Who's Gonna Hold Your Hand?

Who’s gonna hold your hand

When you die, when your white knuckles

fade to black and you exit this horrorshow

to become just another number

in the trainwreck.

Another statistic in a report

Another Mask among the Faceless.

Who’s gonna be with you

for all the fear

for all the doubts,

Who is it that will come plunging in

when you go crashing through the ice?

And when you stand alone against the hurricane

and there is no hope of coming out alive

Will they turn and run?

Or take your hand

Sporting that same

Fuck You stare

And brace for impact.

Who’s gonna hold your hand when you die?

If You Face a Riot Squad

Throw a fist in the sky

Like you might punch

God in the throat.

Plant you feet in the Earth

As you would take root

And never be removed.

Take the fire from your heart

And set it in your eyes.

Never flinch, no matter the threat.

Carry a song in your ears

To drown out the ringing

That comes with collision.

And most importantly

Wear not a scowl on this great day

But a smile, for nothing infuriates them

Like your happiness.

Evernight, a story told through poetry

Evernight

Or

The Verse of a Deranged Mind

By

Robinson Stone

Foreword and Notes by

Lawrence Snyder, Ph.D.

                                                                                            

Set Me Free

She destroyed you ice cubed heart

With a scream

That uncovered scars

Which were obscured by

banalities.

Cut you from throat to heel

And let the moon set you free,

That’s what she does.

And don’t you desecrate her

Scream, prevent me from giving it.

There isn’t less entropy

Out of running clothed.

Strindberg

The August Satan to the

God of a Doll’s House.

You spewed your venom

With such fury that not even

The Inferno could contain

The scope of your power.

You waited by the stage door

For the one that would become

Miss Julie and transform you into

The Father.  Do you regret the walk

You took with the vampire bound

To his wheelchair as punishment?

And as you suffered these punishments

Ibsen mocked you from his writing table,

Your crazed eyes upon him, with a little

Blind girl and her wild duck. A girl, soon to be

A woman.  Why?  Why did you

Hate them so?  Did your nurse

Trick you into a straight jacket?

Did the dancer reject your flowers?

What could have spawned a hate so deep

That you were forever damned to fame?

Nice Try, Mom

A picture of my mother

Face glowing with expectancy

A picture of my father

Eyes shining full of dreams

People tell me to respect my mother

“She gave you life” they say

Like life is something so great

“The cradle rocks above the abyss”

Says Nabokov

“They give birth astride the grave”

Says Beckett.

Mom did her best, but her gift

Came with an expiration date

And is colored with pain.

“She gave you life” they say

I respond, Yes, but she did not give

Me her life.  For better or worse.

My father, however, gave me dreams.

His dreams.

Thanks Dad.

May Day

I remember well
It was may day

And you and the other girls
Danced around the may pole, as was the way

You were the May Queen
Dressed in white with flowers in your hair

To my eyes you were alone
The only person there

Then, there he came
That golden God from your past

Smeared with the blood
from the stag killed last

He took you by the hand
And lead you off into the spring

I sat alone and watched
Swinging idly on a bench swing

Others came to me
Asking me to take them that day

But they weren't there to me
As I watched you walk away

I chewed on a piece of paper
To keep away the fear

Of the reality of what's happening
When you were not here

The sky turned orange
And the clouds became blue

Then I found myself
Confronted by three of you

One of you dressed in White
With your locks hanging in your face

Another dressed in Black
With every hair in place

And the last, the last was different
Not like the other two

She was completely naked
And writhed saying: I want you

The Black said: Hello My Love
The White: I don't love you

The other touched my leg
And said: I want you

And even though I had three of you
Right in front of me

All I could think of was the real you
Being laid down in ecstasy

Leave me, you shadows, said I
And thorns began to close around

The White shrugged, the Black wept, the naked moaned
As they melted into the ground

It was hours before he lead you back
And I caught glimpse of your eye

It might not have happened, but
I thought I saw you cry.