3 poems by David L O’Nan : “The People of the Well” “Math Equations During a Seizure” & “Glass Stuck in my Veins”

The People of the Well

We live in a locust filled storm
on an Oklahoma sun
pulling weeds every day
rip the corn stalks from the waste
and kneel down and talk to grandpa's grave

There was a violent humming in the air
All the jets began to spill
the prairie blown to flames. And
the world began popping.

And then a deaf cowboy looks outside. Sees
the clothes flying off the lines.
While the flock of birds barfs onto the side -
of a klansman's house.

It is the season of a Midwest Osiris
thrown around like meat for all the scavengers
from a battle to a love ballad
this countryside lives to be battered.

All the women in mottled dresses
the men walk angrily with scarred chests
Guillotined clouds fall over the tobacco. Then
smoke in all the nicotine that powders in the air.

A Summer day in late June
Live like a wrinkled burnt hot dog with, 
dehydration as dust paralyzes the lungs.
We buried the Springtime.
And in one rain surge, we all became 
the People of the Well.

Math Equations During a Seizure

I feel your dying kiss
At the hypocenter of my brain
Trying to decipher formulas as you - lose your soul for a moment.
And I am being torn away
Our impecunious love, we shake
as we do

We were never meant for public consumption
never misunderstood the blind from a coma sleep
We would just rest in prayer corners off the busy city street
our hypodermic sins in love, we shake
As we are cursed to be.

As a downpour washes away our scarves
and rusting your stolen chain necklace
I hold you as we shake,
a Mezzo Soprano voice dictates hope in our heads
asleep in rain puddles
for this night we wish to stay
our prophetic love,
bright vulture eyes watch, a calm shake as
we are in death, 
handlocked.

Glass Stuck in My Veins

The plague of pithy humanity
gathered around watching the Cotton Bowl
on denim color tube televisions
I had the displeasure of biting into two hours old-
Salisbury steak
as an 8 month old screamed for drunk mommy.

I went though the Hepatitis alleyways. Broken
bottles with glass stuck in my veins.
I see the glares of the red-haired neighbor
Judging me for my lack of a muscular frame.

In a race of door to door shopping carts. Jehovah
Witnesses families dressed like dynamite, while
the Watchtowers overflow in the gutters.

As they wink and I stutter
like the atheist in view of the Kingdom
I watch the dirty-minded factory junkie play -
sexual hits on his flattering lyre.
And my city just grows like a mushroom.
While the sun blinds you into a claustrophobic stare 
of a red room with sweaty curtains.

Where all the muttonchop arsonist boyfriends hide
Keeping them from daddy, and his bounty hunting hellos.
So, I'd rather walk in polluted chicken grease rainfalls to home,
or watch the snakes swim under the bridge.
I want a kiss of less misery.

And stop watching the explosions of the school buses in my head.
And watch as the country becomes one big tombstone. 

bio below: 
Meet the Fevers of the Mind WolfPack Pt 1: 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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