A few poems by David L O’Nan including “the Crucifixion of Pale Sunlight” “Desperation Tornadoes”, etc

The Emperor That Became the Leper

Isolation caused by desolation
Memories like suffocation
Questions like clockwork in my bones
Remember the November leaves?
The Winter skies and Christmas trees
The promise of a feast
The devouring of lies
Father, child , Mother,
the rest like death
The cemetery chimes
with laughter and breath
This evening the banshees hold hands and play
Singing in the echoes of rattlesnakes
in my skin on this boring day
My beating heart is smoking blood
Purifying, then vaporizing
The smells of gases and acidic rain
Come die quickly now
Die like a soldier in war
The general calls in a gray tailored suit
His army men have to play his game
Hazy oxygen milked into the napalm haze
While ligroin licks,
the skin that is sunk
Love has a name engorged by the sea
to become full, to become drunk
And another day a country is starving
Then we all danced around our star
to become famous nothings

The Crucifixion of Pale Sunlight 

Electricity rains with meteor rocks and sun blades
God is angry,
angry with the wombs
Angry with the wind,
angry with the life
The pale sunlight eats away dull thoughts
Belches the clouds into limp poison rainbows
That broke apart
with eyes in full stare
Us, the human assembly
Say we must crucify
Crucify this sunlight
Its pale, its irregular
Curse it into a hermetic state
Switch it with broken trust,
whip it with wisdom
Then we nail it to the sky
and let it fall onto the planet.
In its dull melted wave,
the chord will unplug -
and we can smile again
However, God's work is lyrical
The genius bruise 
The radiation force that may attempt -
to have that pale sunlight rise again.
This time you are a nuclear drum,
as a wandering volcanic vagabond
Surrounded by the virgins overheating.

The Fate of the Magician (the Millionaire's Dramatic Irony)

The millionaire lay in a golden tomb
His twinkle stars are buried in the mold
Sinking feet scurried into stone
Eyes falling prey to the void
Cuffed from joy
Blind to the beauty of love
Sorcerer turned rose into blood
Thoughts, patulous to the mind
Who is this magician, like Christ?
Did he buy his way to fortune and fame?
To partake in the malicious devil game?
Jaded by the sacred trustings
Promiscuous findings
When confronted by false love
This prompt magic man has lost his touch
Now just a nob soaking in mud.

Desperation Tornadoes

I've built up my gods through these tiny specks of sharp wind gusts,
That have eaten the goosebumps from my skin
And purged into your direction as little heartless desperation tornadoes.

With shrapnel of thorns that careens through circular air,
In the vortex we are empty babies,
and haven't much thought anymore.

I can sit here in this empty car
Dark nights pulsating in my depression 
Only bright lights to drive with
I can watch the nothingness of a 2:23 a.m. grocery store,
and wish to live out this nervous breakdown.

Little desperation tornadoes
Full of energy, destruction
Blowing down cabins,
The bones around my central thoughts
We are just looking for the bandages
To heal us.


How humbling to be playing cupid
in loveless Los Angeles
How the thrillers are bullets
Shot into the clouds.
An army of apoplectic cupids
In sideration,
Paralyzed and wet crumbled wings
Broken hearted and miles of tears
We are like the battlefields
Where we march like a coma
And the triggers of sunlight
Is there just to be nibbled at by the moths
For those we swim for, in the sky
And just looking for a new sacrifice
Side-winding through my paradise
Our luck is incapable of receding our echoes
Our dreams are executed jasmine gleamings
In the delicious breeze
They have killed the love in their smoke
Wreaths of smog surround my embolism
Watch my breathing
In all of these psalters, I am uprooted
and shoveled away.

Outlaws Revisited

Creepy eyes walk into a brothel
surrounded by outlaws
Jumped into your shadow
and discovered all your footsteps.
The happy ones...the nefarious ones...
even the footsteps you tried to cover up -
with mud and sticks.
Your mouth escapes a smile, 
and you think life as a joke.
You live in the blood flow of outlaws,
and your creepy eyes just rest in those smutty footsteps.
I saw your shadow disappear
when the sunlight ripped your cape away,
and you are just a nude bore.


Look at your palms.
Are they dirty?
Are they seeking your answers?
Can you clutch them,
and scream for mercy?
Are you feeling the answers,
circling inside your brain?
Where is my help?!?
The help is an inner voice,
or a cloud that goes by your window,
and drinks up the dark holes of your soul.
Lay in the evergreen of purity,
and go back to dreaming.
Questions, answers, love, hate
Feel the gaze that is omnipresent.
Forget for a few minutes,
that we are all trying to be controlled
by a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Hug of Mud

You, in particular
You, a leaf
Lonely, stuck to the hug of mud
You, inherited the obsession
You, like a needles kiss
A mouth of wooden breaks and splinters
Drink in the poisons
and watch words become traps of stars in the sky
They beg like the streets,
for a dedication.

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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