3 poems by David L O’Nan : Chameleon or Stallion, The Blood of the North Star & What is American Freedom?

Chameleon or Stallion

Can you understand this man?

With his fleeting moods
In ambient funeral walks
He appears to look deathly similar to Charles de Gaulle

And everyone loved him when he was the stronghold
He could fight the brawn of Satan,
and come out sleek and dressed royally.

Everyone understood when he would run
Away in prayers, in silence, in the feathery leaves -
emerging himself in
Like a newborn infant attached to a bosom,
There isn't anymore disconnect  -
between what is love, and what is impure.

When he was the stallion,
the spectators gazed at his speed
His energy, his strength, his Olympic breed,
His champion mind.

He is the art over our stairways
Trying to hold these angry voices together
And salvage an ill foundation
He is now our Claude Monet.

We begin to evolve
by his energy and his silence
In ourselves,
Whether chameleon or stallion.

The Blood of the North Star

My mind meandered on the North Star
Very early this morning
I was attached to the Earth
Soul to sores, limbs to trees
the scum of the dew to freedom
From thee freedom back to the scum.

The scene is a narcotic dream
I'm the one laying pure in the cryptic lagoon
Water that swims with sawdust
Ripples that spreads to the end -
of a flamed falling rainbow
My hands tied together,
bound to the Earth.

My mind is shaking
Shake off the leash, You must shake!
shake!
Let me be free,
You cemetery, you coffin!
Can I breathe the stains of the sunshine,
without choking on its rays?

Are there any more castaways -
falling into these crimson waves, like I?
Are there any unknown Gods,
yet to be released into ridicule, as I?
That doesn't run,
When I sink in the claws of my stare
That doesn't twitch,
When energizing in my palms.

That live much more fluid than I?

That North Star doesn't plead for mercy
She just shines like the sensational
I just shine like sand.

What is American Freedom?

Crawling over your burns
Pretending I am sympathy
You've trampled my soldiers
You've scarred my skin
Soul juice stays liquified,
but my eyes are on fire
They hide

Under your foot
is an Earth enriched with lies
Gorging my body through hypnotizing minds
That cry
That shoots the dreamers like a criminal fly.

So blind
So blind
So blind  We
Strike!

Trampling our soldiers
Scarring their skin
They beat the drums
Triumphant in sins
Triumphant in praise
Lord has eyes for the jealous and the dazed.

Can we forgive freedom
When freedom has been a long murdering bend?

We've been sewing our sins
The holocaust in the desert sands
Trampling more soldiers
blood on all hands
Showing them scars where bullets cinched.

Then sleep inside of muscle
Sedating us to the permanent silence.

That no one wins
That no one will conquer
No one wins
Tears among men
American freedom
Lives in a closed fist.

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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