Epic of Hair

by Mark

I am not one to get many complements for stuff, but I usually have people say kind things about my hair. In response to those comments, I usually stay humble an tell this joking story of how my Hair isn’t mine and is just a gift. Playing off that story, I wrote up this poem telling the tale. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Fell down the hole of abyss
Touched with fingers of fermentation and mulch.
My eyes not able to adjust
their colors
ripped out
left a shade.
Turing and feeling for the steps
Teetering on ears for balance.
Scrape the knees as they caress marsh lands.
Mother, where art thou? I am in the need of services.
Howls of hydras hiss the lobes
My toes cringe at what is below,
Breathing short breaths, Mother Superior let me see.

A voice whispers come hither
here towards sounds of hounds.
Brash barks crinkle nails, fold my skin,
tossing ingrown hairs above the line.
Tea would be nice – aromas
Of cinnamon effloresce the eyes
Back to natural lime.
Not a complete shade,
Sites of night skies pass through
But spectrums do not shine
The voice tickles chin hairs
I want the razor
gild the grain
silence the voice.

Slide down passages.
Visions of little league bring light to brain
Barks end, the dreams feel around
Let the mind see through grey scale.
Chard skin, coffee grinds exhume my
Nose shed onion water from ducts .
Where is this Manson voice
Curtailing this Oedipus voyage of night?
Step forward but toes blister by tabled corners
hop through fired coals cough expletives
at demented sights. One corrupt cessation
cognizance brought into Relativity’s stairs.

Part II

Mushroom dreams fashion the shadow
Scrub the eyes all will be crystal iris!
Go like Cinderella jade will return .
“ what you do boy, going won’t help
Enter the boat your payment pardoned.”
Left to right, sways sulfur sewage
Sickening nostrils. Muted voices and
dew drips play with sense but stomach is shelled tight.

“Where am I? Where are you taking me?”
Muffled words left for resin
Recite the words of gods let them grace the way.
“leave those names off your lips, boy. this not the place for it”
“name this place. who it’s author?”
“ all to be revealed no need to play Clue
your pieces not removed just borrowed.”

“You have arrived go see the one”
“Who this one reaping me below
Bulging my eyes into coals.”
“You speak cold of I who save you
From despair, detached your rope,
Escalated deep sense in yourself.”
“I didn’t ask for anything grown inside
Earth was splendid shining in Zeus’s
Spectacle. Return I will with
Words if this world below.”
“All know of this world
All will arrive in time.”

Time tethered to empty caskets
Cavernous peek holes only noticed
By shining spectrum ringing ears
believing friends speaking about you.
But just dragged coarsely with
No strings.” I want an end and answers
Of whereabouts”
“Answers. You’re an ugly human.
Hades am I, this my home .”

Part III

Memories expired. time was quiet.
My senses stronger than immovable weights
Yet happiness gone grey-scale.

Games of skill and chance only
Way out for ones brought down
Without paying their debt.
So we played and played
Passage never granted
It was chains of first dates
Without upstairs invitations.
Till Battleship was chosen
Site not needed just the
Touch of unanchored ships
Waiting for red pings pointed
Onto a haul.

Combinations of numbers and letters
Till D4 rang it was the gong of Nepal
As Hades spit and squalled
“you sunk my battleship.”
Giddier than losing 40 year virginity

“Why so elated. Your looks still
Inadequate and your life still doomed for here.”
sight and life returned added on
Knowledge of defeating you is jubilation.”
“you may leave with guidance but sight
Shall not be returned”
Heart dropped deeper than
Monopoly bankruptcy . No time
To set in rebuttal sun was soaking
In as grass groped the toes.

Defeated Hades yet still left on the porch
Waiting for something to happen. Till thunder struck
Shock the feebleness of figurative language.
It was Zeus he spoke words, laughed at my
Behalf. Winner of losers in games of no importance.
“O child you are pitiful in funny ways
Yet worded noble so I must bestow gifts
For your troubles. Your original sight returned
Plus a lock of my hair to tame your
Brute of a face.”

By Him