Thursday, February 10th, 2011...3:35 am

eddie mount | headphones of god

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Strapped to a chariot
They wheel me into the room
It’s made to look like heaven
Bright lights
Everything shines there
Stainless steel glitters
And the glass pulses
With a light that reveals rainbows

I trace the colors in my mind

Acolytes dressed in white
Always white they wear
As if serving some God of purity
I read them
absorb their emotions
five of them
Might have been changing oil
At Jiffy lube

There was one empath there
She smiled with eyes that edged tears
I pity her
As she pities me

I have no choice
My sword is notched and broken
My shield is shattered
I’m on my knees
The taste and feel of the noose
tattooed to my neck
In red
Bright and fresh
And smiling
it’s bite reassuring me
It can make it all go away

There are no Captains
Nor Kings to ride to my rescue
It is
As it has always been
Me
Against the shadows
The darkness
Alone

So many wraiths walk this world
With invisible tears
And silent screams
Oh how we fear them
Their blood too red
Their pain too raw
We dig their graves
And bury them in mountains of dirt
With magic wards set on the stones
Upon which they rest

They tell me it’s a controlled seizure
I ask them
Is that like a supervised heart attack
It’s only 450 volts
If applied to my chest would kill me
I think that’s funny
But I’m the only one who laughs

I’m nervous
But not scared
I’ve been to their altars of therapy
Took their pills
So many pills
I lost count
An alphabet stew
Oddly
I feel respect for the pill namers
Poets in their own way
No doubt
Paid by the syllable

I wonder if this would
Make angels smile
The Sun cast lighter shadows
Make the wind’s song sweeter
Entreat heroes riding white stallions
To fly into the fray
And protect the weak of this world

But I know

It is not a chariot I ride
But a gurney
Aged with the indentation of bodies
Who have ridden this path before me
They strap me down

I don’t like it

Relax
They’re gonna put me under
They say just an induced epileptic fit
You be doing the funky chicken for a minute or two
You will not feel a thing
But I want to feel!
I need to feel the electrons surge through my brain
I want to feel my body shaking and shuttering
Like a tree in a hurricane wind

But I’m strapped to a gurney
Where I choose to be
Awaiting the headphones of God

Eddie Mount

when not lying to everyone likes to think of himself as an honest poet. He has been published in Sorean magazine and assorted Mom and Pa blog sites. A few of his Poetic submissions where scheduled for print mags but unfortunely the mags died before publication. He accepts full responsibility for their demise. He is a Musician, Poet and Writer who leans towards the melancholy. Despite the tears he thinks the world is a funny place.

2 Comments

  • An awesome work of art! So descriptive of imagery and intent. Great work, poet…

  • Wow–that one had me wanting to bust in there and get the guy out! ‘Barren’ is a really good poem, too. I lived in a semi-woodsy area growing up, I know…

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