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Scott M. Gagnon

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Portland, ME, US

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Cleansing

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Little child caught in the crossfire
Warring factions have little pity for age
The only concern is the acquiring of precious land
Life loses all value as the cleansing continues
Blood stains the streets and sidewalks
Entire cities converted to rubble and ruin
The lower class puts their lives on the line
While the aristocracy "negotiates for peace"
Cease fires issued every week
But every day after they are destroyed by shellings
When will this senseless bloodshed cease?
Is there no end to the rising bodycount?
But I suppose we can't expect too much from them.
After all, they are ONLY human.


Plywood

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Liquid blue drops from above.
It enters into a cold metal chamber
Where it is squeezed and gushed through
A revolving silver-like sphere rolling
Along a vast plain of fibrous planks
Matted together. With lines of blue
Traveling across every so often
And over the horizon I see
An encased slice of life
Between scorched sand and
Processed pulp. With a border
of shiny grey around it.
It is a slice that used to be
A part of me. It was cut from
My ever-beating heart and captured
In a limbo I can never access.


Glowing Sharp Steel Projectile

by

Scott M. Gagnon

If I had a hammer
I would hammer a nail into the floor.
I would then paint the head of the nail
a nice shade of flourescent orange
to nicely clash with the brown tile.
Next I would pick up my remote control
and step outside.
I would push the big red button that says "detonate"
and the lovely, flourescent orange nail
would be airborne along with the rest
of my house.
Boredom can kill a fellow you know.


Bounty vs. Sanka

by

Scott M. Gagnon

The puddle of hot brown liquid creeps towards the edge
Moving like a blob of living protoplasm
All of a sudden it runs out of room to move.
The only destination for it is the gray carpeting below.
Just as the first caffeinous bead starts to fall
A sheet of congealed wood fibers falls upon the puddle.
The blob is sucked in by the soft pockets of paper.
Now it lives among the masses of rubbish.
Maybe it should have been recycled?


Gelatin Crematorium

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Green Jello is warm
And it makes me want to scream.
I want to sleep in it
And have wet, green dreams.
So give me green jello
Until I can't take anymore
Maybe I'll give you some
And then kick you out the door.


Boat Akk (dedicated to Kurt Cobain)

by

Scott M. Gagnon

The distorted tone grabs my ears.
Relentlessly attacking them with painful melodies
Surrounding words of aching relevance.
The crafted wonders stump the mind.
How can one mortal construct songs of such magnificence?
Creations that moved millions across the globe
Causing a musical uprising
And unseating the King of Pop.
Was he the saviour of all music?
No, he was simply the restorer of a long tradition.


Liquid Dust

by

Scott M. Gagnon

I stick this gun to my head.
Rubbing my thumb up and down the trigger.
I grasp the handle, hard in my hand.
It is cold and unforgiving, it doesn't care.
It is just here to help me...
...comfort me...
...and finally relieve me...
...of a bitter struggle.
A struggle to keep afloat
Among the muck and mire around.
The carnage and chaos,
The spilling of blood,
The freedom of wealthy murderers.
It all makes my stomach turn.
I just want to disappear from here.
...and go where happiness lives.

I want to board a huge rocket
and aim it at the quiet space.
I want to fly to Mars...

...among the stars.
Living with the marians.
My rocket is approaching the surface.
Almost ready to touch down...

BLAAAMMMOOOO!!!

there is no red dust,
no martians to see,
There is red but I cant see it.


Distilled Tea

by

Scott M. Gagnon

I hear the plaintive wail
Behind a barrage of fuzzy overtones.
It cries at me for help
Screaming of cerebral torture
And mental unrest.
I hear the cries for help
As they wrench my soul.
It pains me to hear such painful pleading
From this frail and withered voice.
I want to reach out
And help this person.
Alas it is too late...
And all that remains
Is that plaintive wail
Echoing into the darkness


Disembowelment

by

Scott M. Gagnon

The sun is setting on my life.
All is crashing down on me, heavily.
My head is full and bleeding.
I am rotting inside.
I need to be saved,
Rescued from this evil force
That is ripping me apart
Choking the very life out
Of me.
Please, make it stop.
The suffering...
is too much.
I must lie down...
down...
I go...
down...
Lay with me, comfort me.
I need your warm sking against
My cold and dying skin.
As I take my last breath,
I want to see your radiance.
Then I will fade...
fade...
eyes closing
Life stopping.
Heart stops.
Lungs collapse.
And I sleep... ... ...
never to be wakened again.


Untitled

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Over and over,
Smell the fresh clover.
Run about and scream,
Stop and sit and listen to the babbling stream.
Gaze up and all around,
Feel the soft grass growing up from the ground.

Peace,
Serenity,
Calm,
and tranquility.....they are yours.

Thus is the phenomenon of summer.
The liberty of the lazy day,
Leaving the chaos and crowds behind.
Kick off your shoes and drink the sky.
Let that little child in you come out,
Feel your lips and mouth growing,
Into that bright gleeful grin.
Absorb every minute of this time of freedom,
For lunchtime ends soon.


