Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 01/31/24

It Killed Part of The Future___(for Phil..12/3/23)

In too deep. Behind enemy lines.

We fought so hard for the world’s rebirth of spirit

It’s rebirth of innocence
& Beauty

& Love

We fought so hard for it
It killed part of the future

Hear The Drum___(12/2/23 after the funeral)

HEAR THE DRUM of the Playful Bard

HEAR THE DRUM OF THE eternal Shard

HEAR the gospel of inky-fingered void blanket on a collision course w/ all dream

If we don’t love & LIVE

NO REGRETS NO PRETENSE

MASKS must be broken
As the weapon of self-destruction

& the pure science of our true selves be known

Cease lending idle mind galaxies ON PETTY
STARLESS WONDERS

Cease lending idle imaginations
To the BLACK MIRROR filled with the laughter of the dead
Eating creativity

& SPIRIT

& ERASING WHOLE LIVES w the eraser of despair

& FORLORN

When BEAUTY is the only comfort

How cd we live in such a world
As this

A BELL RINGS & the Playful Bard

Vanishes w another figure
In to the distance
Drum in hand

MAD GLEAMING EYES OF CREATION

HEAR THE DRUM simple.

HEAR HIS DRUM

HEAR his wrestling the thick protoplasmic mucous of Nirvana for his world

The Playful Bard

Spreading rhythmic inventions
Across multiple multiverses

HEAR THE LINGERING FINGERNAIL

SCRATCHING GOD’S NOSE WHILE HE RESTS

HEAR THE EVER LASTING & RUSTED LIVING LIGHT

SHADOW OF TRUTH & HOPE

yet be warned if you file in
Procession

A pilgrimage we may find
IN THE IMMEASURABLE PLAYGROUND OF WORDS

Quite the pilgrimage
See. The golden, pissed on
Typewriter in the corner

RU MI AMUSINGLY THOUGHT WAS A SIMPSONS CHESS SET

Vibrating the color of Philthy

Oh DEATH who Have Singed/Melted/Fused

we two together by your
invisible life extracting
bound hand

I SEE YOU, THERE;
making the rounds
aided by the embalmers
cold hands & blue sleeves

I SEE YOUR PATH
I SEE YOUR WEAKNESS
& IMPERMANENCE

oh limiting concept of DEATH

YOU HIT LIKE MY SISTER

IS THAT ALL YOU GOT

i laugh, I can hear PHILTHY
PHIL THE PHILOSOPHER
belly laughing
all the way to the next door

oh DEATH you didn’t even knock us down; & my friend who you “ took” ALLOWED YOUR PUNK ASS TO COME

—(12/3/23)

Mythology of Grief_Virgoan Elegy

the inescapable inertia of all this here where i sit

traveling the astral interstates
Highways & back roads

Looking for you

I have a message from MERCURY

He says you can have a pair of his winged sandals

HERE

mute twizted & MAD GLEAMING EYES

he took them
Smiled

& PUSHED/FORCED ME
BACK IN TO MY BODY

I Keep Hearing Jim Morrison

chanting the spoken intro
To The Soft Parade

yeah, it’s definitely chanting
over & over
just the intro

WHEN I WAS BACK IN SEMINARY SCHOOL

THERE WAS PUT FORTH THE PROPOSITION

THAT YOU CAN PETITION THE LORD WITH PRAYER

THAT YOU CAN PETITION THE LORD W PRAYER

That you can petition the Lord w/ prayer

YOU CAN NOT PETITION THE
LORD WITH PRAYER

my ass asleep in oak armed writing chair

Feet planted like landing on foreign soil w/ a weapon

Or no passport

867-5309 on the radio

Reminding me that a rude ass cop that was a douchenozzle while you were lying there
Possibly already gone
& Medics working for a response

FULL ADRENAL HOPE OF
EMTS TO SAVE YOUR LIFE

& I almost cry again
& then remember
WE ARE WARRIORS

©2024 Merritt Waldon All rights reserved.

Merritt Waldon is a 50-year-old poet/artist who has been published in a wide variety of magazines/journals, and has four books published. He has devoted his entire life & being to Poetry.
He lives in Austin Indiana.