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Juan2
John Lander
United States, California

Words: 117
Access: Public
Comments: 9

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The Inexistence of Demons

Demons dwell beneath the overpass
at night. Their screams
are hoarse, like bald tires biting

the road with a mosquito's indifference. Footsteps
of these empty city streets
keep time in red and green beats. Weeds

sprout through the concrete,
seedlings cling to my soles,
litter of the earth. I tend

to brush it off. My door lock
is a brass gong,
its clang warns my appliances

to commence their chatter. The clock chimes
in with an opinion and the black
head of a dead beetle rests upon my pillow.

Mid-morning, I watch rainfall
from my scalp and swirl
down where bubbles burst

and baby alligators grow,
or so I've heard.
This could all just be another tall-tale.

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Comments  
Kerosene Comment by: Kerosene - 2008-02-05 07:44
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Nice flow and structure with this poem. Liked the 4th and 5th stanzas the best, especially the vision of a dead beetle.

"like bald tires biting" - dont know about this. Bald tires skid and slide.

john
Mick Comment by: Mick - 2008-01-29 03:11
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Really good. I like the format you have used to write this.
Its so fitting with the whole piece. Excellent !
Thula7 Comment by: Thula7 - 2008-01-15 21:53
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I like this poem. I like the way you have broken up the stanzas, in the middle of sentences. Love the last two stanzas, and also,

"...the black
head of a dead beetle rests on my pillow."

Thanks for the read!
sunshine Comment by: sunshine - 2007-05-20 10:17
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Just reread it and I've decided I love it.

My favorite parts are "Demons dwell beneath the overpass
at night,"

"its clang warns my appliances
to silence their chatter."

"In the morning, I watch the rain fall
from my scalp and swirl
down where bubbles burst
and baby alligators grow,
or so Iā??ve heard.
This could all just be another tall-tale."
sunshine Comment by: sunshine - 2007-03-10 09:34
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I like the rhythm and how sometimes it feels like thepiece is rhyming without blatant rhymes. Very interesting and intreguing poem
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By Juan2

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