Festive Tidings
Spider's Index
Poetry Index
Sailormoon


Frantic phone call of a deranged game piece

I know who I am
only doesn’t anyone else
hear me scream
sometimes
through a smile
they don’t love
only pity
Use me for what they gain
where am I
I wonder
lost and confused
when
a minute before
I felt like pure rock
bedrock basalt
shifting only by global entreaties
and then
I crumble
“Jenga”
pieces like Lincoln Logs on the table
jumbled and scattered
ashes in the wind
who am I
the concept I drew
perfect like the picture
in crayon
stuck to the frig
got ripped, got faded
its just missing
under, behind, in the rash
somewhere
so I just juggle
lost hopes, forgotten dreams, unmet desires
it keeps me
from reaching too far
fisherman on the shore
trolling in the shallow water
‘fraid of the deep end
for the large catches
await there
hungry
aching to be hooked
what am I
thoughts pour out of my head
keeping me up
not like I sleep much
sometimes
I want to never wake
just close my eyes
total oblivion
the end of all senses
no thinking, no feeling
would anyone miss me
I think not
I’m replaceable
Why don’t they love me
I’m nice, I’m giving
my heart yearns for a connection
so why
I want to love
and be loved
why won’t it happen
I used to think
to almost know
the definition of love
but somehow it was short
just a little off center
and I titled
had to throw the game
what changed
to cause it to never be the same
and now I am left with one thing
who am I?


Contraptions of Candied Paper


paper lanterns
reflected in a window
scrawny face
superimposed
open the images
sticky prints
and
heated breath
mark the place
of the young child
Holiday tidings
and fruitful wishes
not withstanding
in his hovel of a home
stoop 451 4th avenue
it catches less wind
than most entrances
and the light is always out
meaning the cops
won’t catch what they don’t see
paper lanterns and sticky prints
decorate the picture window
a moment in time
frozen until
some rain
rinses the little boy
his very existence
whose home was on stoop 451 4th avenue
Some might argue
who’s to say their was a child
those arguments
come from people who don’t to acknowledge
the tragedies in life
and would rather turn a blind eye
to the very proof before them
paper lanterns and sticky fingerprints
just to believe in a lie
to make themselves feel better
and separate from reality.


Barista’s opinion on sidewalk traffic


As twilight falls
With the dusty light
purple and dark pink
infusing the sky
with a version of neon lighting
highlighting a tower
whose face reads five
winter has roosted
cocking its roost
early morning sirens
of glistening ice
and slicing sheets of winds
adding shades of white and blue
to the landscape
skeleton trees
sleeping saplings decorate islands of nature
surrounded by tarred oceans
blinking lights
eggshell white
twisted in their fingers
acting a coat around their torsos
highlighting their hair
cover almost everywhere
capturing a warmth
and the commercial aspect
of the holiday season.
Seasonal songs repeat
again and again and again
bells clang, people rush
people’s breath
cause a train yard to form
all the engines pulling out
running on tracks
find, buy, return,
plastic reigns supreme
coating the festive creations
plastered on the smiles
entrenched in the thoughts
of the crowd that walks under
the darkening sky.


A Friendly Conversation on Gameshows


You thought what
How sweet
I’m flattered
Really truly
My heart would blush
BUT
we’re just too good of friends
it just wasn’t meant to be
I don’t want to lose what we have now
you’re like a brother
and I am just not into incest
that’s for those special paysites.
Who knows
In another light, just a fraction of time
we could have been
not anymore
thanks for playing
roll the dice
spin the wheel
and you win
some lovely parting gifts
I hope this won’t affect us
But I see us as just friends.

IN RESPONSE:

You flirted with me
gave me the signals
to think in the wrong
now you turn me away
the brush off
with the just friends routine
I don’t want no second hand gifts
I deserve the damn grand prize
Who listens to you bitch?
Its me Its me
is it because of my looks
it better not be my thighs
I knew these jeans made my ankles look big
so does this mean we wont
even get to fuck,
if
you even mention my great personality
I will scream
because
it means I am ugly
plain old nasty
is that why you see me as a brother
I’m technically safe
no chance
not even mercy,
maybe a pity screw.
And in another light?
Is this a veiled reference
to total darkness
is that the only way I would have a chance
its all about looks
screw the damn personality
you just want some ass
and it ain’t mine
Bite me
and call me
if you change your mind.

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