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The Final Hour

The Dark Stage

By Joe KingPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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Screams of motherless children

fill my god damn head

in this final hour

Old school death song

my cup overflows

aliens, demons

rubbery, like some death mask

without any salvation

The mystery of the word

caged inside my head

like a songbird

It was out with the old god &

in with the new

shedding life like a snake &

buried alive in a shallow grave

It was Hell!

Comically masturbating

in rhythm of time & space

thoughts of mothers with daughters

Incest is best

Forbidden

Under the

Carney's

Knowledge

Or was it was Heaven?

This is the End...

was heard on the radio

The beginning of another talk show

The poets all gathered around

to try and understand what they had found

A harmonic parade of Words

With no rhyme nor reason

Nothing much seen but the end of a dream

The end of the word was near

The ghosts of dead poets arrived

To heckle what The Fool had written

Nothing left to do but wallow inside a strict militant irony &

create a new parody religion

Nothing left to do but die

with hope that these words survive

WOW, I'm sick of this lie

Living in the light of this serious

souse

Cruel intentions

The television has the power

Dogface women & their mean trainers

pulled by leashes, frightened by

their sighs

I'm sick of those theatrical masks

Staring back at me from the T.V. screen

Dead babies, crying

The ghost voices are disembodied

The dancers, all blind

are waiting for their solemn cue

They are waiting to be guided onto

the darkened stage

Do you know how real & comical

comes the comedians death during his final bow

unannounced, unplanned for

as if it were planned for all along

like the magic mushroom you've accidentally

eaten for dinner

Parody makes fools of us all & gives us smiles where we had frowns as smooth as a razor blade

No more make-up, no more clowny dress

This other realm seems by far the best

Until this jabberwocky takes its final breath

With a rigid obedience into a vegetative state

Soon I will go!

I prefer a deep sleep

To this Grand Delusion Show

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About the Creator

Joe King

"Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities." - Jim Morrison

These poems are from my book An American Parody, which is a tribute to the writings and poetry of Jim Morrison.

[email protected]

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