Poetry · Writing

sometimes;

i have dreams

sometimes there simple

like tacos at that place down the street

on everything, they bomb.

don’t let it be a tuesday

ill transform into the road runner

and meet meet you there.

most of the times

i think about changing the world;

sometimes small,

like opening chick fil la on Sunday,

i’m sure i could start a political campaign off that one

most of the times,

i want to create something that enhances the mind

that makes others want to create

something the next kid can love

and grow up to rinse and repeat.

sometimes; i’m spiderman

but usually i’m me;

writing at a desk

with a half read book

playing digital chess

and a half eaten sandwich

Poetry · Writing

seventh club

the experience breaks fear-

found the experience at the tip of a card

now knives break against my skin

folding full houses and straights down the drain

but my knees still shake in the rain

quivering at the memories

traded for guilt

measured in nightmares,

at the tip of the card was a jack,

and now inside this club

try to scrub this sleep clean

before the fear breaks loose

Poetry · Writing

reruns on the plane;

i fell for you

actually

still falling no bottom in sight

i am falling for you

a marathon that gets better and better

a show that is renewed every year

it gets better and better no filler

i record every episode

i like to watch them on my free time

or when i’m not free

and you’ll take me captive

i’ll wake up in my own bed

and i’ll put on reruns

Poetry · Writing

art of sharing

i am always on the next,

the next piece the next goal the next quest

it’s not that the roses aren’t beautiful but i don’t want to waste that second;

not chasing this dream,

a dream of sharing

this art,

a dream of waking up next to you every morning,

sharing eggs and toast

and if a rose bud cuts my finger on a tour of success

and i miss a single second with you-

sharing this art, sharing these eggs, sharing this bed-

i’ll burn every single of them down

Poetry · Writing

when asked when to love;

never put much stock in the market

wanted to

be the standout price or waited for one to find me

silly or asleep

being to bee but always the worker never the queen

crying fiend

two types and always the catcher catching when you fall

standing tall

call when you say you miss me always nearby you make me wanna

be a good guy

when you say i love you i know the time is right now

here somehow

markets closed now lesson learned when asked when

now and then

time and again the one will find you and never a minute ahead

Poetry · Writing

Angel of Two Fruits – Stainless Steel

I carry you with me everyday.

Find you in between the lines of each poem

in the songs I write and a god will smite

if I ever do wrong.

before me walks an angel

an angel of two fruits

and one bite, I was hers-

the sour outer to ward away the weak

until the sweet middle hold my tongue unable to speak.

Walking alone to the store

her shadow will hold my hand

and all the noise

with her the heart feels slow

a necklace of turbulence

a ring of the past

shoes of yesterdays choices

all these accessories

you’re the chain that never breaks

stainless steel one hell of a meal

and one day they’ll take a picture of me down on one knee.

Weightless around my neck

never in anything Aztec

sheltered from the storm, low-tech

rising above the rift and diving on the raft, high-tech

never taking a day off- never needing a rain check

the one and only, cashing in that pay-check.

Fiction

Food Fight Ep.5

Jenna

Walls shaking, barricades crumbling, the fort has fallen apart. Exiles have hit the camp outside the Walgreens. How did they know we were here? The cocky Exile’s stormed through the fort, no mercy, leaving no survivors.  They didn’t see Jenna. Jenna laid beneath debris, leftovers of a nest crushing Jenna’s shin. Pain bites down and tears escape Jenna, praying the Exiles do not discover her. Citrus breeze relocates rocks and wood chips through out the rubble. Scent of blood and death overcame the citrus as quickly as it came. Bodies of Jenna’s friends were no longer breathing. Fredrick, Max, Rose. Different tears erupt through Jenna this time. Doing her best to quiet, a man with a large belly, stripped jacket, and p-shooter strapped to his shoulder began passing through the remains. The belly has two followers, two more Exiles. The other is a short woman, brunette messy hair, a green tank top tucked into high wasted grey pedal pushers finished with a golden steel belt. The woman wielded her p-shooter, hoping to find another victim. Defined figure, thin waste and long legs, without a flaw from a distance. The last Exile is a younger man, a worn grey thermal, tan cargo pants held up with a seat buckle. Weapon strapped to his back, maybe even a virgin. Up kept black chucks and a dull green scarf were this kids signature. Exiles crossed the rubble in direction of the medical supplies.

