happening at a riot near you

Rosemary at Poets & Storytellers United would like us to be inspired by the phrase, ‘broken glass crunching under the boot steps', and write a poem or story about it.

digital montage by dsnake1 with GIMP



happening at a riot near you


             Juan get back into the house!

but Juan watch the sergeant raise his baton
a row of riot guns raise like palisades
the arcs of the smoke actually graceful
the cartridges snaking, rolling
between cars
                sneakers
                 trash bins
       barricades
and
    run ning feet
and courage is not a word to say
when the air wants to tear out your eyes
your lungs.

the soldiers raise their shields and batons
their boots in step
                 in step
the phalanx rolls on
metal teeth of a meat grinder

swish cruch crunch bish craack

Juan wants to be a man
but Juan is still a boy

I am a boy! I AM A BOY!

even the blackbirds rise like shrapnel and flee

broken glass crunching under the boot steps
blood faithfully follows the cracks in the asphalt.



06/07/2023
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Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - Ohio

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2023

fields of loss

Hello, field of loss. You’ve been a story of so much waste.

*
from “A Theory of Windows” by Jessica Bixel

I was inspired by the lines from the above poem (and some pretty wild thoughts). This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in heart-breaking ways.

pencil sketch by dsnake1



fields of loss


cat excavators are lifting soil and
bones and gun cartridges
teeth and fragments of clothing
workers are measuring the ditch
they wrap bandanas over their noses

this field
this field where the grass now grows over
slick with dew
this field where the dust is blown from
the bombed houses
it is cold when it rains
it is colder then when the men
and women
were mowed down
like grass.

their names whispered in anguish
like a cursed chant
auschwitz wounded knee babi yar my lai
the tears like rain could not
stop on cheeks to grass
the rain slipping off fatigues
the rain dripping off rifle muzzles
the terrified gaze of those
about to embrace the

earth

so long, fields of loss
you are a story of so many excuses
you are the mouth of so many lies
you are the child who knows no love


28/05/2021
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Rosemary at Poets and Storytellers United would like us to "to share something of your own landscape with us". I wouldn't know if the above poem can qualify as a "landscape". What also prompted this poem is a historical marker erected at the side of my former work place. It marks a massacre and mass grave site of civilians during the Second World War.

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Dragon's Dogma : Dark Arisen -- Main Title Theme

Dragon's Dogma is a copyrighted video game published by Capcom.

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

action movie

I had to admit, the following "poem" was heavily edited from the original (like done with the said melon knives in the ...)

One truly bored day, I stumbled onto a site, Language is a Virus, and its generator threw up some crazy lines that I had no choice but to, er, chop it up (but i tried to retain as much of the trash as possible).

Yeah, if you really need some inspiration...

image by James Jester at pixabay



action movie


really i have never investigate the crazy stunts
the gorillas, and your dark ravens nod their heads, conspiring
i am at the end of my teeth oh shit! these things which creep me,
and which i cannot put a finger to it, because it's sliced nicely

so you send your dinosaurs, bandoliers full, to outgun me
but arquebuses are slow, the stench of betrayal hangs heavy
my vultures will pick them off, heavy by heavy metal
sharp in their black suits, at home in them grungy cliffs

or if your rats were to ask me, i would say
go eat cake and they wisely nod their heads
and roll over dead when the gorillas from chicago
come in from the door with their streetsweepers, oh god!

go ask the hapless foxes their feet in cement blocks
the silencer or the cold blades: your choice, the rottweilers
their eyes popping as the grenade roll across the dirty linoleum
ripping apart weeds and shells and blood with each shrugging

don't stare, hide your baseball bats, look constipated
as the tigers from hong kong unwrap their melon knives
not fine steel really and plastic handles but it gets the job done
better than the claymores of your ravens dripping dark blood.




2017 (or sometime in 2016. look, let them hangovers run off first, okay?)
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Oh, this piece was written in 4-line stanzas. If it appears odd on your monitor, blame it on the blog's layout. 😁

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"I used to think if I died in an evil place, then my soul wouldn't be able to make it to heaven. But now, fuck. I don't care where it goes as long it ain't here."
-- Chef Hicks, Apocalypse Now

And a video for the day : The Doors - The End

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019