Poems for the Weekend

Here’s what I got done on my lunch break today. I’m really happy with how these kinds of poems are turning out, even though it’s been years since I’ve written a lot of this style. Enjoy!

punch

 

the one who stores your soul inside his ring

punched the ring into a wall

the bone in his finger broke, the ring shattered

what will you do now that you`re free?

a field of souls scattered about

invisible though they are, through the fog

get fewer likes and views

she sees you, through the fog

grass here is tall

wheat sloshes in the wind

you can’t make out anything

not his face

not his broken hand

you can’t see anything as he approaches

 

dracula

 

a vertical glossy sea reflects beams of the sunrise

windows through which we observe the red breasted desk sitter

he pants for coffee like no other animal

like vlad dracula

impales quarterly reports on pikes stood up

at the center of a roundabout

afront 2600 officebuilding drive

our sun rises red as the ink on the books

necronomicon ex profit

at noon

the buzzards drift in to monitor his progress

but that’s only happening once a month this year

the promise made to the sitter

bound by steel chain

cloth mesh

small increases in numbers on his smart phone

will never be made

 

success

 

i can see how you’ve failed and

know it makes you dislike me

for all of time

after i’m dead, floating

on gray clouds of purgatory

i continue to see

i voice

why? because there is no way to succeed

you don’t, i don’t

you think someone appreciates you

when you fall in love

but after a few years

they don’t look into your eyes like they did

your hands don’t stick together

with that wet ectoplasm

you both accept these things

so i know you can see how i’ve failed

it makes me hate you

for eternity

when you’re sifting through

beach sands in heaven

searching for that lost necklace

the one you wore at our wedding

i know you see

please don’t tell me anything

just this once

 

escort

 

sometimes duty calls for you to escort

the bare elephant man through the streets

to tell him he looks like the rest of us

pat him on the back when he makes a wise purchase

despite the draw of rebellion

one must perform things considered to be duties

to hold together the rest of us

elephant men

to keep us thinking we’re healthy and alright

looking in the mirror to see gritty bone

protruding from your lopsided forehead

must not turn your gut

or alter your ability

we must take our turn

know how to recognize what must be done

for fate and fortuna constantly try to trick

all

the elephant folk

 

lamp

 

i climbed

out of my lamp

people were

nicer

than I expected

so was

the weather

it could

trick you

into thinking

it’s safe

that it’s safe

to kiss her

even though

there’s a

ruby red

cold sore

get back

in the lamp

 

smile

 

i see my hand pulling up scoops

of cold stream water

blessing my dry throat with them

they see my skinless hand

a skeleton rubbing tiny drips of

lava onto my melting, floppy lips

all i can do is smile now

show my charred gums

 

Author: A. M. Langston

Poet and Novelist

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