A1 A2 A3
What’s next?
I am not in the business of placing bets
But C5 has been selling so fast, be hasty
And F3 is looking ever so tasty
And for the customer looking for more
I head D2 has cookies galore
But if it were me choosing, I have a hunch,
If I had a penchant for a tasty munch,
I would look past the chips and treats,
For I have no interest in sugary sweets,
I would go right past the old vendor itself
And grab a fresh apple from my own shelf
The world will be on pause.
The darkness blankets your sweet eyes,
Eyes that now see the nonsense of static and color.
Colors dancing across the screen of your mind, eyes closing.
Closing time is coming soon,
And soon the base of your brain will get heavy,
Heavier than the curtains with eyelashes for tassels.
You are in limbo.
The junction between on and off.
The last moment before you drift into dream.
The last moment before the world is on pause.
My hungry cat Mowgli
Who proceeds so slowly
On the crunchy dead leaves
Hoping for a slight breeze
So he can spring and pounce
With that amusing bounce
On his prized catch
He’s yet to match
Every season, I would try to sing, but
Out of tune,
Out of rhythm,
Out of breath.
I never wanted to learn-
What’s the use?
Out of pitch,
Out of harmony,
Out of tempo.
Day by day,
I would play out onto the open field, where my next meal lay
Innocent like a pig,
Ravaged by a group of humans.
Month by month,
The leaves would fall,
Just like the feathers of my youth.
Year by year,
While the others were learning:
Articulation,
Dynamics,
Melody,
I wouldn’t care.
Spring,
Summer,
Fall,
Winter.
Five years have passed,
All my friends have families-
Around spring,
I see them build their homes,
For their many children-
Why don’t I have a mate?
15
When I was 12, I thought 15 was the perfect age
But is it?
Most are sophomores or freshmen
Studying and homework, new relationships,first jobs
Learning to drive and pineapple cups
These are the times people look back on
Adults reassure me 15 is perfect
15 is perfect
until i’m 16…
During the peak
Of summer,
The blazing sun
Blesses the world with
Its welcoming rays.
A peaceful afternoon,
Wasting the hours away,
When all of a sudden,
A once serene day
Turns sour in an instant
A wild whirring noise
Proclaims its presence
To all who can hear
Once the sound
Of the dreaded machine
Enters the ears of an
Unfortunate fellow,
There is no question
That for the rest of the day,
They will hear nothing but
This very sound.
The monotone buzz
Erasing a layer of this
Fragile green carpet,
Its wild blades whirring
Stirring up a vortex of grass
Going pass after pass
Like a blender
That takes all ingredients
From their sources,
It slices and churns
This once peaceful meadow
All the while packing it
Into a large bag,
Is nature’s carpet
Really so dangerous
That we have to ruin
day after once-peaceful day
In this very way?
I was walking at the beach,
Hopeless, lost, when I saw an old friend.
He came up to me and said,
“What’s the matter, why are you so sad?”
I explained to him,
That life wasn’t working out the way I had expected.
“Wait,” he said. “Wait one more day
But this time, don’t think about what has been bad
Think about how good life will be after that.
Just be hopeful and you will see
What life has to offer to you.”
I listened to him,
Dreamed of the day that I would retire,
Come to this beach and lie on the sand,
Listening to the calm waves instead of my misery.
That day, I began to feel better,
Hope was the key to a peaceful day.
By dreaming, I was getting one step closer
To that day which I would be happy
Let them be as candy,
Always sweet and appealing,
but unhealthy.
I’d rather be a celery,
Green and powerful like the hulk.
To have fed millions of people around the world,
To be full of good nutrients,
To have kept so many people healthy and active.
I’d rather be disliked, and if
then avoided by everyone ,
than to be an unhealthy piece of candy,
Which is mass produced
by humans and not by nature.
I’d rather smell of the earth and soil
Than of food coloring and sugary crap.
If I could know I kept people healthy,
I’d rather be a celery.
Hope is irrelevant, a dashed streak of scarlet
That crisscrosses the souls of scapegoats.
Just like the peace before the storm,
It lingers around its victims;
An anesthetic before the inevitable.
Like a shepherd struggling to control his flock,
Iscariot sends it away with a kiss.
Swept away like dust under the scrutiny of the legionnaires
And a blatant travesty in the name of love
That wipes their slate clean for God’s eyes to see.
It is of the Fountain,
Reborn within every human.
It is Janus, immortal only in the eyes of creatures
For it is transcended by nothing but darkness,
Resigned to drifting through the void of space.
I dislike Douches and Dumbasses
Math, Spanish, and Science classes
I hate Hats and Horses
Homework, Textbooks, and failing my Courses
I’m not fond of Frantics and Fakes
Fat Cats, Head-, and Stomach-Aches
Don’t like Losers and Liars
Rain, Pickles, and singing in Choirs
I criticize Cancer and Cottage Cheese
Pigeons, Planes, and Alzheimer’s Disease
I despise Dunkins and Drama
Writing, Citing, and Striped Pyjamas
Why these things disgust me?
I don’t know; it seems outrageous, I see
Maybe it’s me that has a problem.