Work Breakrooms In breakrooms While everyone dresses their smiles for the holidays I am feeling powerless With poetry pounding in my head And nowhere to turn, or write This would have been my father's 76th birthday Today I choke in thought And damage my ears in music. Little Nerves Explosions throughout my little nerves Blankets of skin wrap around my aching body And my December eyes Listen, watching the snow As it pops on electrical wires Holding gifts Shake out all the air Missing pieces The heart needs repaired To burn away As ugly as money. Revelry Through all the revelry lay fragile ghost-skinned Poison ivy on a frostbite A dancing fool on a train track A zipper away from my skeleton A dream that became reality in the same room, the same nightmare From nightmares before Vaporates the idea of dream We are all riven loners. The Overlook A dirty minded storm approaching And my mind is rambling I've got police car flashes burning my retina, And I feel my disease is spreading Head to the angry waters of the river in some lost park, An overlook For the drifters Pen in my hand I write my sins down to be forgiven. Stones of Heaven Limping through slain sand Spreading birdseed from a cup over a Carolina beach Life is a fool's gold When you have a collection of photos to get you from morning to a grave Your love still etched into the stones of Heaven Where is her touch, now? Feeding the seagulls and I wait. Statues Shiver out my concrete heart Crumbled statues that rest as cuts inside my glove In mad genius hideaways Sometimes the world stops The mirror breaks The reflection becomes your shadow Rearrange my jigsaw puzzle As it unravels, frayed and dull pieces missing. Nameless Woman She was the nameless woman on a Greyhound bus Going from the twin cities to the beach Escapes from the cold cemetery Of all the blemishes and bruises From the tremors and sweats The whipping of an evening knife Escapes to Jesus Unite her with a breeze To heal and to love. Prayer Pose Questions written in the lines of our hands Gold implanted these answers in these lines In codes, of language we may not know Crooked energy, blurs our visions bend away our faithful devotion Now ask another question Do your hands respond? Form me into a prayer pose. The Park The park has become a spy Of nature We watch as the day becomes a blur From beauty to an armageddon A wonder as the past to future vanishes in a flash Our eyes are the guides The search for mazes, in twists & turns Love is all we have as we fade. Wonderland What are your true feelings? A cryptic wonderland we swim in Tears of saltwater cuts through the oceans And now free the sharks, to feast on our death in our shells, we hide And hope the fog will mask our scent. Left to feel nothing. Pellets. Mutual A branding of pain hits the city sidewalks A blind rain A wail heard like a sting from a scorpion Residuals heard in wind A mutual terror shakes us all Defamation of a storm which never materialized - into a superiority complex It never knew all the graves they dug. I was Told I was told to magnify the disease From a scramble to a destruction They were always telling me to Become the evil wisp of air unseen, And intravenously become one with the blood Infect the roots And feast on the freedom now I'm a fugitive locked in a cage, silent. Riddles Old men speaking in riddles On floral print recliners that their wives bought in 1974 They joke about how they used to have long Partridge Family hair, And could drink all night and sleep 'til the afternoon Then they cry endlessly as bbq chips spill all over the floor A heart attack by the toilet foiled Wheel of Fortune that night. Maine Timbers When born to the wild You are the comfort with sunlight And the hell of a meteor A vigilante disguise Bullets for eyes Cloudy ash tears Death of old cigarette breath But you are the running fawn A run into the Maine Timbers And they are just a sniper who stepped on a nail. Alpha Hero or Bipolar Drifter Growing scared like a pretender, I am Show the tough leather skin of an alpha hero Whilst I cry in the hands of night When only truth, we look inside Pull away at my mask Begin the cuffing The weakling survived the fight, but inside he melted to ash. Sunday becomes cool and drips of rain Ripped jeans sipping in the dryness, of the room Gaze out of the window Only to see clouds that look like a staggering despair, A broken manic depressive drifter Shooting stars of spittle meanders to the sidewalks And he trips over a pile of bricks in the slick wind The militant march of a hangover. Bravo Bravo, good job, Romeo You smell like old fish and piss Well aren't you a tiger? With your emotional bullshit I'm sure all the ladies had quivering mouths and hands Ready to twist your chord. Did you feed them all of these feelings? I mean, feelings Do you have feelings? Never have had feelings? Come on sting me, talking bee, sting me! After a Mother's Funeral Being baby talked to, Is so annoying at her funeral. I wanted nothing but the nausea and the feelings of Stabbings in my own backside. I felt like I needed to be a lone wolf now I went into this day not expecting to cry, Not to have a flush of memories. To just close a chapter on an inconvenient life. However, I felt the day feeling like I'm the only one there - that knew anything of her. I just stared for what seemed like an hour At this beautiful woman who apparently was my mother. I went home with dad around 9 p.m. that night Dad suffering from food poison Stomach cramps from poisoned funeral lunch meat. Provided by an unknown family of strangers. Omen Breath Freewriting Capturing beauty with a blind eye Stuck my hand out to the guiding light I'm full of potential and set for life But i'm caught in these blended bees buzzing in my mind. Drained of life and drained to thought I'm stuck here dry Looking at dry clouds They look so crispy And i'm so thirsty I want to just poke one like a cactus And see if it is worthy. I will climb that invisible rope, and reach towards the hands of an unspoken leech That'll suck away at my blood And I will be loved by the Omen breath that lingers above. Fever 32 (about my dad and his battle with ALS) I am aware of light above me Unaware of the darkness that is eating away inside of me Then I look at my family Why are they full of tears? Why has my body defeated me? When my mind is still young God saved me 34 years before Now he needs me. Flames And we entered the flames tied in a knot, mouth on mouth, heartbeats tumbling like dominoes. Battling the Roses A wrinkling face A cheek to the window Electrical light now dimming Everything used to be brighter My head is a swimming ocean Full of endless drownings. I rest on the pane, inside screaming No energy left I can only watch The surge of rain battling the roses. Orange Sea Over the plaid mountain In the windy orange sea with long Emerald Green drapes For waves, for eyes millions of miles into Space shuttle dreams You meet a Bob Dylan impersonator Playing harmonica in a wheelchair Jim Beam bottles bouncing off the beach. Miracle Parlors We lament in miracle parlors In coffee domiciles Your neurosis becomes a camera to capture us all, as your vision Hiding miracles in your mind sleeves Collision of thoughts Deliberate in your laughter and ridicule I am the naive wave, and you now vigilant. Maroon Clouds The earth was shaking Maroon clouds clogged with a sick mix of green We all hoped for the unzipping of destruction, the apocalyptic dream scenario. Disappointed to find out no angels, just the falsetto of fainting divorcees hoping for a Hollywood sixpence. Minnesota Winter So, you image yourself a clydesdale, Strong and free Narcosis breakdown - in the flattening of a Minnesota winter Takes you by the skin, and leaves you the dinner for a blizzard. Stay away from your dreams of escapes with Dorothy Parker And realize your strength is in the clear. A Hobo and a Nun From mud puddles it spawns - a hobo and a nun Chased by the breath of hornets The hobo, smokes wet cigarettes The nun, burned all her bridges. They met in a spin of lightning Near the sewer by the hustlers Near a Gay pride parade in the conservative side of town. And like magic, now they are one And always were Personalities evolved from a grip of vapor. Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios: David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan much more posts if you just look up my name in search.