THREE POEMS

By Michael Brockley 

                           Photo Credit: Redbubble

WE WEREN’T BORN TO FOLLOW: AN ELEGY FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA

from Easy Rider

we rode heavy metal thunder in search of our freedom, rolling east from the city of angels, along highways where pages of dropout diaries fluttered among broken compasses in the berms, where a discarded rolex glistened in a grove of joshua trees, like gila monsters basking in the morning sun, no vacancy signs flickered above the inns of the mother road, but flower children sowed their seeds in desert soil, whispered amen at the end of grace around an empty dinner table, if gods didn’t exist, we invented them, crazy chester jailed us for parading without a permit two days shy of crawfish town, dogs barked at ufos that pulsared overhead, on the night vigilantes killed the lawyer who hitched a ride with us aboard america’s chopper, we crossed the atchafalaya river into mardi gras, to where coquettes from the house of blue lights burlesqued in fishnet hose and lace mantillas among elevated tombs, the night before ash wednesday, we slept in the marble arms of our kaleidoscope madonna, it’s alright, ma, we were already bleeding

                                                               

THE INEFFABLE

it was the summer of running on empty, the first year my nova sped past noah’s ark on the way to the woman who swore she would never say no, the woman who tasted of night moves and moon dances, she fed me platters of oysters and chocolates, we outran history that september, the first time her face flushed, the first time she giggled, she thrummed above me whenever coltrane’s saxophone crescendoed from the radio beside her bed, i should have promised her a hallelujah while kneeling in the chippendale boxers she gave me christmas eve, i stumbled upon the ineffable in a field of jessamine, forgot my avocado and ginger aphrodisiacs, studied the seduction tips in vintage playboy cartoons and in the collected stories of kilgore trout, i wrote sonnets with my inexpert tongue so only she could feel them, she took my breath away, and refused to give it back, i never found the half-hearts she buried beneath a kite, having lost the guinevere map with its invisible ink clues, typical man she said, while i made shadow love and random love until i lost count of all the times i played the fool, i’ve been rehearsing ever since   

                                                                

XOXOX

we have awakened from our apocalypse lust dream in the middle of good news week, the silhouettes have removed their swastikas to prepare for the hunger games, and the talk shows are on mute, when the big yellow taxi arrives beneath its gimme shelter banner, we’ll fake enthusiasm by trying on evolution until we’re chained to the rhythm, confessing black holes and revelations to the sound of silence, imagine laying another brick on the watchmen’s wall, imagine being forever young, it’s the end of the world as we know it, fire is coming out of the monkey’s head, and our robot prophets will promise a zion train into the next armageddon, if we’re separated by the stone gods in the angel room, meet me beneath the war cross, i’ll bring delirium to the boomtown if you’ll shatter me again  

Credits for Cento: xoxox

“Apocalypse Dreams,” Kevin Parker

“It’s Good News Week,” Hedgehoppers Anonymous

“We Will Become Silhouettes,” The Postal Service

“Take Off Your Swastika,” Phranc

The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

“Talk Shows on Mute,” Incubus

“Big Yellow Taxi,” Joni Mitchell

“Gimme Shelter,” The Rolling Stones

“Do the Evolution,” Pearl Jam

“Chained to the Rhythm,” Katy Perry

“Black Holes and Revelations,” Muse

“The Sound of Silence,” Simon and Garfunkel

“Imagine,” John Lennon

“Another Brick in the Wall,” Pink Floyd

The Watchmen, Alan Moore

“Forever Young,” Bob Dylan

“It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine), REM

“Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head,” Gorillaz

“Mr. Roboto,” Styx

“Zion Train,” Bob Marley and the Wailers

The Stone Gods, Jeanette Winterson

“Room of Angel,” Akira Yamaoka

Warcross, Marie Lu

Delirium, Lauren Oliver

“Welcome to the Boomtown,” David and David

Shatter Me, Taherah Mafi

                                                  

Michael Brockley is a retired school psychologist who lives in Muncie, Indiana where he is looking for a dog to adopt. His poems have appeared in Fatal Flaw, The Parliament Literary Journal, and Visiting Bob: Poems Inspired by the Life and Work of Bob Dylan. Poems are forthcoming in Riddled with Arrows, Lost Pilots Lit, and Unbroken Journal.