#120 Holds A Little Mirror

Frozen like Atlas

Flexing for all time

Holding a mighty weight

Paying for every crime

Little bunnies play about his feet

Strangers pass

Friends meet

Still he stands

Unseen

Yet always blocking the view

A presence unfelt

Except by a few

He is love

He is hate

He is pleasure

He is pain

He is humanity

He haunts us for all time

She haunts us for all time

She is humanity

She is pain

She is pleasure

She is hate

She is love

Except by a few

A presence unfelt

Yet always blocking the view

Unseen

Still she stands

Friends meet

Strangers pass

Little bunnies play about her feet

Paying for every crime

Holding a mighty weight

Flexing for all time

Frozen like Atlas

#119 Is in Corrugated Cardboard Country

I laid down

In my normal non-corrugated world

On my soft big bed

Where I lay curled

But, in the morning

I open my eyes and I see

A corrugated cardboard tree

I look around, I look down

And I see a corrugated cardboard me!

The world has changed

Everything is brown and paper-y

I look around

And it’s the same as far as I can see

I’m confused

So I put on my cardboard clothes

And sat down to breakfast

Cardboard food just adding to my woes

I’m determined to figure all this out

So I hop on my cardboard bicycle

And I head out

Past all the signs saying to recycle

Seeing brown corrugated cardboard things

Zipping by me, as I pedal by

Everything is pretty normal

Except it’s all made of cardboard, I give a sigh

As I pedal along

I hear a crack of thunder

And I suddenly wonder

What will happen when I get wet?

The raindrops fall

With a pitter and a patter

Getting everything damp and spongy

Everything that might matter

Suddenly I don’t feel so good

I feel all wavy and sway-ey

My corrugations have gone flat

The bicycle and myself go down with a splat

I lay in the middle of the road

Soaking up water like a blotter

Falling apart

Knowing that I’m now just recycling fodder

Next time, I want to be a corrugated cardboard butterfly

#118 Is The Quicksilver in Your Veins

Your faith precedes you

It intercedes for you

It sets the tone for you

It does your talking for you

Ain't no boulevard

Too busy

You wouldn’t cross it

Naked

On your knees

For another hit of my junk

It’s your church

And every day is the Sabbath

Your day of no work

You let the junk

Work for you

Desiccating your veins

Excising your brains

The holes in your memory

Suiting you just fine

As it takes the good

With the bad

And you’ll forget most of what you had

And have now lost

To the dirty track marks

Tracing their way

Deep into your heart

I even know you’ve tried to quit

But like a fatty confronted with a room of sweets

You always give in

And take it in

It’s everything to you

It takes the place of possessions

Your love

Your life

You inject yourself

And it’s like quicksilver

To your soul

You are nowhere

And everywhere

All at once

Nobody else understands

But I do

Here

Here’s a little something

To tide you over

Until the next check comes

You can owe me

I know you’re good for it

#117 Burns Inside

The fire in my thoughts

Has finally escaped my  head

The heat on my face makes me smile

My skin reflecting yellow and red

The flames crawl across everything

Fueling my desire to see more

I wait breathlessly

Shivering to my core

Charring the wood

Curling the paper

There’s no one to interrupt my worship

It’s the perfect caper

The heat pops something in the flames

I throw my head back and howl

My primal spirit taking over

I rip off my shirt, I yell, I growl

Burn it down

It feels so good

Not even sex was so awesome

As watching the flames eat at this house of wood

Of the old weathered boards

There is no more

Nothing stands

Just glowing embers on the moor

I click the warm metal lighter in my pocket

And I know that this wasn’t enough

I’ll have to let the fire out again

To consume and change stuff

I turn and walk towards home

Holding my fire maker tightly

A smile playing on my flushed face

My feet skipping lightly

#116 Is Being Invaded

The polka dots are marching

Marching on my bed

Marching on my pillow

Marching around my head

I lay amid a myriad

Collection of dots

They make my eyes cross

My skin breaks out in spots

When I try to get away from them

They chase me to and fro

Following me upstairs and downstairs

Dotting me, frotting me, wherever I do go

I know just how this will end

I'll be one big polka dot

Lost amidst the others

Lost and identical to all the lot

There's polka dots on the dog

Covering his fur from nose to tail

I throw him in the bath

And scrub him till he wails

Nothing works, and nothing will

The dots march ever on

Covering and consuming

Obscuring like a locust swarm spawn

So many polka dots

I've lost all sense of self

They are so dense now

I'm beyond all help

They've conformed to all the colors

That used to be there before

And there are so many of them

They cover every little pore

Now only a microscope could see them

So densely they are packed

But I know they are there

I was there the day they stacked

I don't know what their purpose is

I've asked, and they have no words

So I've come upon a solution, and a mindset:

"I, for one, welcome our polka dot overlords!"

#115 Prepares For His Coming

Yesterday was Easter

He has risen!

Now he roams the land

And things are getting out of hand

Here's a shovel and a shotgun

Remember, only a head shot will bring him down

If it helps

Just aim for his thorny crown

If you see him

You should run

He's a fast mover

And god's only son

He's assembled his apostles

Bitten them one by one

Now they ramble the countryside

Eating brains for fun

I've barricaded the door

That should slow them down

I have everything we need

Don't even think of going into town

You can help my with my transport

We can use it to go north

I hear there's a stronghold

When the coast is clear we can go forth

Shh!!  What's that?

Don't make a sound, move no more

Shit, get the weapons

It's Zombie Jesus, he's at the door!

#114 Is a Werebunny

In the beginning

There were 100

100 Easter bunnies

And that was enough

But, as there were more people

More bunnies were needed

So the bunnies

Learned to bite

Making werebunnies

Which only turn into bunnies

On only one night:

Easter Eve

Seemingly normal people

Get ready for bed

Lay down

And sleep

But once asleep

They change

They become bunnies

Little fluffy bunnies

The little werebunnies instinctively report

To their local

Easter Bunny depot

To equip for the night ahead

Carts, baskets, jelly beans, chocolate

Everything a little bunny could need

And maps, with lists

To navigate their routes

One by one

Their bags and carts full

The fluffy werebunnies

Go out into the night

Visiting all who believe

In Easter, and Bunnies

A basket of goodies

Is what they’ll receive

Gently, softly

The bunnies deliver their packages

And follow their maps

Back to the Bunny Depot

For a quick nose kiss

And then back to bed

To become human once again

And wake on Easter Morning

No memory of it in their head

Although some

With their noses

Still strangely

Twitching