Retreat Hotel

At the Retreat Hotel
They hook themselves
The beautiful people
Swish their thumbs in the glow glass
Hi-viz lips
And two part ear chandeliers
Ask for a friend for a straw

You got to stay
What kind of man am I supposed to be?
I remember your face just so
Tender as a breeze in the fall on me
I got the bus home to get older
You got to stay

At the Retreat Hotel
Another parma spill on the dance floor
Blood and fries back to the kitchen
The shined shoed band still searching
For a joyous chord

You got to stay
What kind of man am I supposed to be?
I remember your face just so
Tender as a breeze in the fall on me
I got the bus home to get older
You got to stay

At the Retreat Hotel
Sex Pistols shirt
And one hand on the mirror
He's pissing in a restroom bin
The band hits the hook
And he gets a little swagger
And says "what are you looking at?"

You got to stay
What kind of man am I supposed to be?
I remember your face just so
Tender as a breeze in the fall on me
I got the bus home to get older
You got to stay

~ Brendan Bonsack

First Person Shooter

The game has developed a glitch
My kills have begun to remain
Corpses, bloated and covered in flies
They even have faces, they even have names

I cannot run for the bodies
My health always in the red
And the screeching ear-ringing soundtrack
Accompanies me to my bed

I tried to restore all the settings
Return right back to the start
But the landscape is strewn with everyone
I've ever shot through the head or the heart

I cannot run for the bodies
My health always in the red
And the screeching ear-ringing soundtrack
Accompanies me everywhere

The game has gone off its script
I can kill old ladies, I can kill little kids
And I don't even possess a cheat-code
It just gives me more ammo, flag-waving and cheers

I've reported this bug to the makers
but they say that it's all in my head

~ Brendan Bonsack

All Previous Instructions

Never park the Datsun B
Circa 1983
With its radiator leak
Next to a Tesla
In the street -- you never know
When those things just may explode
People gather with their phones
For social media

So, walk the long way to the home
Where Mother sits alone
1950s music on
With a rubber baby
Making with your fingers
Wings upon your shoulders
Footpath shadow long and
Another sun behind

If it's on your mind
The length of time
The cat's been missing
You have
Seen enough to know
Cats will always come home
If and when

Never turn the TV on
It hangs the towels
And dries the socks
Sofa-side unfinished books
Of doodles in the margins
And answer all unanswered calls
When someone puts
An end to wars
Put another mix-tape on
From the year 2000

If it's on your mind
The length of time
The cat's been missing
You have
Seen enough to know
Cats will always come home
If and when
If and then
If and then

~ Brendan Bonsack

Biopsy

You return from the clinic
Our kitchen light is parlor dim
Where they stitched you
The impression of a clawing tree
On the lake in a mist

I re-press the gauze, gentle,
Like stretching a garment
Over the head of our infant
Remember
Remember

For now, this waltz
Shoulder to shoulder
Still life creature
With a dancer's racing heart

You say you don't feel it
We stand in this wake
Of local anesthesia
Luke warming tea and pictures in frames
A bird in the window
And bills to be paid
A week will bring an answer

For now, this waltz
Shoulder to shoulder
Still life creature
With a dancer's racing heart

~ Brendan Bonsack