Animals in the Jungle (Started from a prompt by Taylor Mali)

One day when I was a kid, I owned a stuffed animal,
a large light brown dog with floppy ears and bulging beaded black eyes.
His place was next to the skinny white elephant who always wore the
same light blue flowered dress.
She sat next to the twin monkeys with their silky black fur and their
matching red and white striped shorts.
Next to the monkeys sat the great polar bear with its ivory colored coat
like the tusk of an elephant.
The kangaroo was next in line, sporting her pointed ears
as one would wear a pair of sunglasses.
One day, the dog fell off the ledge.

Fourteener Poem

The trees and flowers emerge from the ground.
Colorful collections burst through the crust of the earth.
From the patch of dirt, life rises.
Branches and stems twist toward the bright blue expanse.
Water falls upon the invisible seeds.
The nattiest object climbs the highest.
Balls of earth clump together fighting the sky.
Life surrounds the new beginning.
Dead leaves rest upon the birthplace of the trees and flowers.
Old life supports the green emergence.
Green grows by brown.
From the dirt springs spring.
Spring spreads sprouts.
Sprouts rise from the earth.

Jane Eyre

My livre is heavy with words of centuries,
heavy like a metal chest filled with treasure
waiting to be unlocked,
heavy with the guilt of smooth, crisp pages unperturbed by human hands.
She is bound in creamy chocolate brown leather,
her spine stiff with decades spent on a pedestal,
her cover creased with a child's delight.
She holds in her frame the knowledge of years past
like a tree holds history in its rings.
She breathes life into her words like a horse to its filly.
She wraps them in her warm skin like a blanket on a cold day.

I will remove the dust now thick on her coat,
soften the spine of the stiff brown leather,
spoil the pages of their virginal purity.
To home she will return,
cleaned, used, and frequently visited.

Word Poem

The stone wall of the cathedral curved around the narrow path
as the welders employed their pick axes
to cut the crumbling wood
that was filched from the hospitals barely full wood bin.

The hostel volunteer at the hospital
tried to be the rescuer and stop the lawless welders
but his moral was bruised
and the welders rummaged through the rubble.

The welders sutured shut the mouth of the volunteer.
This ruse allowed them to stall
before they threw the band saw at the emasculate
jerk who's cornea was sliced off by the saw.

The welders decided to release the pot of stew
in order to pass by the steward who spent too long processing the scene
and did not notify the police of the spill-over
of salted chive stew.

Eventually the hospital was a gravesite
with tongues protruding from the mouths of scarlet colored people
covered in contusions and bruises.
The welders ran back to the cathedral.

The Morning After

The very beginning of the story...

The sun shone through the window, illuminating her silky brown hair, pink tips and all. I watched her chest rise and fall with the breath that only sleep brings; each gulp of air extending the blanket up towards the ceiling. Her countenance was calm and serene, the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. I peered at the little, box-shaped clock lying on the floor, various parts of it strewn across the room. The neon green digits continued to flash the correct time, even though the clock appeared severely damaged by the previous nights events. A slight breeze blew across the room, shifting her hair which had once lain flat against the pillow. I brushed her hair aside to its proper place, taking great care not to wake her. After some time had passed, I rolled onto my side, grinning as I recalled my luck-filled evening. Feeling the movement from my side of the bed, she turned over, moved my hair aside, and gently caressed my neck with her lips. I released a sigh of great pleasure as she slid one hand down the curvature of my body; my spine, my waist, my hips. Her touch, as light as the wind, sent shivers of excitement pulsing through my body. I rolled onto my back and turned my head to face hers as she climbed on top of me. She shifted her weight back and forth before settling into a comfortable position. I stared into her beautiful amber eyes, dilated with excitement and anticipation. She rested her chin in the crease of my neck and as I turned to kiss the top of her head, she looked up and pressed her lips against mine. I opened my mouth and passionately reciprocated.

Sky High

Roots take hold, burrowing into the ground.
Embedding their skinny bodies deep into the dark abyss
of the dirt undergrowth.
Sprouting, growing, bursting through the earths crust,
invading the atmosphere, the air all around.
Ridges form in the deep chocolate branches,
climbing high towards the sky.
Higher and higher they reach
reaching up above the houses
towards the white wispy clouds
sprinkled across the ocean of air
and the blue canvas of nothingness
where the birds frolick
and screech with excitement
where thoughts are lost
and life is at equilibrium.

Addicted to Pain

I don't know what it is
but i must have an addiction to making myself sad.

every now and again
i just find myself staring
my eyes drifting slowly to those pictures
those pictures that have stolen my heart
those pictures that catch my eye
every now and again

that addiction i have to my own pain
boggles my mind

A Sweet Angel

I paddled out into the dark watery expanse,
adorned in only a jaded swimsuit,
in the bright sunshine of a hot afternoon.
I should have avoided this,
knowing of my proclivity for dangerous situations,
but nonetheless, we paddled out, my friend upon my back,
knowing not how to swim, I swam for the both of us.
Into the deep end we swam, avoiding all signs of danger.

I stepped off the ocean ledge and fell.
Frantically trying to stay above water,
my friend grabbed the rope and pushed my head under with all her strength.
Gasping for air, struggling madly to fill my lungs,
I fade out and fall into a dream of serenity.
I am suddenly lifted by a sweet angel,
pulling me towards a strange world
where strong emotions are absent,
war is a foreign concept,
time is virtually nonexistent.
Life is at a standstill.

My mind flutters back to reality.
My eyes remain closed as I sink into the warm sand and imagine the beautiful calm waters of the beach I lie on.
I open my eyes and see children playing in the water,
splashing about, enjoying themselves.
A far cry from my ideal.

The Beginning

So, I decided that I'm starting this new blog to post all...or at least some of my poetry. If you like it, thats cool, if you don't, that sucks for you. I might explain the meanings but most of them are pretty easy to comprehend. Enjoy.