Ars Poetica

Grasshoppers swimming in formaldehyde jars,
Bound by the bars of merciless concave lenses
And shiny, sharp edges that probe and point
At hinges and joints to learn and preserve
Where it is that the nerve endings are
In the midst of that jar. But the fact
That they miss, in white jackets, is not
In the jar, locked up by the bars. It's
Lost in the grit that the grasshoppers
hopped in before.

Untitled

Synapses cramp
At the sight of the damp
Darkness circling the once
Joyful sprite. Now it hunts
For the chance to return,
Get away from the urn
It is so surely headed for.

Brief Scene

John walked up to the porch steps, arriving home later than usual because of an emergency patient call, He couldn't wait to see Grace and Blake. They always made him smile: they were his pride and joy. But then he saw Karen walking to the door to greet him, and her way of greeting him was asking for more money. What a long hallway that is.
One.
Johnny, she called him, in that shrill, piercing voice of hers. The voice that he had provided a beautiful home and a wonderful life for. Buy why? Why did he not realize before the vows were made that this megaphone of a woman would be the sole reason for his unhappiness? He smelled the surprise that Peanut left and she failed to clean up from the lawn.
Two.
Peanut was a good dog. John picked him out of the litter. Loyal, obedient, and quiet: not like Karen. He looked down: he was clenching his fists again. He always did that when he heard, saw or though of Karen. As he was looking, he noticed the breast pocket of his shirt was torn. The patient seized and must have ripped it off in her fit. A fit like that is better than a fit from Karen. He wanted to kill her.
Three.
He could kill her. He could kill her now. The scalpel was in his bag. One quick slit to the jugular vein would lead to a fatal loss of blood. John was 45, he was a man, and he was perfectly capable of killing someone. It would be easy. But he couldn't. Blake and Grace would never love him again. And if he had to live without the love of his children, he wouldn't LIVE at all.

Favorite Place/Least Favorite Place

Favorite Place:
I'm sitting next to the stream, hearing it babble over the pebbles and cobbles so happily. It is low tide and the sea breeze smells pleasantly of salt and kindly blows the hair from my eyes. The reeds dance with it and make the crickets sing along. Combined with the sound of the waves caressing the soft beach sand, a symphony is created in my head. The rocks are exposed by the low tide and the crabs are scuttling along the shore. The sun sets behind the bridge and sky scrapers and turns the blue sky to a vast rainbow as two swans float by on the waves.

Least Favorite Place:
I'm trying to enjoy the pleasant nature of the beach and finding that nature is not pleasant at all. The low tide smell of sun-baked fish carcasses invades my nostrils and my nose wrinkles into a most unpleasant form. The sand is perpetually stuck to my skin no matter how many times I strike my hand over it to get it off. The gnats love the smell that I hate and play games flying in and out of the cavern of my ear, toying with my eardrums with the electric buzz of their wings. The dingy stream water percolates over the slime covered rocks, carrying the pond fish to the ocean where it will die. The salty breeze makes my skin like a desert; dry and cracked. Now the sun is setting, turning the cloud-filled sky from grey to murderous red. I'm going home.

Charlie's Sestina

Years of training began to weather
The leather of a boot's tongue.
She was once such a great
Companion of Charlie, and strove for
The blue ribbon, to be number one,
Until Prince Charming gave her a kiss.

Charlie longed for the caring kiss
She would grant his soft nose whether
He did well or not. His tongue
Hung aching for a sweet, great
Peppermint, once so regular. Four
Weeks he's been without even one.

Reminiscing on the times they had won,
She is awakened by Prince Charming's kiss.
Thought the sun gleamed, the weather
Was still grey as the lips Charlie's tongue
Hung out of, because the sewer grate
Had never touched his shoes before.

Sulking sadly in his stall for
Months, Charlie missed the one
Day in the meadow. She bestowed a kiss
On his cheek in the dandelion weather.
She placed a peppermint on his tongue,
But he now only sees birds on his window grate.

She saw prince charming's great
Figure charging toward her for
The last time. She finally won,
And left him victoriously without a kiss.
She danced in the warm weather,
In her worn boots with leather tongues.

He heard her voice, speaking in a tongue
He once knew. Finally his great
Companion returns; he's been waiting for
Years. They are again one,
The team they once were. She greets him with a kiss,
Abolishing the years of bad weather.

She knows whether or not her tongue
Had reached great prince charming's for
But one time, it would be a regretted kiss.

(Old: no judging allowed!)

Chang Tsai

Chang Tsai's mother smoked an incredible amount of opium while she was pregnant with him, causing him to be the ugliest human being on the face of the earth. When he was born, his mother took one look at him and died. Of course he did not know that his mother was the single healer left in the entire village and was the only one capable of healing people of their illnesses. The prophet of the village said that the only way for another healer to be found was if the ugly offspring was killed. So once everyone in the village began dying of an epidemic, they stoned Chang Tsai to death hoping they might be saved.

(Old exercise from creative writing class)

The Sands of Time

Here, delivered to us on the shore, is this creature of the deep,
Washed up on the sands of time.
Its aquatic journey of life ended by the whirling currents of the torrent sea.
Each miniscule line in its spiral representing each day, hour or minute of its life.
The last few of them chipped an broken by the harsh crash of the waves and the thumping stomps of avid athletes.
Its barnacles, in anger,m have become sharp and rigid,
Attacking the mouths of the gulls trying to move their humble home again.
Walls once so beautiful, now stained by thge decay of sea moss that's been baked by the summer sun.
This once invincible masterpiece of nature has been called back by its creator,
For it has served us its life in beauty.

(This is old, don't judge!)

City Lights

City lights,
LIke the glint
In your eyes
Made me think
With my thighs.
Here we sit
In the miles
Of rank shit
And fake smiles,
And you hit
On me nice.
A small bruise
Will suffice.
I don't mind.
You entice
Me. Oh well,
Have a slice!