Blip. Blip. Blip
In the black of my room a red light pulses langorously on my phone
Steady green and blue lights and a rapid orange define the router across the room
Red digital numbers stand in the place of the clock
At precisely 6:00 am my alarm goes off(a deranged rooster entrapped in my phone)
A flick of a finger dismisses the crowing and the day has begun
After dressing and any other trivial task, I  am headed downstairs
A chik of the toaster
One beepbeepbeep of the microwave
More digital numbers, this time green, indicate that my bus comes shortly and I dash off
The headlights of the bus announce its presence half a block before it halts and the doors jerkily slide open
I text Graham from five feet away, because I don't yet know enough sign language
On the bus the driver may make an announcement, various lights and a few wires around her seat
School starts with a bell and the mindless herd shuffles in
The hallways bustle with the noise of teenagers chatting noisily, ipods playing, cells buzzing, beeping, texting
Homeroom and every period after is marked by a bell before and after until the last bell, freeing us from our institution of education
Now everyone is really alive and the clammer of sounds is three times as loud as the morning.
On the bus all but the most obnoxious are silent, closed off in their little world of a cellphone, ipod, or mp3
The kids file on and off the bus, only waking from their technology induced zombification to rapidly vocalize with their friends
Once I get home microwave humms as food is reheated or quickly cooked
The rice cooker is prepped and light flips on when plugged into the wall
Coffee maker may be set, and if my dad is home, his workspace is humming and light-pulsing as well
Brother and sisters argue over which tv show to watch or first computer turn while I'm wrapped up in my world of texting homework and poetry
Mom arrives from school and dinner is made
Stove humming loud and food stirfryed
Dinner no blips beeps or pulses matter, just the clinking of silverware and conversation
Afterwards, faucet runs dishes clattering while I wash
Imersion resumes and videos, games, and homework take over until bed
Teeth are brushed, pajamas donned, and members of this family mess around in bedroom before slowly transitioning to bed, and then sleep
So ends another day for me in the 21st century

It’s a holiday weekend, all of the ‘fellows’ have Monday off.
At lunch Wednesday, Lisa said, “We need a throw-down.”
So, we made some invites and started spreading word around.
“You know, we all work hard enough, we need to get down!”
We asked for RSVPs, and got 43, for the effort, a decent payoff.

My sister’s apartment has a balcony and plenty of space.
We spent Saturday shopping and rearranging the place.
Early Sunday, we hid all the breakables and decorated,
As people settled in, things took off - as we’d anticipated.

I was surprised when I saw Quinn come in
I quietly turned to Lisa, mouthing, “Who invited him?”
The blush on her face, gave her instantly away,
“We couldn’t NOT invite him, we see him every day.”

More people were arriving, laughing and smiling, the party was thriving.
Everyone seemed to bring something, a bottle of Canadian goose,
a bucket of KFC, another of Popeyes, some glowing aurora jungle juice,
taco dip and chips, a Boston Creme pie and a cake with purple icing.

When you feel right, you let the music ignite you,
the beat seems to drive you, the vibe helps excite you,
the bass starts to thump and, well, you’re only young once,
you forget all your cares, for a delirium that’s shared.

In this ocean of joy, I saw a sad and reserved boy.

It was Quinn, in the corner, slouching on the couch.
a model of insecurity, watching the party self consciously,
I looked at Lisa, rolled my eyes, and said, “Why ME?”

I maneuvered over and took Quinn gently by the shoulders,
“Come ON, Quinn, you’re among friends, so embrace the funk,
these GIRLS wanna dance, give ‘em a chance, you’re not a monk!”
I pulled him to his feet, and dragged him over to Monique.
“Quinn, Monique - Monique, Quinn - let the dancing begin!”

By the end of the night Quinn was doing all right.
He has a quirky, awkward style, reconciled by a nice smile,
he’d danced with every girl, leaving them a little beguiled.
“Do it Quin, DO IT!” A girl, at one point, had laughed.
“Oh,” he’d said, gyrating in his herky-jerkily away, “It’s being DONE!”

Who could have known our stuffy, Harvard Quinn could be fun?!

Sweet pea soap
consoled purple and green bruises
on wrists and ribs
like dark wine on a white tablecloth
        Stuck.

She sunk deeper
into the bath
let them disappear
she became unblemished
untouched
spared.

She breathed in.

She breathed out.

Reached for soap
and ring caught skin
recoiled her arm jerkily
like a broken jack-in-the-box.

One Vermilion Pearl
tumbled down
and she felt bruises grow jealous.
They pounded on that obstinate wall
grumbling to get out
while this single drop broke
         Free.

