Demon Dance

Sounds of an accordion

Playing in a dream

Pressing out cacophony

Squeezing out a scream


If not for the accordion

The demon could not dance

He wouldn’t have a place to go

To play his games of chance


Darkly does the demon dance

Twirling in its cage

Flashing opalescent teeth

Grinding out its rage


And eyes that clash

With ancient storm

Seethe with hate

And light deform

Burn with passion’s

Baser call


Disemboweling Dreams


It’s been a while since I posted anything but short fiction here. I have my reasons. Not the least of which is a grueling treatment schedule that has left me weak, tired and maybe a little melancholy. To be completely honest, I don’t trust myself to write about my struggle, right now. Too easy to pule and whine, and who needs that?

Far better to go with fiction for a while, I say. So, I was digging around in my archives over the weekend, in search of more fiction to post, and I stumbled upon a folder filled with poetry I wrote some 30-odd years ago. I say 30-odd, because it covers a time between the mid-80s through the late 90s. I call this my doggerel period.

Anyway, I was going through my old doggerel and I stumbled upon the above, which was written in 1989 – 30 years ago this November. I have no idea what my mind-set was at the time I wrote it. I was still in my twenties, how bad could life have been? And yet, when I re-read it after 30 years, I was taken by how precisely it sums up my inner feelings, right here, right now.

Was I sending myself a message? I doubt it. I just think certain artifacts mean different things at different times, depending on what’s going on around us. I’m sure I had a reason for writing it then, but that reason is completely lost to me. Instead, it means something altogether different now. I’m not sure whether the demon in question is the gut goblin, or me. I’m not sure it matters at this point in the proceedings.

Because I don’t care what they tell you, cancer sucks, but cancer treatments suck more.

Another Shard next week. You’re welcome.


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