deepundergroundpoetry.com

space storms and microwave ovens

   
i  
   
lonesome and awake    
watching the lighthouse swing    
beams scanning cowards    
through bedroom windows    
   
foreboding dawn of a red planet    
universe of hopeless    
escapades to the electric sun    
and hollow moon    
counting on heavens    
to shine down from barren space    
   
what falls beyond the horizon is a distraction    
   
untold stories from the dead    
replay eternal tragedies    
time bent over the afterlife    
   
   
ii    
   
boys grow up too fast to be called men    
no kisses for mum    
broken rib for dad    
parents too stubborn to let go    
whippersnappers    
too gutless to break free    
   
fear of mortality    
suppressed    
one day you won't be there to protect them    
this vulnerability    
cuts deep into the fourth dimension    
   
blame mother    
the tighter her grip    
the more he resists her umbilical crusade    
                  
tripwires of calamity    
trigger thistledown regrets    
   
personal hell is a microwave oven    
cooking you from the inside    
boiling molecules of so called happiness    
   
oblivious to the pain    
refrain    
plates shatter    
weight slams into the ground    
   
there is no detour round human implosion    
you cave in    
every time you drive past the cross    
where your son died alone    
cradled in iron dust beside a burning wreck    
   
   
iii    
   
after the storm    
   
the draconian river flows swiftly    
past the breakwall    
across the bar    
into the benevolent sea    
   
creeks and rivers cleanse the hinterland    
broken trees carved by stone and sand    
float down like carcasses in floodwater    
   
washed up    
onshore    
the estuarine journey ends    
in twisted wood piles along the dune line    
awaiting burial    
sandblasted by the wind    
bound by tender roots of overgrowth    
   
i comb the beach for treasure    
and wonder what to make from this    
fragile cycle of life and decay    
   
after the storm    
   
big bad barry hangs from the wall    
driftwood shaped by ancient instinct    
and sea monster myths lurking within    
   
   
iv    
   
what do you see    
in dreams    
inner cubes    
in your succubus    
of cigarettes and blowjobs    
   
what do you see in a fat man    
with dead blue feet    
getting heart massaged in the street    
   
life steps over his half naked body    
before paramedics slowly roll away    
emergency waste    
scatters in the wake    
      
what    
do    
you    
perceive    
in the self    
   
i smell like tadpoles    
ciphered symbols    
spawn of mercurial light    
   
calluses tear from my grip    
deadlifting    
the mass of my shadows    
   
oblivious to the pain    
refrain    
plates shatter    
weight slams into the ground    
case28
Written by case28 (Alexander Case)
Published | Edited 25th Nov 2018
Author's Note
My apologies for the length... four [unfinished] poems blended into one.

The sculpture that features in the video poem is titled: "Big Bad Barry", which I created from driftwood I found on the...
My apologies for the length... four [unfinished] poems blended into one.

The sculpture that features in the video poem is titled: "Big Bad Barry", which I created from driftwood I found on the beach one Sunday afternoon. The video footage of the beach and piles of driftwood were also filmed the same day the pieces of the sculpture were gathered from the beach.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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