Sweet Smell

Sweet Smell
By: James Dubeau

There is a sweet smell
Which wafts by my face
A smell
Which I should not know
Not in these times
No in this life
But yet
It is a smell
Which I do know
It brings back memories
Of times gone by
Of a youth spent
Doing the things which youth
Is not meant to do
Should not do
Not if one
Wants to make something
Of themselves
Become something greater
Then the parents
And grand parents
Ever imagined

Wine Cave

Wine Cave
By: James Dubeau

Sprinkled across
Hard wood walls
Little caves
Of joy

In a pattern
Of polka dots
Zigzagging
Here and there

With uniformity
But yet chaos
In those dark caverns

As corks and caps
Do emerge
Protruding
From those walls

No pattern
Could predict
Which was filled
Or which was empty

Necks reached out
Yearning for me
My grasp
My caress

Drawing my eyes
Back and forth
From the many caverns

The green one
The gold one
Or maybe the blue

Which one shall be mine
Which one shall I consume
Which one shall I take home

Closing my eyes
I reached gently
As if caressing a lover

My trembling hand
Returned the bottle
From the wood wall

I held it close
Not wanting to drop
My new found treasure
Of joy

Decisions

Decisions
By: James Dubeau

What is this life
Where decisions
Are made
And words
Are said
That do not
Move things forward
But
To a skewed sideways
Life
Is in a tenuous balance
Where the littlest movement
The smallest thought
A miniscule word
Can send things
Flying off the handle
In random directions
That cannot be judged
Determined
Only the aftermath
Can be reckoned

Choices

Choices
By: James Dubeau

When the month
Grows short
And the eyes
Grow heavy
My mind starts to wonder
Down the many paths
It has been down
Before
Sorting and deciding
That which has been
Set upon
Way back when
But the mind
Is a fickle thing
Never happy
With just one choice
Maybe some day
I will sleep easy
Knowing that my mind
Has been made up
But tonight
Is not
And will not
Be that night

Demon Clutches Tight

Demon Clutches Tight
By: James Dubeau

As you wonder through the forest
A demon clutches tight
Hanging onto your back
No matter what you do
There is no shaking him
His claws dig in deep
Talons piercing the skin
Blood weeps from torn flesh
A fork appears in the path
One to the north
The other to the south
Keep on going the way it has been
Or hope for something different
A bigger demon swoops down
As the south path is chosen
Knocking the parasite
From your back
Making sure the old pest
Will never bother you again
Instead of walking tall
The weight removed
He latches on as well
Claws digging deeper
Teeth tearing into flesh
Forcing you to slump
From the added weight
If only the original remained
The comfortable demon
But he is gone
Forever replaced
By the new
Unforgiving
Evil

Some Days

Some Days
By: James Dubeau

Some days
You realize
How bad you screwed up
The one little decision
That changes your life
Turning top to bottom
Good to bad
Destroying all
All that you want to do
Is curl up in a ball
And scream
Letting the tears well up
Trying best to sooth the pain
Some days
Are just to hard
The few solutions
Are few and far between
Self medication
Or maybe something
A little more
Drastic
If only you could go back in time
Alter the course of history
Change that one single event
Make it never happen
Keep that mistake from appearing
If only it were that simple
Then there wouldn’t be
Some days

Singing For Our Lives

“Where are we off to now,” Mike slurred as he stumbled onto the sidewalk from the bar’s doorway.

“Man, that’s up to you,” Frank replied as he followed his friend into the night air. After thinking for a bit he added, “It’s your birthday after all.”

The pair walked half a block in silence, the gears in their heads slowly turning. “How about I.S. Surley’s?” Mike asked.

“Eh, their pool table has a lean to it,” Frank retorted then added, “how about O’Leary’s?”

“Drank to much whiskey last night. Red Satin?”

“Last time we were there I was hit on by a dude. Donald’s?”

“They don’t serve food. Red Roundabout?”

It’s shitty band for ten bucks night. Magma Mark’s?”

The conversation continued in this fashion for a block and a half before, in a flash of genius, Mike stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened as his lips stumbled while trying to form the words that his brain was trying to generate. “Me… You… Now… Karaoke!” Frank agreed and the pair rushed the two blocks to the Karaoke Klub.

That is how the pair arrived at the karaoke bar, on the stage with a microphone in their hands. A wild birthday night that left them singing for their lives.