Lostinmania's blog: "Subtle"

These are not the sacred sands of Aragon This is not Napoleon's border town Nor is it the divine blood of Prometheus These are not the waning stars of the galactic steed Or the sacrifice of colonies embedded in palms need The knights hosting midnight skirmishes agree The two closest comrades we confided in Chose the path of the grated soil And twilight confinements In chambers run by the Monarch Catapulted to the dance in black We shuffled to the beat of foreign policy A potential monopoly And a pardon torn at the edges According to popular beliefs And guarded by kitchenware With breasts of temptation And shallow reefs The needy shriek Postpone the building of winter monuments Gape and shoulder the arms Of the harboring continents Boisterous Niles rupture in a boiling heat In attempt to answer to the bulimics Who still remain in heat In cloaks and volatile capers And yesterday's feast in hands It is the world in motion The lost being found too late And the global shift of ignorance Bred worldwide That is the accepted facsimile Pawns for checks Amusement, politics and wine Our four starred humanitarians Sit in steel blankets and bathe in treason With acts determined by rhymes Not reason And wino pretentious minds © 2008 James Kelly Evans II

We ate around noon at a diner With wrinkled waitresses covered in a cigarette perfume While drinking from finger-print riddled glasses And eating from cold sore forks. She hiked her skirt for a larger tip Exposing varicose veins and ingrown hairs. Added flavor to my already seasoned food. I know the cook’s behind the counter Rubbing cheese on our toast. That grin isn’t homemade. We sat in horror as the specimens Gradually walked through the glass doors. Oozing seams tearing at a glance under false stars Tonight at 2 a.m. the false start at Denny’s or is it Lenny’s? They do in fact…yes…cheat. Dolores, the name as ironic as it seems Yes, our waitress came back with an open shirt With mounds that did in fact protrude in a manner That implied “Get your buttermilk here.” I could see the look in my friend’s eyes As he cupped his hands. “May I sample the goods ma’am?” he stated. “I get off at three. Bring a bottle of vegetable oil And Pall Malls.” she stated. I was requesting a bit more ash Along with a hint of dandruff in my coffee But she was too preoccupied With her lipstick artwork And after hours decree. …and a final sneeze seals the deal. ©James Kelly Evans II

A letter from a fat man arrived Stated I had until five Five o’clock or by the fifth finger? This place is such a riot My pool sticks don’t even show any abuse And the horses aren’t even kicking up dirt Definitely not going to enter the church Haven’t a valid prayer in the works Upon entering, The place would go up in a blaze Priests would be cussing Nuns would be fucking the virgins And the holy water would turn to acid By now its two and I’m hungry Beer and eggs Cartoons and a harpoon stuck in my back I can’t go anywhere Time for an angry nap Only to awake to a livid crowd

Three months looking out windows With a birds eye view of a brick wall Had me clawing at my skin. Life like love doesn’t come easily Ask the barefooted woman on Passons Blvd. When the winds shift left The broken piece themselves together Once over again As the together fall apart. Salt sometimes burns the peppered skin. The ill grow strong As the strong become anorexics After the sight of Cupid’s stupid grin. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? It’s one of the few ways to relate. Lounging in a bar with beer in hand Food at the table and the potential catch That’s never reeled in. Reading has become overrated. The bald now eat raisins before their time. The floors are no longer swept As the money is kept. Presidents are named after landscape And body accessories. Sheep are cloned for lonely farmers While the vagrants still chug Cobras. The nuns are left tethered by their lingerie As the catholic school kids Beat the truth out of the priests.