Elastic Chasms

by Thomas Piekarski

Elastic Chasms

Elastic Chasms

Spastic schisms dappled in crimson dew,
Betty Grable grappling her alter ego.
Indigenous whispers transposed secretly,
Mae West undressed in the tapestry.
Continual explosions rupture frail egos,
the price to pay for failed sacrifices.
Torn by gaslighting are frightened mules,
and excuses for fallen gods proliferate.
Angels pirouette as dawn lights up skies,
beware of those hours creeping slowly.
Chicken Little performing his rain dance,
will soon appear at a theater near you.
Make hay before the ground cracks open,
should you be swallowed don’t wallow.
Our race against age was finally finished,
the equation working when reversed.
Violence brewed within vagrant psyches,
weather forecast coming a bit too late.
Animal instinct existing in every creature,
amazing all the keen universal insight.
Perfect in form fit and function is our sun,
if only more were appreciative of this.
A primal scream was let out at day’s end,
reverberating off massive skyscrapers.
With motion perpetual energy spread out,
water paving the corridor to evolution.
Premeditated death yields grudging regret,
Mediterranean cruise a quick antidote.
Into the universe float upon Bach’s notes,
come back and tip your hat to paradise.
Undue pressure builds up so boilers burst,
tragedy peering in the memory’s shade.
Radar sees a dangerous incoming armada,
and now go join the immense diaspora.
Artificial intelligence is out to snatch you,
then hide your identity in a thumb drive.
Patience overcomes mutinous destruction,
our Earth regenerating despite the odds.
Mary not contrary now that she’s wedded,
love magically erasing her past miscues.
Predatory elements kept to bare minimum,
everyone vaccinated against painful sin.
Those purple mountains sprouting spritely,
what’s seen also heard in a mind’s eye.


Birth of Mars

I yet a zygote when old Betelgeuse
shone brilliantly through thin magnetic blinds
and swallowed me into its mammoth gut
that chained assembled bugs on frozen walls.
I writhed in pain not wishing to expire
and prayed for coming of a sacred beast.
What will compelled my shadow I can’t say
for in a verdant field outside it grew.
Now clear the mind of past felicity
I mumbled to myself and furthermore
those angels I expected didn’t come.
Thick air within the room most stifling
that pressured me so hard I nearly broke.
As seasons do engulfing many years
my brain shrunk to a little ball of steel.
Then buoyed by loud cheers from up above
a mating call as big as dawn emerged
and sanctified I swam free of the womb.


Residual Bliss

Teaching a one-legged frog to hop over the bog,
learning to save a dollar when you’re quite rich,
painting frescoes of your most delirious dreams,
straining to make something out of nothingness,
preaching the rules you reckon are instrumental,
fussing about events to which you’re oblivious,
winding down a road you don’t know and won’t,
hypnotizing the light before it enters your tomb,
staying put when commanded or else to regret it,
craving salvation with the arrival of a high tide,
circling always until an end becomes beginning,
pining over the lover who bemoans ceaselessly,
striving to avert genocide foremost with stealth,
tracing vibrations emitted from the serpent sun,
extinguishing parasites where they would hover,
trading days for prayers that entice a holy ghost,
nodding off as the coffee cup tips over and spills,
playing coy when a wizard advises you concede,
eating healthy provides avoidance of future pain,
sighting an aurora with eyes gone virtually blind,
papering over infatuation you recognize is futile,
taking what’s given with pride a true champion,
treating animals kindly as though they were you,
tabling anger and admitting fears creep up slyly,
sledding down a mountain so fast you will faint,
favoring translation because the original is gone,
thinking of tulips that burst and generate music,
dancing on fingertips dipped in elegant perfume,
fumbling with constructs no one ever thought of,
reverting to tried and true systems till you gleam,
maintaining relationships that span the continent,
lifting expectations as you watch plants exfoliate,
comprehending settled law and how it is scuttled,
clawing over ocean floors on all five appendages,
frightening the baby awake in its celestial cradle,
confessing offenses executed through negligence,
trailing those memories you would almost die for.

About the author

Thomas Piekarski

Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly. His poetry has appeared in such publications as The Journal, Poetry Salzburg, Modern Literature, The Museum of Americana, South African Literary Journal, and Home Planet News. His books of poetry are Ballad of Billy the Kid, Monterey Bay Adventures, Mercurial World, and Aurora California.

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