And she had done that.
Her.
Not him.
Lucy felt power.
The drop rolled down her wrist and into the grimy water.
Others followed.
The water darkened.

Lucy pulled the drain plug.
Again.
Stared admirably
at the ******, crimson ring
in her quivering hand.

So beautiful
even through the gore.
It slipped silently down the drain
With blood and sweet pea soap and mascara and bath water and tears.
And for the first time

Lucy slept sound.

Beginners. The part in Beginners where Georgia takes young Oliver to the art museum and playfully tilts her body to mimic the juxtaposed metal frame installation. Or when on one of their drives in their 1982 Mercedes-Benz 300 D Turbo Diesel, Georgia tells young Oliver "You point, I'll drive," so Oliver knee-jerkily points his finger to the direction opposite of where they are driving, and Georgia calmly steers the car out of control without any bit of hesitation. The fact that Oliver keeps the "You point, I'll drive" tradition alive with Anna years after Georgia's passing, but never explains or even mentions to Anna the backstory and significance behind these words, it's just something he casually incorporates in his counted moments with her, which conveys through indirect verbalization just how much she means to him.

Oh, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Don't even get me started with Joel and Clementine, and all their heart-wrenching, perfect one-liners and phrases.

"I'm Clementine. Can I... borrow a piece of your chicken?"
"And then you just took it... without waiting for an answer. It was so intimate; like we were already lovers."

And,

"I could die right now, Clem. I'm just...happy. I'm exactly where I wanna be." All the right words, in the right sequence, with precise pause and emphasis.

Or,

"I'm a little out of sorts today." A line I secretly quote and have casually adapted into my every day utterances.

And of course the infamous Tangerine and Joely Sequence;

"You're pretty, you're pretty. You're pretty... you're pretty... pretty.."

Both of these movies mean so much to me. These are the kind of things I would tell you. These are the kind of things that would mean something to you, that would lead you to finding some bit of magic in me, and maybe even make you fall in love. But you've never asked, and you don't, and you won't. Still, I wish that you would ask.

Across the sunlit summer’s lawn
came a strange, laughing child;
hair tousled, face wreathed in smiles,
china blue eyes shining with true simplicity.

Together they watched her awkward gait,
and pitied her protruding jaw and lips.
They compared notes on her recent behaviour
and yesterday’s strong epileptic seizure.

Angelman sighed sadly and, pocketing his pen,
observed to the medical student:
“It’s tragic how just one abnormal chromosome
can cause such awful blight . . .”

The child came jerkily up to them
still smiling, and as ever bereft of speech.
A tear manifested itself in the doctor’s eye,
as the ‘happy puppet’ began to laugh again.  

Uncontrollably.

"You Dream"

I thought leaving you behind was possible
insanity gross big ego of me
better than you? No this mind is but a peer through
mucky water turbulent illusion i jerkily dancing
in a dream world with a you dream fearing
if i stop !        you will be offended

Methinks hmm, perhaps
I admittedly self plagiarize and quite aware
aforementioned amalgamated, conglomerated,
fabricated, jerry rigged, and organized
eye gripping titled
poem already aired a year plus ago,
though revisiting said theme
downplayed now as thoughts blare,

though similarly filched content
(pertaining to other literary endeavors)
invariably glommed electronically
(digitally remastered and remixed),
nevertheless gobbledygook enigmatically
jerkily, and quirkily communicated,
sans trademark Pi Seine (seen) fishtail career
as applies to uber secreted questions.

This chap challenges himself,
an immense task I dare
unleash unbounded kickstarting euphoria
within psychic calm and weal
with a healthy dose of logorrhea
scowl unintentionally anonymous reader
mine re: noun verbosity doth ensnare
though oft times obfuscation veils merely

a black hole sun (son) prominence
asthma faux eminence amber gris
long ago didst flare
aware if chance encounter
in a dark alley coal less sing
burning eyes fiercely glare
yet, an explanation
would be proffered to hear.

Most instances when I initially seat
myself priming creative literary juices to flow,
an unspecified number hours elapse
before that eureka i.e. Jackie Oh
NASA hiss (Onassis) revelation transpires
witnessing, this scruffy, prickly, grow
tusk long haired woolly creature
out malm mouth drool dripping
trademark characteristic viz
pencil neck geek
madly scratching itchy hairs

dotting chinny chin chin of
garden variety generic hobo
hook huns hitters hymns elf
tubby frank and ernest poet;
home body (nowhere man);
beetle browed fool on the hill;
common everyday fluky,
nippy, nap noopy common Joe,
just biden his time,
whence upon gestation ova hen chic idea
comes home to stir the roost.

