One head
Watches over me,
covered in scales of plenty
Like a slimy sea
Licking my own fate

Two heads
Engulf the air and circle the ground
Looking for something not found
A flammable screeching sound
Masks the rush of my heart rate

Three heads
Prevent me from moving on
Like foxes trying to con
Hoping that what I search for is gone.
They deviously begin to mate.

Six heads
Barricade like thick cement
Keeping me in tryin to prevent
Any and all things I present
Then with a promise, I sedate.

One heart
I aim for straight away
Noiselessly I stop and stay
Silencing voices I have let stray
My own victory I now can create.

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the cave
The monster excitedly began to shave.
His home was messed up with rocks everywhere
In hopes that St. Claws would trip anywhere.
He laid some fried bugs upon the end table
As a treat and a greeting and a card with a label.
The monster curled up on his stone cold bed
While brushing his long hair, beginning to shed.
Soon the cave started to rumble and shake
The monster jumped up, fearing an earthquake.
A giant squeezed in with its long white nails
While its sled waited outside and its 9 angry snails.
“Ha, ha, ha!”Roared the giant, “I have something for you!”
And he dropped a large bag, spreading everything askew.
Out came some coal and the monster dropped to his knees
And cried out loud, “I’ve always wanted some of these!”

A young girl with shoulder-length brown hair and new white shoes galloped across a newly stained bridge with black polished railing
With no cracks, no moss, no holes, no graffiti and led her to her new old school for the very first day.
The creek beneath her, filled with ducks, algae, the occasional nutria, clear, murky water, and branches, weeds, and grass hanging out over the creek, flirting with it,
And the creek flowed while the girl playfully followed.

The wide grassy hill, abandoned by trees and bushes alike, hid a narrow trough, which entertained the young ******* her journey to the school and came up to her knees and
Sharpened her balance while trying not to fall over.

And her friend, with faded blond hair, with blue, blue eyes, with a soft nose, with faint eye brows, and about 4’9’’, trailed behind her, trying to match her every step.
And he was her close neighbor
And at school—her classmate
And then they came home and he was her playmate and best friend.
And once they were home, her mother made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,
no crust.

Her mother, at home, then school, then teaching
and her motherly tone reassuring the girl that she could do anything she sets her mind to while reminding the girl to do her homework.
Her father, working with cars, then not with cars, then with cars again, who was good with his hands, but maybe not his memory,
Who the girl is alike more than she may think.

The white shoes grew into a white Jeep Cherokee and took the girl to the new new school;
And the long, dark haired, one-eyed boy,
And the preppy, sparkly, life-size Barbie,
And the bulky young man with a fully-grown beard.

Within the vast hallways, the girl spotted her distant neighbor, her classmate, her playmate, her friend With dark blond hair, with blue, blue eyes, with a hard nose, with whiskers on his chin and a stature of 6’8’’.
But only sometimes.

Driving down the long, grey pavement road, with no lines to part the road, the girl passes the bridge,
The bridge which had taken her to the old old school,
The bridge with faded black rails and both moss and graffiti growing on it,
The bridge she had once followed.

The Grasshopper made the
Ants work through strife
Forcing them to feed him,
While scaring a bug’s life.

Hidden in the large empty locker
Is where you’ll find little kid *****,
Trying everyday to conceal himself
From the big school bully.

Fur coats is all she wanted
But puppies she’d carelessly ****.
And dogs would cringe
From the voice of Cruella DeVil.

Wizards and witches
All magic the same
Would often speak of him
But not say his name.

Blond hair and blue eyes
Is the only way to go.
******’s the leader
So Aushiwtz you go!

He’ll keep you on the farm
Appearing to work for all
But he’s just like those pigs,
Napoleon and Snowball.

Although a fine nurse
Thought to make good calls,
You, Nurse Ratched,
Are just like them all.

Have I ever told you, friend,
How much I love your smile?
It just lights up my life,
Making your presence worthwhile.

I also enjoy listening
To all your thrilling sensations,
And ‘specially all your friendly
One-sided conversations.

You’re such a funny friend,
Like your dream about honey,
Where you put some on your toast—
Boy that was funny!

You’re my friend, like
A foot to a shoe
Who’s always so generous
Letting others listen to you.

