Thursday, June 25, 2015

DB Cox- Three Poems


he is the narrow-eyed man
who moves along
your city's streets and boulevards
he is a phantom
leaving no tracks
constantly glancing back over his shoulder
to make sure of his frail shadow
which pales a little each day
fading from rage
to resignation
to nothing
he is alienated from all gods
lost to himself
with no promise to hope for
he turns on a merry-go-round of non-being
like lazarus at the feast
he draws on ever-enhanced electronic devices
& countless bullshit distractions
to search for the new "american dream"
inadequate tactics which have only served
to tighten the chains
& increase the distance
between himself & the bona-fide world
he delights
in any "breaking news"
of war
natural disasters
plane crashes
& mass murders
because something
is better than this constant


black cat moans--3 A.M.

too confused
to calculate the sum of scattered thoughts
he waits in his room
windows closed
doors bolted
locked & loaded
another shit-city statistic
caught between walls of sameness
pondering his lost investment in paradise
the old lies
falling away with every day that passes
solitude is the condition of his existence
anger is the element of his being
if the earth were filled with TNT
he would put a match to the ground
& tear the darkness with absolute noise
the perfect terrorist
no religions
no politics
no objectives
no agendas
as cold as a black hole in space


he will stalk your shopping malls
your schools
your churches
your movie houses
your airports
your sporting events
another machine-shaped beast of prey
forging a perfect storm of death
another nowhere man transformed
into the imagined self
he has longed to become
once more, we'll all ask:
who is this man?
why did he do it?
why is his story, the "american story?"
we will stand mute
behind tilted window shades
& stare out at our slipping world
hoping the answer
that might slow
this crazy breakdown
will show itself soon

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