POETRY BY JOSEPH V. DANOSKI

Joseph V. Danoski is a writer of letters and essays on diverse subjects, with strong opinions on many topics. A poet of horror, science fiction, and fantasy; he has been published in journals and webzines both in the US and abroad.

Recent publications include; Black Petals, Sanitarium Magazine, A Year of Sundays 2024, and The Horror Zine. He is a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, and he records original music.

He currently resides in Berlin, New Hampshire.

DIARY OF A TIME TRAVELER

I found the key and door to the fourth dimension;
I’m free from this three-sided cell of detention.
Free to travel and unravel the lines of time;
Rewind the long record of my life of crime.

There’s the machine of a dream waiting in the wings,
To let me escape and take leave the scheme of things.
Inside, I’ll set the coordinates and controls,
And watch as an alternate future unfolds.

We reach beyond the speed of life and light;
See the time-lapse passing of day and night.
Fleeting images flash,
Energy equaling Mass,
As we travel fast-forward
Into the past.

I’ll turn the key and be off to eternity,
Before a world of circumstance gave birth to me.
Finding a time and place before the die was cast,
Before the dominoes began falling fast.

SECOND HAND CAR

Never got far in that second hand car,
In the days when I was chasing my star.
Two door, four on the floor, seat packing six;
With gears grinding
And tape deck winding,
Singing along and just getting some kicks.

I drove around like an overgrown teen,
Drinking and driving became a routine.
Like a rocket leaving the world behind;
Engine thumping
And pistons pumping,
Cutting the night along the dotted line.

I was draining my bank to fill the tank,
Later regretting how much we both drank.
Throwing my empties out by the roadside;
Just killing time
And committing rhyme,
Riding it out until it finally died.

That fateful day when we ran out of luck,
Barely avoiding an on-coming truck.
Over the shoulder, got stuck in a bog;
Getting out I almost stepped on a frog.

The car had started shaking down inside,
On that day I knew I had almost died.
I had a few loose screws and a blown fuse;
Music went from rock to singing the blues.

Tires in the mud, oil dripping like blood,
Hot steam was coming from under the hood.
I stood on the wastelands of muck and slush,
Where the dead river rises with each flush.

Streams and tributaries trickled like veins,
I was only bruised, minor aches and pains.
Sewage was seeping through my soggy brain;
Next thing I knew, walking home in the rain.

SHOCK WAVES IN METROPOLIS

You could sense the growing tension,
Lines of high and low suspension.
The numbers screamed,. “Are we not men?”
As they were pressed beneath the pen.
What was familiar now seemed strange,
Their happy days were about to change.

As the daydream became a nightmare,
The Master sat upon his chair
With the power in his iron hand.
His heart beat quicker,
His light did flicker,
The day the shock waves shook the land.

Kids at play heard the newsman say,
“You’d better stay indoors today.”
It seemed the script had been revised;
“Warning: discretion is advised.”
The TV screens went black and white,
When the big shark took another bite.

As the waters became a blood red,
The island of the living dead
Became a state of emergency.
The tempest growing,
The teapot blowing
Its vile potion into the sea.

The dominoes began to fall,
As it was written on the wall.
Metropolis went dim, then dark;
Tremors felt as far as the park.
Upon that midnight afternoon,
When the sun was hidden by the moon.

As the daydream became a nightmare,
The Master sat within his lair
With the power in his iron hand.
The hearts beat quicker,
The lights did flicker,
The day the shock waves shook the land.