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The hanky he was sobbing into was crusty,
*****, unwashed, unclean; yet strangely comforting to a little boy,
as he cried he made his way to a culvert behind the school,
some place the other kids couldn’t see him crying,
it was more comfortable being near rocks
-next to that watershed for some reason?

He looked down at his antagonist,
the scaly-green feet,
they made him cry harder,
he lamented…

“Why have I been tormented so?”

“Who gave me these feet? Who made me this way, lizardly, scaly, an animal no?”

“What class am I, what species? Are those toenails, claws or a disease?”

“The way I’m treated makes me sad. Where is my mommy, where is my dad?

“Did I come from an egg? Didn’t we all? Why do they pick on me, make me feel so small?”

“My feet are reptilian even I can see that!”

“Am I part lizard? Are there horns on my back?”

“I can’t hide in sneakers ‘cause the claws tear them apart.”

“Not great at math, language or art.”

“They always pickin’ on me, today it’s in the schoolyard.”

“That is why I sit here on the rocks crying with my ugly feet and sullen heart,”

“Cannot run fast so no baseball, basketball or soccer…”

“The other kids tried to stuff me in my own locker…”

“One mean little girl even threw a dead mouse at me!”

“But I’m only part lizard as far as I can see?”

“My English teacher says that my words are like a bird song”

“If I talk like a birdie along with monster’s feet, no wonder I don’t belong!”

“Even still, to be so mean to me, I know that it is wrong…”

“ONE DAY I WILL SHOW THEM ALL, THESE FEET THEY HAVE A PURPOSE!”

“MY WORDS OF SONG AND FEET OF MAGIC COMBINE A COSMIC CIRCUS!”

“I am no freak of nature, no forest Pan or Satyr…”

“It is not the way I look, my clothes or feet that matter…”

“It is what is in my heart and mind, the things I do that truly count…”

“For those things that make us different, for they are tantamount…”

“Seven heads, seven stages, seven fables, seven sages”

“Seven stars and seven wonders and seven heavens that we’re under…”

“And all those things they say are great and marvelous about us…”

“Will one day be written in the book by Great Old Uncle Taautus!”
Children's rhyme. Scylla represents the rocks near shores who rend ships to pieces that venture to close to them.
 May 2016 HRTsOnFyR
iamnoone
She writes me poems
And sings to me.
She talks forever
About nothing at all.
She's corny and complicates,
Mushy and simple.
Perhaps damaged,
But she'd never know.
She curlers her hair
And puts on make-up.
She kept coming to my door,
And I kept answering.
She found me,
Alone and wanting.
Sent from somewhere
She knows not why.
She's a companion
Seeker
Wandering with me.
She makes me, oddly, happy.
 May 2016 HRTsOnFyR
iamnoone
What use is moonlight?
I reach into it, fingers open,
And my hand is silvered
And blessed, and comes back to me holding nothing.
I started wishing on the stars in the sky instead.
I said to the sun, tell me about the Big Bang.
The sun said, "It hurts to become".
you were the little rain,
and i was the hurricane,
everybody knew you were meant to fix something,
and i was meant to destroy everything.
you are the definition of lightness,
while i was the meaning of darkness.
your body is the realm of all the lost things that are found,
while mine was the other way around.
to sum things up,
we were the polar opposites.
the east and the west,
the tame and the wild,
the day and the night.
when i was young,
people would say that someday,
someone will knock on your door and when you take a look at it,
you will not recognize who the person is,
your mind will be blasting with the questions,
"who are you?", "what are you doing here?"
and maybe you would even tell the person to get out.
but the person will leave something in front of your door,
a thing that you perhaps wanted or despised,
a thing that even the closest people in your life can give,
but instead, this time,
a stranger will.
it's called the unexpected.
you came knocking on my door one day,
thinking you can settle things with the hurricane,
at first i just laughed and said,
"nobody can handle the hurricane."
however after that i never thought a little rain
would have so much effect on me.
that was when i realised you are also the thing
that you left in front of my door.
you are the unexpected.
and by means of unexpected,
you never did anything i expected you to do.
you didn't give me mix tapes of the songs that remind you of me
but my favourite songs are nothing compared to your voice,
one simple "hello" of you will make me stop listening to my playlist.
you didn't take me to art museums
and admire the wonderful paintings with my presence
but you made me feel like a living masterpiece every single day.
when i told you i love art,
you asked why don't i love myself.
you do not connect me to a rose,
or to a smoke,
you do not make metaphors for me
and you do not love poems as much as i do
but your words have the power to hit me more than any other poets could
and i am just a coward to not admit it.
you didn't call me at 11 pm to ask
if i wanted to go see the stars,
like i've always dreamed of.
but just by staring at you,
i can see the stars, the milky way, even the whole universe,
and i knew that moment
that there is no need for stargazing in the middle of the night
when i can look at you all the time.
you didn't enjoy my favourite shows,
you couldn't take it because of how much blood was shown in it,
you hated blood,
and i saw beauty in it.
you didn't think raisins taste good
when in fact they were my favourite food
(actually, you even told me they taste bad.)
and you didn't think that the wolf and the moon were in love,
when that was my favourite love story of all time.
this is probably a poem about
our disparity,
our contrast,
and our dissimilarities.
but you did something that i never expected you to do,
you did the unexpected.
you found the light in me
no matter how dark it might be.
my body was no longer the realm of lost things,
because you've done everything to find them.
and i was no longer the hurricane who is known
to destroy everything,
because for some reasons i couldn't destroy you,
you were the exception.
despite of all the things i wanted you to do that you never did,
the mix tapes,
the museum dates,
the appreciation of poetry,
the stargazing.
you did something that took my breath away,
something that i couldn't ask for more,
something that was unexpected.
you loved me,
and that was enough,
**that was more than enough.
 May 2016 HRTsOnFyR
Mike Hauser
Gazing off into the night
With my naked eyes
Counting of the stars above
By their own fire light

Saw a lonely star
Out all by itself
A constellation of only one
If that's even possible

Twisted when it turned
Flickered as it burned
In its ever lonely search
Throughout its nocturne

As I gazed off into the night
With my naked eyes
In the counting of the stars
By their own fire light
 Apr 2016 HRTsOnFyR
Star Gazer
Stopped at a red light
The wait for it to turn green
Asking 'How long has it been?'
As stars guide the night.
Sudden blackout of all light
As dark as an Auschwitz scene
With monsters and fiends
And darkness sets in fright.

Your teeth glowed bright
There was light again
From a poet's pen
I found comfort at your sight.
You barricaded me in safety
And shone the light that saved me.
You should know who you are. You have made me smile a lot lately. I thank you.
you know i love you
cause i always tell you so
i don't play no games
with a sweet lover like you
come on down to the river
i got a bottle of wine
we'll laugh away the sunset
and make love until the dawn
you know i love you
Choka
Rabbits forgot the spot
this time around, I guess.
Or maybe they found some finer plot
offering rarer and larger fare
than the crocuses--
the tiny kind, almost lost to sight,
poking through soil and leaves,
exposing green and purple--
the deep, dark shades of colors
that Janice loved.
I stopped there, on this post-Easter Tuesday.
She loved them all:
   rabbits, forgetful or not;
   crocuses, tiny, with shaded hues;
   looming cross, empty tomb,
   and me.
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