Poetry by David L O’Nan: Hero Dilemma, She’s a Roadkill Jezebel, Cloud Rot, Cherry Red Boots, Full Red Moon, Stonewalls & Parlor Tricks.

Hero Dilemma

A hero is a beloved jewel
That can be discovered by the sunburns,
That crisp of an old city.
Who was belched out into a bed of rivers,
That lets an old soul sleep.

When hungry, when exhausted
A hero has not left his pastures,
Or even thought to scatter the ashes of a lesser man-
across a fine powder of soil.

A hero is a leper discovered in the armour -
of a broken armoured knight.
Traveling miles and miles for his broken bones.
Scattered in winds that had no emotion.
A wind that had no ties between love and drought.

A scar on a star
Can barely see its gleam in a dark pale night.

A hero is not only breath,
But a touch by an angel when a shout -
rips from the mouth of demons into your ear tunnels.

A handshake by an eroding building,
Dictating a new friendship
A blinding vision in a drunk, peeling tree bark
Sap steamed by the decay of the sunlight.

This city is full of heroes.
This day was full of comradery,
Night full of bloodshed.
That is energy puffing steam into static,
as new heroes are born.

She's a Roadkill Jezebel

I used to make apologies for my unnerving shy glances.
'Til the Winter rivers rage become frozen.

I said "Sorry for loving you"
I said "Sorry for traveling like a car crashing through your heart"

Startled you when you were checking messages on your phone
Startled you as you just walk on by, passively, aggressively.

I had to hide behind this joker
When at night I summoned the moon's tide to move me to your arms.

I risked all the carvings and heartbreaks
For you in jangling jezebel jewelry
I waited in sacrificial tears for you in a prayer
As I become a paste of roadkill in your mind.

The sun comes up,
and you just drive by me.

Cloud Rot

I am not severed at the sleeping eye like you
We were born together to the traitor,
In a night that would not end.
A life was executed in the sky that night.
Us, all humanity
breathes through our rubbery lungs,
and a cloud rot where we stood.
A dream foiled us all as we praised time.
And we exorcised the radio signals,
where the angels tried to separate -
from the constellations and the machines,
Laughing prisons.

Cherry Red Boots

In spurious cherry boots
And a tramp will walk
In the overflow of leather piercing the skin.
Imagine if that were you
You used to be so smart.

We used to be so proud
Living in the bubble of your thoughts
The door slams,
The boots hit the wooden floor
And you sit and rot by your demure reflection.

Disguised vanity with a glass of wine in hand.
You forgot to hew away the depression,
and put on the heartbreaking smile.
You walk into work with the wineglass in your hand
For 4 hours straight, you talk about your divorce.
And how cheap your boots were.
As you flaunt them for attention.

So now you're shopping for an "easy man".
Like bars are stores for your eyes.
And the free drinks are your voyage.
To rent-a-man for a night of temptation.
You don't seek that love anymore.
Only desires that freak away the burns from feeling mellow.

You begin to wonder if you could trip all the way -
to the tip of mania.
We all begin to wonder.
Lipstick smear across the mirrors of white
Hurricanes swirling around inside your brain.
A wonderful cloud of sewn thoughts.
Pull the threads and see if there is substance left.

With the boots beginning to tear.
Barefoot and scraping against the road.
To whatever,
Wherever, this road leads to.
You were never you.
And you are still searching to find,
If you can be you.
To feel true,
The halo of shadows
Merging in with the vanishing woman.
And leaves a voice to hear by all of us paintings.

Full Red Moon

Before the death of the night,
full red moon watching.
We began to cut the skin of the black air.
Souls capturing the pumping blood.
Leaking out,
The sores of the stars.
We were looking at each other from the corners -
of our eyes.
A broken blink that leads to a smile.
We will erupt into a burning run across the sky.
You look like the only angel wearing your aura as a trick.
Sealing away the definition of your inner light.
Leaving a dry mystery.
Solidifying your heart.
The rippling breeze motions into a wailing.
Echoes palpitate through our opening mind.
The trees catch the leaves as they rebel.
Before sailing back into the hands -
of those you knew before.
That cold shaky ground with the gripping hands,
trying to pull you to safety.
You will not rest with my open arms.
You must dream silent,
Into the morning dew when it shines.
Touching the blades with your breath -
Your engine sighs.
You laugh and begin,
to cradle into nature's pull.
The maniacal laughs will fall astray -
into some forbidden banshee cry.
Our cohesion brought life back to the flowers -
that wanted to linger in gray throughout the year.
In one magical moment we met in heaven.
Now heaven is rotating over our lifeless planet.
Like anyone's first kiss under the full red moon.

Stonewalls and Parlor Tricks

We wanted to get out of this jungle
Statues of sinners
Where's a cross?
In the alleyways?
Where they play nasty parlor tricks
Tricking devils to impersonate the River Styx
Lost impurities,
Cemented in.
Belies a city of depressed souls, as I
a dead touch of flare,
When the magic is lost in the air.
A mind overpowers the evils,
we are told.

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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