Saturday, April 30, 2016

Ashes


Her ashes were thick...
Heavier than you would think...
Fragments of bone and teeth...
A soup as black as ink...
Stirring and mixing...
Sifting through her quaint remains...
Reminiscing about wiping her tears in the rain...
The sun winks at me through the cathedral of oaks...
And I continue to scan through her lost love notes...
She took a lover... Probably two...
The descriptions of her secret summer were exciting and new...
She said I was her life and she'd never leave me...
The wind catches her ashes; and she is finally free...

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Armor


What's behind that Jiffy-Pop foil that you used as armor?
A thin, onion paper barrier from the vexing world...
You hid within plain sight...
In the hot, unforgiving afternoon light...
Like a broken bird trying to take flight...
The putrid smell of regret claws and scrapes at my nose...
I lay the useless shovel and gloves in the truck along with your tattered clothes...
I spray off the scarlet from my tired hands with your garden hose...
I breathe in the silence as the voices subside...
Should have had better armor, or you should have learned how to hide.. 

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Dry


How I am lost in the verdant spring, yet my mind wanders an arid, desert road...
Eclectic music drones from my random playlist as I shoot at nothing, then reload...
The cat plays with the poisoned mouse, and I let it...
The old dog is the only true pet...
She left the house with her hair still wet...
All this ammo will surely put me into debt...
The air is humid but my brain is dry...
Somewhere in west Nevada if I really try...
The shells don't rust there when they hit the ground...
There my falling tears would actually make a sound...

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Memories

My memories... They glisten like dew on brilliant blades of grass bathed in the morning sun...
Each of them twinkling from that place where memories dwell...
Some are faded from the weather and the heavy, suppressive time...
Some hide in the shadows, cowering into the forgotten,
while others taunt me, refusing to succumb to age or dementia...
All these memories...
My own little pieces of immortality...
My own little curses...
My own little gifts...

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Monsters

    
     They say drowning is a peaceful death once you commit to it. Anticipating your next breath, knowing that you will be breathing in water is probably an unnatural feeling. Having your leg chained to the bottom of a pool and having it filled slowly seems a little cruel, but that's what we do with monsters, right? We cleanse their lungs with thousands of gallons of watery retribution. It's not like they don't deserve it. After all, they're monsters. They have done unspeakable, evil things. They have stolen innocence and laid waste to hope. They have destroyed lives and ruined our youth. As the water slowly fills the pool and the monster pleads for his miserable life, take solace in knowing that chlorinated justice will be silencing him soon. I mean, this is what we do with monsters, right?

Tuesday, April 05, 2016

Burn



The embers burn...
My soul yearns...
My desire churns...
Another one of my turns...


I reach out to her with shaking hands...
She coldly barks out her demands...
I sit defeated as she stands...
Adhering to all her commands...


I hover above watching this all unfold...
I am not warm nor am I cold...
It appears I have succumbed to her chokehold...
This is the story that won't be told...








 

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Noire


Noire – A Short Story By: D. Hoover

 

 


 

     She stumbled out of the dark basement into the blinding light of day. As her eyes adjusted, she squinted into the blazing sun. She stood; swaying in the breeze like a spring sprout absorbing every ray. She looked down at her dirty, tattered dress, tossed her long, thin hair out of her face, and just stood there. She was no longer a prisoner in that cold, dark basement. Her captor was dead, and she was finally free...

     A tear rolled down her cheek as her eyes slowly opened. Her mind acclimated to the reality of her true surroundings. The tight chain around her ankle. The taste of copper in her mouth. The damp, cold air, and the dirty blanket that covered her. "Damn this re-occurring dream", she muttered. It's the dream she often dreams. A dream of the sun on her face, and the warm wind in her hair. A dream of freedom. A dream of utter fantasy...

     The one-eyed teddy bear looked menacingly at her from the lonely chair. She would tear it to shreds if she could reach it. Her visceral hatred for this object swelled up in her throat like hot acid. It was a reminder of something dark and distant; although her memories were fragmented, she knew this object held significance. The crackle of old speakers echoed through the dungeon. "Oh god no!” she shouted. And the children's songs began to play. The incessant, repeated songs. A fate worse than death...

     168 days in this basement… Every day was the same. She was given lukewarm water, some bread, and soup once a day… The children’s songs would play through the crackling speakers about two hours a day. A masked woman would come in about twice a week and taunt her. Sometimes the taunts would end in violence. This was a hell that no one should ever suffer. This was a place that should be reserved for the worst of animals. This place was a torture chamber wrapped in a nightmare. God must surely be dead to allow such cruelty.

     Her dim prison cell suddenly turned on with blinding, lights. She could clearly see the walls now. They were papered with a single girl’s picture. Above her door, she could clearly see, in large letters, Elizabeth Suddles. “Was that the little brat’s name?” she thought. The little wretch she starved to death in her own basement all those years ago? Was this her poetic justice? It all made sense now; but how did anyone know the details? She had buried her in her cellar. No one ever knew about that. How? Who? The lights violently flashed and then the entire place went black… She was left in the darkness to contemplate her horrible deeds… To be left alone forever…

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I am student of life, poet, published author,musician, and a part-time philosopher. Twitter@dhoover2112