Simple Synopsis

Let's Celebrate Earth Day

I think if I could chose to be a creature, I'd go with a penguin.

Specifically the dude in the

middle.

Play a Love Game

We play the game: too hot too cold

If you were in real estate, you’d have me sold

This ON again OFF again feelin is the only steady thing I know

It’s the UP and DOWN that hinders me to grow

But I don’t want to get off this ride

I’m the only one who I want to run from and hide

My demons got me locked down

Imprisoning me inside this merry go round

Tryin to break free from the hold

Tryin to find a middle between hot and cold

It’s not you, it’s me I say

Sound like a broken record to this day

So when will I stop, stop, stop

I’m still lookin at my clock: tick tock

cr8 tiv recs

Creative Recs

  I love Recs

Take out my specs

Get a better sight

So cute and bright

Strap em on my feet

Lookin fresh n sweet

I rock em day

I rock em night

Any way

they just look tight!

Uninspired

Sick of writing. Sick of lying. Tired of trying. Please stop crying. Deep inside. I hide my pride. Brain is fried. Life has died. Void still steep. Tears I weep. Richness grows cheap. Pain scars deep.

Sometimes Say Never. 7 Aint Always Lucky.

Today I was informed by a seven year old that he would be taking a picture of my buttox region. Now, in terms of appropriateness, that comment proves to be anything but endearing. Mainly because I would have liked being asked politely if I would like a photo of my glutes, rather than instructed abrasively of my butt fate. Gosh, seven year olds these days. And let's be honest here: if you're seven, take a picture of my shin, take a picture of my left elbow, perhaps even my pectorals, but please at all cost, avoid the zoom button when shooting your lens at my ass. Contrary to another seven year old Bieb's mentality, I regretfully must say "NEVER" in regards to my cheeks enduring camera capture merely for a child's photography experiment.  

LO [I AM] VE

I always think I'm in love until I fall out

The next one is always better than the last doubt

So when does it end?

Will my straight puzzle bend?

Feel like I'm winding down a road with no cross

I look left and right and feel lost

I see no signs

It just winds and winds and winds

Accelerate when it feels wrong

Stop when it feels right

Where do I go to belong?

I look up and think of flight

My feet hold me down

My chin falls toward ground

My body melts with lethargy

Heart throbs, compressed with melancholy

It's all in my head

I make love dead

I see love red

It bleeds as I tread

Drowning in my lack of secure

Tainting the love that could be pure

No breath to escape the fear

I kill love to find the cure

Alive within my soul

My mind my sole

Exists alone in light

I'm lifted into right

Hockin Loogies

“You’ve gotta dig deep! See watch me, Beth.” My brother demonstrated the art of loogie hocking as he inhaled his mucus, creating some sort of sickening noise that resonated from his nose.  After accumulating the correct amount of slimy material, he aimed his mouth at an invisible target in the grass and forcefully enough, his salivic matter spewed out of his throat with precision and landed in a splattering puddle in the projected area of choice.

Victory.

My loogies never amounted to much. Many attempts consisted of a clear, unsubstantial build up of spit, that would dribble slowly down my chin due to my loogie launching and forming inability. Never quite mastering the skill, I gave up early on and resorted to enthused bystander mode as my brother reveled in his art.

Earth and Heat Meet

2020

    “Mommy I’m soooo hot!”

I just imagine my daughter complaining

After just 20 minutes of play time outside

Her cheeks flushed, her energy waning

 

Temperature today:

101 degrees Fahrenheit and its only May!

 

What do I tell my precious baby doll who’s organs sizzle in this heat?

When her skin’s beat red by the sun’s rays, UVA UVB and body meet

 

What do I tell my porcelain skinned girl?

When she asks me if it was this hot when I was little in this world?

 

What do I tell her

When she asks me, “Mommy what is cancer?”

 

Test results back:

I lay in bed weak and wet with tears, broken like an egg that cracked

 

 

“But I covered her from head to toe in that white stuff we call block!!”

I yell through sobs with disbelief in pure and utter shock

 

I never could have thought playtime could be so harsh

Why my young sweet daughter?

I turn this question over and over in my head

As the air outside waits tauntingly getting hotter and hotter

Watching waiting willing-I wake up today

Worried wondering why-the sky looks so grey

Could it be more angry clouds? Condensed and cruel?

