Short poems part 800? by David L O’Nan

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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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, 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.

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.

More Micro Poems by David L O’Nan

The Mortality Door

Oh, my mind, the rust
A criminally negligent flippant mind,
Wax like skin, the blades, winds, the cuts
Loose whips of tears inside, the mortality door, shuts
Play righteous games, some devil
No mind, not even I will I trust I.

A New Balloon

I was lifted up
as your new balloon
Pop me and let me relax
Don't hold me too close to the chest
I might separate myself and escape to seclusion
Then you'll wonder
Where I went,
and where all the happiness went
You have the bags of new balloons ready to inflate.

Bad Body Image

I sit here on this seat
only in underwear
Feeling fat like a sumo wrestler
Pale as the crooked moon
I feel like I digest all the wretched leaves stuck in the muddy yard
My knees pop like a bottle rocket
My feet aching like blackmagic
My face is oily with whiskers, 
the itching of tiny blades.
My hair as annoying as always
My apartment crawls with heat and boredom
As lonely as the desert sands.

Whiskey Bottles

Let's keep a dirty secret in our pocket
Shun those who've shown care
Sleep with the whiskey bottles
Tear away all your beautiful hair
Let us try to live a perfect life with blind eyes
Hold in the emotions
Pretending not to cry
Throw those whiskey bottles at brick walls
As monsters begin to crawl near your feet.

Norfolk & Misery

Feeling a eulogy
Norfolk, Mid-December
Poor and in agony
As they thought of Christmas creeping
I believe they called it a misery
The depressive feel of the amaranth
A wound of thoughts

Remember all those lights, laughter
Sabotaged by the snow
Hungry for the Spring
By the Chesapeake Bay?

When We Were Children and Mom Liked Men with Mustaches

We were living in a blue van
We had been asleep on some green & peach colored towels
Stained sun tea carpeting
A cup of old melted cheese tips over and got on my Jordache jeans
Stuck in Middle-Ass Indiana
Mom was French Lick Kissing a Larry Bird wannabe -
in the front seat
As we listened to a cassette of the California Raisins singing the -Beach Boys
And giggling as we ate sugar candy
And colored in our Andre the Giant coloring books.

The Bite

It was the scent that first intrigued
Howls across the dark woods soon followed
A lame sheep we all have become
When the wolves are tip-toeing in for the kill
There isn't any need to be the beast, 
when we are that easy
So, just hide behind the stump
Watch as teeth become us in the bite.

Shatter Cries

They were willed to fight
The stained walls
Phantom fingerprints
70 year old teardrops
Have become tiny dry souls
That are now lost in the sight
The reminiscence of all the shatter cries
And the maniacal laughter, infinite
In a clear, we bathe in the light of the Milky Way.

Majestic Ruins

There are apple temptations
From tree to tree
A battle cry from a bible scene
And you start to slither in your seat
Whispering confessions of malice
To a new age priest, a hangover cupid
Your dream is love
And he dreams silent
Until a pin drops
Majestic ruins

Sunset Bells

Be the ringing bell
Pendulums striking sepia tin cans
Rattling my eardrums
Our opulent possessions
Scatter across this Earthquake
Plunging into dusty sunsets
Covers the innocence of our new moon
and births out dirty sonnets
Bells ringing
My voice will be singing
While scared and shivering
A lifeless lonely note swaying.
in soldier wind.


The madman whispers
A cruel dream emerges
His abominable ceremony
Just a lost intervention of dying minds
Of nuclear soul projections
He has created his own slime
His words, the brainwashing
Evaporating our solidity, 
over time

Dollhouses and Wildfires

Another weekend in your haunted dollhouse
Where jealousy is the most painful ghost
And jewels crack scattered spotlights across the room
Mirrors hide your coffins
Your drunk eyed depression
A one room escape for all your wildfires.


I reflect upon our ninth year of love on this eventide
I purge the tense moments away
I vision you in my head
How you saved me from the alone heart
Before I met you
How you became my wife, the beautiful bride
We cradle, hold, laugh with our children, together.

The Apparition

I swam in your arms, hoping your hug was eternal
I'm leaping in
Your brooks seem refreshing,
but fire bounces in your eyeballs
The apparition,
I am lifeless looking up at the hope of the bridges
I'm a miniscule invisible dot, 
no one knows of me.

Paper Wing Angels

Oh, my lord
What can I do with these paper wings?
Angels vaporizing in front of me
My eyes blind to the burning clouds
Dark orange skyline
Cannot move
Weaved into the sins
I am inside an old painting
The artist that drank away breath
When the muscles failed to soar.

Another Day

In the throat of another day
Travels into the ether
I'm awoke and breathing
Alone as I
All the other pelicans have escaped
To another sea, 
another day
Deep into my aura
Only reality when asleep
When all other scarecrow minds
Are pregnant with opium haze,
another day.


We watched her descent into a spectacle
The bratty pouts and kicks against the waters of a coastal lagoon
She believed we are a blemish
Inhibiting her Aphrodite ideal
What an allusion she became
Some act of Adonia
Like a valiant triumph
We saw the impact
As the saline filters to water.

Into the Desert

A 1 a.m. journey
Into the desert
Coyotes gathering
Pushing and clawing away at my protective spirits
The night is an endless black hole of anxiety,
of deep fear
And you really never left your bedroom, your jar
A haunting of eyes, laughs
My medicine is light.

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios:  David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

4 Poems by David L O’Nan available today on Punk Noir Magazine. Follow the link

Poem: Injustice: Can You Say Her Name? (Pouvez-vous) by David L O’Nan

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

Slightly themed poems by David L O’Nan : “Walking, Staring, Creeping (Foggy Morning Eyes)etc.

