Burning the Menace

The scars you have left upon my face, has left me here in disgrace.

You’ve maliciously diminished my spark, and made sure that I was only dark.

Your hate, your love, give me what you please.

I don’t care if you got on your knees,

I will never do the same.

I’m a victim of your abuse

I’m sick and tired, there’s no excuse.

You hate and hurt with no form of shame,

And god help me, I hope someone does you the same.

When your death occurs have it not be remembered, and let it be in December.

For a cold winter is what you deserve.

Because you were the one who had the nerve.

Let it be so, that you are far from my mind,And your memory never left behind.

Wind

The powerful wind wisps through the trees.

Its free form is halted by thick branches with leaves.

As it daintily flies ripping leaves off their branches.

Then fleeing the tree, locked in its trances.

The calm wind roared through the empty night sky.

Left Behind

The boy runs alone through Gramercy Park,

a cavalier showing off his brilliant swordplay.

He leaps over benches and flies around bushes;

his boots scuffed from games, his ascot loose from dreams.

The old gardener tends carefully to his plants,

a suspendered relic with a passion for poppies.

He grooms the grass and waters the willows;

his white hair still thick, his hands caked with grease.

Both are remnants of a far-off Great War,

one still young enough to stay, the other still old to go.

Left behind in Gramercy Park together alone,

a swashbuckling pirate and a patient horticulturalist.

Intertwining vines growing toward the Sun,

a child missing a daddy, a pap missing a son.

The friendship of two unlikely strangers,

Aristotle and Alexander, out to conquer the world.

Evolution

Grassy seas stretching farther than the sun’s rays,
Rolling hills vanishing majestically
Into the blue depths of waters unknown,
Pristine and undisturbed
Trampled and then rearranged,

Stone walls cobbled together
Rising gently upwards,
Gazing down on valleys surrounding,
Tactically and fortified
Collapsing and torn from their roots,

Wood and nails hammered together,
Cozy for a family to live
Spacious one,
Warm and snug,
Weathered and Ill-maintained
Falling apart,

Brick and plaster glued together,
Red giants and smaller children
Amassing around the globe,
Strong and safe,
Growing old
Machines clear them away,

Metal and glass masterfully held together
Reaching far into the sky,
Egotistically looking down on their surroundings,
Tall and clustered
A show of our strides forward,
“twelfth floor please”
Truly, this is evolution

Bullet Points

Bullet Points

One day, I was slumped in my comfy couch

bored

and I thought to myself

What can you do with a bullet?

As it turns out, you can do many things with

a bullet

eat the bullet

hug the bullet

paint the bullet rainbow

burn the bullet (can you?)

hide the bullet in a pile of spaghetti as tall as Mt. Fuji

throw the bullet on the ground for a hitman to find, and make his day if it fits in his gun

carefully ingest the bullet (don’t forget to chew)

spin the bullet on your finger like a basketball

beat the bullet into bloody submission

sleep with the bullet under your pillow, but don’t blame me if your mother confines you to your room for the next five weeks

 tap dance on the bullet (don’t tell me you can’t)

feature the bullet in your next film project

feature the bullet in your next art project

feature the bullet in your next band concert, somehow

feature the bullet in your next juggling performance (if you can’t, that’s totally fine)

consume the bullet with conviction

sell the bullet…to a craft store

duplicate the bullet and re-enact the Matrix

mail the bullet to your best friend in Florida

feed the bullet to a mob of hungry zombies (it’s their favorite meal)

vaporize the bullet

poke a very tiny hole through the bullet

take the bullet on a rollercoaster ride

put the bullet on a plate, sprinkle it with caviar, and enjoy it as your next meal

wish for another bullet for Christmas so that your bullet may have a friend

carefully peel the bullet apart and examine its insides

tear the bullet apart and open a hole in the time-space continuum

visit the time-space continuum created by the bullet

if the bullet is a time-travelling bullet, make it take you back to the time of the dinosaurs, but don’t forget a camera—if you’re going to brag to your friends about the time you rode a Velociraptor or the time you slew a T-Rex, you’ll need visual proof, right?

But be sure to put the bullet in every picture you take

for added proof.

Dear Mr. Apothecary

Dear Mr. Apothecary,

I’ve got a small problem

With a pest in the wall,

Could you help me

With a problem so small?

Bring me some Arsenic,

Some Gold sprinkles, too,

Maybe some Ricin,

That’ll show him,

Spray down some Anthrax,

Now that’d be grim!

Let’s feed him some cyanide,

Laced into the cheese,

Or maybe Copper Chloride

Or manganese, please!

He’d keel over,

Belly up, eyes closed,

How ‘bout some Botulinum?

That’ll kill him!

Why, Mr. Apothecary,

Please rid my house

Of this obnoxious pest,

This God-danged mouse!

Buy A Vowel?

I didn’t give up.

I never gave up.


You came home

From the wonderland

We all call Florida,

Only to find

A rousing game

Of Wheel of Fortune

Developed across your lawn.


Your answer was almost

Certain, in my mind, yet

I never knew with you.

I didn’t give up.


The giant letters are scrambled

Like an aggressive opening

Of your favorite candy, those

Small treats, every single one tattooed

With that same iconic “M”.


Alex, I’ll take “yes or no”

For a true daily double.

Answer is: Your night of fun

Will be nothing but divine

With you know who, but first

You must answer this question.

With your answer,

I was a sure participant in

Final Jeopardy.

I didn’t give up.


My final jeopardy answer:

“Pick you up at five?”

The Medical Arts

A full day’s work, Done and gone.

All poultices mixed, All bandages cleaned,

All wounds bound.

