James D. Casey IV is the author of six full-length collections of poetry, and Founder/Editor-in-Chief of Cajun Mutt Press. His work has also been extensively published by small press venues and literary magazines including Outlaw Poetry Network, Mad Swirl, Zombie Logic Review, Oddball Magazine, Beatnik Cowboy, Medusa's Kitchen, Triadæ Magazine, Clockwise Cat, and several others internationally. James is a southern poet with roots in Louisiana & Mississippi, currently residing in Illinois with his Beautiful Muse, their retarded dog, and two black cats.
Links to his books and other projects can be found here :
Drunk on Metaphors
In a Band in the Rain in my Head
floating through the
Hall of Mystics
living in a dream
within a dream
slipping between realities
from planet to planet
star to star
dancing the dance of
a thousand sorrows
and the joy of
never living in one
reality
for too long
so I don't get bored
running from the shadows
on cold nights under
chrome and glass
using regions of the
brain seldom used
feeling like a bad connection
to a whisper in the dark
here there is something
stronger than a hallucination
imagining I’m a changeling
imagining I’m a cyborg
imagining I’m a devil
imagining I’m a god
imagining I’m a poet
imagining I’m a postcard
imagining I’m a candle
imagining I’m crazy
keeping it all inside
loving every minute of it
in a band
in the rain
in my head
playing strange instruments
no one’s ever seen
let alone heard
it gets weird sometimes
but I love weird
once I caught myself dancing
to This Must be the Place
by David Byrne
on repeat
wearing a big strap-on dildo
carrying a butcher knife
slashing and fucking the air
to the beat
when things get crazy
all you can do is go with the flow
jump over the edge
the less we say about it
the better
imagine Opening a window
imagine opening a door
imagine opening time
and stepping inside
when you can’t tell
one god from another
no skin color
no creed
no war
time isn’t holding us
time isn’t after us
just pale soulful light beings
from different planets
in this crazy magick ceremony
called life
in so many different dimensions
same as it ever was
Two by Two by Two
Blown mind slaves
upon the midnight hour,
in static
gone mad.
Lost in medicine chants.
Worshiping a liquid moon.
Here,
on lunar dunes,
no ordinary world.
A rotting deity
plays maracas
underneath a crystal
sombrero.
Dreaming
about the children of
cat people
with chatoyant eyes,
furtive
yet alluring.
Calling out lissome beings,
otherworldly,
from in-between the mortar
of an evocatively bricked
labyrinth.
All standing
in a crooked line,
two by two
by two,
outside a wrought iron gate
in the land of Nod.
The entrance
to the final realm.
Here between reality and
the devil's playground.
Most lack the wherewithal
made of fool's gold
to pay the cover fee, but
not this fool, I just so happen
to be a card-carrying member.
Tripped the Light Fantastic
A cosmic rendezvous
At the Devil's Thumb
A seedy bar & grill
On the south side of the Milky Way
With alien gangsters from X Nibiru
They demanded to speak with the manager
Because their meat was undercooked
Mine was just fine
But then
Of course
I was high on space junk
The pink is better than the white
Good shit I tell ya
The manager man
If that's what you'd call it
Arrived at our table
With pug dog eyes
Protruding from a
Thumb-like head
Speaking in clicks & whistles
My friends shot him on the spot
Killed him dead
They all laughed
I laughed along
Even though my blood
Felt like green jello
Fear is a funny thing
They threw a chunk of gold
Onto the table
Tipped the waitress
With some of the pink junk
And we tripped the light fantastic
Riding a shooting star
Down to the next whiskey bar
Gotta love those space gangsters
They keep it interesting for sure
But at that point
I knew
I was in way over my head
This post first appeared on Zombie Logic Review: Poetry For Outsiders And Outl, please read the originial post: here