Pumpkin faced, fang toothed witch
plump chin, fake tan, broomstick

nose with warts, chosen devils cohort
courting the goat, a shoat cutthroat
cavorting devote to the angel turncoat

tilted head back with the eerie cry 'halloween is nigh'
why she's dressed up 10 days early i'll never know why

her: hi!
Me:
her: hello?
lightning can definitely strike twice

the door was barely opened before
I caught her like a 2am yawn (once seen unstoppable)
she caught my smile but expressed it better than I ever could
and like I would for the queen I quickly stood
she must have seen my eyes through the hazy night
and she moved closer like poetry I cannot write

ok I can't help myself
she walked like an 'um' itself
an um for the wordless times
when something more important is on your mind
when you're asked for the truth but are filled with lies
when in pause, time it buys

gliding like a miyazaki dragon spiriting me away
anywhere but here, the now, the day
struck dumb
the response to her hello?
- 'um'

100m;
Flowing down the street like a 2.30am moonlit beam
on still waters, I mistook her for the sky.
The way the dress caressed her body
like the clouds that hold the moon

50m;
a falling meteor
a dawning sun in the red radiance of her lips
as its rose blush rushing across her cheeks

1m;
Everything.
A supernova girl engulfing its solar system - its light to be seen a thousand years later in another galaxy before continuing on past, universe to universe, till the end of time or the edge of existence (whichever comes first)

The edge of existence;
A cool breeze
A burn on my retina
The sky was gone

A four line poem for my 8th grade teacher
an A for my efforts and a weekly pamphlet feature
'Blue' by Sam a tale of: spilled ink
of an endless ocean; the whole blue kitchen sink

19. 4 stanzas for a professor of mine
a little splotch of blood or maybe red wine
an A for the reference to Bukowski at the end
but I guess he didn't know the bluebird too, was my friend

Blue was it's name, it was almost the same
as the one hanging in my lounge in a frame
this time it talked of the ocean of endlessness
and was penned like the spill it referenced

A mark for my friendless existence
with lark he congratulated my sedulous recklessness
an Aeschylus with a reflective tragic fecklessness
driven to or destined for the precipice

so I hoped when
I hung beside my poem
the professor did know then
not all doors should be opened

a candle sat in an open field
with nothing but darkness up and round
a thousand cubic miles of night
and nothing weighs that candle down

the darkness chokes with all its might
yet the candle still endures
and if all the darkness in the world couldn't put out the candle's light
then what could put out yours

drop dead gorgeous, a girl to die for
hot headed taurus anthropomorphic ichor