I saved these from my days in creative writing at FLCC. Normally I do not use rhyme, but I had fun writing the ‘Ticketman’s Day Off’.
Hold Fast
sometimes — i look over the edge
i can see you — there —
in the dark — amongst the dead
never crying out — never exhaling
your eyes focusing on the tunnel frequency
holding fast to the crumbling edge i’d —
save you — if only i had a gun
Ticket Man’s Day Off
Today I saw a sight so rare,
a sight so grim and slow.
I wished to turn my head away
to escape the ghastly show.
The child’s arms were never let go
the machine continued to chew.
As the little boy lowered his head
the machine just crushed that too.
I looked away in time to see
a woman dropping to the ground.
Her mouth stretched wide, her eyes rolled back,
her fists began to pound.
The scream she belched was shrill and fast,
a razor gashing my ear.
For the little boy across the way,
was her angel, Johnny dear.
A nearby man, a carnival hand,
reached for the young lads pants.
He pulled up hard, with all his might,
to the rhythm of the crowded chants.
The machine bucked and yawed,
it would not give up its prey.
Frank Pulroni, the carnival man,
would not live to see another day.
You see,
the money and tickets inside the pouch
weighted his apron to hang.
His back was broke, his scream was short,
the Ferris Wheel’s churning cogs sang.
His hair caressed the back of his heels,
his body was all contorted.
My chances of riding the Ferris Wheel,
would surely, now, be thwarted.
Poetry
They force their way out,
splitting, gouging, scraping.
My neck bulges and my jaw hurts.
If they bob along the surface for scrutinization,
and they’re of good quality,
I’ll keep them and show my mother.
Bored
give names and assign personalities to things
bite the tongue to maximize salivation
pretend to be crazy
hunker down and stare at things strangely
fill the mind with death scenes
watch TV
read
pet the cats
try to move things with the mind
communicate with the cats
drink cold milk
swish the milk around until it’s warm
write a list poem
draw two people fucking
think of suicide
cut first three layers of epidermis
clean out under fingernails
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