Fiend in Flight

Shadows that fall upon my face

Turn into hands of steel embrace,

Slither like beasts around my frame,

Hiss and giggle, batter and maim.

 

I sit like Death on downtown curbs,

Halfway-stoned, and deeply perturbed.

As all the little birds flap by

Squawking nonsense about blue skies.

 

Mind sickly as the head it fills,

With dried up burning daffodils,

And streams of lava pouring down

On twaddle-twits and dumb a*s-clowns.

 

Should have known, as the sayings go:

“Without the thorns there is no rose,”

But, of mine, petals seem like blades,

That cut the green right from the glade,

 

And, choke the stars from deep black nights,

Then, dance upon my nerves for spite.

I bleed foul words from my head-wound,

I’ve crushed each soul I’ve ever spooned,

 

Yet, still, I seek the hopeful light

That flicks and flits just out of sight.

For all my hate for humankind,

I feel they’ve left me far behind,

 

A diseased sparrow in a storm

That’s blown me so far from The Norm

I can’t get back on these torn wings,

And I’ve forgotten how to sing.

 

So, I swing gallows I have built

Of bitter lies and trumped up guilt.

When this crooked soul flies over

City streets or rolling clover

 

Cover your head and look away,

I’m the omen of ‘not okay.’

You’re closer to death because I’m alive.

I am a trial you might not survive.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

You should be the poet laureate of Texas.

[Ed Hart]

it's a heavy weight to carry...it's your job to keep it from touching the world

[Kerry O'Connor]

This rolls off the tongue like a dystopian children's rhyme - and I mean that in a good way.