Author: Aaron Echoes August

• Thunder Owls

  

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  With a book to read and a bite to eat

  I plagiarize my wounds

  The stone archway is a shelter from the rain

  Through Old England searching

  Voices arguing in the distance

  Clomping hooves on the bridge overhead

  Yellow lamps

  Their light desperately reaching out

  Through the bursting torrents of water

  Thunder owls howl through the atmosphere

  Lightning fingers the sky

  Wrecked sparks, flame throwers

  The crackling, spackling of ice blue

  A white stone house

  Black rooftop

  Mailbox on a post

  Red geraniums in the windows

  Like lipstick-colored doll heads

  A welcoming walkway

  A knock on the door

  A streak of lightning answers

  But nobody is home

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

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  Special thanks to Edge of Humanity Magazine for publishing three of my poems recently: Coffee Shop Rain, The Translucent Wander Pain, and Space Curtain. Please go check them out! Also, a reminder that my new e-book is now available for purchase: The Apocalypse Pipe. The print edition is also now available! Thanks for reading and supporting independent creators.

• Electric Arrow

  

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  House star fiddling soap emperor cascades down mountain flora searching for a pink heart with someone in it. There’s a black box with insert points, cookies on a chipped plate sitting on a table by a window with paisley curtains. The breeze coming through flops them around like wild flags. “They’ll get cold,” I say. “They’re already cold,” the baker says.

  There must be some kind of an electric arrow stuck in my brain. I’m not thinking right today. It’s a blank black chalkboard and I am forcing the white stick. I hate it when that happens. It’s either a blank slate or overwhelming thoughts scrambled like eggs. Either way, it’s hard to put anything sensible and cohesive together. Writing that is. It’s all I do and when I can’t, I get uptight. Wound up. Irritable. I just want to bleed easily.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

• Madman Hands

  

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  I’m tired

  But I can’t shut down

  Too much stimulation

  Via stillness

  My eyes want to close

  But the hands of my mind keep them open

  They tug from the bottom and push up

  Like those rattling security doors stores in malls have

  A blanket of metal, a cage

  To protect all the holy products

  While people sleep on the streets

  We give our products better homes than we do people

  I can hear the sound of that cell door going up

  The wait is over, it’s time to shop

  While people still sleep on the streets

  Lifeless lolly-gagging

  We all do strange things

  Like that guy in Chicago proper

  Walking down the street with a chicken on his head

  The things I have sacrificed, given up

  Over shattered heartstrings

  They broke like glass

  And I just don’t get people

  Whose only aim is to hurt others

  What do you possibly gain?

  Some sick satisfaction?

  And now good has become evil

  And evil is now good

  How are we supposed to function in a society like that?

  Take a breath, turn the page

  Stars and space

  My broken burnt face

  Cocktail cockatoos

  French bread sword fights

  Everything is okay…

  These are merely the markings of a madman

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

  ---

  Special thanks to Edge of Humanity Magazine for publishing three of my poems recently: Coffee Shop Rain, The Translucent Wander Pain, and Space Curtain. Please go check them out! Also, a reminder that my new e-book is now available for purchase: The Apocalypse Pipe. The print edition is also now available! Thanks for reading and supporting independent creators.

• Corn Tornado

  

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  I decipher the angst of the world, glyphs sketched on the stalks as I make my way through the cornfield. A green maze that smells like earth, looming tall. Revenant soldiers are haunting hallways as I scrawl, crawl through time and space. The world is windowless. The wind lathered by a storm. The sky above turns gray, the stalks begin to sway. Bruises erupt up above, dark Goliaths flexing power, instilling fear. A tornadic maelstrom has come to change the day.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

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• 36 Beautiful Scars

  

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  I take a solemn tablet and wash it down with fury

  That spirited ache of midnight

  The moon breaking bones out in the hall

  All the unforgiving and unforgivable things

  Line up like cracked dolls

  The shelf leans left

  The audacious propaganda on red and white

  A clock still ticks in an attic

  Time kept safe and hidden in a tomb of memories and dust

  And I remember that metamorphic space

  The broken glass and the blood

  36 beautiful scars under the sun

  Beneath the sunlight stars

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

  ---

  Special thanks to Edge of Humanity Magazine for publishing three of my poems recently: Coffee Shop Rain, The Translucent Wander Pain, and Space Curtain. Please go check them out! Also, a reminder that my new e-book is now available for purchase: The Apocalypse Pipe. The print edition is also now available! Thanks for reading and supporting independent creators.