Words

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Words are ever changing.
They evolve with the spirit.
They ebb with the tides.

Sometimes words come from the dark places.
Back when the soul sails through troubled waters.
When the storms are seemingly never ending.

Eventually, we do find the shore.
We discover the golden land.
We come out of the rain.

Then we weave new words.
Words with a breath of hope and happiness.
Words that will not worry others.

On this bright day I find myself there.
The downtrodden words are but a memory for me.
And a new vocabulary I have found.


Martian Sunrise

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Wake from your sleep
You made it little one
The travel was long and lonely
And now you've arrived.
Now open like the morning flowers
Reveal your precious cargo.
Your tiny passenger is with you too
And now her adventure begins.
You train your big eyes
On the little girl.
So innocent yet magnificent she looks
She's tucked into her fetal position
Until the time comes at hand.
Then she will rise and descend.
Her exploration will begin
On her brand new world.
When she gets down on all sixes
She will turn her gaze to you,
Your exquisite form,
Your beautiful blue petals.

Now, as a young bird
She must voyage away form the nest.
So many are depending on her
To seek out answers ot puzzling questions.
But you will continue to keep a watch
On your little comrade.
As she travels she'll meet new friend,
Barnacle Bill, Flattop, Shark, and even Yogi.
You watch as she brushes up to them
With a long embrace.
As the long days go on
Mysteries will be solved and new ones born.
Your little one will slowly traverse
The ancient cold and dry flood plain.
It's a place water once flowed
Now, aeons later, water is no more.

This is soon a solemn occassion
For your life was designed for high productivity
But, alas, brevity was also a part of that plan.
The distant Sun provides you with vital energy
But soon even the spectacular rays won't help you.
Your vision will fade and you'll lose sight
Of the rusty red and your little friend.
She will turn and look on you
Knowing her time is soon to come.

Your lives are not in vain
Knowledge you will gain.
Knowledge that will be given back
To your distant creator.
What you and she learn will add on
To what the Great Vikings discovered
Maybe it will help those
Back on the place you left on your interstellar voyage.

Now, the sun starts its ritual descent
And your eyelids are becoming heavy.
You must close them and relax
Your work for the day is done.
The little one will stop and rest too.
It has a long day ahead of it tomorrow.
And so do you....so rest....
We will watch out for you.
Goodnight.


Nothing is Everything/I Am Complete

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Grassy linen surrounds
Upon this high hill.
The wispy breath of nature
Glides across my pale face.
Feathered beasts glide overhead.
They almost say hello.
Pastel blue cloaks the sky
Dabbled by cotton balls and threads frayed.

Time proceeds carelessly
And I let it go on.
I have a peaceful place
Deep inside of me.
The planet could die,
End in a brilliant red chaotic flash,
Debris hurtling everywhere,
The ground beneath opening up.
Wouldn't matter to me.
I would pay no mind.
I am in that place within
Where not a thing matters.

So, if you are from the outside
And you need to speak to me
Please leave a message on the door
And I may get back to you...

...don't count on it.


The Voice Inside

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Speak to me
In the dark of night
Through eternal dreams
Hazy yet comforting.
What do words mean?
Random syllables connected
Forming connotations concocted
By the ancients long ago.

Nature speaks to me,
The painful beauty.
Lush green drapes the horizon
Under powder blue brilliance.

I'm touched inside
Fingers stroking the aorta.
Feel the rush of lifeforce
Precious crimson.
The maroon morning
Sailors take no warning
They drift on calm waters
Seeking their finned bounty.
Speak to me
Place your hand in mine
Hold on tight,
As we lift off towards the heavens.
Twinkle, twinkle distant stars
I wonder what we are.
Pawns on a chessboard?
Halley streaks by
Giving a vibrant hello.
He hurtles to the unknown
The ultimate hinterland.

Speak to me
You with the answers
The missing link
In a long chain of discovery
Let me drop the anchor
Nestled between your hills
Lush and thick.
I'm not amused anymore
There's nothing around the corner
I have not yet seen.
Monotony, bloody monotony.

Pick up the pieces
Of this living puzzle.
Throw them out the window.
Let them rain on passersby.

Speak to your spirit animal.
Long has it been neglected.
Rib cage stretches out its skin
Revealing every beat of its heart.
Hunger...
Reminds us of our vitality
Disease...
Gives us some humility.
Speak to me.
The final words
As the light fades,
Speak to me.


Borneo Blast Beat/Jamaican Me Shake

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Marching to a new beat
A slow chaotic rhythm
Subtly complex
An aching ambience

Ambivalent pounding patterns
The hit trip melanchalo
Sickening synchopation
A vague valence of value

I'm no beatnik
I don't want to be a tragic tripper
A martyr of the maelstrom
That we call love

I don't want the pain
I don't want the drama
I don't have the time
I don't have the karma

The brown nectar
Tickling and soothing down the channel
A calming soothing
The mellow mitigation

And so I play
The beat going on
A tribal pep rally?
Perhaps, but maybe a lucid high.

A grey thick haze
The curtains on my stage
To draw them open
Do I have the strength?

Suffering for art?
Or art to ease the suffering?
I think the answer is all too clear
Bring my drug near.

