Soul Circus, UFOs and Corn Dogs
Behind midway lights live alien souls
waltzing through dreams, devoid of life.
Excitement flares; a mother ship lands
as patrons hunt cotton candy stands.
A favorite game of the screaming insane
launch an arrow high into the night sky
run around in wonder, where it will strike.
Perhaps in the sand, or your right eye.
Tractor pull is on, rumbling the coffins
tilt a whirl spins, grasping for dear life
hide twixt the rides, young are smoking
pick your own poison, puff puff, cough.
Games shutting down, midnight is here.
Dancing on the strip as the lights go low
parking lot empty, as the masks come off
swap out the booty at a corn dog stand.
The hideous and dark gather stolen souls,
stored in a dybbuk box; off to the next town.
The trucks roll the back roads, moving slow,
the UFO loaded to the dark side of the moon.
To Breathe or Not
Will someone please explain;
why I should bother to breathe?
Why take another step forward
moving closer to obvious oblivion?
Maybe I'll strategically withdraw;
way back within my scarlet aura;
where a comforting gold yurt exists
floating there in a murky blue haze.
An oasis for Psilocybin trippers
and amoeba-like shadow dwellers.
Perhaps I'll just awaken from this
rancid fantasmic imagery and break
through to an orgasmic reality while
sipping on a large tepid green tea.
I breathe not; but my choice is void;
auto function appears to trump me.
I feel strangled by a fortuitous life,
where oh where are the good times?
An entire country living but a cold lie
full of deceptive demons we've elected.
A place where we spend millions
guarding poppy or oil fields overseas,
as our Veterans die on the streets.
Homeless, hungry, frozen, forgotten.
Proud we once were, as tears fell freely
when our National Anthem was played,
but we tremble now while standing and
watching our flag burned on our campus'.
I want to go back to those good old days,
I want to live in a Rockwell painting with
a cold coke, while my trusty dog smiles.
Yes, today it's tough to take a breath.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet and author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. He is the co-editor of the poetry anthology titled, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze available at Amazon.com. His published work can be found in journals, magazines, reviews and blogs throughout the web including: Indiana Voice Journal, The Literary Hatchet Magazine, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others.