No lights, just pain
Pieces of his painted life
packed in bags, cross the lawn.
This jealous lifetime of claiming our things
carries the control.
Lights reflect off his plastic box,
moving out.
Silent arguments chase the car.
Time to go home.
Tears fly out the window,
followed by his blue collar lies.
Won’t be traveling in her passenger’s seat again,
laid back, easy.
Though he faught hard to get there,
engaging and enticing.
Nature of his homeland comes haunting back.
No lights, all pain
glow of a cigarette his only hope.
Pack of twenty for the road
raw knuckles drive the wheel
turn the corner, release the smoke.
Landmarks of amity lope quickly past,
moving on.
Last signal bright in the rearview mirror.
Time to go home.
_________________________________________________________
Binge
frosted yellow with colored sprinkles
perfect sugar circle with flour and honey
my seven round friends
keep company with warm soldiers standing
straight in their box, salty, crunchy, hot
red syrup canteen cools yellow sticks
when they dip
frenzied need for refreshment
drink of choice, bubbling slurp
with a straw swiftly washes
thirst down
smells surround
different order, another time
calming nutriment, comfort in a car
a tray of my consoling comrades arrive
melted cheese, stringy, stretchy
bumpy, fried crispy crunch
red sauce helps increase the flavor
hard, crackling, oily crust
fantastic saturation.
________________________________________________________
Lonely
I am going to die
alone
to the soft murmurs of
a hidden monitor
quiet
and scratchy in
the distance,
low hum of
life-
sounds playing with
my ears
my eyes closed, head
on pillow, warm blanket
over torso
laying
stiff in my bed, my soul
blends
with the atmosphere of
the room surrounding
my senses slow
rolling curtains dark
shallow brown
carpet secret croaking
doors-
I am
unafraid.
________________________________________________________
Rapture
Half an hour of insignificance
Standing in our lonely sea,
Waves of shell merchants
Wash cobble stones twenty years old.
Speedy years weathered and tough
Dirty black crevices enhanced by light
Eyes of slimy work and heavy brows
Only babies can’t remember an early face.
Gathered in a circle of bricks and wood
Knocking on the windows of stormy worship
Together in the tallness of gray grass
Insects whisper and delight.
We go upstairs to watch a movie
But upstairs is a place for tangible entertainment
Our bodies, not our eyes.
There is more comfort in our words
Together in the shared couch-chair
Sitting in front of a vacant box.
We click and search, desperately turning
The fierceness of Olympic atheletes
Chemicals blazing, clocks ticking
Captives, a world of seas
And still a half an hour to go.
________________________________________________________
Shrouded Incubus
Bodies tonight,
Red snow, deadly sights
Sinister souls smolder,
Fires that bite
Solid white teeth,
Straight and bright
Inhuman lips savor sour sweat,
Liquids and life
Eyes staring coldly,
Fresh face gone tight
Devouring voices filch golden virtue
Away from the fight
All of us madmen versus
Christ in the Light
Sacred soils of past lands bind
The immortal plight
Lucid layers of skin,
New powers, great heights
Mortal veins helpless against
The wicked strife
Thick soups dress forever
On this last night.
All original poems are under copyright protection.
All Rights Reserved.
© Rebecca Morris 2009