Is there a finale
A conclusion to this piece?
Ah, a question without an answer
The possibilities in infinitim.

A grain of sand
A needle in the hay
The tip of the iceberg
The end of the day

I want my tribal queen
A beauty to be in the circle
Who will glow in the fire
And won't kill my flame.

One I can create for
My rhythmic romantic rhumbas
A succulent sensual samba
Or a blistering beautiful bossa nova.

And this is my quest
The beating beacon within
At the end of that light
I hope to find that jewel of the rough.

And my beat goes on
The journey just begun
A new rhythm to move to
A new rhyme to give me reason.


The Fluidity and Futility of Mortality

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Floating
Through eternity
Chronos himself stops
Waves hello
And I hurtle onward
Into forever


Baton Rouge

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Close my eyes in pain
Feel just one fear
The thought of losing my grip
My weakening stronghold
On my sanity

Like a tower of blocks
Leaning
On the wooden table
Ready to topple over
Collapse
Hurtling downward
Scattering on the hard floor
A jumble of letters
Numbers
Throughts
Mumbled phrases
Wanderings
Meanderings
Conglomerations
and the drastic dispersions
Where am I today?
Upon what plane do I sit?
What perspective?

You touch my heart
With your icy fingers
A chill to the center

Do I have the will?
The strength to keep it out
To keep you out forever?
It doesn't seem likely
An irrational futile fight
I cannot completely abolish it
The abhorrence of your existence
Too palpable the past
Too pertinent the pain
Yet I do not need
To be imprisoned by this

I close my eyes again
Feeling my entity
Molecule by molecule
Every fiber even those frayed
The task is to become aware
To locate the troubling spots
The chinks in the armor

These will be turned inward
No, not buried into a place for festering
But, to absorb them into the spirit
To fortify my resolve
They become badges for my soul
Emblems of the fierce battles
To keep the forces of chaos at bay
A reminder of the struggle
The proof of the reality of my humanity
That which goes beyond this obvious simplicity

Flesh and bone
Sweat and grit
Blood and tears
The basis of your superficiality

But I jump through these walls
Soaring out over the sea
Towards the tuth.
I will endure the turbulence
And continue to grasp firmly
I will not lose
I am forever in motion.


We Interrupt Your Life to Bring You This Midlife Crisis

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Snowy, speckled screen
A glass, curvaceous canvas
Upon which Man's hopes and fantasies
Are painted with a digital brush.

And somewhere out there
In this 21st Century Digital World
Man is grasping onto his remote control paintbrush
And desperately trying to paint himself,
A new life.


Perpetuity of Man's Mediocrity

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Cagey and hornery,
A pacing back and forth
Pressed against the steel bars
A cold white tiled cell
An unforgiving concrete lining
Such is the destiny
Such is the life
Of the imprisoned creatures
The flesh and fur sentinels
Culled from the far and distant lands
For the education
And dumbfounded fascination
Of the ignorant hordes and masses
Who are blindly bankrolling
The further desecration and disillusionment
That have brought them live,
Direct from true habitats
So you can see first hand
What an authentic African Aardwolf would look like
Depressed and insane
Inside a cold hard cage
In the middle of the grasslands of Mother Africa.
The dumbing down and growing ignorance of America continues.


Moon Shower

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Here it comes down
Look above at the sky
See the clouds open up
Pouring out their insides.

Their liquids are warm on this day
The air thick and moist
A nourishing shower for the Earth
It hits the ground around me
And seeps through the soils below

I stretch out my arms
In a crucifix pose
I raise my face to the sky
Clenching my eyes closed
My hands open facing the sky
Ready to absorb its power

The storm is rejuvinating
For the plants and my spirit
As I reconnect to that primal energy
That ever flowing Force that is in all of us
And I am reborn
I am alive!!


_li_he (Hangman)

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Too many cooks
Spoil the brother
Can you lend me a dime
How about a dozen?

You walk the fine line
Don't trip over the daisies
As they are being pushed up
By my long dead corpse.

Amok in Anthropocentricity

by

Scott M. Gagnon

Dripping
The moments of time
Falling from the edge of the universe

Fleeting
No basin to collect them
Lost forever into obscurity

Soaking
In the ocean of emptiness
Floating amongst the temporal corpses

Drowning
In the waters of despondency
The merciless tentacles gripping me

Burning
The flames of anger in my heart
Stoked by the ignorance of so-called authority

Rising
From the ashes of your ruin
Your naive smoldering arrogance

Flying
Into the Sunset of Age
And away from the failings of humanity

Gorge

by

Scott M. Gagnon

You delved into the netherworld of your incomplete masters as they begged you to step back away from the curtain of light as it bathed tomorrow in yesterday even though it forget to unwrap the soap and put it into the dish which you left out in the rain when you were gazing into your only darkside which is understandable since the lightbulbs were all given away to that guy who needs them like he needs a hole in the heart and a slap to the ankle which was mistaken for a salmon so swim upstream and bear what you can because you really have no choice between nothing and everything as half of it is a quarter off so bail me out brother because this freedom is suffocating.