I yearned for red, green, and yellow peppers.
They looked so fresh and bright, I could not help
but fix my eyes upon their vibrancy.
They called to me, those succulent peppers.
I needed to taste their sweet, savory
flesh. I needed to feel their quiet crunch.
Oh peppers! Why do you escape me so?
I have never wanted you as much as
I do now. Come to me. Why escape me
so? They refuse what I insist upon.
These unending cravings are distracting.
Why am I suffering these hunger pains?
Oh yeah. Paul couldn't understand my text.
His carelessness has denied me true joy.

Everything is good.
I smile at the beauty of my gift, the perfection of a singular rose
filling the whole room.  A cornucopia
of possibility shines through the window
like the sun and, through it, I see a cheerful mutt.
Then I feel my old enemy grab hold of my future: doubt.

This always happens. It always ends in the midst of my debilitating doubt.
Everything was going so good.
The cacophony of barking, the spiteful cries of an angered mutt,
start. The world focuses on the wilting rose.
The sky darkens to a depressing gray outside the window
and the feeling of emptiness invades until the only thing left is a hollow cornucopia.

What happened to my cornucopia?
Why am I plagued with this doubt?
I lost my only window
of opportunity long ago. My life was supposed to be good
and plentiful and now it's over. I was stupid to think a rose
could be anything more than a horrific reminder. I'm a worthless mutt.

All I'll ever be is a worthless mutt.
I offer absolutely nothing, a whole cornucopia
of nothing. I don't deserve this rose.
I deserve my world of fear and doubt.
I am not worthy of love. I am not good
enough for him. I could have been something, but I missed that window.

I bet he can see right through me. He can see the useless window
I have always been.  I scrounge like a starving mutt
and still use escapes me. He'll do better without me. He'll have a good
life if I'm not in it. He deserves the freaking Cornucopia,
not me. I'm a manifestation of constant doubt
and sorrow and I just bring people down. I could never properly thank him for the rose.

I could never be his. His love. His perfect rose.
I'm not his reflection in the mirror. I'm the broken window
that lets in all the rain. I will always have doubt
to keep me down. I will always be the homeless mutt
with no one to love them.  This empty cornucopia
can't be filled. I'm not any good.

The rose continues to die. I will the screaming mutt
to quiet down through the window.  I weave my cornucopia
of doubt while my face pretends everything is good.

With all my heart I wish I could think with just my brain.
I wish emotions were easily controlled,
Like the wind
sometimes.
Harness its raw power and turn it into a type of energy that's pure,
Cleansing to the world.

But I guess there are tornadoes,
Who funnel into one destructive force,
Tearing down everything that was supposed to be permanent and leaving behind nothing
except a trail of desolate bareness littered with broken everything.

And then there's the hurricane.
The power and area it covers is immense, effectively covering everything in a dark shadow
and flooding the area.
In the center is the ebony hearth of the storm, the monster swirling around indefinitely,
whispering promises of catastrophe.
And no one is there to stop it,
Because everyone's already evacuated to somewhere more convenient.
Everyone's already moved on,
before the waters could flow and the hurricane could fully develop...


I hate when my heart starts

sk     ip     pi     ng

At the prospects of idealism, for dreams
Are sometimes not the logical choice but what is life without interest?
Disappointment is something I'm used to
In society,
In everyone's expectations,
in myself.


Why is the heart so painful?
Why is something that is so essential to life so easily ripped apart?
Why is mine always leading me in the direction my brain knows is wrong?

Over several months, I have seen my name
Elongatedperforatedaccentedviolatedcelebrateddecapitatedcomm­emoratedannhilatedoverstated--
And there are too many –ateds for this simple poem to handle.
It interests me that my name is used for just about everything.
It is synonymous with the filthiest curse words,
Funniest jokes,
Heaviest insults,
Most beautiful sayings,
And oddest decrees.
I am most grateful for this.
My name is now synonymous with anything and everything.
It proves that I am much more than one
Or two
Or three
Or fifty-two
Or negative five things.

I Am Morgan.
I Am Everything.

All around I see the cruel effects of ignorance,
especially when victims try to achieve a goal.
And still some dare to call it brilliance.

They attack with their ruthless belligerence,
like a lion's slaughter at the watering hole.
All around I see the cruel effects of ignorance.

They lack the most basic concrete evidence
with only nonsensical lies to dole
and still some dare to call it brilliance.

What brought about this vicious intolerance?
It seems spite continues to take its infinite ****** toll.
All around I see the cruel effects of ignorance.

They make life for others a dreadful experience
and each are happy with their life's devilish role.
And still some dare to call it brilliance.

Their minds think it's an act of benevolence
when really they steal the light of someone's soul.
All around I see the cruel effects of ignorance
and still some dare to call it brilliance.

