Prompt sixteen
I hate living in this shoe!
The tongue is leaking
And the stupid brats are everywhere!
I have lost my mind
At least four times
And that is only since noon!
The laces are worn
There is no room
I can’t catch a break!
Is it naptime soon?
Rune rumored
It is said that Odin, god of
all Norse, discovered runes;
mystic language of the gods
painstakingly carved in stone,
for posterity
historians noting soberly that
Odin was tuned in to his time,
his people, for, in his name is
noted, in multiple ancient locales;
‘for a good time, rune Idun.’
Forever undermining his chance
for peace in Valhalla
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Hour 16: Mad Hatter
Hats off to you, dear
Won’t you have a spot of tea?
Time to change places
SONGS OF REVOLUTION
and the mints
the miners of money
and the girls
whose breasts are covered
and the attributes of god
wide planet of people
and the issued passports
i am going to hurry
and the voyager
always between reality or utopia
and the blacks in africa
planting poetry instead of potatoes
and the mother committing suicide
nationalism forbids union
and the quiet falling rain
like dying workers in gas
and the complacency
the body is a cliff of beauty
and the bite out of beauty
as we hum these songs of
revolution…
denis
“Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I’m fine.” – Denis Johnson
if my wounds could talk
i would give them a jar to speak into
so i could screw a lid on tight and my
skin / sinew / beating heart would be safe from the bullet
oh to be empty and complete in purpose like a hole
that doesn’t need to be filled, tell /
yell / scream into the hollowed out space of me
just say i’m
here / still / fine
Behind Blue Eyes
Perception is amplified infinitely. The light ambushes
Your turquoise corneas as it grabs hold and refuses to let go.
Everything screams out at you in a litany of deafening notes
And all you can do is beg to be put out of someone else’s misery.
#3 eczema
in the cracks of my skin, spiders heave deeply and pretend to lay waste. sensing on
scattered feet, me asleep, they filter through all that kills me. by finding footing on
roots and sweat, wetting themselves on my anxiety, whistling come now, come to
this mark, that’s been spot, for nervous fingers to scratch its reach
to the bone of my body.
they are raised as protectors of allah’s loves and missions, as for the Prophet in the cave.
and that’s why a tarantula and its cousins have been saved; however, with that many eyes,
who was there to see the bargain that they made. for spinning a net and playing fantasy,
i don’t think that they’ve done anything for free.
so when i awake, i hold my mind. with earplugs to hear the beats of my heart: ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-
boom, boom-boom, and that there are some deaths not held against scales, while others howl in my head.
but when i caught the many legs of an acquaintance, trying to pass, an uninvited brother, i took him to
the ground, while the angels looked the other way, and even though He saw, there was no guilt in my
tears as he shivered and curled under. i cannot carry the favors of another, and trust more longer.
Hour 14:Tomatoes From Mars.
Children peculating frogs—
Last evening turned from poliwags.
Tomatoes canned with steam in jars—
Picked yesterday in Northern Mars.
The Raincoat, is a mystery.
Read in books of history
Elbow pasta is a treat,
Cheese and frog legs makes it sweet.
Add tomatoes to the plate—
You may get sick, so don’t you wait!
Too Late
Too late . . .
you realized that you couldn’t stop thinking about me,
that I was Heaven-sent,
that what we had was special.
Too late . . .
you realized what a terrible mistake you had made,
that we had it all in Virginia,
that even your dream job would be meaningless without me.
Too late . . .
you realized healing me would be painful,
earning another chance would take work,
and breaking me forever changed the woman I am.
Too late . . .
you will realize there are consequences for your actions,
some wrongs can’t be made right,
and that I meant it when I said, “this is your last chance.”
Too late.
Crocodilopolis
Sobek he of pointed teeth, voracious lust, protects the weak
Rules the land of Lake Moeris, Son of murdered god Osiris
Warder of the evil eye, will rise with Horus in the sky
Swimming waters of the Nile, protect us, mighty crocodile!