Friday, April 23, 2010

Snip Snip

Someone I know once wrote a poem about a lobster being cooked. Either because she felt like it, or because she ran out of epic depth and philosophical bullshit, I'm not sure. I was contemplating this on an especially boring class of mine, and produced this:

Swiftly spinning scissor blades
Wasp and willow swiftly wades
through the swaying, whispering grass
begging to be saved.
Many many morning suns
huffing, puffing, having fun
as the spinning scissor blades
and their engine runs.
But wasp and willow shed a tear
and grass is quivering with fear
Noises loud and frightening as
spinning scissors shear.

The thought of sharp objects did lighten up the boredom slightly.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Somebody kick me, I want to feel pain.

Though the truth is I play this game too well
and the words never leave my lips.
I could swear on my feelings but never admit
that I wish you could read my mind.
I writhe and I scream and I cry inside
and I wonder how it can be
That at the end of the day, it matters not anyway
that the only who sees is me.

Somebody kick me, I want to feel pain.