c. 2020 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-20)
One o’clock in the
morning.
I started drinking
too early today, after a quick lunch of Buffalo wings with Janis.
Afterward, my neighbors were socially distanced but eager to lift a
Bud Light to the blue sky. Then, my sleep cycle turned on itself. Out
by 7:00, up again at 9:30. I needed coffee to clear my head. But
after listening to CRAGG Live via my Roku streaming device, fate took
hold.
Now, it was midnight
and I was awake.
I could hear the
muse whispering in my ear. “Get to your desk, wordsmith. The hour
is late. Write on, brother. Write on...” With the COVID-19 pandemic
having been loosed on our planet, my subject matter was set, even
before the first keystroke.
Safe in the night,
my adventure-through-poetry began:
Corona ready
Bandanna on my face
Heartbeat gone
unsteady
The late hour
beckons
To those who beg for
crumbs
A trip to the store
Like a voyage to
distant stars
Through radioactive
pores
Coins in the
fountain
For a dance,
stepping lightly
The voice of Dr.
Fauci
Brings comfort
To me
Corona Ready
There’s a demon
from darkness
Afire, within me
Loose in the land
Of the free
Like the harsh words
Of Heisenberg
King of the streets
Beware of what
awaits
These simple minds
Lost to their fates
Inglorious,
notorious
On the courthouse
steps
We weep
Corona ready
Wrestle in the town
square
For nickles and
pennies
Till I witness
defeat
A nod of negation
From the best of the
beasts
Humbled and low
Like crumbs on a
couch throw
Whipped into air
By the flip of a
wrist
An arrow that missed
A Judas kiss
Corona ready
Boots on, to ride
A pale horse is
ready
The planet has a
fever
Loosed from Satan’s
eye
A cocktail of poison
tears
And top-shelf rye
Broken bottle
dripping judgment
A stain on the
counter
A mark for the hurt
To live as a witness
Or perish with the
herd
Which is worse?
Corona ready
Wind at my heels
Like a dash with
Crazy Eddie
Tear up the stock
market
Moneychangers in the
temple go broke
Their fineries fade
Into ashes and smoke
There’s a virus
among us
Wicked, invisible
Wicked, invincible
No touch
No taste
Empires and kings
Laid to waste
Corona ready
Regal, ruthless and
right
Like a stanza of
Tchaikovsky
Lungs filled with
pain
Will they know the
atmosphere
Or simply drown in a
tide of fear
I can’t hear
My eyes gone black
There are stones in
my ears
A tube in my throat
A dragon at the
castle moat
Dr. Wenliang, where
is the cure?
The mighty have
fallen
Swimming in a
solution
Gone impure
The dirty deed is
done
By chance on the run
We can be sure
Corona ready
Hung over a Bunsen
burner
Twisting in heat
A world fixed in
flame
Full of scabies and
stains
Offal scattered
across the board
Of a Monopoly game
Masks at the chin
Sanitized hands
Scrubbed and suited
for battle
Across the desert
sands
There’s a hospital
bed
For the lucky among
us
Who are quicker than
dead
Sunday morning is
nigh
But I’ve already
said
Goodbye
Corona ready
Another prize bauble
glimmering
From the top of the
heap
Glimmer, glam,
glossy globe
A prick in the nose
A swab in the
earlobes
Testing, treating
the sick
The masses of
sinners who fell short of grace
With unwashed hands
A touch on their
face
The virus, a greedy
worm
A hungry little germ
Loose in the air
While false prophets
foretell
And politicians
stare
Look at me
I am there
I am nowhere
Corona ready
A stout staff held
skyward
A valiant steed
An errant screed
Too long was the
chase
Now the family goes
shopping
With masks on their
face
Plexiglas shields
Mobile morgues in
the fields
Tent hospitals
Body bags
Toe tags
Sanitizer spray
rules the day
Let us pray
Keep away!
The pandemic yield
Makes the human race
homeless
We have failed our
test
Corona ready
Cough on command
Through the needle,
we bleed
Animals we may be
But blessed as the
same
With visions of
eternity
Our habits are set
We fight hard for a
chance
For redemption, for
deliverance
This too shall pass
This age of doom
When our neighbors
lie down
Under soil and grass
We march to tomorrow
Torches aglow
Corona ready
Spelled with
drumstrikes
And a story
A clean draw of
breath
By challenges,
pressed
Necessity is alive
Some must survive
To carry forward
this species
Over debris and
feces
Left from vanquished
foes
In raggedy clothes
The last hope of
yesterday
Turned away
Corona ready
A diagnosis in time
A guitar riff from
Duane Eddy
Doctors linger with
care
Not a minute to
spare
Windpipes made clean
A new-age vaccine
This is our glorious
rant
Our spiritual chant
To the great ‘I
am’
We fight on through
the darkness
Through the deepest
of blue
Through disease
Through and through
You are me
I am you
Corona ready
Birthed from flesh
Sired on speed
We kick through mud
and malaise
Our greatest days
Poised with the
great
In lightning and
showers
We arrive at the
darkest hour
Not defeated, but
instead
Ready to receive
Visions from the
godhead
Swimming upstream
To a place
Where deities
intervene
‘Tis not what it
seems
A glorious scheme
A spike in the
bloodstream
There’s a gleam
With my navigation
through the overnight completed, I sat at the desk and pondered what
lay on my screen. The beer can at my side was empty. Now, it was time
to return my bed.
But first, I had to
post my newest writing project online.
Comments about
‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com
Write us at: P.
O. Box 365 Chardon, OH 44024
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