Silent Like Christmas

The place for fiction and poetry....

Moderators: deer of the dawn, Furls Fire

Post Reply
User avatar
Jack of Odd Trades, Master of Fun
Posts: 47250
Joined: Tue Jul 19, 2005 7:53 am
Location: Brazoria, Texas
Has thanked: 1 time
Been thanked: 6 times

Silent Like Christmas

Post by sgt.null »

Silent Like Christmas

police stopped me yesterday,
said I drove like a tornado.
twisted metal heart casing,
I'm only searching for closure.

Stonewall Jackson was never
convicted, was he? found out
I was disconnected. so tried
the payphone down the street.

I memorized the bus schedule,
in case of emergency. tried
writing a poem, tried it alone.
no team medals for writing.

I had met a poet, he stayed
silent like Christmas. dramatic
shoes for his dramatic views.
he never could muster reviews.

a sad ballad for tiny rooms.
makes for big drama. zero
to sixty, fumes choking toxic.
one solitary idiot box boxing.

I was a bottle of static arcing,
grounded for awhile, waiting
for a spark. sunshine shining
my spotlight, now a nightlight.

infrared klieg lights matching
ultraviolet tanning booths.
undertow as we've been told,
separates the tide from beach.

summer was a rolling wave
of super-heated happiness,
sublime ecstasy and primitive
soul vibes echoing the relays.

jumper cables connected to
phone lines. hoboes tramping
the streets in search of any
loose change and scrap metal.

ending up at a bookstore for
eye exams when doctors run
out of new reading material.
please pay your cover charge.

boredom vultures circle the
darkened skies. as packs of
mired wolves have the gulley
marked, deep gulley widened.

conformity of stasis marked
as champions dredging older
flocks. metal wires charged.
so drop another dime please.

chatterboxes are holding the
chatter guns. littering the off-
ramps with metal shell casings.
stroll the grounds, walk around.

sweets gorged in the hospitality
suites. sunrise is hypothetical.
bitter mystics dredged from old
asbestos cups with lead stoppers.

constructing paper aeroplanes,
the bull engines roar. Stop fast.
my barber does flat-tops out on
rooftops, a thunder row murders.

we speak in zen riddles, answer
in pantomime. translations are
a dime apiece. we confront our
limited time and shuffle along.
Lenin, Marx
Marx, Lennon
Good Dog...
Post Reply

Return to “The Hall of Gifts”