,
Perhaps a little saltier in taste. Yes?
This is quite decadant in flavor,
Tasting that which gave ills.
I smear a slew on my hand,
And spread it across my eyes.
You'd think this was Halloween,
That I'm the Jack O'Lantern, too.

Oh, but there is a smile,
More manufactured than before.
I've been medicated for years,
People saying that I was crazy.
But I'm proving them wrong,
Because I'm smiling forever now.
I'll go to my grave with an epitaph
Whittled into my face.

And for my last hurrah,
I carve into my arm.
This is the twilight of my youth,
Of a time that was emptied.
Oh, there was this one time
I felt something strange,
But that came before
I cross that last "t"
On my wrist.

And as I bleed out my woes,
I spread out on a mirror,
Sliding down, slowly,
As the pints go like Niagara.
Oh, but I said once
That I felt some kind of peace?
That came as the last breath
Made me take cold.

Just Children, Too

Pouring from the hill onto the concrete,
They came, those children of the acreages,
Stamping out all they know,
Killing electrons at will.
Books and pencils and there's so much to do
Prior to their afternoon pollenation in the dorm rooms,
Peace rallies and shit, and oh God,
They're just lil' children, too.

Baby girls bop around with no supports on,
Shaking and baking, and the boys look on
With eyes of mal intent -
Beady fuckers rolling 'round and 'round,
Just as the baby girls smile ask,
"Some milk jugs for you today?"
Lil' boys, just makin' time,
Just sayin', "You are so fine,"
And they're just lil' children, too.

Commie John turns around,
Hugs a conifer, then begs for a bowl
Of Mary Jane's finest herbs.
Smokin' to a tune of peace through strength,
Revolutionary and red,
And he props up Hillary, too.
People listen 'cause they're zombified,
Drinkin' the Kool Aid, and oh,
We forget that they're just children too.

They call it a "uni," and what the hell,
For don't you think this can fit in one verse?
I don't know, for the nerds have something to say,
Computers and all that quantum crap,
Getting wedgies and more bad wrap.
People forget, though, that they'll rule the Valley,
Widgets and circuit boards, and oh,
Did I forget to mention they're still children too?

Conflictions

Defying the face of all I know,
A bone chilling feeling rolls down my soul.
Faces everywhere, just fleshy skulls,
Muscled-up conjurings of blank-faced stares.
Voices in one ear and out the other,
And all I hear are its invisible audial dares.
Opposing forces push me a-back.
Those evil conflictions are on the attack.

Pac-Man gobbles all in his path.
A poster child prints his feelings on his bloodied shirt.
A red badge of courage? HA!  No war could do,
No war could curb the angst of this ridden soul.
So many changes in lifestyle, so absurd.
So many pains that I think I'll abscond within again.

The mind draws blanks again and again,
Saving my soul?  That's hubris, should I contend?
A blankety-blank wears masks with smiley faces,
But they're made of glass, and Malevolence shatters.
I'm wearing blinders, yet am behind the wheel,
And somehow am expected to park between the lines.
Seconds tick by, until all things cease,
And there are the conflictions, still there, while all else is still.

Death Eats A Moon Pie

Sitting on a porch overlooking seven states,
Looking for the answer, but not getting any breaks,
A lonely old soul pontificates to a "squiter" bug
Whilst drinking an RC and eating a Moon Pie.
"Go West, little sucker, you'll be Bama bound,
Or due South for some Peach preserves and frog royalty.
North Carolina is a quaint lil' cuss,
But nothing seems to beat my perch on Lookout Mount."

And Fate seems to laugh a good ol' chuckle,
For this man's marbles have fallen out of his bag.
Should be about time for a little denoument,
As every story appears to have, and this one's no different.
The Grim Reaper taps his shoulder and arrests his heart
And charges him for inhaling his due course.
However, he'll let him finish his snack.
Can't keep a man from his RC and Moon Pie.

And there's something the Reaper should know
That a ghost or carpetbagger shouldn't ever go home
Without having tasted of those sweet Southern treats
Bought on a street corner in towns like Mayberry.
Life is slow, but this tradition'll never get old,
And no matter if all should perish and life ceased to thrive,
Some how, some way, this would find a way.
A RC and a Moon Pie will never be deceased.