A Pissy Way to Start Out August

here's a collection of shorts I've spewed up in the last couple days. i'd never claim greatness (i think i suck, honestly), but i'd like to throw these out here and see what kind of feedback i might get. umm, they're all pretty much rough drafts . . . a

The following are all from the last couple days.  My NCO (sergeant, for non-military) has been pissing me the hell off

 

Deeper into myself

Where no one else can find me

I descend

Clothe me in black shadows where

There is no communication

No frivoulous pretention

No maniacal insidious rank structure

Where man on bottom remains on bottom

 

No light can follow me here, anyways.

 

CS 02 AUG 2008

 

Six Jolly Ranchers

Remain

Two grape

Two blue raspberry

And two watermelon

I saved them out

And threw the bag away

If you were still here they would have been eaten up long ago

But since you're not,

I'll eat each one with a sadistic pain

Biting hard on one half-sucked

Until it becomes cement between my molars

And it takes sheer will to kill the frustration

Opening my jaw

 

CS 02 AUG 2008

 

A mutilated heart to call my own

And a river of broken dreams to swim in

My boat has capsize upon its helm

And drowned in a dismal death fit for fishes

"One day closer" is what I would say

Conscientious of my impending mortality

Wiser then and calloused now

This bleak and hopeless day

Fit for murder

 

CS 03 AUG 2008

 

The Dove

Oh, sleeping dove with a broken wing

I saw the place they laid your body down

Bedecked with ornaments all around

God carried you to where the angels sing

 

I cried a song they had me play

Next to your sweet head rested on pillow down

And though on spirit's wings you've flown

My thoughts wander to remember you today

 

Sadder than a normal hour

In today's chapter of my life's book

How surgery, my second mother took

And left me weeping without power

 

If I had your broken wings in which to hide

This present darkness would be but a fable

I could feast on the banquet of unconditional love at your table

And find this world more condusive to abide.

 

In Loving Memory of Catherine Von Haden, my second and more present mother, R.I.P

CS 03 AUG 2008

 

 The Wolf Spider

He leaps from rock to rock

Like an Olympian

Eight white-striped legs on a yellow abdomen

He resembles a pouncing frog

And tastes his environment with a talking jaw

Speaks comfort to me

That not all who hide in the crevices

Are rotting

There is a beauty in the solitude

And a friendship in the venom

From the safety of distance,

He gives me salve

And visits me

In the loneliest space

 

CS 03 AUG 2008

 

To turn a torn and tattered page

With delicate, broken fingers

One last, forgotten prayer

And a long reach for the trigger

Skin against steel

Flesh within bone

Man against men

Lost, but not home

Lost, but for a broken street lamp still shimmers

Ripped, torn fence

Sweat water and blood-stained stamp

Jagged jean pants

Further feels forever fails to fine a fellow

Walker

 

CS 03 AUG 2008

Author's Note

Let me know folks, please . . . and be blunt. Very blunt. Tell me I should eat sewage and die a painful death in the burning core of hell if you'd like, I'm just getting back into writing and could use some honest eval. A blessing on your day.