Justin's Poetry Corner

My inner demon

I sit pensive in my lair
avoiding the glare of the sun
for it blinds me,
lurking in the shadows
waiting for the moon
to reveal its pale face,
and stars to pinpoint
digits and appendages
of unsuspecting souls
that I feed upon,
once my door opens
the trap has been sprung,
my razor teeth take hold
tearing flesh, ripping tendons,
my tongue squeezing into
arteries and veins
drinking deep of their life-blood,
claws digging into bone,
mouth slavering for marrow,
becoming one with their being,
leaving a part of me
inside them but taking
their memory of me,
leaving them as my servant,
bringing the unsuspecting,
leading those blind
to my existence,
I lay in comfort
knowing that I will
meet my next victim
all too soon

White Coats

The pungent aroma of potpourri permeates,
Seeping into the pores of the pine table.
You'll never get the smell out.

Manila like magazine pages masticated,
What I would imagine prehistoric papyrus to look like.
The creases will never flatten.

The lumpy chairs bunched up in rows
Along the wall with their vinyl covered cushions.
You'll never get comfortable.

Those who are conscious are confabulating in the corners,
Peering over their perfectly folded newspapers.
You'll never figure out what's wrong with me.

Seventies style shag carpet,
Without the languid wagging of a dogs tail.
I have to get out of here.

A white coat suspended over the shoulders,
The neck adorned with spy technology of some sort.
I don't know you; let me out of here.

Trapped in the Dungeon of modern day,
With torturous devices and the fresh smell of alcohol.
I can't escape.

© Justin Frieberg, All rights reserved

Running away with it

The ball sat watching me then
it spoke to me,
"Take me away, my friend"
The laces fit snugly in my hand,
arm cradled around my precious,
feet keeping time like
thundering hooves,
fast as a cheetah I sprint
past drop-jawed onlookers,
weaving my way into and out of
crowds trying to stop me.
I collapse,
exhausted in the end-zone,
famished past the finish line,
yet triumphant through the ticker tape.
now you just have to try and catch me
next time.

Walk On

Dew soaked grass caresses
my toes as I walk on
through the field
of dreams.

Wind softly whispering
the melody of spring
in my ears, leaving
a comfortable feeling
in my mind.

The gentle embrace of golden
sun-rays around my body,
in the safety of
my solitude.

I walk on drinking
deep the draught of
nature in wonder and awe,
satisfied with being
surrounded by everything
and nothing at all.

I will walk on.

Where is the Love?

Behind the blank black stares
of every-day youth roils the lust
of the opposite, branded by
passion, controlled by coitus,
left to uncertainty.

Fiery glares behind the jaded eyes
of twisted semi-adult "swingers",
still perplexed by the multitude
of malignant relationships,
half-dead myths of love, and
twenty-something promises of
prosperity.

Bright blissfulness of clear
blue, or brown, or green
(or somewhere in between) eyes,
joyful from being blessed with each other,
reborn in their children,
resurrected by the "myth" that was
told to them just years ago.

Wise reflection in those icy
knowing smiles, they who have seen
most everything, they who know youth
but pretend to not understand,
letting us learn on our own.

Glossy expressions of resignation,
knowing it's time, feeling the burn,
missing the touch, relinquishing
the grip, letting it fall away,
leaving one question behind,
Where is the Love?