With plastic crown atop his head
and draped in splendid royal red,

he arched his back and struck a pose
to loud applause from costume rows:

the pilgrims bowed and paid respects,
all masks and hats his new subjects,

the ghouls and ghosts saluted too,
and, standing tall, he liked the view.

When spinning 'round to win more cheers
from Mother who must be in tears

to see her son no longer small–
but as a lord, a god, of all,

he found that he was there alone
and where she'd gone he did not know.

Forgetting all his lofty dreams,
he felt unraveled at the seams–

the costumes then all came alive,
with teeth and blood and crazy eyes.

The king who once was lord of all,
lay crying, sobbing, feeling small.

A hand then pressed upon his back–
his mom had found the royal rack,

and wiping tears from burning eyes,
he wished he'd trusted his disguise.

There were five people from a tiny town;
This town they lived in seemed all upside down.
Where everyone's values were different,
But everyone had the same commitment.
On this pilgrimage, they came together,
In the lovely fall weather.
The pilgrimage was to Capitol Hill,
To convince the government to pass the bill.
For now, they are just taking a short break,
To start the government for goodness sake.
All the pilgrims met through the site Macebook,
Discovered everyone with just one look.
The conspirator made the creepy site,
Who lured the followers into the light.
This is how we do it in the new age;
When you click the mouse once to like a page.
But by far the most difficult conflict,
Is to make the government not as strict.
They traveled in 2013,
They began their travel in a ravine.
In the submarine they consumed cheesecake,
Swallowing their pride to fix their heartache.

I worked so hard, not even drawn
Now all my work is far gone
It was beautiful like a butterfly
It just melted so bye bye
The fly I carved of butter is now gone
The Nazis took our electricity now everything is gone
Without the cold it melted away
Now my tools will just decay
A storm is brewing, we need more help
The Nazis make me want to yelp

I am from the hills
from a place where all you can see and smell are pine trees
I am from nowhere yet somewhere
from the yellow grass that flows with the wind.
I am from the bobcat growls and owl hoots
from deer prancing across the open fields.
I am from scorching summer heat
from the cold winter blizzards
with which I remember the heat of the fire
warding me from the evil chill.

I am from old movies and music
from action figures and Legos.
I am from the nerd brigade
from the straight-A club.
I am from a place where knowledge is power
and power is everything
From deja vu and nightmares
from which my mind is scared and perplexed.

I am from the teachings given by Master Yoda
“Fear is the path to the dark side
fear leads to anger,
anger leads to hate,
hate leads to suffering.”
and the advice given by Mace Windu
“Be mindful of your feelings”
from all those friends who also helped me along

In my room was Star Wars everywhere
With Han Solo on the dresser, away from the Millenium Falcon.
With Yoda on the computer desk, giving wisdom to all who work.
With young Anakin on the bookshelf, dreaming of his future.
I am from those moments
to which I want to forget.
Painful, memories are.

He clenches her throat, 
Squeezing her jugular with abrasive, demanding hands,​
Hands that used to smell of flower stems and home.​
Those roses had long ago died,​
Seeped into the kitchen tiles. ​

Feminine hands search frantically, helplessly,​  
She mumbles into his beat red face,
Begging God for help.
He dominates her, crushes her, blankets her in darkness.​
Vision blurs, blood pulses furiously to her head. ​

She tries to scream out the window,​
The door,​
The unseen skylight,
Into the crowded streets.​

Everything looks normal from the outside,​
Shutters drawn just so, the chimney smoking seductively in whispers.​
Passenger's see the house as a sanctuary, a safe haven.​
Inside, the walls are beat,​ bloodied, and bruised,
​Displaying black and blue marks, ​
Harmonizing with her beautiful brown skin. ​

"I love you too much," he groans pushing deeper into her flesh,​
Forcing his bleached fingers into her tormented soul. ​
A soul that had been whole once,​
Before he came, before she let him take hold,​
Before he became God.​

She gasps as fluttering images invade her mind,​
Her daughters' precious smiles, brown curls,​
Cloaking her dark mind in light,​
Filtering through the clouds.​

Liquor breaks the mirage,​
Forcing her back into the present.​
He's pressing his swollen lips to her forehead,​
Soaking in her sober, filling his nostrils with her scent.​

He still looks beautiful.​
He looks like the man she married at 17.
He looks God-like. ​
He is God. ​

Heartbeat slows, pulse un-rhythmically beats,​
Blackness devours her eyes, shutting out the perfectly formed home.​
All that's left is the soft giggles of her daughters'​
Echoing through her empty body.​

But, at least she sees angels.

I was going to do my homework
Then the washer went off
And the clothes reaped of daisies
And all I could think of were flowers

Sooner or later my homework will be done
Then a deer interrupted my thoughts
Grazing on the grass
I gazed from my window
I haven’t seen one this close

I meant to be productive
Till a woodpecker pecked
And a mockingbird sang a verse
While a hawk belted the chorus
They formed a little bird band.

Wait…

What was I gonna do again?

Distractions, distractions,
beautiful, shiny, noisy distractions
They flutter around my head
and their iridescent wings brush against my cheeks
My ears are smothered by the sound of their whispers
so I give up ignoring,
because the sound of their mindless singing
is much more beautiful
than a discussion of a king, his daughters, and an illegitimate son.