Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Neighborhood Threat by Mike Zone

D-Kong just threatened to beat me
 to death
“if I see you in the hall…I’m going to beat you to death…if I see you outside, I’m going to beat you to death…if I see you on the stairs, I’m going to beat you to death.”
throwing barrels on the floor above
bouncing up and down
on the creaking floor
squeaking bed
sounds like a mattress on a pile of sticks
springs sticking out
not with some plumber’s girl
but not with his own either
every toss and turn
there’s a splinter and spring
sound bar soldiers going off
late at night
just about got PTSD
from all these video war-games
invading my dreams
D-Kong’s voice booming “I should be there!”
yeah, they don’t hand you pizza rolls and skittles during war
He pounds, he screams, threatens
“Your move! Let’s get it on! Come up here motherfucker!”
just trying to read about Gauguin, syphilis,
amid tropic death island lust
trying to take in moonlit sonata
stabbed by cackles and dumb boisterous search for words
pounds on chest
my muscles tense
not turning green like some comic-book rage machine
no purple pants
but I’ve got blue striped pajamas and something not quite as lethal
radiating in my blood
I’ll lose my sleep
go to my 4am warehouse job
the credible hulk
an inch below average height
he’ll wake up, heart pounding, drenched in sweat
just as nervous all morning
waiting for the nine to five to start
sitting in his cubicle
waiting for this dance
to start again
where I tap that hollow point in the ceiling
and the fucking moron
in his tie with the son he never sees but loves to tout
won’t learn a thing

About Mike Zone:

Mike Zone is the author of Void Beneath the Skin, Fellow Passengers: Pubic Transit Poetry, Meditations & Musings and Better than the Movies: 4 Screenplays.  He is the co-writer of the graphic novel series American Anti-hero from Alien Buddha Press.His poetry and stories have been featured in: Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, In Between Hangovers, Mad Swirl, Rasputin Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, Triadae Magazine and Your One Phone Call. He scrapes by in Grand Rapids, MI.

No comments:

Post a Comment

That Time Robert Priest Farted At a Reading and Everyone Knew It by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

It was after this reading at this little red school house out in the middle of nowhere and at the conclusion of the reading everyone went...