(Hard boiled eggheads merely
scrambled random thought fragments
at that stage) scrunching brow
activates laser focus,
a scattershot burst
of tangential threads populate
formerly barren tabula rasa,
sans, Lenovo external screen
once again defying (tomb me
akin to some eternal mystery),

trucked since time immemorial
inexplicable, that sudden ignition
asper cerebral automatic
catalytic converter kickstarter
(hmm...perhaps cogs and gears
housed within medulla oblongata)
foster fecund fertilization,
an inexplicable phenomena, I dune hot know
explanation, but upon advent
whence, wispy vague undefinable inchoate

coalesce analogous to genesis of animal new life
when there appears just the merest hint
of fledgling wispy notions strive similar
to ***** cells fervently whipsawing vis a vis,
via flagellation motility misfits
and false starts before this crotchety scribe
mollycoddles crux of embryonic idea
congeals, expresses, and forms
grandiose manifest destiny
mentioned above i.e. ***

Lee Judas Priest remaining catharsis
seems like a versatile
self determining Motorhead
(ace of spades) tour de force,
whereat fingers of the left hand
move of their own volition spilling forth poe
whet tree once expanded Leaves (of Grass)
finds me Waltzing Whitman nigh hick cull
tickled pink with a soft after glow.

This penchant spurring confabulation
explaining (feebly) zest
yours truly experiences
expatiating honest to dog ness
figuratively go win west
hoard (word) ** seeking
mine own mother lode acquired,
via verse a tile material undergoing
electric kool aid acid test
incorporating rigorous (mortise
and tenon constructed) adverbial quest
which wondrous, whirled,

and webbed woven semicolon aided nest
reinforced with double entendre
tongue in cheek jest,
whereby multiple interpretations
(ala mode literary splotchy Rorschach test)
tenants in common beau geste
ma bell heavable own home spun faux
Cambridge Analytica
Jimmy Crack corn and I don't care
gimcrackery defaced facebook best
bite, with absolute zero
data snatched aye evasively attest.

There once was a boy...

There once was a boy named Matthew. When he was little he walked out of his house and into the woods and no one ever saw him again. After he left his house he traveled the world he stowed away in cargo hulls of ships and snuck onto planes, when anyone caught him  and asked where his parents were he would say "Right behind you!" and run away. Then there was a war. World war III to be exact. During this war he would try to get close to the battles to watch the soldiers fight. The world had been divided between two super maces, the Gatacon and the Nireh. The Gatacon had the technology but the Nireh had numbers. Today was special for Matthew because the Gatacon had begun hiring soldiers from the age of 15 and up, to increase their numbers and Matthew had just turned 15 yesterday. He walked into the registration office and presented his certificate of qualification to the officer. "A little young to be joining the army ain't cha lad," said the officer "Old enough as far as you're concerned I  replied". Matthew, "you'll get you're uniform at the front desk then proceed down to the
sub-basement for mission briefings" said the officer," don't we get any special training" questioned Matthew." "You've got no time for that now do as I said" ordered the officer. Matthew hurried to the front desk and down to the sub-basement eager to learn about his first mission. Once there he sat down next to a frail looking girl as the mission commander began to speak "I'm glad to see
a large turnout" spoke the officer" but I've got no time for idle chit chat, you will be shipped out on an s-18 aircraft where you will parachute down to the battlefield below. You're job is to set up a defense post. We have a base camp nearby and we need something to prevent night raids so you will be on guard 24-7". The group of 37 (Matthew counted) headed up to the airlift on the roof of the complex where they where quickly escorted onto a helicopter like plane. As they entered they saw that they each had a designated
spot with a parachute and a 67cm arrow pulse cannon. No one spoke as the plane began to rise and slowly zoom away from the complex. They were a good 2 hours into the plane ride when the pilot came on the intercom and gave orders to parachute in 60 seconds, Matthew quickly strapped on his parachute and headed towards the door, the others appeared to hesitant to go first. He was about to jump when he heard a large commotion from inside the ship and before he knew it he had been
catapulted from the planes door and was plummeting to the ground below. He pulled the cord and gazed downwards, he was way off target and was headed
straight towards the base camp. He was prepared for a long walk though. He heard another clang and gazed upwards to see if anyone else had fallen. The plane was moving fairly jerkily and he wondered what was wrong, then he realized it the
plane was being fired upon by the Nireh he gazed downwards and saw a small group of them firing at it he looked upwards just in time to see it explode, pieces of debree were hurling towards him he reached for his gun in hopes he could blast it out of the sky but it was too late then suddenly everything went black. Hours later he awoke in what appeared to be a first aid tent, there was a searing pain in his right hand he gazed downwards and found that his clothes were covered in blood, he checked his body for cuts but there were none, it must have been the blood of his comrades from the ship he gazed at his right hand witch was covered in red bandages. A few minutes later a man that looked like a doctor walked in" Quite an accident your crew had Matthew lucky you got out of it alive, your right hand was torn from your arm so we replaced it with an electronic one, it will hurt for a while but soon it will be as good as new. You were also covered in radioactive waste from the plane's battery so we gave you an experimental vaccine for neuclear poisining and it appears to be working its good too because if this war comes to neuclear bombs you can't get poisoned" chirped the doctor.