“No reason to kill  everyone. Could of taken the path Lauren laid out for us,” The young blond kid said.

The girl smirked to this, “Going to have to man up Luke. Outlaws will kill you first chance they get and today we got them before they got us.”

“Still could have avoided this,” Luke responds. “If you didn’t want to take the path we could have waited for Lauren to lead this run.”

The girl did not like this. The name Lauren made her furious, “We don’t need Lauren to hold our hand. If your going to be such a bitch about it, don’t come next time.” She’s such a brute.

They were closer to the ruble concealing Jenna. The belly walks past with the brute, unconcerned with the rubble. Luke’s eyes were large and blue and filled with tears and sadness. Wiping his eyes, looked down, into Jenna’s eyes. Subconsciously grabbed his p-shooter, never removing it from it’s back strap. Luke notices the broken leg of Jenna and peers at the backs of the belly and the brute. Luke lets go of his p-shooter and removes a military grade knife from his ankle, drops it near, and smiles. He’s so handsome, his eyes are large blue stars. Luke trots after his Exile comrades and enters the Walgreens.

Jenna fidget, pushing the layers of debris off and halts before removing the matter above her shin. Blood leaks from the gash where a copper pipe has pierced the skin. She held the knife, considering. Placing the knife where Luke originally dropped it, resting her palms around the pipe. Two quick breaths and pull. Jenna bit her lip so hard it drew blood filling her mouth. Removing the flannel she was wearing, Jenna ties the thick clothing around her open wound and ties it, tight. Preparing herself, palms dark red wielding the knife, began gathering her good foot. Staggering and limping to a mild hop, heading in the opposite direction of the Walgreens. He helped me once, no guarantee  he can save me from the brute. Light head and dizzy, Jenna swerving in the open street, dragging from death and looking for life.

 

#Fiction

Trainer Orange

The sky is clear blue, a dozen Spearow flew above. Tall pine, home to a  wild Caterpie, thick wide trunks with a center hole. A child swing attached to a wide out reached branch from the pine. Franklin Walsh sat on the porch looking at the swing. He loved swinging, just new interest overcame. Now Franklin wants to begin his Pokemon adventure. Franklin just turned twelve and Red, his idle, was almost eleven when he started his adventure. It was time. Franklin clutched a white sphere with a red lining across the center and around the button. Franklin’s mother said she would give him his first Pokemon, yet, she’s not around much.

“Frank.”

“Yeah dad?”

“She’ll be here. No worries. She said it will be the coolest Pokemon.” That conversation happened a long time ago. It just dad and me. He doesn’t like Pokemon so much, just the little ones and the Caterpie that has taken shelter in the family tree. Franklin’s mom was a Pokemon trainer, a good one from the little he knows of her, and is always on an adventure.

Franklin didn’t want to wait. He recites the stories he’s heard of Red. Battling the rain storm, traveling to the distant lands, competing against the Elite Four. That’s my dream. I heard he was even in the Orange Island for a while. He was here and I missed him. The empty ball tightens around Franklin’s hands. He would never know. Franklin runs. The high grass isn’t far from his house. Or maybe to the docks for a water Pokemon. The tall grass near rustled. A Pokemon! Without a second though, Franklin hurls the Premier Ball towards the grass. The ball pops into the air and bright red light emits and absorbs into the ball. The Premiere ball button glowed red. The ball shakes once. Please. The ball shake twice. Please please. A third. Franklin holds his breath, watching. The red fades from the button and the ball ceases. Franklin, still as a Snorlax, watched the ball in awe. I did it. 

“I did it,” Franklin said rushing to meet his new lifelong partner. Franklin’s father, erupts from the house and rushed to his side, fearing the worst.

“You used the Priemer ball? I thought you were saving that?” Franklin’s dad notices the red light eminating from the ball, “What did you catch son?” Franklin couldn’t respond and just held the ball. Finally, pushing the center button, the red beam of light returned and his friend emerged.

The Pokemon a short tail of berry red waves. Curls on the Pokemon’s head with strands reaching almost to her black nose. A skin color of brick-red and mud colored paws. Pointy outstretched ears, also mud colored, and a white fur underbelly. Her crocodile green eyes staring right back at Franklin. I’ve never seen a Pokemon so so beautiful.

“What is it dad?”

“That’s a rare Pokemon here on the island son. Can’t say I’ve ever seen one here. That’s a Vulpix.”