Poetry by David L O’Nan from Our Fears in Tunnels: Black and White Photo, Kept on Going, Wearing the Black Mask, Silent Room Painting

Tree, Landscape, Nature, Fog
Black and White Photo

In that black and white photo, can you see it?
There is the girl, the family, the wholeness
But, there is also the wind
The photo says
"These were the better days"
The wind that is captured across shows the blowing in of a storm.
In the background,
There are the clouds
I imagine they are the shade of red rouge lipstick that she wore often
a heart stolen
So eerie is this photo,
I see a child in the clouds peeking out
A dog running towards a broken home
While the family just stands there smiling for an old camera.

Kept Going

As a youthful ant, believing love was real
I'd search and preach, sometimes i'd creep
From Earth, sands, heartache, one with the unnamed
With laughter, always knowing I had been used
I was stepped on, ripped apart, but kept on walking.

As a descending star
I'm falling, sinking, faint, into the grey
Bewitching breeze, bending wishful knees,
believing in the green
With tears, always knowing I had been used
Like overnight love.
Was left solo, alone, but kept shining.

As a boring Hybrid Tea Rose
Sometimes they'd glance, they have danced, drowning in the ideal romance
Never finding a home, shunned once we see the evening's eye
With a wilting pedal drying from the use
Never to be blackened, I kept my brightness.

As a cresting unbalanced river
I'd be rowed away, negated to be safe
Reserved for the rain
I could have easily flooded the plains
With a rippled cry, feeling useless
Never to be eroded,
I kept on flowing.

As a human feeling
I've learned my strengths,
Became tough through the adversity
I've learned to forgive,
Hoping to someday, myself be forgiven
Never to be corroded by fear.

Wearing the Black Mask

You wore your black mask to the synagogue
Your shoes were flat and tattered
The snow from an April sky ripped apart your psyche
You believed to be angelic,
You are nothing more than matter.
You, and your unknown wisdom,
created from the bones of evil.
A hungry man laughs at you, 
your breadcrumbs aren't fulfilling.
Your dirty feet stain the permanence of the avenue.
The black masks is not just your veil,
It is an identity you kept from having feelings.
You have only known the breath of an alcoholic sentient human.
What is there to celebrate?
Over the graves of what you think is heroic.
An evil eye, 
a carnivorous sun eats clouds like you as if you were grain

So, the bell tolls, and you clank your drum
Your tools are limp and rusting
Breaking apart much like your heart,
barely hanging in for a showcasing
Severance has been initialized from what you are -
Away from your infancy beginning
As a baby you couldn't smile,
As a child you couldn't love,
As a growing machine you couldn't bend metal -
with your muscular heart,
A mind was only flakes.
As a man you're sour.
As a man you're a crowing alarm trying to wake you out of fantasy.

You have the black masks in hand as you cuddle yourself,
like a lonely cockroach
In a sanctuary dedicated to your foiled prayer.
You couldn't believe like you had needed to
You couldn't feel the hand of God on your shoulder.
You could only feed off the dreams of pandemonium.
So the sewage shower floods over your masking
Your masks...are a soiled mat.
Driven over by the tanks,
by the heavy feet of giants swaying over your body of sand.

It is nice to be a night-walk for lovers who know how to love.
Holding hands in starlight while moonlight hugs the thunder of guns
Artillery becomes your beacon.
A smile becomes your trap.
Mud prints imprinted into caverns.
The Davids have escaped Goliath's claws.
Black masks burning in volcanic villages of nightmares, falsely shaped.

So, all the children can be
So, all the humanity can breathe
So, all that is catastrophic can be free
So, all that is shallow can evade the slimy deep
The black masks are fast asleep.

Silent Room Painting

Oh, painting on the wall... like the devil
burning victims with a smile
room still silent,
never minding the tears are loud
I'm cruising by,
mind playing energetic
floating like a missile across the veins
echo, echo, vibrate, nothing
Cold glue stuck upon the heart...your shoe
Walking lightly,
Then stomping,
seal it tight
No one is new, 
no mind is new
It has been used by many younger, much braver
Whispered wiser
Painting on the wall...so greedy
Clapping together colours that are clashing
Beaming eyes living for my ashes
Claws digging inside my soul,
scooping out the clarity.

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios:  David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan
41 Candles: An ongoing Series by David L O’Nan
The Audrey Hepburn Poetry Challenge:  Posted through end of June
Poem from David L O’Nan : ‘Miles Away from the Las Vegas Eyeball’   (in Our Fears in Tunnels)
5 poems by David L O’Nan : “Wicked Witch Fossils” “A Crosswind””There Have Been Strange Men Coming Down Here” “Tyre” “Old Oranges in Grandpa’s Graveyard”

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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