this is oh so blue
                             
A MAGAZINE OF FICTION, POETRY & MORE!
black       
                                            this is black shadow
     ZYGOTE
            IN MY
                COFFEE.COM

ISSUE #11
 
  $O.OO
June 2004
____________
                                       
                                     
                  
                               
    ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM
                        
***BIO*** Oisín Breen: I'm a young Irish writer. I've written two books and am looking for a publisher for them. The eventual aim after much honing of my craft is to create a hallucinogenic push through literature.I've had several poems published and have had favourable reviews and sponsorship of my writing.
© 2004 zygoteinmycoffee Ink.
Home
Submit
All things sinister, all things familiar, the stars on my collar look good in the mirror.
My dreams are only embers.
Mind tangled up staring shadowy fear in the face I sketch my dreams of last night in the cloud.
War for me is the same as my dreams, a hiding place for my own mistakes.

Drinking Jamaican rum I am the cloud staring at fire.
I draft soldiers like lots from the junkyard.
At night I sit by the fireplace read Proust soothed by the calm sound of gunfire.
I draft graveyards like soldiers and fill them with daisies and tears.

Shadows like rabid men leap on me when I stare too long.
I puff clouds of Odysseus.
Insanity my raison détre drives me like a taxi.
My shadow is my curriculum vitae.
I shoot bullets to save the bomb.
I throw soldiers like glue to stick on an invisible wall.

I ride a unicycle in the presidential chair pounding the cerebral drum.
I exhale wooden ships on the water.
I breathe cannon fire!
Night turns only to night and I bang a tin gong.
This is war! Draw our lines soldiers!

I am the cloud tonight.
I’ll stay safe up here.
We are all nameless drawing rules for the game while U wait.

I lilt under the solar kiss of a twisted ivory sun.
It is dawn.
This dream is done.

Dance! Dance Mohammed dance!
Yesterday I threw strings around Jesus and made him dance!
Dance Krishna dance! Dance angels dance!

We are all nameless standing in a sea of red flowers.
I cannot move.
I puff clouds of butterflies sweating in the pale lunar shadow.

Dance! Dance Jehovah dance!
Yesterday I threw strings around Buddha and made him dance!
Dance Moses dance! Dance sinners dance!

I have power! I am all-powerful!
I sent a memo to the heads of state, throw bombs out the windows!
On a blood red street somewhere all over the world I bought an infinity of graveyards.

I throw strings around my self and tie my Purple Heart and silver stripe around my neck.
I asphyxiate on my own undoing.
I meditate on my own confusion.
Derided by the butterfly I fight the pacifist.
Shooting bullets to save the bomb on a blood red canvas the sun dances like a saviour.
Looking in the mirror and on the naked street I tune myself like a guitar and get ready for another protest song.
All things sinister
by Oisín Breen