Oh my dear friend,
I have a story to tell!
But yours is more important,
So I’ll listen to you dwell.

I wrote you this poem
I think it’s a great fit!
Adios, my friend,
I do hope you like it.

A pink flower sways in the breeze on a calm, cool night.
It stretches out its smooth petals, inviting others to join her.
Soon, a young bee hobbles along and freely accompanies the flower.
She plays with its leaves, caresses its petals and hovers above the flower's stigma.
A sudden gust of warm breath pushes the bee into the flower and is wrapped up soft arms.
The young bee quickly gathers some golden powder, tickling the flower.
Then off the bee flies, waving back and thanking the pink flower,
Which still sways in the breeze of the calm, cool night.

You shall marry your mother
And ****** the other
Mark my words though
Because I’ve told you so.

You try to deny in disbelief
Though I am not known for mischief
You know more, you threat,
Since I am only a blind prophet

Your ignorance annoys me much
Of your wife’s motherly touch
Yet you act as detective
Trying to get a new perspective

When the criminal is caught
His punishment be to rot.
You’ll be saving the city—
Ha! I laugh out of pity.

Your eyes, craters now,
Clawed out by the truth you’d allow
Now you think you’ll die in bliss
Just ‘cause you showed some nobleness

As your brow glistened
You should have listened
To what I know
Because, well, I told you so.

Although your friendly demeanor
Helps mask your vexatious vibe,
What's hidden under your trench coat
I can effortlessly describe.

Your ignorance is beautiful
Complimenting your facetiousness,
Which gets people to laugh,
Following you like a princess.

The amiable attitude masks
An ugly judgmental jowl
Which tends to spark
A camouflaged scowl

Your playful features are
No more than soft and cushy wool.
The transparent grin you flaunt about
Is just a bunch of bull.

Now grapple my ideas
Don't throw them out if sight.
Just listen when I say
"You're stupid and I'm right"

Hello? I am running out of

The monotonous ticking and somber creaks send chills through my skin, making my hair stand as if it was shocked awake. Each step I take, the bare skin touches the cold hard wood, freezing me. A stale taste floats onto my tongue turning it to stone but quickly warms up when a familiar scent surrounds me. The ground turns soft, my toes familiarizing themselves with the cushioned carpet. I reach out in front of me but am lost in a space of emptiness. A wall guides my hope to the side and my fingers fiddle and search for the hidden switch. Heart thumping, my index finger lightly pushes up on the friendly switch, but with a swift movement, I remain lost in darkness.

Telling the truth is so overrated.

So today I don't like you.
It's not because of your plastic smile
Which seems to shine everytime I look at you.
It isn't your glass window pane you constantly
Build between my friends and I.
It isn't the piercing arrows of which you
Rudely throw at me, then tell me I'm mean.
Oh, no, it can't be.
And it most certainly isn't that little bubble you surround yourself with,
Clouded with ignorance, flaunting your Siren song so that you can engulf more people, welcoming them into your clear ball, yet not realizing that your own stubbornness is blinding you from friends you could have and words you can't hear.
I'm not quite sure why,  but today I don't like you,
Perhaps tomorrow I will.
Or not.

So I have this dog.

He sniffs, poops, pees, sleeps,

just like any other dog. However,

he is not like any other dog.

He politely asks for food by gazing at us

with his dark brown eyes,

always hoping for the chance we'll drop something.

He asks nicely for walks and takes great pleasure

in a walk that only lasts five minutes.

He eats his breakfast and dinner in

29 seconds flat.

He rings the bells when he wants to go outside.

When you hold up a cookie,

he goes through all 19 tricks

so you don't have to wait.

He looks up toward the counter, sniffing for any

five-pound frozen hamburger that was carelessly placed near the edge.

He'll wink at you,

if you stare long enough.

He always waits by the door,

staring outside hoping you will show up,

and when you do, you open the door,

his ears drop, his tail wags, and his eye grow.

So I have this dog; however

he is not like any other dog, but luckily,

he is my dog.

We may not have that good of a pitcher...

Don't worry we aren't supposed to win.

I'm embarrassed to be your coach.

There's nothing good to say.

We're just not doing good.

They're more aggressive.

You're just not as good.

There's no heart.

