I saw the preacher screaming
In ecstasy and glee
And then I saw a little spit
Spurting from his wet red tongue
It landed on the vacant face
Of an acolyte beneath his feet
Who wiped the spit from off his skin,
And smiled, looking holy.
copyright © 2009 john durrin
Inhale briefly, this starving green monster Hunts the unwantedFeeds the fascinationFumes over lost relationships Remember! We are no longer togetherHunger for horror, appeases my consciousSlow unhappy envy, blankets the nights cryNow see the escaped prisoner from my own device It’s misunderstood, no responsibility to the slaveId would be only pleasure Receiving solitude, disguises the playing demon bluesHear the ear drum beatsThis is the last time your trusted!Never hides the mask, fools know to well He whispers messages of prayer in moonlightSoft shadows foresee, protects your fiend. HidesFools in fashion know! This knows you!Remember Take of my mask. Remind yourself. Because, When the green monster becomes your only friend, Eyes of this demon will see no end!
A owl in the crystal lens it tells & capturing face; emotion & heavy eyed. Lifts lid & stared & copy cat wrists in bangle & everything is silver he needs to escape through & break this dislike. “I don’t know ya, But,… I can understand ya” -repeat silently back & forever knowing anger & wants you to forget & he stares at you taking of his hat & borrows time for you I’m staying.
Humans designed for pain wee man thinks & destinations death, hollow legions capture our pavements gutter & lay lost, solitude found in question & interrogation the weak he still belches & answering the ego’s fears the fool stands faking his theory & he must need it, needs to know & leader wept & ambassador to his he finds some comfort & answer uncovers the jukebox den & his deceased soul hides behind his tombstone & needs to be shown sorrow & love “would anybody care, I was a somebody?” & silence seekers moan…fool crys & wonders when a tune is ever played for him – “who’s demeaning who?” sings wee man.
Motorway Driving
After driving on the new motorway, called autostrada here,
I began to panic; there was endlessness about it no beginning
no end, no exit, I was trapped forever doomed to drive fast
for no reason whatsoever, I began to see spirits of those who
had driven too fast, as holistic beings perpetually repeating
the accident that made them unseen, I heard metal shrieking
in a heart rendering agony only things made of earth can do,
unlike plastic that is a product of deadness and suffers no pain.
Blood filled my windscreen first as drops, then it became as
tropical rain, a deluge, a river of blood of the innocent and
the guilty, all expendable figures, as we tacitly accept this;
the automobile is power the whole society, all what we are, is
built on this shaky foundation. But we know nothing else and
will continue till the last drop of oil is extracted from the soil.
And as we sink into nihilistic despair the gypsy will continue
his slow progress, cart & horse, across the green landscape of
eternity