The Alchemy Stretches its Teeth

 
The mask-water sniffs out the oxygen guitar dust.
Let’s trim the magical white-cells
and watch them evolve into pennies.
Words rot, vocabulary limited.
My spirit vomits the harvest fields,
the best dancers in the world, all in the name of war.

 
My soul is made of pleather
the window in my subconscious drips film rolls.
A sharp rubber reality
a pale shadowy ant screaming,

 
The wise theatrical monkey’s
stretched the rainbows skull.
The glowing cavities
the pink rats foaming muscles.
Place one finger on your forehead
press hard enough, its desperation #1.

 
The blind wolf drank the automatic vision.
The phantom mocks its own existence.
Wash away the universe pupil,
without your jigsaw stratagem;
I might never get the last laugh.

 

 

Copyright © Charlie Zero

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No part of The Alchemy Stretches its Teeth – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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4 thoughts on “The Alchemy Stretches its Teeth

  1. I hope my soul is a bit better than pleather – fake, but probably water resistant.
    I so want to meet a theatrical monkey. I can guaranteed it would not depress me.
    That last stanza rocks socks dude.

    1. Thank you X.

      Yeah, this poem of mine has been in the making for since 2009. It wasn’t the poem itself that I had trouble on. It was the ending to the poem that I had the most difficult time getting the ending right and right on the spot.

      And now, as you can see…I think I nailed the ending to where this poem finds its comfort home.

      My girlfriend too…loves the ending to this poem. 🙂

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