"Can I get some new clothes" wheezed Matthew," sure, and since your crew was wiped out you will be stationed he for the remainder of the war". For the next few days Matthew worked around the camp and helped wherever he could. Then devastating news came. The Gattacon had developed a neuclear weapon with devastating power. It was being shipped across the ocean when a Nireh attack plane sunk the vessel it was on. Already reports had come in of dead sealife washing up on shores. Within a few months
Matthew was all alone, the bomb had contaminated the world and Matthew was alive because of an experimental vaccine, but Matthew was used to being alone so everything turned out just fine.

The End.

in a sky full of fire? When did
the pain turn to desire? It rains
splinters in the yard. Every broken
shard is sharpened with the axe,

and thrown back, poking holes
in their stories. They trumpet, the morning
glories in bright blue, climbing on
a twisted vine. Cutting their twine with

a searing hue in burgundy
till they bleed out their petal heads
jerkily. Smirking and mounting the steed,
riding off after planting the seed!

Ah...a flood of memories wash over
this anointed Goatama Boo Da,
whose respected G.O.A.T status
among generic green acres,
which swathed across Highland Manor
analogous to petty coat junction
showcasing, jumpstarting and donning
a bright towering bewitched kid
barren regal deportment
proudly trumpeting himself
as Maga hatted apprentice
being mentored courtesy this ole buck,

where attendant goatherd didst ha
intimate diddly squat,
hence never did expect me
(an adept harried style swiftly tailored
windswept teary eyed pundit)
sentimentally woke evincing
young whipper snapper
metamorphosed into chargé d'affaires
exceeding wildest expectations
to apply goatee
to dab moistened eyes ma
lament tab lee recalling blissfully innocent
kickstarter libidinal oomph pa.

As a kid, this now middle aged old goat
silently bends back disbudding head
as if noggin didst float;
bleats, and thence
blinks back tears to emote,
asper remembrance of things past,
when me papa and late mama didst dote
via gently grooming my tattered raggedy coat
whereat patches of missing fur reveals bloat

head distended abdomen
no longer evinces picture
of mine prime head butting days
when unchecked chutzpah, daring do,
and exploratory forays
found this then runt
strayed far from the madding crowd
upon verdant fresh fields I didst graze
and sought out secluded cool shelter
from hot, humid summer haze,

where abundant bucking bronco energy
resorted, succumbed and tugged via natural
sluggish inertia and predilection to laze,
and oft times dreamt being trapped
within some M. C. Escher maze
given up for lost or...,when
n'er a reply from plaintive bleats,
whence upon awakening
bestowed ablutions to Billy Gotti goat,
(Latin Name Capra aegagrus hircus)
unstinting praise

groggy state elapsed with pleasant waft
of cooler August air
cloven hoofs confidently, gingerly,
and jerkily strode to espy clear
panoramic view when 'ere
afar off in the distance,
an indistinguishable glare
to view scenic
quintessential picture dis interfere

foretold a recognized
landmark comprising around
perimeter defined areas
hosting happy hustings
(no...not hustling) ground
encompassing accrued memories
to date within storied mound
caching predominantly pleasant
bouts of playtime, when siblings pound
for Avoirdupois pound
raced each other observed
by Mister Sun at his coterie of sound
clouded pillowy cerulean
celestial garden, which
helped get tension unwound.

Now while doddering, hobbling,
and limping with *** leg
(Battle of the bucks him
Boar skirmish) in old dote age,
which declining physical well being
restricts shenanigans akin
to limiting an artist prohibited
to paint with the color beige
to an ever shrinking unseen cage
soon...t'will be sent out to pasture,
whence concluding stage
of existence paid with demise
collected by grim reaper,
who only accepts deceased
as sole (soul surviving) standard wage.