Featured

Info on the Blog

 

Follow me on twitter @DavidLONan1 and @feversof  and on Facebook: DavidLONan1

Go to Amazon and look for the Fevers of the Mind Poetry Digest Volumes 1-3 available on paperback and kindle. Also there is a Poetry Only combination book of Volumes 1 & 2:  Avalanches in Poetry: Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen available on Paperback & Kindle.   Buy “the Cartoon Diaries” Chapbook for only 6.99 paperback 2.99 kindle.  https://amzn.to/2MwufxL for my Amazon Author Page (may not have all listed at first)  I have had work published in Royal Rose Magazine, Truly U, Dark Marrow an offshoot of Rhythm & Bones Lit, Ghost City,  3 Moon Publishing, Elephants Never,Nymphs Publishing. Edited 3 editions & have poetry, prose, short stories, photography in Fevers of the Mind Poetry (&Art) Digest. A Best of the Net nominee, and am a frequent contributor to Headline Poetry & Press http://www.headlinepoetryandpress.com

 

 

 

Dissected Poetry #3

*When we met at the jazz show…I thought you were the reincarnated Marilyn Monroe*

*Born from the dirt of this city’s hole…she trapped me in like a fly in the ointment*

*With a high heel imprint in the nape of my neck…I hear them ringing…and the night is twinkling…twinkle, twinkle on a dead star…Is that Polaris being squeezed…In the hands of giants, ashes in the wedding breeze *

*If you want her love…you learn the streets…learn to fight like a boxer from the old war…do you see a Pegasus in the Harlem sky?…she always does…and those stars are hers..and those constellations you have to buy with your lore…are you omnipresent, or are you a lie? Are you Emir, clean like Jesus?…she’s as holy as pure white sheets*

*Cherry red lipstick on all of the evolving nights…you lived for the clashes of all the sweating… and you watch her break down…tears roll down….roll, roll, roll…always rolling…now she isn’t poodle skirts, curves for blind eyes…you rolled the bones, and summoned the evils of the devil….and you last saw her on the back of a runaway angel*

*Your wisdom was lost at the altar…your suit like an AWOL soldier…Those bells can shatter, and break…bye, bye, your broken…and the prison loves the fires…the inventions you have spoken …a hoax in pinstripes and spectators…i’m just a badly written fable*

 

The Rib (c) David L O’Nan

As it became the ghost of midnight

At the grill

We saw men dancing the tango with old White Margarita loving women

with John Cougar hair

Stars replaced by Paisley shaped cigarettes

We laugh because we know, and we’re drunk that

a whole generation will cough tar powdered mucus

And the beer bellies keep rushing into town from train to train

Just to see all the women they can impregnate.

And runaway like a scared cockroach near a hotplate lunch.

So, there is this rib of Adam in this town of corruption

It was like a view of Mountains in a blurry distance

Past where we picked the last blueberry in that rain, that monsoon

That death we felt as we withered to the muds

And saw all those visions

we felt that a vacuuming feeling, re-wrapped around the acorns in

a sinkhole in the ground

Hearing the parades above

Cannot see them.

From the curtains of bone we rest easy

The parties above are just tremors

To the quaking of unrest in us.

Dissected Poems #2 Freewritings

“And now it is Spring, and Lansing doesn’t feel so interesting…every day it seemed to rain sharp ice…that she hopes will cut her out of this straitjacket…that glues her to the floral virus stuck to the 1970’s wallpaper…that rotates in slow motion to her drunk mind…lacerates herself and dreams back to a Baltic Sea with beautiful Noctilucent clouds that swept her away into his arms…may she forget her mother’s hate…remove her brain from an identity…’you don’t dress like a lady” …”you dress like the neighbor’s son”…you live like a funeral home …don’t pray…a decrepit Buddah sits on top f a cancer sore brown diary”

 

Math Equations During a Seizure (c) David L O’Nan

I feel your dying kiss

At the hypocenter of my brain

Trying to decipher formulas

as you &

and I are being torn away

Our impecunious love, we shake

as we do

 

We were never meant for public consumption

Never understood the blind from the comas sleep

We would just rest in prayer corners off the busy city street

Our hypodermic sins in love, we shake

As we are cursed to be

 

As a downpour washes at our scarves

And rust out your stolen chain necklace

I hold you as we shake

A mezzo soprano voice dictates hope in our heads

Asleep in rain puddles

For this night we wish to stay

Our prophetic love, bright vulture eyes watch, a calm shake

As we are in death, handlocked.

Dissected Poems: Freewriting Experiments #1 (c) David L O’Nan

*And I want to know you…the Christian Athletes…built like cement walls…from an air that is tight…and rips at your muscular frame…you, built by God…you are not windproof*

*Sue Becky is positive, a blank stare banker… Always the one who’d want to fight the fish instead of playing with the sharks…she’s been through the traumas…a divorcee forever, and one many times over…and life doesn’t come easy…when you are doubting, and in a palsy state*

*False men, and mirrors…are made for cracking…is that all that can save her from the monsters…the monsters that live in her church…the choir sings humdrummingly to the void…and Sue Becky’s curls curve like a cemetery hill*

*A smothering hot day…like a sweaty punk…you almost passed out…wasted on lack of sweat, oxygen, and more than enough Mountain Dew…before a vacation you see the Sistine Chapel…you smell like the awful smoke…a choke of smoke…like the burning oils slipping over chainsaw blades…drunk orange afro  in a Megaman t-shirt…and you complain that the ceilings make you dizzy…and your armpits are itchy…and you know what, man?…I hope you do pass out *

*Can’t swim out…feeling like a deadweight mime…staring at rainclouds that only hint of destruction…but instead leaks in sensitivity…just a blistered moonchild…stuck living in the womb of the far away Earth…and a sliced moonlight bled all over the memory of the sunshine*

Create your website at WordPress.com
Get started