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 Nov 2020 Shrika
Seranaea Jones
-

A displacement exists,
yet specifics defy the
scope of my radar,

sensing amiss like a
fellow would perceive
an absent billfold or

the way a hen may
feel one egg less
in her nest.

A lack exists for detection,
whether it be far away
or way too close,

it's gravity pulling me
toward the last glimpse
of it before fading into black.

Not so obvious as a
matador might lose
his cape to the bull

Yet,

somehow i just Know,
with question marks
drizzling about—

sweating beneath the
skeletal remains
of my umbrella...


s jones
© 2020


.
sorry about the note, it was a
story fragment pasted there
by mistake
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Ayesha
Under the night—there’s a lake
beneath whose serene, silvery strands
blooms a city so filled with buzz
folks chock on it—
In the coal-coated sky, planes flutter;
billboards shine over gleaming malls
reeking of marbles and crystals and wealth
and little kings and queens prowl about—
ants dressed in facies—
and balloons breathe freedom
as children’s distracted fingers let them go;
blues and yellows—neons and pinks
and greys.

and overflowing pavements cuddle into the hysteric roads
winking cars, cursing vans—
honking and screeching and scratching
and laughing and—
Screaming? Shrieking!
Crying blood! Crunching metal!
A mother covers her toddler’s eyes
as pieces of flesh scatter around like confetti
A crowd gathers about what’s left of the—
human.

—ants before a rotten grape.
kings and queens with their buggies and guards
tiaras and lockets— arrows and darts
and the lights still smile, adds still run
and so does the blood—
and so does the dog with a missing limb
and so does the car that never stopped
Nothing remains of the flower, nothing of the bee
Statures jump out of ringing vans
men in suits— men too late.
They collect the pieces of steaks and the dog’s leg
and take them away.

and a slim lady cries, melting her smooth skin
A child, gawking, lets go his balloon,
A teen chocks on her wine—
footprints engrave in the clotting blood
Through the clouds, flies up the balloon
carrying the first scream, the first screech,
the panic of the driver who vanished,
the frenzy of city still as a corpse—
up, up into the breathing water —

another prince screams under his trembling crown
and in a wounded street far away,
whimper crawls out of a ravaged girl,
grubby boy weeps for his stollen rug
a woman curses, a girl trembles, a guy laughs,
a man sleeps, a lady paints herself, a cat dies, a trigger is pulled,
a cigarette is lit, a bottle breaks open a leg, a wolf howls,
a boy weeps in his bed
—a little whimper for each.

and little bubbles wade in her delicate waves,
the air pops those pomegranates open as
tongueless stories disperse around—
silent on her glossy lips.

and over her, the night sky yawns
as I crawl under her layers, and close my eyes,
listening to the sloshing waters, the owls far away—
begging for the bubbles to stop the screaming.
drowning. drowning.

drowni---
I've got a message from heaven

Is it true or false I don't know even

But it seems a warning by hell

It's so dangerous that made me scared.

I know the truth that's why I'm afraid.

It said ' end is near, so my dear

Don't try to overcome your fear.

Don't run cause there's no one to care .'

I asked you're from heaven can't you save us?

They said, no we can't because...

You made it so we can't do anything.

And they went

But also warned

' don't tell others, they will make a mess of each other. Tell only to the trusted '

THE END IS NEAR

It's the message that makes me engulf in fear.

But I can't do anything. Can't tell to anyone even

This message from HEAVEN
 Nov 2020 Shrika
Universe Poems
Fire pit
Burn bright
Light up guy fawkes night
Warm, and bright
Crackling with sparkling,
cinder light
Keeping aura's
buring bright, on this,
gunpowder plot night
1605
Conspirators alive
Crackling Crackling,
still here to strive,
cinders warm and,
alive.

© 2020  Carol Natasha Diviney
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