4 short poems from Fevers of the Mind Issue 1 from Christian Gould

Goal, Input, Old, Middle Ages, Old Gate
Choked Chamber

Severe carvings wrinkle smooth stone.
Bold chisel, carve masterpieces.
Words fresh as new death.
Stifled breath, pounded back,
Into a body, choked in a chamber.
No escape, oxygen tank
Ripped from the ground.
Invisible bells shrieking in a body
Nonexistent in reality.

Pulverized Words

Punch these words to death.
Treachery in meat globs.
Balled pulp, knuckled knobs.
Bulbs of bone, bulbous beneath skin.
And skin, largest organ,
Instrument of concealing,
The internal blows.
Until the knuckled flesh balls,
Struck their target.


Lovely little pocks oozing,
Sliced open, exposed
In streams of mist
Into the atmosphere.
Inauguration of release:
It may not always be pretty.
It loves itself anyway

Pressed Stones

Press the stones that weigh me down to the very bottom.
Let my eye rise with the waves
Becoming one with I.
Some hope, at least.

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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