Friday, November 8, 2013

Alan Catlin- Three Poems

  
                                                          The Comedians

"For on that day there will be shining faces,
blithe with joy, and there will be faces blackened
with dust-the faces of the faithless and the graceless."
from the Koran

They come bearing pamphlets,
print outs, reasons why: inevitable
as holidays, bad endings, poorly
written Reality TV; candidates and
their spawn, liars in new suits,
bad hair dyes, ill-fitting rugs, glad
handing and back slapping, telling
you whatever they think you want
to hear, whatever it takes to get
you out to vote the party line, coat
tail hangers not far behind: Latter
Day Saints, Witnesses for Christ,
ignorant and unflappable, only one
thing they understand, they all must be
illiterate for the sign above the door
clearly states: Evangelicals will be shot on
sight, that means you! You will be buried
in the back along with the dead pets,
preachers, injury insurance salesmen,
cable company reps, home heating
specialists, contract carriers with documents
they never let you read before you sign
the dotted line; all those card carrying
do gooders, door to door beggars,
Salvation Army rejects, there seems
to be an endless supply of them and
not one has anything of substance to
say; they do not understand an indisputable
truth: NO, is the universal answer to
everything they might have in mind.



Mad Max Redux

Everything about the out       
fit said, extra bad news,
read all about it. I am a
walk on for post-apocalyptic
mad max style movies-
no costume necessary
from the no beard baby
face to the cropped short
spikes of multi-colored
hair dyes in action to the
tattooed clown tears under
each eye, one for each
turn spent in some hole
in hell prison stretch only
the truly demented, resourceful
ones survived in one piece,
the long thin scar on his
cheeks that disappeared
beneath his low cut road
warrior leathers only visible
close up in a place you
wouldn't want to be without
heavily armed and dangerous
back up or unless you were
totally calling the shots, even
then you would never turn your
back to him without full body
armor, he'd do you in a heart
beat just for the cheap thrill
of it.



What came from his

mouth was the rage
of angels fallen from
grace, a violence fraught
with mourning at an
altar for Our Lady of
Lost Causes, Wars &
Other Foreign Affairs
that reeked of false
pieties, the stench of
back alley reverends
stoned on our jesus
of the underworld &
other false prophets
from the front lines of
siege warfare, all drugs
of no choice for long
time losers babbling
in tongues of the
spiritually afflicted,
their sermons informed
by a lifetime of social
senility recalling an
innocence of purpose
so long before they took
the fall, before they were
relegated to a Siberia for
lost souls, their cameo
portraits as altered boys
and girls were carved in
ice, their lips blue as semi-
precious stones set in
snow-a blizzard of angel
dust in their eyes, even
frozen they are moving
faster than the speed of light

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