Monday, January 31, 2011

The following are three poems for your consideration: "Mind Fuck Incorporated," "Acid Reign," and “In the Little Town of Bethlehem.”

A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has previously published her work in literary journals, in the U.K. as well as America, such as Avon Literary Intelligencer, Eastern Rainbow, Medicinal Purposes Literary Review, The Intercultural Writer's Review, Icon, Writer's Gazette, and The Penwood Review.

Mind Fuck Incorporated

“That is what destiny is”

-- Diane Wakoski

My will is shattered.

Against the wall.

By your kiss.

Watch it slide.

Watch it drip.

Green blood.

Jealous of your whole,

it will stain your skin

if you leave.

And if you stay?

The sight alone is poison.

You see?

I may be the one

who is broken.

But you are the one

who is meant to pay.

Acid Reign

The sky is darker here.

A different shade of black,

louder than the others,


as it follows your body

down the yellow brick road

that never led anyone home.

Or to Kansas

if the truth be known.

Still you come

with your wide-eyed innocence

for the sugar-coated needle

that will rip you out

and bandage the wound

in beautiful rainbows.

I give you

your technicolored horses

and broken glass slippers.

I give you

the future you seek.

But to know the future

there must be a death.

Tell me,

will you barter your firstborn

to ride out my twister?

And when your three wishes are gone,

I laugh at your blind guessing.

I am not Rumpelstiltskin.

That's not my name.

And you see, I can no longer spin you a golden room.

And you see, I can no longer walk on water.

And you see.

And you see.

And you see, al I have

are these ruby slippers.

Everyone wants their beauty.

Their magic

that glitters each step.

That glitters each step.

That glitters,

that glitters,

that glitters.

That glitter

that makes you forget

dancing in red shoes

will kill you.

In the Little Town of Bethlehem

"We forsake Our lone luck now,

compelled by bond, by blood,

To keep some unsaid pact;"

-- Sylvia Plath

Three gathered

at the foot of the cradle.

And the north star

shone. A spotlight

as the angel spread

her heavenly wing.

And spoke.

It's a girl.

In the dark

the wisemen nodded.

There would be repercussions.

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...