Let’s play pretend
Because we don’t actually hate people
C’mon…
You’re just jealous
You know who I’m talking about
They’re better than you
Don’t be proud
Admit it
You’re not perfect

Let’s play pretend
Because you don’t want to seem scared
Let’s slap every one of them in the face
C’mon…
Let’s get ‘em where it hurts
Stab them in the back and twist the knife slowly
So it rains red
Because prevention is always the best policy

Let’s play pretend
Because that one kid is seriously irritating
C’mon…
They’re breathing your air
Wasting your time
Let’s insult them
Throw them to the ground with our threats
And kick them in the ribs with everything they despise about themselves
Let’s send tears down their eyes and embarrass them until they find suicide a viable option

Let’s play pretend
Because I’m not really mad that we’re childish,
I’m not furious at our cruel society--
I’m not freaking out because it’s so unfair--
I’m not trembling because I’m about to explode--
I’m not seething at the fact that everyone finds it so inconsequential--
And I am not raging at the fact that we destroy people’s lives for petty reasons such as envy, fear,
Or because you’re on a power trip--

So let’s play pretend
Because we’re not mature enough to hate people for real reasons.

There once was a man who travelled in time
He gladly left his home for adventure
And found it doing scientific crime.
He was called a prophet and avenger.
They easily became his profession.
He dealt swift justice regarding the past,
Leaving to some a confused impression.
His large amount of deeds was unsurpassed.
He was hooked to the future like a dream.
The world was his and he had all options,
and nothing was grander than his esteem,
but one desire consumed him like toxins.
He wanted his close companions to brag
But he no longer knew future from past.

The leaves whistled in the breeze, a silly and happy tune.
Enjoyment of a most glorious feeling
Celebration at its longest,
dragging for days upon end.
The celebration was so joyful, so wonderful,
So careless.
The leaves finally felt it.
The feeling was familiar.
Dread.
The fruit was growing again and it was too late.
The fruit would plague them all,
Make them work harder, produce more,
Make them all traitors to each other.
The numbness would kick in soon.
Absence of sensation, powerless against the new leaders.
What would come of them?

The fruit were now ripened and relishing.
Controlling the leaves.
And just when hope was almost gone,
When only one leaf was praying for mercy from their savior.
It came.
The huge figure came and took the fruit away.
The leaders’ final crack of mercy pronounced them dead.
Someone announced a party and the foolery began.

The leaves will never learn.

Benedict Arnold
We see them. Lying in the terrorist trap known as
The Uncomformers. What happened to them?
Did they say enough is enough?  Stab their
Old buddies in their already turned backs? Well,
I guess some people just don’t understand….
Look at them!
They’re laughing!
How preposterous! They’re supposed to be lamenting or even just
Giving hushed whispers to someone about everyone else.
I can’t fathom—
How absurd!

The Good Girls
Ohhhhhh My Gosh! Can you like,
See how lame they are?
They just, like, don’t do anything.
I mean, I have never seen any of them at, like, any party!
Crazy! I know. They just keep to themselves,
I guess. But, I mean, come on? No parties!
Do they even know what fun is!?
Last night there was this really awesome one where,
I was dancing…..and drinking….and then I threw up in my boyfriend’s car!
Oh yeah,
Were exes now.
Anyway, I just, like, IDK.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to have the ultimate makeup and beauty?
It’s mind-blowing!
I swear their worlds are all, aerobics and songbirds.
But, whatever, you know?

Peacemaker
Talk about irritating. I hate people
Who stop fights before the crescendo finishes!
Bor-ring! Drama is what I live for.
Just let people ruin their lives already!
I’m dying for some action over here.
Hel-lo! Your “sensible justice” is causing me to have serious
Gossip underload. Stop getting in the
Way of everything! If you would just come in
One second after you usually do, there would be so
Much more to say.
It would be beyond belief if you just,
Go where you belong and stop
Interrupting before some of the most spectacular
Moments in people’s lives.

Iron King**
This person is not so simple.
Loners that shield themselves from the world
Freaks that don’t want to experience reality
Maybe he’s evil
Attempting to hide a dark inheritance
Living in his mind, the Devil’s oasis
Visions of wonder and agony expressed throughout
Sending out blind waves of hatred to all who will not follow him into Hell.
Super creep.
I hope he leaves me alone.
I haven’t done anything to him…

Once upon a time,
I dare asked for preference on
Characters of fantasy.
I took a tally poll without mere thought
But then the deeply stored epiphany came later.
For if we are judging creatures of imagination then we must
Be grading stereotypes.
We gave each only a few characteristics
And in turn labeled our minds restrictive.
In the world of zombies and unicorns we can create anything we want.
In the realm of fantasy,
Everything and anything exist.
The question is unanswerable.