Poetry by Michael E. Duckwall
Welcome to another edition of October Stories, today's is poetry and art by Michael E. Duckwall.
Nighttime Rituals
By Michael E. Duckwall
The cultivation of darkness screams
with the cresting of a new moon.
Shadows echo the call of the unseen
as the obscurity of nightfall carries its tune.
Nocturnal creatures awaken, they come back to life.
Stalking their prey, submerged in the moon's cold
dark light. The sky's dull illumination
shows them their spoils scampering around.
While shadows cover the bloodbath beneath
gasping for breath on the ground. A baptism
of blood is survival in the wild. Most take part
out of hunger, a few do it for the smile.
Open The Gate
By Michael E. Duckwall
A bottle of wine and a few shots, along with a movie
on the tube. Mid 80's horror film, broken mirrors, demons.
Dusk through the window, nighttime is falling.
As screams and cheesy one liners echo off the walls.
The first possessed is a pretty blonde. Religion
is talked about, then thrown to the side.
Roses and ghosts float on the air. Spinning cameras
lost souls, spirits living. Evil, demonic, repossessed
for tonight anyways. One “Lame wuss!” wanting to bail.
“Don't look at me Pal!” “Here take her car!”
“Chill out Hon, Just open the gate before you drive
through it.” “Let's party!” “Count us out.”
“Say ‘Hi’ to Casper for me!” “Maybe
I'm in the mood for pork tonight?” Wow
what the hell is even going on? Oh, the demon
is changing bodies now. I'm into all kinds of things
tonight “I'll hold yours if you hold mine!”
“You writing a poem about demons?” “Maybe..”
“Come on, let's hear it.” “Alright; but, only
since you asked.” “Ladies before germs!”
Crash-Landed
By Michael E. Duckwall
UFO attempted abduction, their tractor beam
overloaded by the weight of my thoughts.
I'm not an experiment that they can abuse
that they will use, that they probe.
They try to “Beam me up Scotty!” backwoods Star Trek.
Galaxies far away, second star to the left
until morning’s light. Their ship crash-landed
it can't bear the weight of my dreams.
They scurry around, cockroaches when you turn the lights on.
Nowhere to run, too far from home. One just lit a finger up
asked if he could “Use a phone?” It's my turn now
to dissect, to probe. I gotta’ learn how they got here.
I need to learn how far they've traveled, figure out why they weren't aware
of the weight I carry within. They say "We’re not aliens
we’re the fallen. The chosen that rebelled, got cast down to this
our living hell.” Could be true? I’m not sure, I scratch my head
and wonder. Lying lips, translucent invisible ships, the fallen
are easy to recognize, circumcised wings, scars on their backs.
Nothing but lies from their lips, under constant attack.
These could be them, the UFO that crash-landed here.
I’m a backwood boy redneck out hunting deer.
They came across me, thinking I'd be easy prey.
Never believing, today might be their day.
I'm not buying it, I’m not believing a word
that they say. I pointed to the cows, asked 'em "How many?"
They say "We've been here numerous times. we've abducted plenty"
"Well, how many men, how many women, how many kids?
How many of my people have you killed? Taken from their chance to live?"
They say "You were the first, the first of your kind.
You brought our ship down with the weight
of your mind. There's no way we could have got any others.
There's no way we could have taken them to our home.
Now that we know the weight within, we promise we'll leave you alone"
I smile and say "I bet you do." I loaded this with deer slugs
It wasn't meant for you, but now that you're here
you crash-landed so near, scaring off all my deer. These barrels
they're going to sing a song tonight.” POP! POP! The aliens are dead
from my mind's might. Staring down my double barrel’s iron sight.
If they weren't, they're definitely the fallen now.
Off in the distance "Moooooooo!” cheer the cows.
Bio
Michael E. Duckwall was born and raised in the Ohio Valley. He was a featured poet at the 10th and final Gonzofest in Louisville Ky. Michael’s first chapbook of poetry "The Ramblings of a Recovering Poet" was published by Pure Sleeze Press last July and recently had an illustrated chapbook “7.2 SkullQuake” published by Cajun Mutt Press. He also had his work included in a limited edition handmade chapbook “Kraken Nuts” co-authored with Chad M. Horn. Michael has had his poetry, artwork and photography in a handful of magazines and anthologies, along with numerous online features.
