helicopter ambulance service
rooftop parties with girls in sexy
& lots of free lunch for everybody,
show me the details,
amazing and all,
puked right back up
& you call yourself a giant jungle snake?
elephant killer, indeed.
better go back to your village
& study up on poison frogs or goat blood
& we'll see you back in a month or so.
until then, we'll have to consult the great book
of complicated charts & predicted results --
it's very scientific & serious,
so no laughing or clowning around.
we'll have time for all of that sort of thing later.
I'm behind the metal wall.
I've survived for weeks on nothing more
than hope & bread crusts.
this isn't my sad story.
I'm someone else, I've decided.
or maybe it's been decided for me?
there's so much that goes on behind the scenes,
things we know nothing about,
things that we couldn't imagine
in our most perverted & horrific nightmares,
most of us, anyway.
adventures of a raider --
inside the great temple,
where we spun our bodies around in geometric patterns
purported to cause eternal intelligence or insight
or something fancy like that.
I caused the collapse -- all by myself.
if I wanted to, I could go back a few months in time
& do things in another (more sane) manner --
but I don't want to.
this is too much fun,
no matter how many cuts I have
on my hands right now.
about the author
J. D. Nelson lives, writes and
wrangles in Colorado, USA. His poems have appeared in many online and print
publications, including Blue Mag, tin lustre mobile, sidereality, Snow
Monkey and Boheme. His work was also featured in The Best of
the Dream People Poets chapbook. For more information, visit his