Several Micro Poems from David L O’Nan

Stuck

We lived like stuck ants in a wine glass
In the red wine remnants
That was sifted impure
We lived like the homeless man,
Whose skin and jacket
Has become one with the epidermis
Who can believe our past truths, or fears?
We must be symphonia, forever
To a deaf vain psyche.

Predators and Monsters

Do you believe in monsters?
They speed past me every day
Then creep slowly by the staircases, or a window
This essay to be an urban folk legend
A paradigm of masking behaviors
Pockets with fading hands
Can we get away?
A freedom that makes predators out of choirboys.

TB Jailbirds

In white lines, broken coughs
It fills my chest with an extinct disease
in the distance I can hear harmonicas
From a desert
In a 1950's jail
Only the demons listen in
To the blues that die
Like the TB Jailbirds.

Through Faith

In the frame of heaven,
I became dust
Interceding with the sunlight of a narrow hallway
Dividing into millions of tiny poisons
A quotient of one malevolence
Why the hiding?
As the piling of sales papers and bills accumulate
Teases to aneurysms
Can I be more like Paul in Malta,
Impervious through faith?

Willowy Barn

That Winter weather smiles like
A goldfish in a swill water tank
Snow cresting inside the chambers
of an 1800's willowy barn
Breaking steadily into cracks
I bathe inside the warmth of ash
And I remember you,
When you were royalty in a laugh
And in a cry, we were united..then
This willowy barn will eventually
Fly away or burn to the ground
We have to be able to comfort each other then
Can we?

As Dolls

They opened the door to hatred hundreds of years ago
Every time we get that door to budge
Racist, sexist, bigotry, homophobic, narcissistic dictators
put more magnets to our metal minds
To fail us til we only become tunnels
Dark as night
As dolls we can only blink.

Value Menu

He left home faster than a manslaughter
A family,
Like the taxi drivers in the morning with an unknown name
A drunken father yells
Can no longer behest him,
To rolling cigarettes,
Neglecting your own appetite
Always eating from the value menu
He sold you to the power of his slurs
He reminds you he wished you were never born
As wheelchairs push against the broken tiles of a linoleum floor
Another broken bottle
Move away to the comfort of being a lunatic
And a farewell to the crowding hatred.

Jersey Cowboy Drunkard

In an immortal memory
You, a growing lily
Intercepted by the pushers
Whose medicines scream magic
Soon, they were the entrapment
And soon you were a wife
Married to an impulsive amphetamine
With devils dancing in whispering lullabies
Your Jersey cowboy drunkard
Un Viaje Sin Una Casa

Yesterday's Sky

Removed me from the healing of saints
Drowned a colony of us, like ants
Infernal flames
Remove me
I can't feel the power
You keep painting over my smile
My laughter lost in the fabric of miles
You are the manic artist
With an evil eye
Paint me back 
to yesterday's sky



Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. 

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today! 

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren 

Bare Bones Writings Issue 1 is out on Paperback and Kindle


Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now! 

Poem by David L O’Nan : “Valen, Mocky, Georgie, Johnny Happy”

Valen, Mocky, Georgie, Johnny Happy

We remember back to years we knew them all,
Valen, Mocky, Georgie, Johnny Happy and the paper dolls.
The misfits from the hills.
The hicks from the razor-sharp streets,
The change from Brown to Green,
once the storm bleached out the heat.
Taking in all the sensations of the awakening.

They were prisoners, weak to death
Strong in mind, 
yet always quaking in a shiver.
In the cold house of steel,
Those who danced, those who'd construct, Deconstruct,
shatter, and then wilt.

We knew all that was beginning to change.

They will be colored in fevers
They will have burning coals in their chests
They will battle their wars tight in a jar
They can die in silence,
or as the night becomes berserk.
They will continue to find the distance,
from their wives and children.

Oh, we are all getting older
White hairs crawling from each of us -
like wild mice to cheese
Those that'll chew holes through our shoes.

The boys and the mannequin stares,
the Danny O'Day doll's eyes, 
a novelty we all are.
Living in the nightmares of grapevines, barbwire
for the butchers.
Friends from childhood to distant shadows -
absorbed into delusions.

We used to be tender, family, unbound, and free. Asleep
allowed to leave the trenches.
Gifted, wrapped as a holiday present - Away
from all the borders.
They choked us from power.

One by one a new demise.
Thwarted in the dust.
Fighting the skeleton inside.
And the memory pops like bubble wrap.  Little
green wings of fire now tipsy and burst.
Drunk and tiresome.
Woozy, scared as they remove our food.
The heart lives on like a patch.
How long will you feel my love?

All of this bleeding becomes  breezy
Like an infinite painting of crimson wind,
still framed and lost is our revolution.
They will carry us out
like stuffed animals taking too much room. Evict
the mites, so what is left can breathe.
The riots yell sounds soft in a madman's dream.


Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. 

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today! 

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren 

Bare Bones Writings Issue 1 is out on Paperback and Kindle







The Hills Have Blindsides by David L O’Nan (poetry)

The Hills Have Blindsides

also published in IceFloe Press

A flock of hideous birds float through the wind. I feel these crows in shriveled fur,
Their flight, an old man’s crippled slur.
They congregate together
Cross-eyed and angry
To yell from the diaphragm,
Your rebellion is based on ignorance!

These were feathers from the same war. All brewed up and steamed together, Before peace became a relevant idea.
In caskets, they lay
All purpled – in art
Waiting for someone to dance and sing –
With the bells ringing from the heart

After all the diseases sink in their talons Then gnashing and biting begins.
When the prettiest star waves you in
To meet God or the jealousies of all sins, They roll up those hills to see clarity.
The problem in all the darkness
Is not within your peripheral understanding. The hills have blindsides,
When you’re looking for Jesus
When you’re looking for Jesus

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now!

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.