Carrying with them rain, the frenetic world’s fuel?

Ignorant Illusion I have!-That haze is not a cloud

Illuminated Intoxicated Inquiring-my realization is loud

If not a cloud than what is it? That hovering thing above?

Swirling mass of grayness that squeezes the sky, tightly like a glove?

Dark Dangerous Dread-is the answer that I have found

Damaging Dirty Daunting-they are gases created from the ground!

Leaking from cars, bikes, houses, surrounding our planet to suffocate.

We feed ourselves pollution, serving it on a daily plate.

Lingering Lurking Lasting-as an infinite circle in the sky

Literally Looping Life-enveloping humanity like a shoe tie

Yum how appetizing! Is it the main course?

This circular cluster of pollution which carries no remorse?

Everlasting Eerie Eternal-this cycle we created chugs along

Ending Everyone’s Ease-from Zimbabwe to Hong Kong

I’m not the only one who wakes up today

With the realization that our blue sky looks so grey

Watching Waiting Willing-we all open our eyes

Worried Wondering Why-as we hop into our rides-there’s no blue left in our skies

You’re Not Dreaming This Should Come As No Surprise!

 

 

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Careless fingers clench the can filled with liquid to the top

After drinking down the tasty brown you stutter then you stop

Look left look right no garbage can in sight

Then you look down to the ground, no ones watching, right?

The drink you drank slips slowly out your hand

Pretending you don’t feel its weight as gravity pulls it to the land

* * *

Pit pit pat the sounds of life emerge

Crackle and a crack then out pops a bird

 

Helpless and wobbling with tilted equilibrium

She looks for her mother but bumps into aluminum

 

Her first sensation of life is not her mother’s breast

Glowing with inner warmth a body that’s feather dressed

 

Dead cold and flat instead the tot feels steal

Lifeless and artificial the manmade and bird congeal

 

She snuggles up to the tin can who like the Tin Man has no heart

No constant tone no beating drone just a coke purchased from Wal-Mart

Destined Blackness

Like a lost puppy, Stephen hobbled through the blackened damp night, the only sense of life being the drips of rain water streaking down his prickly cactus of a face and exploding in a splash near his tattered shoes. His grey eyes seemed stuck to the ground as he stared at nothingness and dragged his tired legs with him.

After another long day of work, Stephen’s mind continuously spun and reeled like the machine he had grown to know meticulously as a worker. The solitary voice within his head seemed to echo with a bleak hint as he thought to himself in the darkness.

“Oh wherest thy dear lady Rachael? Her golden smile twould bring my heart much needed happiness.”

Rachael was the one person who added a hint of sparkle to Stephen’s monotonous life. It was at night when the two could meet in the streets of Coketown and imagine their world free from suffocating smoke which leaked from the assembly of factories in which they worked. But it was not Rachael that night who Stephen would typically see and relish in their time spent, speaking of this fanciful fictional life.

With his head hunched over like a tired ogre, his eyes still glued to the floor below, a surge of unexpected pain rushed to the top of his balding grey haired head. His eyes bounced up immediately from the cold ground, looking up to pin point the culprit as if he could see clearly as day; but the black night prevented any chance for clear vision.

“Rachael…tis, tis thoust you?” he managed to squeeze out uncertainly, in hopes that the throbbing pain underneath his wiry hair was from blindly bumping into his lady admirer. But it was not the soft spoken Rachael who answered. Instead, a deep bellowing grunt sprang from the darkness.

            “Rayyy-chuull?” the voice sounded out her name a little too slow Stephen thought. The dark voice continued, “Rayy-chuull? No I am not Ray-chull. My creator named me Frankenstein. What is your name?”

Stephen answered blindly unafraid, ”Oh thy name tis Stephen Blackpool, but thoust can call me Stephen.” He paused for a moment only to rub his rub his throbbing head, "Tis nice t’ meet you.”

           Stephen’s sight was full of nothing but a blank slate of black, but the darkness allowed the two beings to exchange their soul's findings. Stephen was surprised to find out how similar Frankenstein was to him. Like Stephen, Frankenstein was stuck in a life which was created for him; he had no place to hide. He never knew who he was because so much of him was foreign interconnection. Both Stephen and Frankenstein were destined for darkness.