All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical articles and/or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedicated not to anyone in particular, but rather the dreamer that is waiting to make their own impact. Don’t give up. Stop waiting.
IMPACT!
Poetry
By: D.e.e.L
IMPACT!
i'm trying to grab the edge
of the concrete
but my hand keeps slipping
i look down to see the sparkling cars
going left and right
not knowing of the upward dangers
my fingers sweat
grip sli-slip-ping
sh
it
i
could
not
hold on
the falling goes on for days
i spend them watching the red and white lights
cursing by one another
each going so many places
i pity them
as i only have one
a single destination
one dream above all else
to finish this journey
break into the concrete below
to rise up as the debris is still falling back to the earth
dust off
and then shout at the world
"WATCH ME DO IT AGAIN!"
the second time makes a larger impact
a louder boom
i get a Wikipedia page
a house
but i'm not done
just like a rocker
rip and repeat
until the impact becomes too much
but sometimes the impact is the best part
sometimes the impact never dies
behind a tree
the circus spits out another prized bear
that falls, crawls, from its despair
where are we here?
a river bent
melting paws and singing fur
run away run away
find a still tree
hide behind hide behind
so the devil won't see
that it's true
it's true
the question asked
it happens
they do
and they do it quite fast
laughing thoughts
eyes close
it's black
now where am i?
a house
i paint the stairs
the doorway
the couch in front of the television
the kitchen
the table
now what happens?
a stage has been set
painted on the black of my closed eyes
something fantastic must occur
a rampaging beast breaks down the doorway
and must be fought
a dragon rips off the roof and burns the couch to ashes
she's running away and must be saved
the dragon catches her and flies away
the wild beast eating all that's in the fridge
while i grab my jetpack and sword
to chase the dragon
that sits atop the mountain miles away
that i find after an hour of searching
to see that she is okay
and still screaming
her voice getting harsh
i plunge the sword into the dragon's neck
grab her and fly away
the dragon trying to spit fire
but can't because of the sword
the sword made of ice
we make it back safely
to the house without a roof
to see the beast passed out in the ashes
i laugh in my dream
and wake up smiling
chirp
a day of rest that ended in hurt
he was sick he told work
so home he slept
where she visited to meet
with someone else
upon the bed that he sleeps
she opened the door
and walked in with another
he woke up
and saw her with his brother
he went to go punch him
but he can't stay mad
his brother would make
for a wonderful dad
so he packs up his things
says some choice words to both
gets in his car
and heads to work
at his desk
he plants his head in his palm
and sobs
and sobs
for very long
he writes this poem
looks down at the words
he discovers that he
should have flicked them the bird
then he laughs
the tears have dried
all those times
that they both lied
he finishes this poem
and then starts a long story
a story about love and lies
and every harsh word
and when he writes it
he doesn't forget to flick them the bird
blisters from the storm
blistering storm
is that cliché enough for you?
because it has to be
this storm's strength comes from knowing
from that feeling of being there before
feeling it before
and knowing what it's like when it's not there
do you feel cold?
do you?
you should
a bitter cold that snaps against your knuckles
showing as you try to hold your sleeves shut
punishes your exposed skin
the cold hurts them
blisters them
you know this feeling
your hands have felt this way before
you will heal
the storm ever increasing
but you're almost home
away from the storm
hot soup or steaming chocolate
you'll be fine
as long as the windows don't blow open
you'll never truly escape the storm
it will always be out there
somewhere
but you'll see it coming
you'll see
passing cars
sitting on a cold bench
black and grey cap keeping my hair warm
cars going by through the trees
balcony in front of me
parked cars behind me
a shed next to a thin pine and a strong oak
shadow of the thin pine casting on the shed
consuming it as i eat a white mint
the wrapper makes noise as it gets shoved into my jean pocket
someones radio is on, playing ballads
another drops their keys on the way to the door
where i'll be heading soon
sun blinding the dead
if i died while waiting here
that would suck
it would be the end
but if i passed in years from now
it would be the end
surrounded by friends
if i jumped, fell, parished
/> that'd be it
call the carriage
that one that takes us away from home
to be pronounced gone
vacant
alone
while i'm waiting this thought came to mind
where is home?
the sun has made me blind
i await a friend
driving her own carriage
to take me from here
this place of death
cigar on a Saturday night
cigar smoke lifting
filling cavities of the mind
big red room with a bed in the shape of a heart
rotating royalties
each puff leaving lips fills even more
the green paper on the red bed
grey smoke in the air
missed the ash tray
now the orange flames begin
dream of its own
the lights are on and i'm trying to sleep
it's not because i watched a scary movie
or am afraid of the dark
it's because i want to see my dreams
i don't want them to hide
it's bright and okay to be seen tonight
perhaps i'll live a fairy tale or a grand occasion
or perhaps i won't even sleep at all
but i'll still keep the lights on
perhaps i'll just imagine it all
it's night and all one must do is rest
and knowing that is a dream of its own
different faces
slipping on asphalt and getting up
just in time to meet a stranger
that wants your purse
trying to fight back
purse as a weapon
but the stranger has a knife
and cuts the strap
the contents of the purse spills
out onto the street is your life on display
the stranger places their foot onto the bag
tells you to scram
but you don't
you spit in the stranger's face and then slap it
the strangers smirks and then hits you back
you fall back onto the asphalt
remove your heel
the stranger bends down to grab the bag
and you strike with your heel
the stranger cries in agony
as you grab back your purse
you let the stranger keep the shoe
but you take the stranger's blade
almost having been the victim
you became the attacker
who are you?
###END###
About the Author
D.e.e.L’s Links –
Blog
Twitter
Tumblr
Facebook
Goodreads
Wattpad
Note from the Author –
I hope you enjoyed this story and will take a look at what else I have written. Thanks for reading!
Other works by D.e.e.L
Short Stories
According to the List
Charles Splints – Devil
Charles Splints - Home
Black Winter
Galdof Enterprise
Wads-Hard Boiled-Detective Fiction
Banton: The Crime of Cavalere
Banton: Killer Confidence
The Incredible Jaki: Dark Second Sun
Poetry
Painted Mind
Red
I can almost hear her
Circus Bear
Bookmark the page & position
Name it so you can find it faster next time
Only numbers and alphabets are accepted.