Slightly odd at times Micropoetry by David L O’Nan

Searching in Tunnels

I don't blind like a weeping willow
Overcasting evergreen
With the stalking of a shadow
I love in the shape of mutiny
Against the winds,
I rebel to the sounds of air
That swallow me into a submissive ghost
Everyone has that overcast
We search in these tunnels for God
In heaven, 
do you hear those cries?

Torture by Storm

I awoke at midnight
The lightning flashes torture
Across the room of secrets
I have been found by God
I was told in sweats,
In glistening contour melting formations
That i'm not as precious as anyone seems to think 
I'm alive, 
but who am I alive to?
Not the awakened
I think i'm as alive as a dream to a coma memory.

Royal Musical Graveyards

The orchestration derails
A crowned king of musical thievery
Plays mandolin on grass blades
By the breathy riverfront
Rumours spread,
The music,
A jelly massacre
Draws the flies in -
to an abandoned castle of dead peasants
Now, he only plays for the victims that rest in clouds.
and the graveyards are a few dirty footsteps away.
The music is not for them.
The purity,
Much like a brewery pasted in smells of skunks
and janitor water.

A Quicksand Millionaire

The desert swirling in the swimming of sand
Around the sun
In infinite circles
Made millions on the concept of lands and oils
Burying the warriors meanwhile in the quicksand.

One Last Vision (inspired by Phil Ochs)

On busy Washington D.C. streets
With cameras flashing,
The sins of wealth over faith.
The sins of death over country.
They hit them with sticks
They break in with greed
The glory from the corrupted blue
The speeches lead by a Hollywood villian
A line of cowboy apostles, a John Wayne
Aborting the world in cages and wards
Your not new saints,
A country ran from the window of an extremist.

Woody Guthrie Strings

Playing faster than speed to kill the fascists
Dust storms invade us with coughing
Leaves us with no breath
New diseases spread wildly
In the oxygen we spare
Moments we still share
Until the last beating of our hearts
Are we but fragile sticks?
Are we a Woody Guthrie guitar string?
We are surviving despite chaos
Lingering whisps of light
In our porous brains.


In a parade by your kingdom
You soak up all the attention
As boastful and hungry as the lion
You, with the smile that you own as bulletproof
Everyone will treat you like you're the only power
Watch out for the wires
They are falling and surging
The underlings have today
And they crush flies with bare hands.

Birthday Revolutionaries

My friends are the bleeding carnival
They are also grocery store garbage
That are artistic,
They are also codeine driven
Sometimes they crawl out of their graves
Long enough to be birthday revolutionaries.

The Electronica Lady

Electronica lady believes
She is a pulsating vibe
That her energy is the tide
That weave of power to collapse
As the moon bends to the vibe
Soul captured in with the current
Dancing around through her fear
She'll chase the rapture into her golden years
The jolting,
The familiar twitch
Sways visually like dreams,
Fantasies, with a broken switch.

Upon your Beak

You can only pretend
You have never been that baby bird
With a broken wing amassed your silence
Among the deafening sirens
And sunlit breath kisses upon your beak
Providing hope in the minds of fire.

A Brave Heart, A Rebellious Heart

I was born into a natural rebellious state of mind
With a dream of a brave heart,
Yet there are no fears,
Mishaps, nightmares when you trip in  your freewill
Can I preserve my rebellion for the ultimate battle,
and the patience to
bind my heart to bravery
A deep breath and realizing my challenges
Defeating the consequences that lay inside your fears.


If only I could crash through the center of your soul and eradicate the negativity of your past.
And paint your crippling mind into purity and hope I would.
When all is lost
A shadow shakes and will sunshine follow, or does it stay hidden?
A coward behind loose clouds.


She crawled lazily as a spider
Through the cracks of the walls
Inside your heart of a bleeding moment
A voice was ulcered out of a gypsy phantom
The sky opened up, and sung a bruising harmony
The spider had to climb into a human's hair
To hide away from the fears
Until the last raindrop pimpled the ground
And it was safe to be free again.

Sea of Circles

Inside a cryptic mind
The tapping of feet
The splintering of a skin swimming in the sea of circles
Living vicariously through a sunbeam
A broad-shouldered ego with a skipping heartbeat.


As a dream
Raining sheets
And blinding wind whipping through my chest
Through misery, love, torture & sin
The needles, of screams ripping through the indentations of my skin
I'm coughing out my spirit
Swimming through a tornadic spin
Eyes swallowing
Transferring of breath
The storm kissed my mind
but ripped off the head.

Those Same White Walls

Fall apart
Those same white walls
Crumbling little ant eyes lost looking at the melting moon
Forming solid as it smacks the ground
A bridge for you to walk on
To creep into that moon on a virgin night.
That you can hide inside the silence
With all the stars to chatter, gossiping
As lively as greed.

Crack of the Wind

With a crack of the wind
The moans bend over a shaking house
A winter's bruise is calmed by the warmth of love
The healing began when the coagulation broke
And the freedom of mind rested the demons,
The fears, the endless end
Now, there is hope in a gust of wind
Instead of inevitable destruction.

The Rails

A middle aged hobo with no charisma
He lived out of a pitch black cavern
Perception that he was a civilized reality
Shows a pail, penurious, insipid train
The rails are slippery to traverse only from
coma to coma
Shall you live to your completion dream in muddy tunnels.


In a morning fog
A blistered old genius ripped from his mind
Frozen out of the flesh
Stumbled out of another tavern
Another burning bridge
Mortality questioned
The abyss wrinkles up the wisdom
Spotless thoughts define the defeated
The war turned crystals into bullets.


Doris, like a mannequin in a 1920's dress
Swayed towards you
The lipstick kiss of a demon in hysterics,
Balancing new traps through a mind
latched in by a plastic skull.
She is shade, shut, tragic
The remedy of miracles
Now, fraudulent
She became an old soul to ease death.

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 Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

1 comment

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s