Helicopter From Hell

Helicopter from Hell


I am riding on a helicopter
From hell
That is supposed to take me
To some place
Where I can in vain find some
Solace and peace
For just one moment, I pray to some God that not likely exists-
They say it is supposed to storm today
But the skies are lying
Just as the whole world
Tells me its daily untruths-
Hell is where I am now living and
Hell is where I shall find myself
After death-
Hell is my past and
Here in the present
I am damned and
Feel as if I have been betrayed-
An elderly woman,
Dressed in a chartreuse and brown-colored plaid frock
Torn at the hem and she is
Wearing worn oxfords, made of
Yellowed leather,
One untied-
Eyes in the back of her head spinning and
Glaring at me as she
Chatters, laughs at and prattles about me through the static on her
Wretched cell phone-
On this bus
Everyone is laughing at me disdainfully,
Ogling me through their glassy eyes-
The driver slows down every time
We come close to a green light turning yellow, then red-
Wanting to make me late
To that place
That place where I hopelessly seek solace and some
Peace of mind-
I would shoot him with a pistol
Or stab him with a knife-
If I owned either, which in sad reality I do not
If this bus were in truth a helicopter
It would fly high up in the sky but never would reach heaven-
Strangers with their beady eyes
In back of their heads-
Intently gazing into mine stealing my thoughts away-
They are nothing but ants to me whom I would stamp on
If I only could I would with joy and utmost glee.
My hands are shaking and my eyes are
Darting madly about-
“Everyone knows
That
Woman
Is
Psychotic –“
I hear them all say-
About me?
And
I don’t even care, because
I hate people and I have just fallen in love with myself and
That can only mean that
I must be from some other planet and
On this planet where I was conceived-
No heaven or hell exists, so
I ride this helicopter
Back to my home beyond the sky-
Beyond peace of mind,
Heaven, hell, or this planet earth, and where
The skies never lie and
I am lost in my own storm and I only wish that
That old crone would tie her shoe
And turn off her cell phone
So I can hear the voices
Always talking to me inside my mind-
As my eyes dart about and my hands shake-
As this world spins out of control and thunder claps
My phantom cell phone rings,
To tell me that
The sky has lied…one more time…
I am a lost soul,
Stranded and
Miles from home…
Destitute, impoverished, and
So in love
With
Myself…

Claudia Krizay