Dazed, Afraid to Begin

The general crooked
his finger with a great
pity, but he knew he
must waste no time.

The actress heard him.
Why not try another pinch
She thought wasting
Time.

The writer blocked-
there was no tie binding
him- he’ll never let
the right words go.

The prophet looked them
all over to see- one
thing was negative,
but the other was not.
They all looked at him.

The world can’t
go on this way-
that would hardly suit
my book, the writer decided
on language after seeing
the bleeding blind man
on the streets- that was a
positive sign- of the times.

Everything is a joke-
either inside or outside.
All is possible, but they all
believe alike about the bear.
She was a good woman- the
secret things which destroy them-
he knows.

Let me introduce you to my
husband. We are not talking
anymore, the actress whispers.

Each troop a mark, the general
laughspeaks.

You think I want to be shot?
You who would shoot
your own mother.
Where do you plan to sleep?
The blind prophet screams
blood in the streets.

It just doesn’t make sense-
another sending of Satan.
Had Death ever gone on
strike before? What is money
to anyone? And the actress
has become a mystified
panhandler.

The general shook his head-
please do not remove this-
what a singular thing!

The prophet crooked his
finger- that’s not the same-
it may be more useful now.
Would everyone die with him?
It turned out they never would.
Some say there are two now-
the rumors come running. His
blood boils in every way for
the beautiful girls over the cliff.
It is best that she goes now. Last
night she slept with him- it is clear.

“Why didn’t you do it?” the
General asks the writer.

“Something passed amongst
us, and you were born to die,”
the writer types away his
response.

 

Written for dVerse.

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21 thoughts on “Dazed, Afraid to Begin

  1. Born to die, born to follow, to rule, rape, mislead, bully, be the victim–as Fear becomes our bedfellow, & the acid reflux flames are fanned by the media, by the lobbyists, by the corporate military religious factions that crave more profit from blood letting, more treasure wrung out of misery; nice take on the prompt; strong imagery, cosmic truths told or implied.

  2. a bleeding blind man in the streets as a sign of the times….perhaps….was his name justice? i wish death would go on strike you know…it would take some initiative from us though…so that people are not hash marks…

    • His name could be justice, but in fact he was just a man, call him what you will. It would be nice if death were to go on strike, but that would take some work on our part, agreed.

  3. I love this line your throw in here: Had Death ever gone on
    strike before?

    Interesting that you say this; will war ever go on strike? what about money? will it ever go on strike? or will their be chaos in the streets?

    I love this poem very much. Excellent imagery. 🙂

  4. There is something – angular – about this piece; well formed, at times linear – but not. It’s not really post-modern – perhaps it’s post-linear? Whatever I term it (and it needs no branding,) you contrive a plausible world, and ask visceral questions ~

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