Wombwell Rainbow Book Interview: Lost Reflections by David L O’Nan (Part Five)

lost reflections cover David L ONan Image by by HilLesha O’Nan, David’s wife while she was visiting West Virginia. -(he/him) David L O’Nan is a writer/founder of Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art. He has several self-published books and curator of 5 Anthologies. His work can be found on www.feversofthemind.com .   You can see his work on Anti-Heroin Chic, Icefloe Press, Cajun Mutt Press, Royal Rose Mag, Dark Marrow, Ghost City Review, Nymphs Publishing, Spillwords, Punk Noir Mag and more.  And has been a Best of the Net Nominee in 2019. Interview Continued: What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?” A: Probably, do the opposite of how I did it. Haha!  Research.  Read more than you may even want to.  Develop your own voice, but you can you still be influenced off others voices.  I was only in college for a couple of months.  So, I would say if you feel to become a well known writer then college credentials at least look fancy when others are reading your work. However, life is the biggest influence in writing.   Workshops can help structurally and develop your imagery. However, once again I’ve never done a workshop. I would say send as much poetry or other writing out to small presses, work your way to bigger presses, don’t fall for scams. Don’t send all your money out to get published.  I made the mistake of self publishing about 15 plus years of work before anyone has heard of who you are.  If I could go back 20 years I would send stuff out sooner, and then work towards getting my own books.  But overall you’re never too Old to be a writer. Just make sure you’re content with your decision.   That is my biggest fight.   Also, we all get rejected (I have RSD) so it hits hard for me, but keep trying, keep sending, ignore the snobs that try And dictate your style.  Adjust when  you feel you need to.  And please, don’t be extreme just to be extreme.  Don’t write if you’re full of hate.   That writing looks best in the flames. More poems from “Lost Reflections”: DIZZY The head is dizzy And so are the flowers Any melting mind is stuck in the lips of the sunlight’s rays I am incomplete until death Robotic like the mechanical planet That we’ve been served until then Purgatory in swirling cartoon hearts & beestings LOVE IN MILDEW My love lain in pagan piles of mildewed clothing Bitten by the venom of a narcotic seclusion Soon we become aware that moths don’t scream The beauty that butterflies mirror She, as shoes and asbestos hair, unnatural grin Cannot mimic Mary, although she does birth miracles BAR STOOL KITES After hours of drinking and talking to Natalie Asking her about her boyfriend’s inadequacies He trips over the bar stools, a rush of berserk enters his blood I could be a kite in flight A virus putting tiny holes in Goliath’s trees My grey eyed clouds melting liquid hot breath, in misty death In my heart trapped chest Burn away now magnified Davids Little ant infestations Will the trunk fall to the Lakes? A Lake of Dead Horses Frozen stables tilted by the Power of Storm EARTHQUAKES ON THE LAST DAY Beginning our first new morning on the day after the old Sun died, We formed ulcers into the ground Around all The crusts and bumps The Earth shook and we tried to run like toes weaved into molasses Holy Ghost Street Lamps begin to bend Into the arms of craters LEFT TO RUIN I was just a messenger in a lifeless cantankerous ocean Laying lonely in a bottle Addressed to no one in particular Then you found me Pretending I was always yours I became your prized shelf décor Sealed with a kiss And left to ruin In rust SEARING LAUGHTER While a violent star spun wild into your tacit heart You cradled together your cold defective ossein bones Asleep was the city to your silent, demure cry for help Film oxidizing skylines Potions drunk by the dark Felicity erased Searing laughter heard in the echoes AS EVERYTHING Just as everything, as humans Born into a path, a clarity, a shine We become oil crusts inside, a used car, as time peels We sour into secrecy, awaiting judgment To be destroyed or salvaged, as everything GOSSIP PILLOWS I built these nefarious clouds to be gossip-driven Chatter pillows Some are quiet, to only report notes Some are loud and abrasive, And often clash with each other over differing opinions Fickle clouds PSYCHICS I used to talk to psychics hiding in their webs I used to fall for foolery, drug store jewelry False promises, women who found laughter in flaws Tricks by the summons, False prophets who promised kindness Not any rights, let you dream of what is to be Only to bring the cutting rain NORFOLK & MISERY Feeling a Eulogy Norfolk, Mid-December Poor and in agony As they thought of Christmas creeping I believe they called it a misery The depressive feel of the amaranth A wound of thoughts Remember all those lights, laughter Sabotaged by the snow Hungry for the Spring By the Chesapeake Bay THE BITE It was the scent that first intrigued Howls across the dark woods soon followed A lame sheep we all have become When the wolves are tip-toeing in for the kill There isn’t any need to be the beast, when we are that easy So, just hide behind a stump Watch as teeth become us in the bite SHATTER CRIES They were willed to fight The stained to the wall Phantom fingerprints 70 year old teardrops Have become tiny dry souls That are now lost in the sight The reminiscence of all the shatter cries And the maniacal laughter, infinite In a clear, we bathe in the light of the Milky Way MAJESTIC RUINS There are apple temptations From tree to tree A battle cry from a bible scene And you start to slither in your seat Whispering confessions of malice To a New Age Priest, a hangover cupid Your dream is love And he dreams silent Until a pin drops Majestic Ruins SUNSET BELLS Be the ringing bell Pendulums striking sepia tin cans Rattling my eardrums Our opulent possessions Scatter across this Earthquake Plunging into dusty sunsets Covers the innocence of our new moon Bells ringing My voice will be singing While scared and shivering A lifeless lonely song THE APPARITION I swam in your arms, hoping your hug was eternal I’m leaping in Your brooks seem refreshing, but fire bounces in your eyeballs The apparition, I am lifeless looking up at the hope of the bridges I’m a miniscule invisible dot, no one knows of me PAPER WING ANGELS Oh, My Lord What can I do with these paper wings? Angels vaporizing in front of me My eyes blind to the burning clouds Dark orange skyline Cannot move Weaved into the sins I am inside an old painting The artist that drank away breath When muscles failed to soar SPECTACLE We watched her descent into a spectacle The bratty pouts and kicks against the waters of a coastal lagoon She believed we were a blemish Inhibiting her Aphrodite ideal What an allusion she became Some act of Adonia Like a valiant triumph We saw the impact As the saline filters to water INTO THE DESERT A 1 A.M. journey Into the desert Coyotes gathering Pushing and clawing away at my protective spirits The night is an endless black hole of anxiety, of deep fear And you really never left your bedroom, your jar A haunting of eyes, laughs My medicine is light MINNESOTA WINTER So, you image yourself a Clydesdale Strong and free Narcosis breakdown in the flattening of a Minnesota Winter Takes you by the skin, and leaves you the dinner of a blizzard Stay away from your dreams of escapes with Dorothy Parker And realize your strength is in the clear TINY SUIT Looking sharp Not a Rat Staring into the sun Entertainer Blind paper crown rejections As the giants smash through the flowers Without a care A liar’s bravado See yourself in that mirror Roll those damn dice No power You are a cigarette butt In a tiny suit Hypocrites that drink sewage as truth

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