Skatterbombed

“Push Tha Button” by Samurai_PET (deviantART)

Skatterbombed
JCD Kerwin

I will strap dynamite to my chest,
wait,
whisper numbers
from my lips,
and push the button.

Finally,
I will have explored
every inch
of this waiting world.

(September, 2013)

….Get it?

Fire Power

This is what happens when I’m the only sober person left in a bar.

…I can’t decide if it’s desperate or just plain corny.

Please ignore the silly punctuation.

Fire Power
JCD Kerwin

You are born with your eyes blazing;
a thousand summers, shining,
like fireflies in the night;
a billion supernovas gasping for a breath;
just once
upon this earth,
and then you shatter,
dance,
skip a beat,
and explode
like those lightening bugs
bursting into stardust—
a cold, August night.

(September 2013)

The Metal Man

The Metal Man by Khao Pete (deviantArt)

The Metal Man
JCD Kerwin

The metal man walked sideways, as if he had a perpetual limp, but there was nothing inhibited about his movements; his right leg was simply longer than its counterpart.

He came from outer space, they say. Long ago he landed in the corn and trampled his way to the tavern. He nodded as if to say “hello.” The townspeople blinked, but they never cast him out.

He would stand at the edge of town, his great metal arms lifted high to the heavens, and wait for the stars. Sometimes he would moan; a small rumbling in the back of his metal throat. They say he was calling home. No one ever replied; no distant travelers, no metal men in metal spaceships, no one. He was lost.

That is what they say.

The townspeople were not unkind, but they would walk on the other side of the street when the metal man was near. He was…alien. His only friends were the birds that perched atop his hard shoulders when he waited in the night. When the weather was bad, he would stay in the hay barn and listen to the horses whinnying. He would watch their breaths dance in the cold.

Over time, the metal man watched the town change. He would walk the road and notice familiar faces were gone, replaced by new ones. Time moved slowly, like him, and all the while he stretched his arms to the sky.

The metal man realized he would never return home. So he walked where he had landed—a cornfield once, but now reclaimed by a deep wood—and reached his metal arms to the stars. He waited. And when it began to rain he did not move to the hay barn; instead, he stood and listened as the drops echoed off his body.

He thought of the town that had changed; the townspeople who were kind but did not care; his home that he would never see. He stared all night at the stars and listened as rain beat against him and the world.

When they found the metal man he was rusted, suspended; a resting place for the birds of the forest. To this day he remains in the deep wood. His arms are still raised to the heavens; his eyes fixated on the stars.

They say he is calling home.

(September, 2013)

City of Angels

“City of Angels-City of Light” by M Bleichner (acrylic)

El-ay, El-ay
JCD Kerwin

I want Hollywood and a high-rise,
palm trees and SoCal skies.
Wish I could slam beats
into sand
and scream songs
with my eyes closed.
I want the glitter and glam
of rock stars
I wish that I could be.

Wanna walk down streets
reciting poems,
and write stories
in cabanas,
sipping coffee without a coat.
Wish I could stare at stars,
and talk all night with friends
in Santa Barbara bars.
I want to skip across the water,
and tightrope the suspension
of the San Francisco bridge.
Wish I could run across
the country,
leave the mirror behind
and never buy another
again.

(Dec. 2010, rev. Aug. 2013)

About this…I’m not saying I want to up and leave to California.

This is about the fact I have, and have always had, a “travel bug” in me. Ever since I was a kid. I think a lot of writers do. Kinda goes back to the fact we’re all dreamers. I’m an explorer. Always wanted to see and do everything I could. Explore the world…Fight monsters…Slay dragons…All that.

You know what I mean.

Scattershots from the Clouds

Ice on the Rocks, from blog: http://gd-imagesof.blogspot.com

Scattershots from the Clouds
JCD Kerwin

I may stumble ‘neath the weight of these,
these boulders on my shoulders,
but I won’t set them on the earth
to form mountains.

And

I will open wide my arms and laugh,
waiting,
for sneering gods to drop
icicles down from Heaven.
Let them come.

I’ll take the best of all you’ve got.

(August, 2013)