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Words Like Daggers: A Poetry Collection

Page 3

by Steve Wands


  The Joke's on me

  delete doesn't work

  Can't make you disappear

  No matter how many times I strike the key

  You're still standing right there

  Like a shadow puppet with a mean streak

  What does it all mean

  Don't I get a piece of the pie

  I bought in to the American dream

  Like a robot that doesn't work right

  Thinking outside the box

  delete

  delete

  delete

  esc

  esc

  esc

  It never works

  There is no

  esc

  Why doesn't it work

  Fuck my life

  This dream's a nightmare

  Where nothing really bad ever really happens and everything is just mundane

  IT'S ALL JOKE BUT NOBODY GETS IT AND EVERYBODY LAUGHS BUT IT'S NOT FUNNY

  The city screams

  No one listens

  Headphones turned on

  He/she's turned on

  Everybody screams

  Such a rush

  Such a fuck

  The sirens roar like a serpent's hiss

  I don't care as I step in piss

  I love the city

  I'm just kidding

  SOMETIMES

  There are days, good and bad

  There are days full of numbing boredom

  There are days I feel nothing at all

  There are days I feel the earth underfoot

  Sometimes I write shit thinking that any of it means more than nothing

  Usually it means nothing

  Sometimes I want to end the world just to see if I'd survive

  Usually it means nothing

  There are nights I look at the sky

  Nights that are clear

  I feel humbled

  I feel small

  I feel like dust

  These are the greatest of moments

  The time in between seconds

  The time we never have

  We're so busy doing something

  Usually it means nothing

  Sometimes I repeat myself because I've already said everything I need to

  Sometimes I don't know what I'm saying

  THE COLD, BLUE-EYES OF THE MARBLE MAN

  His wife's gone for the day

  She had a thing to do, lucky for him, cause he did too

  A terrible thing, a thing you never speak of

  The kind of thing that only the Marble Man can do

  He puts on his special shoes and tucks in his shirt

  Marble Man combs his hair so his looks don't hurt

  His pockets are full of change, hair, and dirt

  He's got a bag full of marbles

  Each marble a miniature-sized world

  A world big enough for one, sometimes two

  The Marble Man likes to play with the kids down the way

  A game of Ringer or Rolly or something off the cuff

  But if you loose, as most kids do, The Marble Man walks away

  In his bag, a new kid will stay, waiting for the man to loose

  PUNCTURE

  That look pierces my skin

  The look of absence, lack of self

  A refugee washed ashore, wasted by sun

  Desperation will make a man an animal

  Ready to brave a possible wet grave

  Just to bring a message in a bottle

  To nail that message into my skin

  I get it, I get it

  Now, swim back and die

  The dream is a lie, and I

  Must stop the bleeding

  CATCH AND DISEASE

  Throw out the line and wait

  Play your game, I'm sure it's safe

  A new day for a new disease, why not, right?

  If you can make it, they can make it worse

  Reel it in, I see it, Bob

  Something's on the line

  Give it a name before we see what it is

  I need a name, something catchy, something sticky

  Make it stick, quick, quick!

