Author: poetryfest

Horror movies are scary
Spine-tinglingly
Toe-curlingly
Gaspingly
Scary

They are
Monsters that lurk in the dark
Skeletons with creaking bones
Killers of bone white masks
And pitch-black souls
And sharpened blades
And watching eyes

So when you get scared?
Turn the TV off
And go back
To your peaceful life

Do not fear the men
With steel eyes
Who bite at your legs
When you turn away

For they have no masks
No protruding bones
But rather handsome faces
With chiseled jaws
Made to hide the blackened ghouls
Threatening to escape
At a moment’s notice

‘Twas bleak and my slimy foes
Did gain throughout the game
So flimsy were my teammates’ throws
At last, only I remained.

“Beware the dodgeballs and run!
Don’t lose your fight and make the catch!
Watch out for Eric Anderson—
He’ll try to finish out the match!”

I took the orange ball in hand
One against ten I fought.
And while my ousted teammates cheered
One—two—three balls I caught.

Soon, one against five is how it stood
And Anderson with eyes of flame
Charghed across the shlippity wood
And snarled, hissed, and aimed.

One two, one two I ducked and threw—
My orange ball made a smack.
I’d hit his head so hard and firm
He landed squarely on his back.

Finally, it was one on one
And my teammates cheered with joy:
“Way to play! Hooray Hooray!
You’re the miracle dodgeball boy”

‘Twas bleak but my slimy foes
Did fall before my aim.
But flimsy was my final throw
It was caught — I’d lost the game.

Abandoned bike locks
And broken barriers
Surround a society of crows and dogs.

They stare at these structures,
Foreign and useless,
As they go about their daily duties.

Gather food, protect the young,
Never knowing the tragedy
That is their fortune.

The sea
It is a beautiful palace
Filled with vivid life
Bursting at the seams with hues
We humans can’t even recreate if we tried
Sparkling zebrafish squads
Nautical jewelry
Being snatched up by apex beasts
That want sparkle that is theirs
Exclusively theirs.

Waves break against the shore
Thrashing to obliterate unknown bonds
Hauling seaweed, human waste, shattered shells
Onto the messy sand
Freezing water
Jellies filled to the brim with toxins
Primed and waiting to quietly
Kill a man
Slowly from the inside out.

Surfing is full of instability
As crashing fronts
Yawning onyx mouths of liquid
And harsh winds kissing bony backs
Rip wounds into unclad skin
Hazy moors of cobalt jarring strong human forms
Into submission.

The depths full of possible horrors
But gorgeous too
Even with the deep blob sculpins
Squid
Viperfish
Lurking in the depths
Hoping for bites
Of sweet, tender flesh
To quench their covetous hunger
Jowls full of teeth

Fixed to munch on yowling victims
Stupid enough to try to flee
Fish oozing gore into the murky night
While toxins seep into their flesh.

As if illustrated by artists
The high seas are caressed by color
Pulses of it race through the water like
Disco lights
Glows from majestic majesties
Quickly pulse through the water
As they throw vapors through the air
Bursts of hue billow upwards to the clouds
Emulate axolotls due to their variety
Zephyrs like brushes across the cobalt sky.

under the girder,
under the upstairs
neighbor’s foot,
the dust, and blood;

away,
away,
away,
the dark cold.

A tiny angel emerged from me
Reflections of dark eyes
Gazing in wonderment
A soul awake
A deep perception
All too knowing

A bond formed without words
Reading my inner thoughts
We spoke in silence
My rock
My anchor
The calm in the storm

Now it is you on uneven ground
Truth shaking in your palms
Out and proud
Beautiful and brave
Worthy of your identity

In turn I stand
A foundation to lean on
Steady and unwavering
Always my son
My savior

My garden speaks to me
in birds that visit there:
The crows, and doves,
the hummingbirds
that stand still in the air.

She says, “O vivid green!”
And whispers, “wind through leaves.”
I strain to get her meaning
As I sit beneath the eaves.

Beginning in the nighttime,
Before it’s even dawn
She tells me of her day
Till the sun’s across the lawn.

She mentions the mosquitos
And the squirrels who’re planting oaks
She has a sense of humor
And she likes these little jokes.

There’s nothing wild about her
She’s very civilized
With geometric hedges,
She’s my spot of Versaille.

We both are fond of Order –
Hers is very stable
That’s more than I can do –
Admiring hers is what I’m able..

you tell me you love me—
you love me so much.
enough to break walls and shatter windows.
your love is the kind that lights fires.

you don’t want me by your side, but under your foot.
you don’t want to hear my name out of her mouth
or you will choke me for it.

how am i supposed to tell you
what i’m thinking
and you say be honest
when you want to put your words on
the back of my tongue
and have me regurgitate them.

do you know that love
is not akin to benevolence
or your loving violence?

do you know that love
is not akin to the possessive
claim of a kindergartner
on a bus seat?

you say history. i say rotten.

i say fear. you say loyal.

you say sorry. you say it next time too.

after you put your fist down my throat
and tell me to swallow,
you ask me why
i hate you.

My seasonal allergies are flaring up
I never had them until this year
Last September was when it started

The pollen doesn’t bother me
But the sweater you loved makes me sneeze
The last time I wore it was the night you came over for dinner

I don’t notice the dust mites
But the songs we loved give me a headache
Childish Gambino is off limits for now

The doctor said it might be the dust spores
But I see you everywhere in the fall
Remembering how I loved you makes me tired

I’m not sure why
But I get teary eyes when I drive past your street
I only miss you in September

i. Dust-Filled Afternoon
The rain has finally stopped. Yet, something inexplicably unsettling lingers beneath the surface—
a perplexing feeling. It started one afternoon long ago, this persistent, unshakable dread. Like
autumn arriving, leaves turning into rainwater, I worry that stepping on them will lead only to
emptiness, afraid to tread firmly. My hands feel utterly listless. I turn my head and glance
askance. The reflection in the mirror is hard to accept. I look away, and just like that, no evidence
remains.

ii. Mirror
A wild boar that escaped the pigsty digs at the dirt with its snout. I heard something happened
down south, and the north has begun to snow. In the heart of the forest, the boar digs its hole.
The moment I turn off the light, this boar—suddenly leaps into my mind, digging. You close your
eyes, yet you sense it: in the heart of the forest, a wild boar is digging a hole.
Even when we become two stones leaning against one another, breathing the air that rises
around us, the image of the boar digging remains.

iii. This Century
Modern cities have no walls; I am someone who lives in a modern city. Yet, in the end, the city
gives birth to new walls. Ports with walls resemble dragons with broken wings. Jade is still buried
beneath the earth, but its surface is coated with a layer of dust, ash sifted down by city dwellers.
People upon the walls wait for the jade below. Suddenly falling silent, like clouds sealing their
lips. A dragon flies among the clouds, new walls. They block the clouds outside the city.

iv. Lotus Blossoms
I stand on the stone tiles by the lake. A wild duck swims out from behind the lotus leaves. Pink
and white blend together. Back in summer, or perhaps it was spring, the blossoms came to life. I
stand on the shore watching the flowers, but my thoughts can’t settle on them. My eyes seem to
see the blossoms, yet the image is unclear. My stomach is empty, though I’m not conscious of
the hunger. I walk on, hollow, not knowing where I’m going. Everyone else seems to have a
destination. I can only watch from the sidelines, wander aimlessly, with no idea of the
destination. The wild duck, deep within the lotus leaves—I still don’t know where to go.

“This work is for display purposes only and does not constitute publication or distribution; the author retains full rights to its distribution.”