And the band played on…
Get used to it, just put one foot
in front of the other. Continue or
just die…that is the only option.
Nobody gives a flying fig. Everybody
has their own problems. Don’t be a
drag, don’t be down. Just dance.
While the band plays another number…
Dance dance dance on the barbed
wire of time time time. Feet raw raw
raw bleeding blood blood blood.
This world is a labyrinthine in my
ear and I am deaf and dumb from it…
no sure melody in these crazy strains.
Always the band struts forward…
Fuzzzz creeps into corner
covering burned-out brain cells
strangling yesterday’s memories.
Film cartridges slip over forehead
that reel of hard plastic continues
yet something is incomplete.
The band marches on…
How did we dream up bright endings
as we spun our days? How could
we ever believe such delusions?
Our hearts caged in fear…now
listening to sirens pierce the night,
seeing flowers fade at first frost.
Still the band plays on…
Gone gone gone everyone and everything
is senselessly gone. Running thru rooms
marked no exit crying out in no voice.
To know we do not know plans of
distant galaxies. An incessant
discotheque of stars spin around us.
Yet the band music will stop…
This long road, mud and muck.
Our feet pull themselves into next steps.
So many sharp curves and cliffs.
How did we ever believe in light,
air, freedom? Now we can touch
the darkness, feel it blinding us.
Joan McNerney’s poetry is found in many literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days. Four Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Spectrum Publications have accepted her work. Her latest title, The Muse In Miniature, is available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net. She has four Best of the Net nominations.