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Bleach
I could feel Death,
or I could feel someone
in Death's stead
in a desert,
or in my backyard,
But it was hot,
the grass was gone
and everything was sizzling,
and the insects angrily buzzed their vengeance.
So I went back to the house,
I went back, I'll be honest
to I don't know where.
I went back to a building,
or a tent,
I didn't see
to get some bleach,
to futilely start killing them,
these unseen menaces.
This unseen menace, Death.
And as I went back
I heard a neighbor,
or two or three,
where previously I thought I had
been alone in the world.
I heard them, but couldn't see,
as I went to grab the chlorine
to kill the insects
I also couldn't spot,
while I awaited Death,
while I waited for the Reaper,
while the ground,
while the entire world
was sizzling.
But then it rained,
and I didn't know what to do.
I stood there, confused
in the light drizzle,
like I had never seen anything like it,
bottle of Clean Up in my hand.
The sizzling stopped,
and I looked over my shoulder to see
my neighbors huddled,
neighborly,
under the old slaughter ramp
used to load cattle
into trucks
when I was a boy.
One of them appeared
to be drinking tea,
as she gave me a friendly wave.
An army truck came down a road
I didn't know was there,
filled with more jovial people,
heading for the makeshift home
beneath the old ramp.
And this is the first time I ever recall,
seeing another person.
I don't think Death is coming today,
so I put away the bleach.
Style / type:
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction):
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words:
look, I don't know. I just woke up from possibly the WEIRDEST dream of my life, and had to get it written down. Jess (Weirdelf) commented years ago that other people's dreams bored him to tears, but I felt compelled to write this.
Editing stage:
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Comments
Vivovon
Wed, 2016-08-31 11:46
Amazing
Amazing. A train of wayward thoughts is put into a form of mysterious poem. A dream as Mark puts it or just a simple hallucination? Whatever it may, I would agree that humans do store a bunch of junk thoughts in their subconscious minds. But, I am glad that you have given me a great idea - to kill "death" with "bleach". I will do that. Thank you.
xxxxx
Esker
Thu, 2016-09-01 01:56
chlorine
deaths head symbolism..world war one they used combinations of exploding
shells on the muck and grim of the trenches...the gas heavier then air would
mix with oxygen..and boil the damp parts of the men on the bottom of
these liquid traps..sweat...ears...open eyes..nostrils...sinuses..lungs..skin..
open pores...pour the right combination as a working woman...Men were mostly
in labor post war again...pour the right combos of cleaner in a bucket or
toilet bowl...down scrubbing on hands and knees..and same gases were created
killed many this way....Bleach...didnt nirvana write a song about this...crazy it was
and is too some extent a good killer today....there are an acidic based kind of
cleaners now that burst the cellular level of bacteria then just scour them off..
as we know....Bleach was a cleaner for injection..Spike users who shared needles
..gross yes...but no different then sharing a bottle of alcohol or smoke..or kissing..
etc...Why some mothers were germaphobes like Howard Hughes mother..Read
tons of books on him and Adolph...white light..white light..white haze...mists..
vision purity...or cleansing...gamer platforms build this haze into the game..
much like going out on a moonlit nite...there are elements of magic indeed
and the notion of spirits I believe exist... Bleach...I know women who bathe
with a few capfuls in the water...bathwater...and many who use it in laundry
if U grew up poor..those with little acess or use for water or washing their
clothes grow the odors...which are gas emitting bacteria....a lot of them
cottons can get pretty rank...synthetics even worse..rayon...poylester...
now pretty much gone....fire starter...why I wear only cottons mostly
sizzling....water..bacon...static...a wavelength of sound..insects..
bees...we gathered honey in the old dayz and hornets similar were
not honey producers...snakes sizzlewith their tails...
electricity shorts sizzle from their occilating current
the ozone burning in the atmosphere...
magic..visions
Great poem....I am glad U shared this
as a dreamer myself
I appreciate
the relics we bring forth
as Viv says Junk thoughts
or Junk yard
which is a treasure
Thank U!