Moving Faster Than Nature

Here's a less sarcastic, less bitter poem I wrote...  I think I like this one.

MOVING FASTER THAN NATURE

A single drop falls onto my head.

Perhaps I can walk
faster than the rain will come.

Another drop hits,
like a precise mark.

Suddenly, a cold wind
rips at my face.
The dark of night smells fantastic:

Flowers, and the onset of rain.

It's a bit quiet.
Windchimes, and sprinklers.

I get a calm, forboding feeling:
Something is about to happen.

Keep walking. Just keep walking.

Dark spots begin to fill the ground,
just as I make it up the stairs
and through my door.

The night breaks open.

Bows and Arrows

Don't even try to figure out where this one came from.

BOWS AND ARROWS

If I ever
get shot with
an arrow

I don't think
I will just
try to pull it out

Not because
it may cause
more damage

But because
I think it would be
really neat
to walk around
with an arrow
sticking out of me

"Mommy, that man has
an arrow in his chest."
"Don't provoke the freak.
He might talk to you."

And I would.

Moron (More On) Booths

Okay so yeah... This is the sequel to my previous poem "Couples In Booths"  I was at Jack's the other night, and I spent the entire time trying to wrap my mind around something...  This is the result.

MORON (More On) BOOTHS

I've made comment
on couples sitting in booths,
two to a side,
leaving the other side empty.

I can at least understand
the logic behind it.
I just think it's stupid.

What I don't understand
is what brought a group of four
to sit lopsided in a booth.

Three on one side,
one on the other.

Two of the three, I could tell
were a couple. But
I don't understand the third's
reasons for not sitting in the other bench.

The best I can figure:
"You smell. I refuse to sit next to you."

Midget Sex (for Lori)

Well, over the weekend, just to make things interesting, I asked a few people for topic suggestions for this week's (and maybe future weeks') poem.  Some of the suggestions (specifically from Lori) were just weird... I think she was drunk, but she claims she wasn't.  Anyways, I wrote this out of spite:

MIDGET SEX (For Lori)

I asked Lori
for suggestions.
Topics for my poems,
that's all I asked...

Lori told me to write
about my sexual encounter
with a midget.

The big problem here
is that I don't think
they like being called
"midgets."

Little people.
Even that sounds a tad degrading.

I suppose the topic
of sex with little people
just doesn't have quite
the same ring to it.

The second,
and slightly lesser problem
with this topic:

I never had sex with a midget, Lori.

What Did I Get Myself Into?

Long weekend... I got a lot of stuff done, which is good, but I ended up exhausted by 8p last night.  I wrote this:

WHAT DID I GET MYSELF INTO?

"Just one a week"
I said.

"I'll just write about anything"
I said.

"It will be easy"
I convinced myself.

Well here I find myself,
sitting at my laptop,
wondering what to write.

I guess sometimes
a simple topic
just isn't that simple
of a thing to come by.

"Anything will do"
I said.

Maybe I should just write
about this...

Yeah, this works.