  It's breaking the water, I know her

  My neighbor's daughter, they call her Candy

  Throw her back and clean your hands---she's dirty

  Filthy

  Let's try again, I need something to ruin

  FINE WORK, OFFICER, FINE WORK

  Morning news, the boys are at it again

  High speed pursuit slows down to a tumble

  The van flips and the culprit spits out the window

  Fuck his safety, I need a hit

  Unmoving doesn't move me

  Swarm of hornets stinging away

  The man didn't move and the camera caught it all

  Fine work, officer, fine work

  The boys that make me hate

  They aren't all bad, some are just terrible

  Plain, simple, terrible

  BURNED AWAY

  A shift in the wind

  North bound breeze just off the coast

  Dust settles on the road

  The street tar melting

  Gutted cars look like dinosaur bones

  The earth now rust-colored

  The only sign of man left is bone

  Brittle, decaying bone

  KIDS WILL BE KIDS

  The playground is full of screaming heads on little limbs

  The merry-go-round spins out of control

  Mothers and fathers push kids to the sky

  Monkey bars imprison the daydreamers

  In the distant fields kids are kicking what looks like a ball

  They are covered in blood but smiling like sinners

  The ball is not a ball at all, in fact it is a head belonging to the undead

  It winces with every kick and it's teeth are nowhere to be found

  BLISS

  Staggering backward, blown away by words

  Flickering tongue and cold inflection

  Eyes narrow and cheeks flush

  We'd kill each other in the moment

  Instead, the dust settles and we realize

  This is love

  ALL THE REAL PEOPLE LEFT

  Plastic face, stolen smile

  You witch, burn for me

  I want to watch your face melt

  You've got another one

  The real one, green face and hooked nose

  Even that's a mask, born to be hidden

  What beats in your cold shapely chest

  Is the heart of a beast

  The heart of a plastic queen

  The heart of masquerading witch

  A target for my dagger

  A wet, pulsing, beating target

  Calling me closer, whispering

  Bulls eye, now stagger

  Stagger, clutch at the gaping wound

  Inhale, exhale, look at me and then the hole

  It was nice meeting you

  The drinks are on me

  DRAMATIZATION

  Stabbing at reality with a dull knife

  Composing experiments in social circles

  Tonight, I'll play the fun loving drunk

  Tomorrow, the human with a heart

  This weekend I'll be doing things, epic things

  Come Monday I will be so drained

  Drained from a series of fictionalized accounts of the life I never lived

  I swear, if I ever get out of this rut

  I'll live like the dead

  Wait, I've already done that!

  INHERITANCE

  This time tomorrow, time will stop

  The eyes of a nation will stare at the sky

  As bombs fall like acid rain

  Our children will inherit a wasteland

  The barren desert of our dreams laid wasted

  Our children will live underground

  Burrowing like worms

  Crawling on the surface like roaches

  O
ur children will be insects

  To be crushed by giants

  THE SHALLOW PITS OF THE DEEPEST HEARTS

  Instant communication and gratification

  Flies on shit as usual

  The buzz astounding, the meaning not so much

  Attempt at thinking deep thoughts doesn't apply

  Not all robots are capable of pondering

  And that's what you are, aren't you, robot

  No, that's right, you're a humanitarian

  The deepest of the deep, the deep brooding variety

  The opposite of Vanilla

  What a wonderful thought, robot

  Truly, wonderful, and let's not forget deep

  Let's throw it out there and see what happens

  Watch the buzz saw do its thing

  Think and let the world know

  A voice in the noise, a noise nonetheless

  Your most magnificent thought is rubbish

  Truly, wonderful rubbish, the flies are buzzing though

  But isn't that what they do

  NONE OF US ARE PERFECT

  You spread violence

  She spreads her legs

  You're the whore

  I'm the hypocrite

  The difference is the motive

  We search for peace in our souls

  To fill all the holes from our vices

  And our empty sacrifices

  YOU LEAVE THAT MAN ALONE

  Staring at walls, staring at screens, I can view them all

  I got it now, got it by the balls, voicing a silent scream

  Planning an escape, booze and pills, just like the greats

  I'm not great though, where does that leave me

  Bored stiff with a beer in my hand and my dick in the other

  Jack Burton had it all figured out, let the road call the shots

  SMOOTH

  Walk tall and fast, all business and dry-clean only

  You're living it all right

  Well groomed with the latest designs

  You're not fake, you actually love it

  You're sincerely shallow, without a fault

  I'd say you're full of shit but you smell just fine

  Too good in fact, you've got me hook and line

  Where do I sign?

  ...HOPE TO DIE

  One more drink to end the night, last one, I swear, cross my heart and...

