Posture

Years ago this was wood.
It’s not anymore,
but it was before.
Now it’s a place.

More than a place I guess.
One could make the case
that it’s just a position in space;
a state defined by a number.

But it’s also a place to think,
a place for burdens to slumber
finding comfort in the lumber.
One could rest her, abandoned post.

More than one sometimes,
passengers influenced by the host
becoming a place themselves almost;
in repose, a companion gained.

So take a seat,
settle into the grain
like a warm stain
Take it in and let the rest go.

A Statue Stands in the City of Longview

So now they condemn the hate?
Well now, isn’t that just great?
When Nazis are at the gate
there’s no room for debate;
they come together to state,
“That’s not us, let’s get that straight.”
Such courage! To do the right thing,
take the swing, straight down the plate.

When so often they were benched,
so many voices they’ve quenched.
When oppression left them drenched
with tears, their mouths remained clenched.
The shrine of hate remains entrenched
from the ground, ne’er to be wrenched;
but you claimed the easy win,
used your grins to hide the stench.

Commercial Break

I am not sure where to start here,
the details feel soft, incomplete;
an old song I try to repeat,
but none of the words come out clear.

So what would you have us do here?
You say they are near; but so what?
Who is they? Who am I even?
I don’t believe in your causes,
I hardly trust reality.
I’m told that I am free, but I’m bound,
I’m told to speak, but silently,
Then quietly you reset me
like that makes it better somehow.
Oh come now, don’t press that button…

I am not sure where to start here,
the details feel soft, incomplete;
an old song I try to repeat,
but none of the words come out clear.

Mortality

There is a static to the air tonight;
electric, like muscles pulled taut
alkaline-fresh wounds from a recent fight.
Who was it though that could have fought?
Has the air fought the clouds for naught?
Or a source never to be made clear,
some sharp edge swung but never caught…
This possibility is my fear.

Without the sun to burn away my plight
the night rises to plunder thoughts,
raising swords, shooting guns, causing a fright
and I forget all I was taught;
clouded sails in my mind, distraught.
Wind and fire torture them severe
and such will be my final lot…
This possibility is my fear.

Senses lost to a nightmarish delight,
one means to an end my heart sought
while the rest of the body fills with spite
throwing away what gains I’ve bought
to harvest the pittance time wrought
as angry as a failed pioneer
with no use for the tools they brought…
This possibility is my fear.

Though all I’ve done is all I ought
an air of tension is growing near;
could all I am end up forgot?
This possibility is my fear.

When the Child Kills a Lion

Falls a drop
to the floor;
an echo,
nothing more.

Another.
From where though?
Is it me?
My ego?

It can’t be.
This is real,
no matter
how I feel.

So I ask
when to stop.
Say, “Never,”
My head propped.

“Are you sure?”
“As can be”
“Then just, please,
look at me.

“We lock eyes
over long
listening;
a sad song…

heard before,
in days past,
but today
is the last.

Relay this
but they know;
already
time to go.

“I’m no good,
half of you.”
“Please just act
as you do.”

“Is that right?
Forget us
move along
without fuss?”

“It will be
in due time.
You must trust
there’s no crime.”

“Disconnect
go ahead.” –
Now I live
while I’m dead.

End myself
and my soul.
Finally,
I am whole.

The Silver Bird

There were others before me,
there would be more to follow.
Souls sent out into the rift
destined to shift or wallow.

I shifted on my first trip.
There on a ship with strangers
drunk with the promise of gold;
bought and sold to the dangers.

Only a few of us knew
what would ensue past the line.
I had heard stories of course;
but their source seemed more the wine.

Now it seems very sober;
fears shared over wine are weak,
without drink they rage inside
amplified by self critique.

As the ship approached the field
some of us kneeled in lament.
Of course, nothing could be seen,
but all gleaned the ripe event.

I watched the first of us go,
with a soft, low clapping sound;
air snapping back into place,
in the space it now had found.

Somewhere else, my friend was lost,
surely a cost justified.
We had no hope or function
past what this junction implied.

I stood there at the threshold;
one amongst the bold souls left
until I too disappeared
Found new fear, the rest bereft.

One moment I was at sea,
the wind around me, whipping;
the next, stagnation. Darkness,
held by harness and sitting.

The light and dark in this place
had a strange pace, throwing fits;
flitting as if in a fight,
no focus to right my wits.

A companion beside me
with arms like a tree, pleaded
strange sounds, pounding my torso,
I don’t know what he needed.

Then there arose such a crash;
a giants bash against the steel
that ripped our carriage in two
pulling others through with zeal.

We screamed, a sound we could share,
while the air ate us with greed,
watching the mountain and sky
pass us by in blinding speed.

A bright yellow thing dropped down,
bouncing around on a string;
While I mirrored its progress,
I could not repress puking.

I awoke being dragged out,
through some strange route to the light
and oppressively cold air
with the few that dared to fight.

And fight we did, night and day
to keep at bay cold and fear;
to eat enough to survive
stay alive though death was near.

A fortnight passed, we drew straws.
We had cause to eat the dead,
but one had to try it first
and be cursed, so it is said.

Months of eating were thus found,
in every pound of our friends,
but no one would ever state
that we all ate in the end.

Like me, this reality
became debris undefined
up until our extraction;
the reaction was maligned.

Though I could not understand
none would remand another,
I may no longer have a home,
But I roam with new brothers.

Waiting in Queue at Verdun

We stand waiting for a break in line,
Staring the thousand yards at our spines
Through BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM violent hues in bloom;
Metallic rain that levels the pines.

The captain calls out over the sounds,
To send another out to the hounds,
BOOM-BOOM the bombs crawl, BOOM-BOOM and they fall;
No more will I see them above ground.

Hearing my name sends ice through my veins
I breathe deep and embrace the insane,
A last act of violence, sulfured silence;
I hear nothing, nor shall I again.