Writing

let’s kill ourselves a little

all the good things
all the fun things
all the things
that make us
better

(at least in our minds
at that moment)

they hurt a little
in some way

some are instant
while others are

delayed

either way
a scar is left
on a part of
the heart

shortening
an
already
brief
life

booze
sex
cigars
gambling
weed

love

they are safer bullets
and duller knives
bleeding us
in ways
that leave us
smiling

we all go

there’s no doubt
about that

might as well
have some fun
this side of the dirt
while we’re waiting

so

lets kill ourselves
a little

even if it knocks
off a few moments

they are the end moments
anyway

a blue room

they line the shelves.
tall, small, fat, and furry.
with button eyes
and threaded smiles.
waiting.
just like we do.
a year has gone by and
the door has stayed closed,
but on occasion
i open it and look in.
pretending.
i look at them
with their permanent smiles.
soft with cotton.
full.
stuffed.
optimistic.
they watch over that room
with steady care and determination.
and every time i look in
they remind me to hope.

i’ve let the spiders go

as a child i chased bugs.
hit fireflies with my wiffle ball bat
and smeared their glowing guts across a wooden fence.
i’ve burned ants with a magnifying glass.
i’ve swatted at flies and i’ve squished spiders
until they popped.
and one day, i don’t quite know when,
i suddenly stopped.
on occasion maybe a gnat or two
and most definitely a mosquito.
of those, i’ve killed quite a few.
(i don’t feel bad for those bastards)
but spiders i’ve grown to admire.
maybe someday when she sees me
crawling across her ceiling,
she’ll reach up for me gently
and tap me into her hand.
maybe she’ll see something in me, too
as i run across her fingers.
maybe in her gut, instead of disgust,
a bit of respect will grow.
and she’ll walk me to her door
and set me to the ground
to stay outside just a little bit longer.

this little piggy cried

cold waves rushed the beach
and the children played
they built sandcastles a mile high
as their parents hid under red umbrellas
yards away the pier extended into the sea
while sinister figures peaked from behind tall piles
they pointed and argued and hissed
choosing which little one would become theirs
beneath the umbrellas in uncomfortable chairs
the mommies and the daddies drank away fear
the children continued to play not being able to hear
the drooling hunger and anxious calls from behind
but the parents never mentioned them
nor would they ever try to stop them
because spontaneously and with certainty
they would meet face to face
for so long and from so far they’ve always watched
laughing at how the little piggies play
knowing soon on a calm afternoon with such skill and grace
their cold hands would grab hold of their life
and by their tiny necks they will try to shake loose
all the things the piggies held most dear
dreams and innocence will fall
like shiny change from out turned pockets
and like passers-by to an accident
we will understand this is sometimes the way it happens

americium, oxygen, and rhenium (in that order)

it’s all around you
it’s even in you
it’s in me
it’s in your dog
it’s in your loud asshole neighbors
it’s in your mother-in-law
it’s in your boss
it’s in the people you may even hate
it’s in thought
it’s in memory
it’s in dream
it’s in word
it’s in action
and when it’s forgotten
when it’s lost
when it’s left behind
when it’s been hurt and bruised
when it’s been lied to
when it’s been lied for
it’s still near by somewhere
no matter where you look
no matter what culture
no matter what country
no matter what race
no matter what religion
no matter what language
it’s there
and even as unexplained as it may be
it’s even in science

rock on the tides

it sits out there.
floating.
timeless.
endless.
perfect.

i wish i was on top of it.
legs draped over the side
like a god on a golden rock,
glowing with it in the dark blue night.

with the stars as my audience
and beneath my toes,
endless waves,
i would wait in the quiet winds
with hands open
catching  all the dreams
cast from the coast.

i would catch them all.

i would take those thoughts,
those dreams,
those screams,
however you’d  send them,
and i would deliver them
to the stars as wishes.

i would chose for you the perfect star.
a star appropriate for your wish.
the right size.
the right shape.
the right color.

i would place it just so,
perfectly and safely within it’s light.

when you look up at night
as the stars appear and burn bright in the sky,
that’s me,
with your wish,
burning in effort to come true.

and i would settle back down,
glowing gold like a god
on that floating rock out in the distant sea
and i would sit and wait
and hope for you that it comes true.

processioun

trumpets sounded
and ten thousand of them
ran the beaches
muscles twitching
neck against neck
head hitting head
knocking back the wind
and kicking up sand

they watched as forty thousand feet
shook the shore beneath them
those on the other side of the world
trembled from the force

poets knelt
and stabbed their pens to the sand
singers with arms raised
wailed into the sky
musicians smashed their instruments
and threw the pieces into the waves

she stood there
and her small hand opened
and let go one lone red balloon
into to the morning air

and in that instant he was gone

 

let’s kill ourselves a little, a blue room, i’ve let the spiders go, this little piggy cried, americium, oxygen, and rhenium (in that order), rock on the tides, and processioun were written by Keith Perks

All content is copyright Keith Perks and cannot be used, or reproduced without written consent.