Poetry

The colors of the night

Are black and white.

I’ll make a big mess throwing nachos in a food fight.

Do you like my dress, or do you think it’s too tight?

We can order up some Mexican from the taco place,

Are you gonna text again and take me on some dates?

We can drink high teas with elegance and grace,

But I’m wearing white tees cuz I’m sellin’ all my lace.

I sign my rhymes with a line that says anonymous,

With a red pen, I draw blood like a phlebotomist,

Sting like a killer bee, float like a hippopotamus.

I tie my shoe strings with mood swings

And brood with rude dudes who wear shoes in living rooms,

Giving brooms to maids and do two things at once,

A dame who hunts for days and months

For bulls on parade and grunts,

Takes first base with bunts,

Plays with guns and razor blades for fun,

Juggles spades for stunts 

In Hello Kitty with a tool twirl. 

I’m giddy as a school girl,

Pretty as a pool girl,

I wear lolita in the city and the whole world. 

- September 30, 2025

Follow the blue line.

Who am I? I’ve been two-timed too many times.

I’m doin' fine. Your heart is glue to mine.

It’s a zoo inside. If you scuba dive deep inside,

You will find fishes, blue and white, playing seek and hide.

On the seaside, you see a side of pizza pies.

Keep the prize. Give me the keys and I

Drive the ride like cyanide playing Zion I.

I’ll take a tie and dye both sides

The color of a lion eye.

Give me another try and I 

Will light a firefly on fire in the higher sky

And if a tired guy tries to cry, I’ll die inside.

I'd be a liar if I said I didn't admire my iron eyes.

Try as I might to steer clear, light years from right here,

I ignite fear with light beer and bright lights at night in my mirror.

Quite the sight, a white queer, while I fight tears.

The height of my fright is quite clear.

Do you like this?

Yes, your highness.

You are royalty. I give you loyalty,

My hair is oily and give the boys toys but spoil me.

The noise annoys me more than the boys from Boise,

Idaho, I don’t know if I can go to the microphone,

Bike alone to a psycho home,

Apartment two nine, where I do dine and chew swine,

Watching true crime, but I’m too blind to do time.

Follow the blue line.

- September 28, 2025

The ship’s flag, boasting a fantastic legion,

Blasting bombs, glowing ballistic missiles,

Swooping and diving like great whales in great oceans,

Deep enough for a visit from the dreaded cyclops fish.

Atop the raft, flailing in the ocean winds,

Smoke and salt in the tumbling waves,

Try as I might to construct the perfect epitaph, 

On my steam-powered, gothic-style typewriter.

You could tell from the worn-torn knobs

That it had been used in the ancient battles.

Only the ravens had better penmanship

After practicing on scrolls in pearl-white cathedrals. 

Unyielding, a demolition of the senses,

Like too much chocolate in a breakfast cereal.

Soft raindrops, my only solace,

I hold the flag, once more, to the highest cloud.

- September 26, 2025

Find your stripe, and go.

Don't hold back, all up, all in.

Bring on the midnight rain,

As we bask in starlit glory.

Enjoy, catastrophe is the only hope,

Now that we have the lantern of truth.

Twilight and dim candles and a mist

That sings into the long night.

Wizards from the ancient realm

And a cat of omens bestow our future,

As we grasp onto the last threads of summer,

Let us seek the knowledge of the swans.

- September 22, 2025