Caterpillars that Never Grew Wings

Written down Thoughts that never became full poems.

faded scars

 

He beat me w/ a cane-pole

for 2 turbulent hours.

I gave no resistance.

 

I thought I’d have nightmares.

I didn’t dream @ all.

 

nobody noticed the tiny blood dots

seeping through my shirt. 

 

I'm still not sure why.

 

 

 

chemo dream-o

 

I snuck into Heaven

Through a barbwire disease.

Fever broke

@ midnight stroke;

knocking metal knees.

What was trapped in fire straps

has now been made free.

Slept one hot night in Paradise.

Now, Paradise sleeps in me.

 

 

 

Trimming the Fat

 

You laughed like a stalking hyena,

as I pruned my sickly soul.

Ugly bonsai.

Tiny bonfire cinders in the sink.

 

Don’t’ worry about me.

I’ll probably be dead by morning.

 

 

 

 

What’s for Dinner

 

White-eyed evil is blinking @ me

through the darkness

of my

bedroom.

 

I hear a sandpaper tongue slide over

a row of white scalpels.

 

I guess

I should’ve left

this orphaned child of God

in the Wasteland Pub where I found her.

Reviews

[ju]

i think they'll grow wings with enough reading. first and third especially- work well as stand alone poems. if the title of the first attempted to answer the question/why you ended it with- that'd complete the read. i find that one especially heartbreaking, the determined confusion and faded hurt is so easy to feel and so hard to read.

[Kenneth The Poet]

What's For Dinner - dark hilarity.

[Kerry O'Connor]

You tear up the page with childhood beatings and chemo-therapy, then dump a kitten in my lap???