They say death is silent
He never makes a sound
I got news for you pookey
Death is f*****g loud
Death sends tracer rounds
Screaming at your head
I'll take you if I want you
An inch away from dead
Death blacks out a crystal sky
Riding an aluminum frame
Death lyes hiding in the ground
Playing his trickster games
Death is on a cell phone
Talking to mortar crews
Setting up coordinates
Then were on the us news
Death runs at a check point
Singing Allah be praised
Death squeezed his trigger finger
and blew a 14 year old away
Your comment screams in experienced horrors and survival. Your writing tells of your talent. Together, you are alive with many more writings, just waiting to be born.
A true poet is one that experiences a poem then transcribes it into birth....
~pat
Chilling. But if you ever call me Pookey again, it's on ;-) Seriously, though...when these pieces "just happen" they do so in a most profound way; and with the title, I feel like you're showing an enormous amount of respect to your own feelings on the subject, which, in turn, allows me, as the reader, to have an enormous amount of respect for you. Extremely well done, Baby. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Interesting poem. I like the way you've portrayed death; something that is always shifting and changing his appearance. And it is very true. Death is all of these things - and more. People have become desensitized to death, through media or some sick part of human nature, I don't know, but it is almost nothing now. You go on the news and they report about shootings or stabbings or school massacres in an almost nonchalant tone. And, sadly, people are getting killed every day by guns or knives or whatever have you.
The description is very nice. I picture the bright orange-red tracer rounds hailing down on people. I picture the mortars and Death, laughing, on his cell phone. I see the checkpoint. But the lines I like the most are "Death blacks out a crystal sky" and "Death squeezed his trigger finger/and blew a 14 year old away." Very striking and very discomforting. Nicely done, Ricochet.
I write just for the hell of it
A way to spend some time
Blurting out in cyber space
Whatever's on my mind
Maybe funny maybe tragic
Emotional and raw
Politi.. more..