The Manor is dark. The scent of blood recedes. Cries of the wounded are deafened. All patients are still.

The battle has ceased.

The victor rejoices. The loser retreats.

The aftermath remains.

Tomorrow work shall begin anew, Treating the injured and ill. Using the skills passed down through generations, from Master to Apprentice.

Continuously.

The Sad Puppy

The Sad Puppy

Some puppies are happy,

and some puppies are sad.

Wilmore was a sad puppy.

He was never truly glad.

Wilmore lived in Ballston.

He lived inside of a box.

Sometimes young boys would drive by,

and bombard him with large rocks.

After many years of discontent,

Wilmore said, "That's enough!"

He set off to walk to a faraway land,

For his current one was too rough.

Wilmore walked for days,

And Wilmore walked for nights.

He camped out under bridges,

Gazing at the star light.

Wilmore walked for one whole year.

His paws sure were tired.

His body was limp and skinny,

But the sacrifice was required.

Wilmore was never the smartest pup,

He was confused very ofter.

Wilmore had walked in a big loop,

Back to his hometown, Ballston.

Tragedy

The fluorescent light appeared to me,
As if in a vision,
Engulfing the sides of the building,
While all time freezes still.

Debris erupted from the masses,
Flaming balls of ash,
As people stood and watched,
The mossy green building implodes.

It collapsed inward
And shrieks erupted
As many slowly died
Or suffered other trauma
Onlookers stood agape
When the second one flew in
A bird, a goose, a super dog
No, none of those.

The screams continue,
For what seems like hours.
Some slowly die,
Others strain to be heard.
All we do
Is stand and watch.
A tear trickles down the cheek
Of the women next to me;
Gasping for air,
Her hair’s a mess,
Clothes are wrinkled,
Chest heaving,
And eyes puffed.
More tears run as she stares,
Bringing a hand to her face
Covering her eyes from the horror
She lost someone.

Vibrant gold and crimson overpower the buildings
Burning to the ground
Sobs began to quiet.
The audience awestruck
Unbelieving this has happened
Tomorrow will bring a new day;
To fight back and start over,
As we reply
Never forget… Never Surrender.

Slacker

To be a slacker
One must have the apathy to not work
Also strive to great lengths to agitate the teacher
Must be indolent to do their homework
By using every excuse possible

How not to work
Is by hanging out with Captain Kirk
Must also not be productive
Just like my idol, Martin

One must avoid class at all cost
Just like Rick Ross
If you do show up
Use the bathroom for as long as possible

Don’t take notes
Even when it’s important

Day dream of things you could be doing
Don’t be consumed by the reality of school

If you have to do work in the class
Lastly, remember
originality is the art of concealing your sources

Laughtracked

I was six years old yesterday.
I remember coloring in a far-too-happy clown
I gave it to a girl, I can't remember her name
But I remember her face when
She laughed.

I blinked, I turned thirteen.
I shaved my face for my first date
It was with her parents
I told them a few quick one-liners.
They didn't laugh.

I blinked again, age fifteen.
I had a history test.
Maps, dates, names got mixed in with
Butterflies and the memory of a first kiss
We laughed.

I tried to blink, she was gone
Wondering where I went wrong
I wrote things down in
Notebooks full of teenage angst,
Pent-up anger, penned-out anguish,
To that, I laugh.

Ha-ha-ha-how did I end up here?
With you? Of all people?
Tangled up, wound tight.
There's Brand New on the stereo
And everything is alright

Blink.

You're sticking your tongue out.
Clover-shaped, ridiculous,
Hey, that's pretty funny!

I love it when you make me laugh.

Hallowed Gallows

Pray now for a fair summer.
Hear it, hear it!

As the moon lights the sky,

And the cold chills the blood.

The dance in the woods they did.
Hear it, hear it.

I heard she wailed throughout the night,

Betty, oh Betty, has now been afflicted,

Believed it wrong when it reached my ears.

Where have we fallen from such a height?
Hear it, hear it!

I hear she flies,

Yet we cannnot and,

Yield we can't for there is no foreseeable end.

Why it is a lie, it is a lie;
Hear it, hear it!

I never knew until tonight that the world is gone daft with this nonsense.

Five more are accursed today with only the girls to prove their guilt.

Fearful I have never been 'til I crossed those twisted tongue sisters.

There be a hundred or more, they say,
Have confessed to save their lives;

So dear that they see no sight of their life here much longer,

For who will love those who have been damned.

You have not seen them?

The ones who step upon those hallowed gallows,

The men and women who made this town,

Torn from the very fabric from which they had sewn.

Elizabeth, Rebecca, Sarah, and Putnam;

Proctor, Giles, and eventually you shall be the scorn forever more against this town.

This is the fate we face when we wear and walk the talk of God.

Now as I walk upon those hallowed gallows,

It is my time to walk the talk.

Farewell, Izabelle.

A Guide to Finding the Right Love

It's not very easy to find love.
But it's very easy to loose it.
You have to be smart and watch what you say,
Because once you say it
There is no way to take it back.
Try a compliment or two
It works only for a few.
Try to make her laugh
Open up the bowels of you heart.
It feels good to let things go.
Don't ever keep secrets
They'll ruin you in the end.
Giving you the image of a deciever,
So I advice you to come clean.
Buy her a gift,
Nothing cheap unless you don't have a choice
But don't try and buy her love
With something expensive
Get something that truly comes from your heart
And it will prove your worth.
Don't look for beauty or body
The best thing for you is personality
Because if the personality is unworthy
They they are too
So it would be a waste of effort,
And a draining to your respect.
The truth is you will not find the right love
Until you find the real you.