magical poem

Magical

The blue swirls seem to stand out on my bedspread
Are they flowers?
Something more magical I think
That one over there,
The one on the left
Once was a gorgeous lily
That lived on the bedside
Of the queen herself
Until it was captured
By the evil IKEA recruiters

The huge one on the upper right,
Yes that’s the one!
Was a male orchid
Always teased and made fun of
For he was the most delicate, graceful
Flower of them all
He lived miserably
Then one day
When I witch walked by the pond
And saw his true potential
He was used in the witches most coolest spells until one day the recruiters
Found him too!
Such a sad little story
Hmmm… oh look! A red blanket

nothing but the truth poem

Nothing but the truth


Nothing but the truth you say?
Then why are some rich and some poor?
Some have to suffer through abuse, pain, and agony
While some live not a care in the world
Anything they want with a snap of their fingers

Nothing but the truth you say?
Then why isn’t the moon made out of cheese?
Or why don’t we have flying cars and trains like prophecies?
Why do some say it’s okay to go on living your life a lie?
Always wishing (or whistling), hoping, getting, screaming, lying, dancing, lying, running, LYING!!!

Nothing but the truth you say?
Well in that case your zippers open

spots poem

Why does the tiny red ladybug sleep in the morning dew?
Spots shown to the world not ashamed not vain
But we can’t manage for a second to let our spots show
We will never have enough to let a rusty old nail be the souvenir
Of life’s checker game
The flowers hum unheard as her striped shirt is ripped on the nonexistent nail of checkers
Why is this said?
You ask,
Just kick off your shoes and run in the grass
Let the leaves catch fire when you run past
When you feel the musty joy of spring you tell me about your neighbors ripped striped shirt
You sew your head shut
The blood is sprayed across the room
If it hits the light bulb one more time it will be too loud to sleep
The hairspray is toxic I tell my sister
As she drinks the paint wanting a high
It’s not worth is I tell her
Her brain WILL BREAK
She does not care or listen as my dreams dance
Across the television
The flash blinds me
As records, 8tracks, tapes, and C.D.’s
Spin around my nose in a whir of the past
He hits me with the iron hammer
The robin falls in the mud
Tears streak down my face
As I fall too
It is cold and it stinks like red shoes and antlers made out of pineapple
In a happier note the corner of my pinky nail is blue
Painted sparkly by the hand of my best friend
Just wondering can you reap the wheat with a needle
Enough to fill the bellies of many?
The homeless women on the street still sings
The songs of truth, happiness, and spirals
How can someone with no money
Still see the ring of the spiral or the arch in the
McDonalds sign, millions and millions served
For now I think of angels and white ribbons and lace
And wonder why the ladybug can show it’s spot