Damascus Steel

by Mike Pollock

Fight, fight men fight!

The only goal is to take their lives

Flight, run men run!

The only goal is to see tomorrow’s sun

A red burned sea of murdered dreams

A frothy sea, swallows an easy breeze

Give Me Liberty

By Mike Pollock

It’s simple, just another wrinkle

In the fabric of space time, color outside the lines

That’s right I lied, I never even said that I’d try

Red palms made redder beat against remorseful hides

Syndicated crime, this is the measure of our time

Momma’s always working so baby’s left behind 

But risen, light separated through the prism

Court system’s a sham, so are the prisons

Life sentence, behind bars, sitting in our cars

Smoke and fumes detract the masses from the melting rebar 

These are the stunted lungs of society,

Exxon Valdes, leaking bile deep inside of me

Penny for your thoughts, on second thought you're the enemy

Extra fees, for the tea leaves and fuckin’ tyranny

Evil deeds, sheep lead blind to the slaughter

News machine leaks insight to the cannon fodder

Police blotter, but the girl was only stealing water

Meanwhile a father’s weeping tears over his only daughter

Someone stand up and tell me when we finally can

Expect this war on Americana to finally end?

A finely worded e-mail, getting ready to send

Delete the whole thing and start over again...

Concede To The Sea

Concede to the Seas

by Mike Pollock

It’s deliberate, these words they slip

Like the tattered sails of a sinking ship

An ocean, emotion, it opens wide

Swallows whole, the notion of my stormy pride

A golden veil of made up lies

Conspires, derives, in hiccupped ties

Desperate to let it take the reigns

Dents and scrapes mask these deeper pains

In subdued hues of green and blue

Foggy edges blur the line between truths

I’ve seen the scene before me once before

In a time of mythos, and brimming with lore

Awake, awake! I hear myself scream

Chords of metal seem to resist the dream

Awake, awake! And my hands are free

A storm is broken, I can finally breath.

Able Bodied, Weak of Mind

Able Bodied, Weak of Mind

By Mike Pollock

Sit back relax and enjoy the show

He said between peeled back teeth

Beneath the sea of blue and greens

Don’t dare to dream unless it’s what we prefer

The answers are clear, defer.

I prefer… the truth to the details unsure

Cold roomed, and bracketed

The accidental shackled red, green and blue

Like they’re waiting just for you…

Dead like a dog, left beneath the angry sky

It’s cut across with color, scarred side to side

Yet I hide, lest I let them know... its I

Don’t dare to scream unless it’s what we prefer

The questions are grotesque, impure

I concur… the truth is in the details secured

Old stools and chalk boards

Walked forth in white, gold and blue

Like they’re waiting just for you…

A smear in the dirt, lays the pitiful fool

Her fleeting beat of hope serves as evil’s own tool

Undermined rule, in the kingdom of used

Don’t dare seem alive, unless it’s what we prefer

She defers, her cell doors procured

Padded walls and a single bed

She signs on the dotted line blue, black and red

Like it’s all in your head.

Symptomatic Prophecy

Symptomatic Prophecy

by Mike Pollock

Do you see, oh can you?

These curtains falling,

Down round me.

Do you feel, oh can you?

The coldness,

An enveloping freeze.

Do you know, oh can you?

Their names are

On the tip of my tongue.

Do you hear, oh can you?

The voices raised

As though they were one.

Do you think, oh can you?
Are the words

Stuck inside your head?

Do you live, oh can you?

Answered questions,

In a land of only dead.

Crossing of Souls

Crossing of Souls

by Mike Pollock

The shifting amalgamation, sound and vibrations

Lifting the lid on these old world ministrations.

Their voices are fearless, and filled full of hate

With Desperate intentions they fall through the gate.

Collide in the stars, a sudden dust storm become

A shot across the bow signals peace all but done.

Kaleidoscope arrows of red white and gold

The words from the ancients read “be light and be bold.”

So forth from the third, and into the fourth

A man can do all if he knows his own worth.

A Terrible Thing To Waste

A Terrible Thing To Waste

by Mike Pollock

So, there I was.

That’s how stories like mine start; in a single moment. Sure, you could argue that we’re much closer to the end than the actual beginning, but who’s interested in hearing about a mewling babe and his too-drunk mother drifting from hovel to hovel?

In truth, each moment is indeed the last step in a universal game of hopscotch. If I could see beyond this finite plane, into the vast sand-line shores of eternal time, I could point out each moment as a footstep winding as far back as the straining release of my creation.

I’d also like to point out that the occasional tsunami whose sole purpose is to wipe our memories from existence.

“Kole!” A familiar voice cried from the wispy-thin clouds of my memory. With it I felt my soul washed over with the feeling of home. The warmth swept me away from the crash and calamity that roared around me.

Her face, loving eyes crying tears of sorrow draw me in. I knew her but could not place her name.

 “Kevin!” The call came again, and I find myself rummaging through a thick oaken chest. I missed the warm glow from a friendly fire place, and I missed the constant laughter of my sisters. We’d rummaged through Pa’s chest only once before.

Way back on that beach is a footstep filled with the pain from a raw hide belt, and the next one filled with the teary eyed wonder as I turned a poorly forged knife in my hands, curled sideways, alone in my room, to avoid the sore redness of my backside.

It was a moment like that which changed the path I’d be destined to walk on. That would lead me here to this blood soaked field. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was there. I walked the space in between knowing and feeling, and the cold that swept over me was nothing more than a footnote on today’s page.

“Kevin!”

“What?!” I finally replied, letting the memory fade and turning to face a new darkness. Forms filled the void before me, their figures moving in a frantic dance. Limbs lift over silhouetted heads, crashing down and leaving carnage in its path.

There was no sign of the voice calling out.