  RITUAL

  The alarm clock stings my ears like a swarm of hornets

  It can't be morning already; my eyes burn like cold air on a cut

  Tongue sticks to the back of my teeth; tastes like I kissed a corpse

  Nausea for breakfast followed by a shower that puts me back to bed

  Coffee pulls me by my nostrils up the stairs, a sip followed by another

  Got to get ready, get to work, things have to get done

  Things, important things, you wouldn't understand

  People depend on me, have to get ready, start the car, grab my lunch

  Kiss the wife, thank her, mix my coffee, cup filled to the brim

  Shouldn't have drank last night, seemed so right, lost track of the night

  Tuesday night to be exact

  Keys, check

  Book, check

  Wallet, check

  Pass, check

  Life, undecided

  AN INDIAN GAVE ME THIS

  The American dream is just that

  Apparently, this year brings hope and change

  All I need is a rope to swing from

  You can keep your pennies and put them on my eyes

  I'll meet you across the river

  Things-done-wrong would be my name

  A Native American on the plains

  I'd last a New York minute

  Six shooter to the face is all it'd take

  A campfire joke to teach the kids

  Don't be like me

  Don't be ungrateful

  You're better than that

  NOSFERATU DREAMS OF BEING A PIRATE

  Brow furrowed and eyes squinted

  The sun has pulled the earth closer

  The pain of the day is like a stake to the heart

  Not that I've ever felt such a pain

  A hole in the earth is where I allow sleep to come

  The nightlife breathes like a dying man on a respirator

  Mornings peaceful, the moon is unable to cool, however

  Thoughts of an underwater city cross my mind

  Fangs swimming the deep recesses of the ocean

  Trenches the sun has yet to find

  Giant squids and fellow creatures of the dark abound

  We can sail the depths in ghost ships and search for gold

  THE GRIM REAPER FEARS IT

  It is waiting

  It's desires patient and far from pleasant

  It thrives on suffering

  It drives on murder fumes

  It is waiting

  It doesn't dream or feel

  It thinks and it moves in ways man cannot

  It has no body nor a color to be called

  It is not just

  The hand of God trembles in its presence

  It sees things that are and makes them not

  It is the blackness beyond the stars

  It is the thing that even death fears

  TO MY YOUTH, GOOD RIDDANCE

  The little things have begun to change

  And the dreams once dreamt have come to pass

  Age can make a boy to crazy things

  Shit-house-rat-crazy things, like planning retirement

  Though I'd love to retire now, working is for the birds

  At least that's what I've heard, not from the birds of course

  What happened to living forever and never growing old

  What happened to the imagination of a kid who never needed

  Now kids need, the grown ups need, everyone needs

  Caffeine and cocktails, designer clothes and big homes

  Fast, flashy cars to make up for dull, slow lives

  Can't we think and experience, must we buy it all

  Kids have it all

  They've got the time without the cares

  Everything is new to them

  Everyone's gambling on an afterlife to finally live

  A vacation on a cloud with all expenses paid

  I've never been a gambling man but I've started dabbling

  I'll be a father soon, so that's new

  That doesn't mean I'll be like you

  To my youth, good riddance

  To my grave, I'll see you soon

  The rest of you can go to hell

  SIGN BY THE X

  Your name scribbled on the bottom line

  A signature in exchange for magic

  Nothing to lose, no such thing as a soul anyway

  Think it over if you want

  Scribble, scribble, dot, dot

  The world is yours, here's the keys

  Just remember, when it's time to collect...that's it

  THE CADAVER SPEAKS

  Her body cold, stiff, and deadened blue

  Her wounds tell a story to the examiner

  The bruises on her wrists are a kiss from a lover

  The needle-sized holes are teeth marks from another

  The examiner is painting a picture

  Coagulated blood is his paint

  Blocks of color and vague shapes begin to form a picture

  She did nasty things and died a nasty death

  Though her vices didn't put the slices in her neck

  She was a broken girl that no one bothered to fix

  She liked it all and thrived on excess

  Her profession was questionable

  Her hobbies work-related

  The examiner checked her toes and found more tiny holes

  She certainly enjoyed getting stuck

  The examiner paced and paced

  His picture was nearly done

  He dropped his brus
h and whirled around

  "Can we do that again," she asked

  THE CADAVER WALKS

  She sits up and asks for a smoke

  Her cut flesh hang in strips, dangling in the air

  The examiner gives her what she wants

  And she tries to pull a drag but her lungs refuse to work

  She lets it sit on her lip

  Her movements are slowed due to Mr. Mortis

  A rigorous bastard, the examiner jokes

  She doesn't laugh

  She can't feel her heart

  She can't feel anything

  Stiffly she moves toward the examiner

  They find some clothes and he takes her home

  They reenact the events that got out of control

  MAPLE STREET

  Nothing like a moonlit stroll through abandoned suburbia

  The streets are torn due to the beasts on wheels

  The holes left from their savagery fill with rain water

  Bats fly over head looking for dinner

  The street lights flutter and the power lines crackle

  Music to mosquito ears, damn the bloodsuckers

  Homes lie in need of repairs, the dire kind

  Roofs dilapidated and windows a thing of the past

  The creepy hands of the giant trees wave in the wind

  Spiders have crafted the most beautiful displays

 

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