3 poems by David L O’Nan “Immortalized in Dorothy’s Tears” “Precautionary Nightingales” & “Listen to the Bones Breathe”

Staglieno, Cemetery, Genoa, Tombstone

Immortalized in Dorothy’s Tears

Dorothy was the matriarch
She was born into the hells of burning Silver years.
She died in the neon flash
From beautiful tears, 
in grey eyes
The resting pockets of water in puddles.

From the cheek to the middle of her neck
I want to listen to your stories from your recessive brain
I feel dreamlike resting in the fevers of your dominant brain.

Drink your ideas.
Then imposter yourself a genius
I'm immortalized by your falling, 
composing stars of waters and salts.

Precautionary Nightingales

Was I awake to slit the wrists. Only
to finally find charisma?
The shy boy is just some ghost
When dawn flies into your psyche,
the precautionary nightingales know the 
moon from a genuine fake at 6 a.m.
Every eyelash to a broken wing
a crusted, dry, cold flight of winks.

My dreams are an asylum
Not to rest peacefully
The skating on the thin ice that lines my veins
Tremors in the belly
Jump off the arching cliffs of my brain.
The fires from flower to flower
weave me into the flash of foolishness. Unnatural 
photos.
I'm an underlying flesh of bruises imperfect and limping.
Transform me into a hungered wolf
with a brittle bite and blood showing from the bone.

In the molasses of snow that chews on the mountains
Watch a radical metamorphosis from
death to the fighter - to the hero
When waking up to the survival of self. The
wind shifts so quickly back and forth in
this cemetery hurricane.
All the flies die off in the swarming over the temptations we breathe.

Listen to the Bones Breathe

You stare like Manson at the clocks
trying to stop time
and just pause amongst the crickets to - listen
to the bones breathe.

You could be nude and in the rapture
the sweating of ice drips from the bridge
you look at the sun deflate into the arms of the valley 
peeling back all the layers to see more bricks inside.

You don't hear laughter or even a hunger pain.
All you feel is the freezing lips of air smack your skin.
Digest my disease,
And listen to the bones breathe.

You don't seem like a savior, or
a pretending lord
you seem like a fading rattlesnake
And we just watch you turn gray and shake
convulse your milk from the pipes in sheets
dance like a ghost, you coward
And then break apart, and erode with a thousand nights
watching over,
and listen to the bones breathe.

You watch my death as attentive, as
you are to a movie.
You love like the fresh fossils
and then creation ceased a million miles before a 
collision of all the heavenly lights.
They sprinkle down and the world said "more please"
You can't please the sadist and the sweet
only a chirp of spirit emits
When you listen to the bones breathe. 

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios:  David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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