Tempest

by Garrison Locke

Doom arrives from the West.

Static and deafening concussions

fill the air –

The wrath of God is on display;

Warning us that we are

failing.

Lycanthropy

by Garrison Locke

Lycanthropic dreams

keeping him awake at night,

howling at the moon.

Strychnine

by Garrison Locke

Yesterday I drank a beer it was marvelous!

Poisonous it tasted…what is that twinge?

Hey look a donkey said the bubble,

what the crap it’s Barney Rubble.

There is a needle in my eye,

oh my God do I feel high.

This poison beer has made me rhyme,

excuse me sir dost thou have lime?

Hope

by Garrison Locke

Hope is polished

layers of desire

embedded

in the substrate of our minds.

Exposed when needed –

in times of great vexation –

to move us forward.

Eventful Afternoon

by Garrison Locke

Missile silo big and tall

I wonder where your payload falls?

Quaaludes, preludes, balls of wax

destroyed.

Alert the fishes,

Kingdom comes!

Talking to a stoplight –

asking why it’s yellow –

and only getting red…

No!

An hour passes waving slowly,

heads turn up to watch the fire

raze the sky.

The toll is taken –

one dollar per person to cross.

The pedantic reapers come and go,

inspecting the aftermath for souls.

P

by Garrison Locke

Perfect puzzles pontificate

presidium paperweights

passionately placating

porno pirates prefer

penultimate platitudes

precisely predicting

preferable processes

prayer power pauses

preparation primarily

productizes prototypes

produce paranoid

prints permanently

perplexing Prada

purses propose

prolific polyglots

prepare porpoise

pals plagiarize Parisian

prosciutto penguin poppers.

Open Source

by Garrison Locke

When we were young we were taught to share.

But somewhere along the way we learned

we shouldn’t use others’ work;

they said it was called cheating.

What changed?

Building upon information,

learning from each other,

contributing back…

Defines our humanity.

Pure Remembrance

by Garrison Locke

Snow falls

and I know it’s you

looking down upon us.

Helping to heal

but never forget.

Soft white flakes –

pure remembrance.

On the Road

by Garrison Locke

Was Jack Kerouac right?

Are we on the road?

The road to what –

burning
loving

sensing

feeling

dreaming

New York

California

yearning

driving

playing

seeing

believing

We will arrive –

Cycle

by Garrison Locke

The future’s present is the past;

The one that brought us to our deaths.

And when the day to see has come,

Our cover will as such be blown.

We cannot hide our transgressive acts

From those whose prudence we thought farfetched.

It’s clear now that we were wrong,

We should have listened when they sang their song

Of wonder, warning, winter, and woe.

It was then we should have changed our road.

Now our planet’s days are through,

And they’ll come back to start anew.