24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Horizon
Virginia Carraway Stark
Contours of
A living world thread across
The lines of hill and sky
Plunging down and rising
To meet the sea
As undulations fold and sink
Up and down
In synchronized movements
Of chaos
As choreographed as ever
Was any formal French dance
Unplanned beauty
Spraying in wonderful
Magnificence that stuns the viewer
And fills me with awestruck wonder
That this is my horizon
You marked me
With raven hair
Ruby lips
And death match glare
Marked me with.
Whom I should be
A love lost soulsoul
A broken seed
A power rich
And pure divine
While world leaves me
Hunted unkind
Promises made
And promises broke
I am what you hate
I am what you hope
Manifested addiction
I am I’m the flesh
And you hate me for it
With each escaped breath
You threaten to love
You threaten to kill
You threaten to life me
With what is your will
Evil’s not ugly
Nor does it scare
Temptation you’ll find
Seductress fair
So now you stand
Heart at your mark
Just make it clean
And end the spark
For death is my dancer
I write his song
The word that you could
Never sing along
Burberry and Birkenstocks,
And anything with Carol Burnett,
Get these things together
And watch how wet I get
If that’s a problem with you
I’m sure to get upset
Girl, you can have your own thing
But you’ll stay my filthy pet
So I grab my kicks and spray myself
And watch Little Orphan Annie
Get in the mood
Because I’m on my way
To come invade your panties
So when you want to start me up
Just sneak up to my room
Turn the tube on Nick@Nite
And spray that damn perfume
When that odor hits your sexy body
I’ll come running, in my shoes
Ready to sing about “Little Girls”
And drink a little booze
Overfill the bathtub
Pull the curtains to the floor
Tonight we’re getting freaky
You’re my dirty red head wh*re
I’ll be yelling, “WHOOOOOOOOO!”
And you’ll be screaming, “YESSSS!”
Do like Daddy Warbucks do
On your body I’ll invest
Then I’ll ride you like the stock market
Top it off with a cigarette
I’ll spritz you down with Burberry
And call you Miss Burnett
In the morning you’ll grab my sandals
To go and turn on the T.V.
Get back in bed
And shnuggle up
And watch some Mama’s Family
Chocolate is not
a universal gift
or acceptable to all
as comfort food.
The looks I get
when I refuse chocolate
being offered to me
are those of surprise
and sheer disbelief.
I wish my weird allergies
to celery and chocolate
were as well known
as those of peanuts
or gluten.
Cigarets and long blacks,
Working half the day,
Two hours to carve out a song,
And carve from time a record made.
To teach and learn and read the signs,
The words to songs you’ll sing.
In short coffee shop conversations,
We map productivity.
If only we all had do-overs.
We could relive a day again and again,
Finding the best solution to every problem that is produced,
And always come out on top.
Near the end, you would have said everything you needed to say, at the proper time, and in the proper tone.
Who needs supersoldiers,
When all you need is unlimited do-overs?
It would be the end to all regrets,
And safety could be 100% ensured.
A “Carnal Cur” she called me.
One that had my teeth first free
To lap the gentle blood of lambs.
Me! Once a king, now accursed of four feet
A wet, cold nose, in this wretched heat.
Never did I buy a single soul!
Indeed, mine I sold for providence
And England. And now I am hence
A slave to fight for men’s merriment.
She cursed me, that Margaret, Queen
And wife of wretched history.
Chained here to fight for death.
And so, I fight. I fight the kings
Of ages past, all wicked things.
We fight, we kings returned.
We fight to tear the faces off
The others, surrounding us a trough
Of blood, and spit, and flesh.
Our flesh. And at the end, I cry.
I grieve my cursed soul and the lie
That bore me here again to death.
I am King Richard III! Do they not know?
Across from me, red eyes aglow,
Was once a Caesar snarling.
Yesterday, I ripped the throat of Hitler
As they cheered. His bones now brittler
Than a chicken’s neck.
I am done now. Weary of my fate,
I whimper to no one. No love, just hate.
Done. Spent. Blood at the light of end.
This randomness is brought
to you by
the letter 2
and the number
Q.
My face would prefer a nap,
Having slept loosely and lightly,
Worried about a multitude of decisions,
None of which life changing or changes
In the long and short of things.
There’s a head that hurts behind these eyes,
A stomach full of bread and fish,
And a heart missing two children.
My neighbor’s child graduates tonight.
And a party across the field
With food, and punch.
A proud moment indeed.
Why do I eat when I am not hungry?
Because I am old, not wise.
I’ve saved my wisdom for the next life,
And used it poorly in the last.
Show me everything
Of what you did against this wall
Tell me the truth
Or I call my brothers
And it will be the worst day
Of your life
Show me everything
But keep it between us
Show me everything
Come here in this corner
Show me everything
My dad is a cop…
Show me everything
The frogs and the skates
The joys and the damage done
When I come back
You got to sort that out
Show me everything