Feb 17
poem 1 comment

Honey, The Kids Are Robots

I am not a robot.
You would believe the opposite,
but I devour the humanity you leave behind.
The world outside of our cages is cruel
and condescending.
Mom and Dad don't know how to tell their kids
that we won't live forever,
so they make us feel as though we are invincible
even though our fragile minds are defeated with repetition
again and again
and again...and again...
Ah, tell me about it.
They tell us that one day,
we’ll become just as great,
but we don’t want to become great,
we just want to become something.
Many want to become anything other than Mom and Dad
and that’s the sad truth.
They’re supposed to set a prime example,
But their artificial minds have been permanently wired.
There’s no change in circuit.
It’s just the same old dialogue.
Our brains are being ground by the media
and the program is forced down our throats.
We are given half-truths
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Posted: 02.17.19
Feb 08
poem 0 comments

Hiding From Fire

A fear swept over the land
when the shadow crossed the fields
and soared toward the East.
There was a monster in the sky
and we were powerless.
We quaked in our boots and hid
beneath the sheets,
beneath the table,
beneath the rug,
bundles of children in our arms,
but we couldn't hide from the fire.
Perhaps hiding was what brought death
just a little closer than before.
 
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Posted: 02.08.19
Feb 08
poem 0 comments

The Person Who Waits

The sun is low on the horizon
and I'm standing at a crossroad.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bars come down and I wait.
You're on the other side.
Hooooot! Hooooot!
The train spews smoke and we wait.
I try to look at you.
Chuggah-chuggah-chuggah-chuggah!
It's too fast and you disappear.
I look back down.
Hiiiiiiiissssssssss!
The station's nearby and it slows.
It feels like forever.
Sssccreeeeeecccchhhh!
It slows a little more as it passes.
The bar lifts.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
The lights turn off and you're there.
I step onto the tracks.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bars come down around me.
Another train whistles close.
Hooooot! Hooooot!
I stop and watch it approach.
You make no move.
Screeeeeeeeeech!
It slows just a little, but it's quick.
I'm pinned beneath it.
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Posted: 02.08.19
Feb 08
poem 1 comment

Everything Is Better

Everything is better when you're here,
Our faces close enough,
 To feel each other's breath,
To sense a warmth unheard of,
Unspoken by everyone else.
Nothing is sweeter,
Than the touch of your hand,
Against the sewing of my limbs.
You pull it apart,
And I am in pieces,
But you love every part of me,
So you kiss my lips,
And hold my hand.
Everything is better now,
That you're here.
So much better.
Sweeter than sugar,
Drowning sadness in starlight.
 
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Posted: 02.08.19
Feb 07
poem 0 comments

Hive of Ice

Every bell,
there's a bustling of shoulders
touching and brushing one another
as legs move promptly
in autopilot.
There's a choir of low voices
and louder ones crying above them
that hums around you-
the swarm.
You get that feeling that maybe
you should be active in its hive,
but it's also an ambience
that dies.
You can't remember how,
so you try to remain invisible,
but this cloak you wear,
is not.
It's colder around these drones
that carry on in their miserable lives,
but where there is honey
is abnormality.
We are intricate hives of ice,
pieces of chipped and delicate art,
but if you melt a little
like the feeling you get
when a drop of honey hits your tongue,
you shine.
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Posted: 02.07.19
Feb 06
fiction 0 comments challenge: Alert

They're Here

Pluto was sitting next to me on the couch with her head on her paws.
She seemed to be sleeping soundly despite the light from the lamp.
It was one in the morning and I was finishing a paper for my writing class.
The light from my laptop was harsh on my eyes and I was sure that I was going to have bags under them in the morning, but I was nearly finished and decided to power through.
I had the TV on so I could have a bit of background noise.
Without it, the room would be quiet aside from the ticking of the clock,
begging me to slip into bed soon.
I had the news on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it.
There was really nothing to watch at this time of night,
but sometimes I would find a golden treasure of movies running on various channels.
There was nothing on tonight though, so it was going to have to be the news.
I never worked without background noise. It blocked my concentration with thoughts of the silence.
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Posted: 02.06.19
Feb 06
fiction 1 comment challenge: Alert

They're Here

Pluto was sitting next to me on the couch with her head on her paws.
She seemed to be sleeping soundly despite the light from the lamp.
It was one in the morning and I was finishing a paper for my writing class.
The light from my laptop was harsh on my eyes and I was sure that I was going to have bags under them in the morning, but I was nearly finished and decided to power through.
I had the TV on so I could have a bit of background noise.
Without it, the room would be quiet aside from the ticking of the clock,
begging me to slip into bed soon.
I had the news on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it.
There was really nothing to watch at this time of night,
but sometimes I would find a golden treasure of movies running on various channels.
There was nothing on tonight though, so it was going to have to be the news.
I never worked without background noise. It blocked my concentration with thoughts of the silence.
Read More
Posted: 02.06.19
Feb 06
fiction 0 comments challenge: Alert

They're Here

Pluto was sitting next to me on the couch with her head on her paws.
She seemed to be sleeping soundly despite the light from the lamp.
It was one in the morning and I was finishing a paper for my writing class.
The light from my laptop was harsh on my eyes and I was sure that I was going to have bags under them in the morning, but I was nearly finished and decided to power through.
I had the TV on so I could have a bit of background noise.
Without it, the room would be quiet aside from the ticking of the clock,
begging me to slip into bed soon.
I had the news on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it.
There was really nothing to watch at this time of night,
but sometimes I would find a golden treasure of movies running on various channels.
There was nothing on tonight though, so it was going to have to be the news.
I never worked without background noise. It blocked my concentration with thoughts of the silence.
Read More
Posted: 02.06.19
Feb 06
fiction 0 comments challenge: Alert