Short Poems by David L O’Nan

As Radar

Through the cold night
Lit up by only the light of snow
We can hear wolves howl
Heartbeats pounding as radar
We whispered to each other our last secrets
That depression was born in trails of lost acorns
Micro thoughts that you wanted to evolve into completion
A formidable life.

Goliath's Palms

Watch as the wind invents a new scream
Alarms pulsating you to twitches
Your body defeated you
Your angels deserted you
Your puddles of disgust that leaks off the roof
Staining the beautiful murdered flowers under your shoes
Your night walks vanish in Goliath's palms

War of Rivers

Could you watch the pain flow through the river?
More like concrete
than to that which is friendships through existence
One painted boat far from eye's view
Feels the infection,
the disease crunches our bones to powder
Our blood made fire freeze,
the wild of its mind.


Traveling through the towns to cities
I kept a memento of all your last thoughts
All I see is your sickness
And I feel it in myself
Limping from train to train with the bronchitis trapped air
I breathed and fall to a soiled floor
The tracks are bumpy
And I lay to vanish with you
Our ghosts become whistles

Training Phantoms

Laying down in my dying sheets
Amongst a crowd of maggots and fleas
I dream of her and I on our wedding day
In my comatose dreams
You take my blood, you slow my heart
Tell me to breathe
How do I start?
Is this how you train your ghosts?

At the Deerhead Tavern

2005 on a socially anxious night
A promise to talk about your fallen
I wait in smoke
The Deerhead Tavern in Indiana
A band plays the alternative hits of the 90's
 a call
You're dancing in the flowers of mania
This night you plagiarized beauty
I drove away in thought,
and thus began the severance of friendship.
You began to birth myths on every cloud you jumped from.


Formerly a clown fettered to a balloon
Now a casket mime holding a finger to the mouth
A hush over the deserted town
When all exploded and went away in a city of joy
Laughter buried under the rubble
And a balloon floats to a flaming sky.

In the Distance

In waves that clash together in a staccato masterpiece
We rummaged the ocean
Searching for all her secrets
She left us old bottles full of folk songs
And the city's skyline tattooed its image as
-reflections in the waters.
Can you see the shark's eyes in the distance?

A Promise

A dark night cry by the slime of the pond
The moon ripping through the ripples
Where a promise was made through the furtive lines -
of our hands.
Are we just demure, a staring into the waters
Are we deception?
An opulence of scars
The water eventually dries when the heat drinks.

Your Bible

A twist of brilliance
A dulcet drip from a sink
Listen to the silence
Surrounds suffocation
Claustrophobia, the nemesis
A comely whisper flows by your ears
You whip open your bible
Your urgency
Pray that God is with you
While you see smoke & mirrors in lassitude reflection.


Walk hand in hand with your psychopath
Do you have the control?
The whip-smart ideas
Are they the miracle weaver?
Shape shifters of your mind
Apocalyptic sentience
No, a man, just a man
Stuck in his own masochism
You, as a human overcomes
Show them they are only raw
Not an idol.

Nashville 2004

Right before Nashville 2004
Understanding the hugs were regrets
Like a kiss from a moving dance
At the Wilco concert
Without a flame anymore
They play Spiders (Kidsmoke)
And my body becomes
Suicide in the arms,
Guitars electrically dissolving nerve endings perfectly.

A Portal

Can you sketch me a portal to escape to
I'm feeling blended in with the rest of the clouds
All trying to stand out
A loose cannon to dare the formation of a destroyer
When all I want is to be calm, a breeze
Through the shelter
My site blind to all the conflagration.

Those Eggs

A conveyer
At a diner
Jelly donut, plate of eggs
Gassy coffee
Sees himself doing this day in, day out
Like clockwork
As whiskers leave his head
As waitresses marry on to Real Estate Cowboys in clean boots
Cigarette grime stuck on his own
His spirit smells like those eggs.
Fading time.


I've been checking my pockets
Hoping to find a different answer
Rather than another crumbled up gas receipt and jean lint
I need reassurance that everything will be alright
Can I please receive some direct communication?
All these puzzles seem to get in the way.

Weather in 3 Days

A stormy day in Southern Indiana, 
Sirens deafening the trees to a blur
They shadow themselves from the curse.

The ground darkens, decaying the ground from 
the cripples of rain
Trees are tortured by the weathering of a storm
Breathing out desolation from a loving sky,
Jaded by all the months of arctic regurgitations.

The wind is howling a last spit of winter from a hospital view
From a blackened rainbow
Spring shall emerge
From the cool flooding waters soon.

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios:  David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

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

4 short poems from Fevers of the Mind Issue 1 from Christian Gould

Goal, Input, Old, Middle Ages, Old Gate
Choked Chamber

Severe carvings wrinkle smooth stone.
Bold chisel, carve masterpieces.
Words fresh as new death.
Stifled breath, pounded back,
Into a body, choked in a chamber.
No escape, oxygen tank
Ripped from the ground.
Invisible bells shrieking in a body
Nonexistent in reality.

Pulverized Words

Punch these words to death.
Treachery in meat globs.
Balled pulp, knuckled knobs.
Bulbs of bone, bulbous beneath skin.
And skin, largest organ,
Instrument of concealing,
The internal blows.
Until the knuckled flesh balls,
Struck their target.


Lovely little pocks oozing,
Sliced open, exposed
In streams of mist
Into the atmosphere.
Inauguration of release:
It may not always be pretty.
It loves itself anyway

Pressed Stones

Press the stones that weigh me down to the very bottom.
Let my eye rise with the waves
Becoming one with I.
Some hope, at least.