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.
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.
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.
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.
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 –
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.
by Garrison Locke
frigid winter air
brings monochromatic days –
snowmen come to play
by Garrison Locke
A relentless 72 miles per hour,
Weather changes,
Doesn’t matter.
Send us a prayer.
Echoes recoil
compressing
hope,
help,
heart.
Aftermath of vision
consecrates
fluorescent sunrise
– unnatural nature –
cold,
stale,
hollow,
insincere.
by Garrison Locke
Intense like splines
reticulating in my mind;
Cities raised and
cities razed.
Roads and rails and lines are laid,
plans are made to desalinate,
trash is sold to neighboring towns,
the military solicits a base on your grounds.
Sims arrive and sims depart
the young metropolis upstart.
I haven’t posted since October, and this isn’t going to be one of those, “I’m definitely doing to post more” kinds of posts. I’m going to try for a specific goal this time, instead of some vague commitment to increased posting. I’m going to post a new poem every weekday in February, starting today. I’m going to try to mix up the styles. A haiku or three, maybe try my hand at a sonnet. We’ll see how it goes. The first one is below. Enjoy!
by Garrison Locke
There is a black tear in the sky tonight;
A hole where your heart should be.
Stars submit to their electric apogee –
Consumed by antimatter compression.
Saturn burns in supernova splash,
a supernal sign that time has come
for the days of man to end.
But we will prevail.
Our generation ship sails past the Kuiper belt,
across the termination shock,
on our way to Andromeda.
