PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Michael's legs were burning as he sprinted down the Ave, his breathing was quite ragged cause the boy was winded bad,
his thought process went back and forth from slow to down on fast, it went that way cause Michael had them hound dogs on his ass.

He couldn't for the life of him remember day or year, or where these dogs had ventured from or how did they appear,

all Michael knew for sure was that he had to get away, his choices were just two that's either run or get displayed,

like mannequins in windows; picture Bloomingdales or Sears, but this was not a shopping spree; the hounds of Hell were here,

to wreck shit up like people who in error hit the gas, and drive into a storefront leaving smoke and bits of glass.

Ol Mike had none of this inside his mind though as he ran, he thought he'd try and ditch these pups somehow; some kind of plan,
was better than no course of action plotted to the full, so Michael ran and he just wasn't stoppin for the bull.

The nighttime sky was darker than the skin of Wesley Snipes, and though his lungs were tired he just couldn't rest tonight,
because those hellish hounds were steady closing on him fast, and as he breathed the breath that was supposed to be his last.....

A pair of hands came out the dark and pulled him off his feet, then threw him 'cross a shoulder that was running off; retreat,
this mountain of a person moved as fast and swift as wind, behind a slamming metal door; he thought "Who is this friend?

that saved me from a hurtin too as well as certain doom?" His body hit the pavement with a loud and cursing boom,
he heard the footsteps walk away with more to take their place, which stopped off somewhere near him and he knew to face the fate,

that like a card was dealt to him; a future bound in spades, "There's just no hope" Mike figured so upon that ground he lay,
"Oh Michael" said a voice he knew from some familiar place, a candle then illuminated a familiar face....

his mother's; "Holy shit!" Mike yelled, his fears again displayed, she looked quite good for having spent some years up in a grave,
his father's 6'6" stature came and took a knee beside, his mother with a smile that hadn't altered since he died.

That must've been who snatched him off his feet and brought him here, his father's strength was something like a myth throughout the years,
Mike calmed his nerves to listen as he willed himself to stay, "We both know that you went and tried to kill yourself today,"

his mother said with sadness lightly draped across her voice, "I had to," Mike replied. "I didn't have no other choice,
I lost my job and just don't have the cash to pay the bills, the rent is due; I have no place to crash or stay until,

I get back on my feet; I hear these tones inside my head, that say it's harder being homeless than just lying dead,
the last thing I remember is ingesting 50 pills, and then those dogs were chasing me, the rest is pretty nill."

Mike's father shook his head and said "Those dogs are born again, inside the deepest realms of Hell and are your mortal sin,
fir tryna kill yourself; don't let 'em catch you it'll be, your flesh within their teeth progressing 6 eternities;

if you get caught it's over son but here's another way, if you escape this chase then you can live another day,
with blessings in your favoring to rectify your sin, we now must turn our backs on you; I guess, goodbye again."

The metal door flew open and a wind gust blowed him out, he looked and saw those dogs were coming; foaming out the mouth,
with a renewed conviction that his parents had to give, to him Mike started running cause you see he had to live.

He ran this time with purpose sprinting hard like Jerry Rice, the plan he'd thought of this time wouldn't be so very nice,
he stopped and as the dogs ran forth he braced to hold his ground, then looked and saw a gleaming metal pole upon the ground.

Mike thought how as a kid he would get bullied on the block, he then remembered how he'd come to make those bullies stop,
with weapon firm in hand Mike chose to man up on this night, there would be no more running; Michael chose to stand and fight.

The 3 dogs stopped 12 feet from him while pon'dring what the F, they'd never witnessed this before and wondered what was best,
their blazing pupils screamed ATTACK and 12 feet shrunk to 8, the first dog leapt with jaws wide open poised to crush his face,

but Michael saw it coming as the first dog ran and jumped, he swung the pole from by his hip while also stabbing up,
the motion was so fluid as the hellhound fell and groaned, from Michael and his actions as the pole impaled his dome.

The second dog was right behind the first as Mike withdrew, the pole and swung again connecting; forcing it right through,
the second doggie's right eye; stars shined brightest in night's sky, to shed light on Mike's fight for life while from a high incline,

his parents watched on fascinated by their son's resolve, and hoping he would earn a victory in some regard,
if not then they both knew his door to life would close as well, for suicide's the surest way your soul would roast in Hell.

The last dog was the biggest and the meanest one of all, but this did not deter Ol Mike to who was gonna fall,
with pole in hand he swung and missed; his right wrist full exposed, the dog bit down with force to leave Mike's arm all full of holes.

The stinging pain was followed by a numbness of the hand, and for a reason dear ol Mike would never understand,
the final dog retreated running back into the night, the fight was over forcing Michael back into the light.

He came to in the I.C.U. his body full of tubes, and understood the graveyard and the morgue were full of fools,
who took their life successfully and some were bound to fail, but Mike was glad he won his battle with the hounds of hell.

©2014
 The Cunning Linguist