Cable-carried am I,
upslope,
in harness.
Slow. It is slow.
I hear the rollercoaster clacks,
each prophesying sinister thrills.
With powered eyes I see
continents of fogged-in secrets.
Sorry horses stand, bedraggled in streaming rains.
They look to me with pleading eyes,
but I have no help to give.
Clack, clack, clack…..a sharp turn.
The dream veils are dropped,
and it is bright cooking sun.
Beetles of football size float by with a helicopter buzz.
At my left hand, now, is a rail of brass.
From it hang leather pouches,
each containing an object of obscure purpose.
Now a can of grease.
Now a pair of winged sandals.
Sunglasses with upside-down arms.
I see now that my left hand holds a red stop button,
and I press it.
The rippling tinkle sound of a taut chain relaxing.
I do not wish to leave items that I might need,
but I don’t know what to take.
I pick up a red phone, hung from a post.
Its rotary dial says “phone a friend”.
I say hello.
Someone in a cackling voice says
“We are all mad here”, and hangs up.
I decide that the items in the pouches are false bait.
There’s a tin pedal at my foot,
like the ones in bumper cars.
I step on it, and move on.
My path drops away, suddenly downslope,
and I feel a release from the ratcheting chain.
I am speeding now, in full panic.
There are three rushing rivers at the end of my Zip line.
Within arms’ reach, there is a lever with three positions available.
I try it, but it does nothing yet.
There’s a brake pedal too, and I jam it as hard as I can.
I smell the smoking steel, memories of subways long ago.
Once more, I am at a crawl, coming to the end of the line and the rushing waters.
There is one last leather pouch.
It holds a pair of stout cutters, and I take them.
Out of track, now.
Feet dangling, I hang from an overhead derrick.
I try my lever again.
It moves me over the gateways of each water.
Cockeyed conifers point to the left hand way.
On a ledge, above the right hand river,
a rainy horse.
I shift the lever, then cut the cord.
The water is warm,
and oh so sleepy.
Tag Archives: weird
Poisonous
Under the skin, something poisonous.
Like an acid flowing,
as if from the Alien monster.
Watch out for the dribbling!
Often now, there are thoughts that reflect
that menacing countenance.
A wrestling match
(With an Angel, or Devil?)
Tenderness, not likened with love,
Pain’s manifest in the body glove.
Sore to the touch, no matter where.
Could be from cooking to medium rare.
The chef is the spirit
that wallows in sorrow,
and all need to fear it,
’cause it swallows Tomorrow.
Mister BlueTooth
Mister Bluetooth
Feels as though he is wired to receive,
Willing or no,
The auras and vibes of those travelling through time with him.
Chance encounters that many would not mark
Shower him with ceaseless impressions.
Some souls seem born with wells of kindness.
He returns what he has of this, out of tired eyes.
Their smiles and eyes are knowing.
They bear no malice, only invitation.
There is a premonition of what they may know,
And their seeming promise.
His heart does a little leap, perhaps to Joy.
Others, with downcast countenance, pass as shadows.
Some challenge him for daring to look,
Hurling angry spears of black and dark crimson.
How comes this? (He thinks, and looks away).
What have their lives been like?
Don’t shoot me!
I cannot help but see you.
Can it be that you perceive my own dark and secret places,
And are but returning these black treasures?
Toothless days do come
When there’s no Receiving.
Maybe there are flies in his eyes.
He sees no souls, but hears only an insistent buzz.
“People stopping, staring
But I don’t see their faces
Only the shadows of their eyes”*
Empathetic or merely pathetic? Which am I?
(Thinks Mister Bluetooth)
Picture credit https://www.codenameone.com/blog/bluetooth-support.html
*Lyrics by Harry Nilsson
Aremyfeetofftheground 