A Love Poem About Several Girls:
I am sick of seeing you
Stop existing near me
Stop looking beautiful
Stop smiling, it kills me
Don’t remind me how lucky your man is
How dare you talk to me?
How dare you be sweet?
I don’t want you to laugh at my jokes
Please don’t be perfect for me
Knight Falls on Gotham
Walk down any street at night
You may not notice it but you call upon your bravery
You may not notice it but you tense in the shadows
You may not notice it but you clench your fists
Until you are back home in the familiar
No one is a friend
In my city I am always watching
In the dark alleys and on the murky docks
I see uptown high rises where an upper class criminal feels hidden by politics
I see the shady burrows where the hopeless feel hidden behind filth
Those that should; will not seek them, they let them prey
Survival of the fittest has bred a strong evil
This city would be theirs
But I watch, unlike the others; I’ll do more than watch
In the ghetto where crack heads kill in daylight
They fear me
On the wall-streets where drug lords have armies
They hide from me
I will win this fight
I am a Bat; I fly with armored wings and race with speeding tanks
While flashes of light explode smoke all around you I strike
You reach for your weapon and your wrist snaps, your legs fill with metal when you run
In the dark of the night and the shadow of concrete giants I was invisible
You never heard me make a sound
The police will come soon, you will go to jail
As soon as you get out of the hospital
Ginger
It’s going to be different without her
I was afraid of this day for years now
After 16 years still way too soon
People say I am overreacting
Those people are dicks
That dog was my favorite person
I’ll cry as much as I want
Family members frustrate
Friends constantly stray
Ginger dog was always there
Damn I will miss her
Who will jump on me when I get home?
Who will be so happy to see me?
My little brown mutt
This one will be tough
Graduation Day:
Bye Education
Thank you for trying
I am not too smart to need you
Just too dumb to learn
Try Hards:
Baby blue silk shirts
Long, baggy, black FuBu jeans
Tucked proudly in shoes
Gold chains we know they can’t afford.
God help me I hate teenagers!
First Day of High School:
The uniform never looked worse
Grey cotton pants too short to hide white socks
Wrinkly white shirt too small for gangly arms
Skinny, young body not ready to grow up
A hesitant walk doesn’t exude confidence
Heading down long busy hallways
One of a hundred dressed the exact same
Somehow this pimply little dork stood out
People laugh, has to be about me
All I can do is smile; pretend I’m not the joke
Just make it too the classroom
Find a seat in back where no one will notice
Where the hell is my classroom?
Five minutes late
One chance at a first impression
I walk inside a room with a thousand eyes
And I cower into my seat
High school was over before it began
Ode to a Nice Vagina:
Anyone that has ever been with you
Is willing to go through years of pain
Just to get with you once more
I hate you
Kind of
Little Bastard’s Last Ride:
California State Highway 46 streaks eastward from the city of Paso Robles, leaving behind the last remnant of city. Windblown barns and oddly beautiful desert is the only view for miles, for most this is temporary. Most travel east through Cholame feeling a slight sense of adventure as the highway parts the powerful Temblor Mountains which have a reputation for being the epicenter of earthquakes past. Soon the road splits, both ways lead back to civilization, both lead back to the friendly out of the way towns found by more tourists than it seems possible. He was just like the rest of them, heading toward Bakersfield on the same highway he had been on for hours, he saw the same sights and had the same urge to get back into town. When another car heading toward him made a simple turn onto the 41, a shockwave would be sent; picked up on by every youth in every country around the world. He was not like them. On a hot day in the middle of nowhere, a few miles outside his destination, James Dean became a casualty, a cautionary tale and an icon. He was not like them.
-Thomas Holler-
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