Broken Pattern

oh stupid stupid teacher
i cant even stand your voice
all you do is jabber
all you say is fuzzy noise

just a few more weeks dear teacher
then of you there’ll be no more
but i’ll continue writing
just as i’ve done before

fyb

How sore are my legs

And aching is my back

As heavy children sit,

Sit in my lap.

I am the chair

Poem Title: The Personification of a Chair

I met you in my dream, my girl,

There you did sit smiling.

When I approached you, oh so shy,

You rose and said hello to me.

There were no tricks, no play of mind,

You wanted me and I did you.

And so we sat upon the couch,

The lights were dim, just us two.

As I was slow you took the lead,

And lay upon my open lap.

Slowly I tried to caress you,

But got caught up within the act.

I tried too hard to please you right,

All I am was what you wanted.

When I tried to change for you,

Things only got complicated

Next we met, again you smiled,

Graced me with your presence anew.

Once again we stood together,

Just you and I, just me and you.

You kissed me softly on the lip,

And said that you still loved me true.

Then walked away into the light,

As I awoke, alone, no you.

Poem title: Dream Girl

At times like these

            How do we know

Who we can truly

            Call our own

Friends will come

And friends will go

As time does pass

Throu’our hourglass

But how do

Make sure to know

Who to keep

And who to let go?

Poem title: Friends Forever

 ———————————–

My body cries

            And blackens

                        And leaks

At my future

            Which appears

                        So bleak

Without a love

            To hang on

                        To

With all this spare time

            What shall

                        I do?

Poem title: I Sit Alone

be it a trickle
or a storm
it acts as the great equalizer

loud noises
obstructed by the raindrops pelting the ground
in a rhythmic beat
almost
hypnotic

i sit inside my room
looking out my window
watching the drops fall down

wettening everything in their path
as people flood to their homes
animals to their shelters

there’s a calming feeling
looking outside
seeing that all is wet
white i sit
idly at my desk
dry and warm
thinking away
thoughts
of rain

poem title: rain

Those We Worship

Armies cried while legions of followers flocked to the stadiums to support their gods. Clad with costumes and face paint to resemble those whom they worshipped, they filled up the arena, all the while chanting for their heroes. Those who could not enter waited outside as sacrifices were made. Whole families waited for their champions’ entrance. Smoke and light billowed from the ground as the god warriors emerged from the ground. A cheer was had by all, followed by yells and screams of violence.

Tonight a victor would be had. Half the Gods would be defeated, as the others would reign supreme. There would be no mercy for the losers, no forgiveness. Another year they would have to wait before they could try again. The Earth and its beings lay motionless, unconscious to all but what was in front of them: the game of champion, the game of the gods: football.