The Fall of An Ancient Order

featured in the poetry forum May 26, 2018  :: 0 comments

the Masons released a demon
in Salina, Kansas
captive at the Temple
of fez-hatted ghosts
hostage of chicken little
the sky isn’t falling fast
enough – ghost hope
into the daystar
a reaving we will go
you men of wolves
into the distant light
into the skyward stair
on constant horizon
of cubic existence and
flat world mentality
spin the dome for
stereographic poetry
church of word
Godspell
waving snakes and eating
the flesh of their God
tipping goblets of blood
at 30 silver pieces
nonrefundable

editors note:

A rare reaving; riches rendered into something greater than 30. (We welcome Chigger to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Lines I Stole from Better Poets

featured in the poetry forum December 17, 2017  :: 0 comments

from Notes
(Mad Swirl September 6th, 2017)

Past the present tenses
Taking care of the Folks
Down there
Everybody is welcome up here
I need a friend
Cigarettes and regrets
Crying in the mists of heaven
To teach me how to be a friend again
Take me to topless bars
It was an alien invasion
It was definitely an octopus on fire
Who is this Timmy anyway?
And then I saw the baddest bitch like-
Damn
Carlos says love is who you are
*cardinal call*
Calling me out to play
Contraposit confession:
Let me be not king – but subject
Confederate statues are a hot topic right now
Little girls don’t feel safe in the park
Apparently it’s time for new statues
There’s someone in a broken mirror-
There he is!-
Sam is in the mirror
I should get t-shirts made up of that
You’re next, she said
Now I have to follow Victory
God help me
If I can do better

editors note:

If you had been there, it would have been just like this. Thanks, Chigger! – mh clay

To my child-eyes

featured in the poetry forum May 21, 2017  :: 0 comments

from The Baseball Key

To my child-eyes
The gear looked like knights’ armor.
The implicit danger of the aptly titled foul tip and
My nads covered by a reinforced plastic cup
Filled me with a godly fear of death: still I yearned for invincibility.
I liked the heat-too-hot for others. Sweating under the mask,
Spellbound by the illusion no one could see my eyes,
Taking, interpreting, and giving secret signals to the elect.
I had knee-pads like lobster-tails and my shins were painted blue.
The chest I wore let me take blows that would kill grown men.
My mitt was a shield. My right arm a whip-sling.
On the field I was a war-machine.

editors note:

From a knight of the no-hitters. – mh clay