we are lined up like toy soldiers waiting

to be played with as candy flies

into the streets

where the children brave passing cars and trucks to pick up the ravaged

goodies that have survived.

my daughter wonders why there were no horses and I am sure it’s because

no one wants to be on shit duty.

all vehicles head for the legion field

where a free hot dog and a coke

satisfies the hungriest tummy,

those that are older are treated to music

that sours with the wind, wafting

toward our porch where Tylenol

is our best friend.

butchered songs hang in the air like hogs at the slaughter-

house, and we retreat

into our houses to save what is left

of our dignity for listening so long.

Fried eggs used to gag

me, send me into fits

of dry heaves

and denial, still, I learned

to exorcise that demon

by eating raw ones

in a glass so everyone

could see me choke

down pre-chick amniotic.

now, late at night, trapped

in a dirty motel room,

tits flying in my face,

I ask her to go down

and take what she wants.

”pay up,” she says

and as I dug the going rate from

the pocket of my acid washed jeans, I mumbled,

“lunch is on me.”

We wipe the year’s shit

from a pair of old work boots

just to step in more

Folks, I love being a part of this community! My book, “In The Throes Of Beauty” is available for preorder at the following link. I’d love it if you’d preorder a copy so I get credit for the sale. Only 17 days left on my preorders which end on 9-27. If any of my Prose family are interested, please preorder before the deadline. Books ship the week of 11-22.

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/in-the-throes-of-beauty-by-kevin-d-lemaster/

-after Alan Parson’s Project

death is a jogging track

a loop into nothingness

God in a track suit

setting pace, those that can’t

keep up aren’t fit

to enter the fabled gates

disposed like used gloves

hand sanitized and washed

with no regard to what comes

after

the genderless fog kisses my lips

like a mother, soft and giving

never leaning into the moment

but bidding us toward

whatever is beyond that slight veil

of a tomorrow we never

counted on or counted out,

it was just there

and we are bleating like sheep

to follow a slaughtered lamb

checking his Fitbit for steps

Folks, I love being a part of this community! My book, “In The Throes Of Beauty” is available for preorder at the following link. I’d love it if you’d preorder a copy so I get credit for the sale. Only 17 days left on my preorders which end on 9-27. If any of my Prose family are interested, please preorder before the deadline. Books ship the week of 11-22.

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/in-the-throes-of-beauty-by-kevin-d-lemaster/

Folks, I love being a part of this community! My book, “In The Throes Of Beauty” is available for preorder at the following link. I’d love it if you’d preorder a copy so I get credit for the sale. Preorders end on 9-27. The link below will take you there. Thank you so much my Prose family!

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/in-the-throes-of-beauty-by-kevin-d-lemaster/

God is a flamethrower

I am his match

glistening with the sticky

leftovers of the melted

burn of all our liberties

out of control

the bright orange flame

of ignorance still burns

the same flame we as kids

warmed our hands to

banging the same drum

as everyone else until

that year when followers

drank the Koolaid because

sheep do what they‘re told

because sheep don’t move

when their necks are being

slit open

we finish in the cloudy

haze of dream, sometimes

i’m both the witness

and the participant.

left alone afterward like

an orphan in a movie,

dirty and naked left to my

own devices,

never finding clothes,

always in a busy

intersection, collecting

bodies as I move forward

through traffic.

strolling down white-lit paths

thinking the hereafter

would not approve,

however long

suffering those saints seem,

they would not let me in

without a robe to cover

what is, undoubtedly, my finest

feature.