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

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. More poems from “Lost Reflections” SPOILING Another heartbeat bandit Dripping in the filth of lies Love doesn’t sprout in the grip of the flowers There are no truths in a blind man’s masquerade You can’t put a bow of bandages over the scars And call everything alright When you can smell the spoiling Save your sobbing for the jailor’s sleeve REDEMPTION STARS A two-faced Ophidian Swirls in for an attack To grab the soul To sip at the poison That blisters in the afterglow Leading a manifestation Of dancing spirits Piercing in our throats Now let the moonlight Evaporate all the decay Take in a deep breath of redemption stars HYPOTHERMIA DRAGNET How? I’m here in a choke of wind There are laughs in the murder We are born to escape With the heat of our blood And the chipping of our frozen bones Stuck here in A mass of tundra Eats at our defective skin We dreamt of London And now this Needles replace my entirety We were handed the chilling grip of death HUG OF MUD You, in particular You, a leaf Lonely stuck to the hug of mud You, inherited the obsession You, like a needle kiss A mouth of wooden breaks and splinters Drink in the poisons And watch words become traps of stars in the sky They beg like the streets for a dedication EXECUTION RACE A carving at my equilibrium Spilling tea leaves that you cannot read Mossy tears collapsing on diaries and coffee cups Roses are just petals, not fully whole The trigger mercy, succumbed to the Whirlwinds that flow through the halls of this rotunda An old man is sitting in sticky toxic Absinthe fumes His clothing is pungent, and his hair quite messy He forgot that miracles can quickly fade His clear confident mind is now an optic severance He dreams like ghosts, fun house mirror faces Caught up too early in life with the local sharks That chewed on his strings for money, gold prizes That chewed away his knowledge, his flame brain Now they swallow his dignity They’ve eaten away at his complete being They are the last of the execution race OBJECT I Am not your object From your goldmine to roadkill All I needed is to drink A purity, a breath A vision, a touch Undressed from the evils that shake within My chills, goosebumps Where is my ocean to Heaven? Unlock me from this den of animals 40 STRAIGHT DAYS Lingering as an idler Dreams in artwork Cold mountaintop disguises A fool in the pale Sunless day silence Watching ceilings swirl in paisley The electrical air sticks to my tongue 40 straight days as a train wreck My tears scream, The poison doesn’t BRAVERY AND THE GRIP Regress, little flower Not picked during the beauty Watched you fade to distortion Can you fight the distress? Constantly battling bravery Even these sidewalks freckle To the burn of the sun Your petals of crisp and pale rotating In the wind, it takes ATROPHY Silence In antiquated minds Only a buzzing Grown from the ripe to the mold Still swinging from that broken branch Losing my grip Muscles to atrophy A fantasy lies in the fall Life in the well Seeing portals Angels and savages Apocalyptic folly WASHED IN Washed in, a push Breathing in and out A cacophony of ills A bleeding of truth A once solid foundation When crumbling secrets Descent of beauty Across a valley of flowers The pillaging of purity ensues Shatter the moon, your mirror MY GIRL In dark woods, phantom distortions Flash flood bastards leave mirages Took away all the freedoms You, the aggressor You took away the soul You took away the skin I’m only bone Yet, I’m still vengeful and full of daggers for teeth You, will soon be reduced to dust And I will be a cold stare phantom You will be an emotional splinter No longer overbearing me Sir, you should’ve never taken my girl REDBIRDS ON THE BRIDGE I have felt the murder to my skin from The burning coils of the sun Watching the redbirds line up on the folding oxidized bridge I feel the last exhalation of Summer steam Images of our ghosts onto the aqueduct We wait for the comfort of a deluge from a fervent cloud FLIPS TO DEATH I watch the cars Flip like they are rodeo bulls I am seething In a dream state, daring The brain is fueled with static I need to drive My eyes are electric cobwebs Matching my pulsating veins Wake me Before I taste the glass In a kiss of death, disconnect Breathing in flames Metal shards blurring A CRIMSON GRASS Scars through the Sol In the skies she sits An anomalous twitch Bleeding over the grass Clouds grown to stone Leaves you desolate Your dynasty now in ruins All you have is a meadow To breathe your dust upon From a comedy to a broken bullet Such a capricious downfall PUSHING CURRENTS After the first push You blamed the burn of the fires In your vacancy forest of thought The loss of control Between temporary loves and hates After the 2nd push, I learned you are just tidal waves When the storm is trying to form In the gut of the clouds SHELTER To teach an ego that is superficial Is asking for rebellion Love is equal as thoughts are to bullets So, why do you feel a need to hold the hands of redundancy Crept in like an alley cat and took shelter in your conscience Because they are just like you Created by you SLUMBERS In my slumbers I feel them lurking They are not of love They live vicariously in the pain We feel claustrophobia As we rest alone on a cold ground We can’t hide From the death of love Nor can we feel the silence that follows A dancing, lightning bolt rip away the sky MUSEUM While you were dusting off old suits Wartime cologne stale and putrid You laid me in a broken body like I was your prized fossil I was displayed like a museum through a cage WINTER PIPES I’m here as a broken faucet Crackling pipe noises Emits into the rusty surroundings The last days of vivacity The mirror breaks in Wintery reflections A GREAT FIRE The graffiti covered the old home Where our past ghosts still wander In a dream I thought of a great fire The memories to vanish As we thought Let it burn away Keep the fire burning The wars vanquished Quiet, peace and the evil defeated

One thought on “Wombwell Rainbow Book Interview: Lost Reflections by David L O’Nan (Part Six)

  1. Pingback: Wombwell Rainbow Interview/short poems with David L O’Nan from Lost Reflections Part 5 & Part 6 links – Fevers of the Mind

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