The News Stand Series, poetry by David L O'Nan at Spillwords.com

The News Stand Series

The News Stand Series

Memories of Bradley Westlake

written by: David L O’Nan

@davidLONan1

 

Intro:
Seconds are becoming minutes
Minutes become hours for most of us
However, life is one long second
For a warped mind such as that of
Bradley Westlake

An anxious, delusional, drug induced rebellious kid
His visions can be beautiful, strange, horrific, maybe
even spiritual
His mind reads that of a newspaper,
Or so he says
So now we will enter the realm
A walk, a journey into the soul of Bradley Westlake
We begin at 618 NW Murphy Street
Where I’ve been told there is this News Stand.

 

News Stand #1:
From the 6 A.m. Murphy Street News Stand
I read about you and that famous gun.
Shhh!! The secret is out.
Hush Cries! Hush Cries!
The Secret was a plot
I need the drug, where is the drug?
I need the drug, I’m a whore to the drug
The secret was a blot on my life, like fingerprints
For the captured, I will rust like a weak magnet
And all I could hear is the rushed hush
Of a police siren, a flash of a fire truck squealing
A cramp in my stomach, a hemorrhage around my skull.

Standing on my malicious balcony with false hands
Lies that brand, hair fumes with sand
Runes that have cast me banned
My name has become a crooked dangerous bend
The ink smears on newspaper print.
My mind was slightly poisoned
No memory of childhood baby dolls.
My sanity is a frenzy, not any love for many years
Mescaline Hydrochloride 300 mg
My mind becomes a God for the next few hours.

 

News stand #2:
Today we will be introduced to comets
Galaxies of aliens will kiss our skies
The universe will be magical
Once again there will be the sharing of that electric shock
The mirrors will become not only a reflection, a vision
We will know our true selves
Milky-white skinned dynamos that flood with blood
That were treasured with memories and loving souls
We are fuel supplied by ego
That spat us out into the flies
Our seeds become superstars and murderers
Our visions have become doubts and galactic greed.

In my hand I hold a copy of the Gazette
The front page reads of
Half-truths and universal mayhem
We are just inches away from – the burn, scorn, torn, forlorn.
That black hole emptiness
Or that magical moistening and birthing of freedom.

 

News Stand #3:
Ok now,
I’m a smooth mellow rapture
I’m crushed with love, gelled in sunshine
Congealed in power
The newspaper headline reads: God has Escaped!
My feet have become afloat, the energy inside a jolt
My tears now remote
I’m a septic bird, I smell of trash.
I fly as if I’m a new-born saviour
Believe, believe, believe
The moon has been cuffed by priests
Taped their mouths and let me speak
I’m speaking for once
So alive, bloody eyes, my veins are the prize
I’m cryptic, a paraplegic, but I
Sail into mighty storms and escape the world as my thorn.
Unite the allegiance
I’ll dream as a coma
Murphy Street will be claustrophobic.
With angels and spirits tonight
God has escaped!

 

News Stand #4:
Are we real? Not real? We are not real
We are hoods, unreal hobos
Peasants, descendants of the pathetic
Suicide soldiers, phenomenal depressing mind burns
We are coughing our flesh, our hair
Our bones, our blood, our ectoplasm
Did you read the paper today?
It said the boy is invisible

 

News Stand #5:
Then it became vulgar
The girls that shook with energy, the orgasms like a windmill
Boys that held within a bruising release
Rough trade that walk by with a newspaper in hand
“Our eyes have seen the sex, on every street
our sex has become fair game”
I denote my curvature into a slur
Become crippled in sex
Ecstasy was freedom
Feeling free by the morning, long nights of our blood uniting
A shame, a prayer, looking
into the eyes of a storm that is breathing.

 

News Stand #6:
The dandies are comatose
The Coffin man lives with me
I’m shattered, a paranormal prince I wear my face of
milky white death
Just years after my glory lobotomy
I’ve become fish food for hungered virgins
My severance has been applauded
Laughed at by the wealthy
United the pig stench
Today’s headline reads
“the dead overdoses on the normal only to become strange”

 

News Stand #7:
Oh, my heavens! Lollipops rain down
In my red storm sunshine
Clouds, rain, mist and moons
Starlight barfight, June bugs to mysterious magical mind balloons
Exploding outside my rhapsody
I’ve shown the tears, the years of fears
Now I show my excellence
Enthusiasm, visions of grandeur, eccentric beauty
Angels fly by with the Golden Ticket
And I smile
Milkshakes found in trashcans, I smile
A sub headline drenched in spit reads
“He winks, he blinks to those who stink”

 

News Stand #8:
Today I awoke to Sasquatch eyes
Crying, red fire flames hiding
Behind my cave walls
Cobra spit hiding in earthly splits
Jasmine crevices on my cheek
Then without warning, I become clear when I show signs
of –
Being a diamond mine again
Read here! Read here!
“The Earth has malignancy spreading like wildfire”
The News Stand burned to the ground later that day
Suspects were few, and Bradley Westlake
would never be seen on Murphy Street again.

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