Another loss.

you can scoop
you can hold
you can carry sweet things
you can cut
you can stir
oh! all the joy you bring
you can carve
you can cradle
your love is soup
as is mine
we are perfect
oh we're a perfect group
you can balance
you can carry
you can dig everything
you play games
you make riddles
you can do most anything!

Sometimes you feel
                                    left out.
Watching people from the side,
                                              at the end.
"I need some water!"
Here.
Let me get that for you.
                                    Because I'm at the end.
Waiting anxiously
                          at the end of the bench.
Wait. Here he comes!
"Go in."
Oh. He wasn't talking to me.
Watching people from the side,
                                               at the end.
Sometimes you feel
                              left out.

A comet streaks by
Shining bright, no strings attached.
I try to catch it.

Universe is vast
Yet we know more about it
Than we do ourselves

You're my friend, a good friend,
Yet I still don't understand you.
You play a game you don't like, 
but sometimes you do.

Sometimes you do like to talk
About things you wouldn't say.
And although you're annoyed with her,
You say you'll marry her someday.

You say you'll marry her someday
Or grow old with cats of twenty,
But what I don't understand is
Why you'd tell me things a-plenty?

Why you would tell me things a-plenty
Blows my imagination
I want to help but your stubbornness
Makes it a hard situation.

It makes it a hard situation
When your solution is to cut
and to keep it to yourself--
The pain you keep shut.

The pain you keep shut I can't help
But please put it to an end,
I worry about you because
You're my friend, a good friend.

I miss the soft hair that
I would run my dainty fingers through
All the time 
After you would playfully surprise me from behind,
Wrapping your safe arms around my young waist while I giggled and tried to turn around
And tickle you.
I miss when we'd stroll out of the house, I ahead of you, hoping you'd catch up, yet
bent over and coughing up laughter;
Then you'd pick me up and whirl around,
Shining your teeth with every turn then
Gently lowering me to the soft ground.
I miss the careful fingers
briskly grabbing my hand,
Precariously placing themselves between each of mine perfectly.
I miss you--
Or at least I'm trying to.

When it is time for me to leave,
Please do not cry, but laugh instead
Our friendship is strong--you better believe.
When it is time for me to leave,
We will have a game night the eve
To ease both your and mine's dread.
So when it is time for me to leave,
Please do not cry, but laugh instead.

Essays, I do not like you
And you often sneak up on me too.
Go write yourself
Or stay on the shelf
Because to me you are nothing new.

Small
Boy friend
From my past
With your dark hair
And your blue jacket.
Although our days of play
And shaving cream are behind
I wonder if you remember
How much fun we used to have at school.
I want to go back to those days with you.

A
Twisted
Tail
In a
Trap or an
Upbeat
Dance
Engulfed in bliss

Oh where have you gone lost button of mine?
Under the bed or hiding in my drawer,
Hiding like all my socks, in their sock shrine?
Or in my room hiding behind the door?

You are not lying plainly on my floor;
I need to find you, oh where could you be?
The others like you, you just can’t ignore;
Come back, it is not safe being lonely.

You are probably rebelling from me
And the others, trying to be unique,
But you mean the world to me, can’t you see?
I miss you—there are no words left to speak.

You’re twins cry for you, “Button, where you at?
Don’t be a sock, you are better than that.”

I am smooth and curved. My digital appearance is easily read with its precise dark lines transforming to a new shape every minute.
I cannot freeze nor slow, and I am always right. I am admired by only one—
Only the eyes of the one who carries me.
Watch me and I will not go any faster;
Forget me and I will not go any slower. Often, I hug you when we travel,
Assisting you on your timeless journeys.

Now I am grand, reaching to the stars with long, cracked columns and rusty bars.
I cannot go with you on any journey but will always
Be here when you return. Every morning, my antique whiskers point in various directions,
point to tired Roman numerals, which straighten up so everyone can see them.
Age engulfs me like moss to a tree,
Although I feel much older than that.
Rhythmically, I sing to you, each hour, day, and year, just to let you know I am still here.

What is curiosity?
Is it red or is it blue?
Does it have wings so it can fly
To places beyond the new?

Perhaps it's a mole
Burrowing deep in the ground,
Searching for things
That can never be found.

It must be hidden in a cave
Upside-down like a bat,
waiting to be awaken--
Or is it more than that?