They're Here

Pluto was sitting next to me on the couch with her head on her paws.
She seemed to be sleeping soundly despite the light from the lamp.
It was one in the morning and I was finishing a paper for my writing class.
The light from my laptop was harsh on my eyes and I was sure that I was going to have bags under them in the morning, but I was nearly finished and decided to power through.
I had the TV on so I could have a bit of background noise.
Without it, the room would be quiet aside from the ticking of the clock,
begging me to slip into bed soon.
I had the news on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it.
There was really nothing to watch at this time of night,
but sometimes I would find a golden treasure of movies running on various channels.
There was nothing on tonight though, so it was going to have to be the news.
I never worked without background noise. It blocked my concentration with thoughts of the silence.
Read More
Posted: 02.06.19
Feb 06
fiction 1 comment challenge: Alert

They're Here

Pluto was sitting next to me on the couch with her head on her paws.
She seemed to be sleeping soundly despite the light from the lamp.
It was one in the morning and I was finishing a paper for my writing class.
The light from my laptop was harsh on my eyes and I was sure that I was going to have bags under them in the morning, but I was nearly finished and decided to power through.
I had the TV on so I could have a bit of background noise.
Without it, the room would be quiet aside from the ticking of the clock,
begging me to slip into bed soon.
I had the news on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it.
There was really nothing to watch at this time of night,
but sometimes I would find a golden treasure of movies running on various channels.
There was nothing on tonight though, so it was going to have to be the news.
I never worked without background noise. It blocked my concentration with thoughts of the silence.
Read More
Posted: 02.06.19
Jan 23
poem 1 comment

Sour Secrets

She suckles on her lower lip
as her eyes weep in silence.
Her chest sinks a little
beneath her floral dress,
barely breathing the same
and crushing her tiny heart.
Her spine is an arrow
pointing toward the heavens,
but her skull is a sign
reading 'STOP' again
and again, shouting it aloud.
Her limbs are sheddings
of her lost body left soulless. 
Her heart is the soul of the body
weeping in its cage of flesh,
but she sours the tip of her tongue
and licks the syrup of honesty.
"I admit the deed, I do."
Her chest rises again to breathe,
but a flutter breaks the easiness,
uneasy and weeping again.
With her hand upon her breast,
she soothes it once more
only to breathe the sour words
of secrets never to be told.

 
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Posted: 01.23.19
Jan 15
poem 0 comments

The Great Dam

There's a creek behind my house
just before a bike path
that cackles in the summer
and sleeps in the winter.
That's where I wanted to skip
and examine animal prints
and collect a pile of sticks
to build the Great Dam.
I knelt into the bank
and muddied my little hands,
digging into the soil
for the rocks to hold it up.
It wasn't enough, so I turned
and reached for a stick.
It felt heavier then than now,
its bark mostly gone,
almost naked to the root,
but it was just enough
to hold the Great Dam.
I spent the afternoon building
and planning in the grass
until the sun began to doze
and my stomach gurgled.
I returned a week later to resume
and it somehow survived.
I began jumping over it in glee.
My foot knocked a stick over,
but I cautiously moved it back.
It was a brittle thing of beauty
and I felt victorious.

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Posted: 01.15.19
Jan 07
poem 2 comments

A Corpse In A Dead Wood

I found a corpse in a dead wood
laying on his side.
His eyes were open, but white
and still as dust.
His skin was rough like sandpaper,
his nails had rotten,
and his white lips veiled unmarked
and bloody graves.
I do not know what left him there.
His lips weren't blue,
his legs and arms and head were there,
his skull was uncracked,
his wrists were bare like skinned branches,
his skeleton was unbroken.
I have not yet seen anything as beautiful
as the shedding of snakes.
The venom in their teeth still remain
as I dream of him
even in the busy midst of my wake,
his mouth of blood
and leaning, unkept, and unmarked graves,
bite my skull, break it,
and poison my mind again and again.
I am a flesh spindle
waiting to be unwound by the universe,
but I am strung
by the corpse I found in a dead wood.
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Posted: 01.07.19
Jan 03
poem 1 comment

Chocolate Gold Eucharist

Some people remember their first communion,
some found it immemorable.
White dresses are the appropriate attire.
Pearls and white lace are lovely.
I remember the purity and beauty of it all.
I remember the taste of the Eucharist.
I remember the calming trombone in the priest's voice.
I remember the candlelight and choir.
The statues of Mother Mary and Jesus were unsmiling,
but their color seemed smooth and soft.
I was not Catholic or even Christian at all.
I held no religious belief whatsoever, but I read my verses.
It was all for my mother and grandmother.
I wanted to give them what they wanted, but who was I?
I saw the girl in the choir with me
with the bobbed chocolate hair and gold in her eyes
and no longer wanted to praise
the one person who would keep her heart from me.
It wasn't wrong and it felt just right.
Heaven on earth isn't at all a myth from our ancestors,
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Posted: 01.03.19
Jan 02
poem 1 comment

Waiting For The Birds To Come

I know the birds will come.
I can already hear their chirps
and whistles of a song.
I can feel their wings flutter
and their feathers spread.
I can see their colors dance
on my mind's canvas,
dashing and curving-
watercolor!-
cheerfully skittering about.
I can close my eyes
and see them in my mind.
My canvas of heavy paint
streaked with black
is a sleepy yet eager raven
giddy to take flight.
 
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Posted: 01.02.19