Poem for a Sunday

The leaves on the trees

Gently flutter

Sun light on my face

A glorious display of creation

Creativity, what a word

To describe the world I see

The Creator has created

Such a beautiful array or

Color and majesty

Such cannot be found anywhere else

Not a mind of imagination can

Replicate what has been

Already created

Glory to God

Our Lord and Creator

Such beauty on a Sunday

Valentine

 “Valentine, oh my Valentine! Answer me my sweet Valentine!”

“CUT! You call that acting Ricky? Why don't you try doing it with some real passion. Why don't...why don't you actually try this time yeah? We're gonna go again, for a millionth time. Do it RIGHT THIS TIME!”

“Mr. Fance, not to be rude but this is just a highschool play, it's not anything fancy,” said Anny.

“Oh right, so we can just half-ass the whole thing, that makes sense. Do it again, and do it right. None of you are going home until we get this right people!”

It was cold out now, night had fallen. Fance was leaving the building last. All the students had gone home after her and flown into a rage about Ricky not being passionate enough for the part. Clarence was in love with Valentine...they were mad lovers, yet Ricky acted like Valentine was just a friend, like one of his bros almost. Like Valentine didn't matter that much. Like she was just a side chick or something. No. No she wasn't that. She was SO much more. Fance knew it. He had created her. He had created Clarence too. He had chosen Ricky to play Clarence, much to his regret now.

But oh well right? You live and learn. Fance, you live and learn. What? I know. It's ok we'll get this. They have to get this.

You alright buddy?

Oh look a deer. Why is there a deer in the middle of a city street.

I can't drive right now I'm too tired. I'm going to crash and kill my self, or kill someone else. Is anyone else even alive right now? You mean awake? Yeah awake that's what I meant. It's late at night. The students are home. I'm going home. Fance you're going home. GO HOME FANCE.

 Valentine's waiting for you. She's not real? Is she? She isn't? She is. She must be. I made her. Please. Tell me she's real? I have NO ONE ELSE! You can't take her.

Where am I? Oh I'm home.

Fance shot himself in the head that night, a lipstick kiss of his cheek…

Who was Valentine to take his life? She was created by him? Why would she do that? HOW could she do that? She was directing the play now. She was in charge. Her next victim would be Clarence. Oh she loves Clarence. Right? I do love him she says. I love him? Do I? Do I really love him? He lacks the passion I seek. But I love him. No. Yes. No. I love him. Oh I love him so!

Ricky got to the theater the next day early to try and practice his lines. Truth be told he was a common friend with stage fright. Very familiar. Very common. Very much full of stage fright. He didn't much like Fance and wasn't even sure why the crazy man had chosen him for the part. Maybe because he was a good looking jock. Something like that maybe. Maybe. Yeah maybe.

Here he is. My Ricky Clarence. For me Valentine. He is mine now. Here I am Valentine. I am here for you my love. Yes and I am here for you too my love! Take me in your arms now and kiss me.

“Valentine!”

“Clarence?”

“What? Who said that?”

“'Tis me my love, your Valentine!”

“But...you're not real!”

Not real but real enough for death to overtake both. Why Ricky hung himself from the theater rafters no one knew. But Valentine knew. She drove all her men mad...drove them all...to death.

The Soda Of Death

No one knew what it was
But the name was intriguing
No one understand what it meant
They didn't know that if you drank it
You would die
So one person drank it and died
But no one knew it was the soda
So more people drank it
They all died too
Finally some guy was like
"Dude it must be the soda"
So they dumped it into the ocean
And then killed all the sea life
Realizing their mistake
The people dumped it down the drains instead
But since all drains lead to the ocean
The ocean was still polluted
The End

I Don't

I don't want no trouble

And I don't want no peace

So I'll just be

I don't want no hatred

And I don't want no love

So I'll just be

I don't want no people

But I don't want to be alone

So I'll just be

I don't want no money

But I hate when I got none

So I'll just be

I don't want religion

But I do believe in God

So I'll just be

I don't want no sins

But I know I've got a Savior

So I'll just be saved

First and Last Job

He was only 17.  Young kid.  Stupid.  Thought he was better than everyone else.  He'd been looking for a job since he was 16.  A solid year with no bites.  He was laying in bed one night and wondered what he could do with his life.  He was young, he had his whole life ahead of him.  He could be anything he wanted to be.  But what?  What could he be?

Then it hit him.

He got home from school the next day.  His parents were gone, just as he had planned for.  Breaking into the safe was easy.  He pulled out his dad's revolver and loaded it.  He grabbed some extra rounds just in case.  He wasn't planning on shooting anyone.  It was just for show.  He stuffed it in his bag and grabbed his old ski mask from when he and his parents went on vacation.  He stuffed that in his bag and then got in his car.  He sat there.

"Ok Carl," he said to himself.  "You're going to do this.  You're not gonna screw this one up.  Of course you are, you always screw up.  NO!  Not this time.  This time I'm serious.  Screw good grades, screw getting a job.  This is my life now."

He started the car and drove to the bank.  It was a small bank.  Hardly anyone was inside.  There was only three people working behind the counter and one woman in line.  He walked inside and then ducked behind a wall quickly.  He'd forgotten to put the mask on.  Okay.  Mask on, gun out?  It felt too early to draw the gun.  But why wait?  He pulled it out.

"Everyone down on the ground!"  he shouted like he'd seen in movies.

The woman in line screamed and got down on the floor.  He walked up to the teller and she looked at him.  She was frightened.  The two men behind the counter had their hands up.

"Umm....I want....money....all your money," Carl said.

"Alright, you want it in that bag?" asked the teller.

"Umm...I don't know...don't you have your own bags?"

"I think so..."

"Okay, well then fill the bags with money and give them to me."

"Alright."

The three bank tellers went to work filling bags with cash.  Carl didn't like this.

"Wait, wait , wait.  Stop.  Keep your money.  This isn't for me."

"So...you're not robbing us then?" asked one of the men.

"No...I'm just...bored I guess...I don't want to be a criminal.  I'm just gonna go."

Carl ran outside got in the car and drove home.  He put the gun away in the safe, went to his room and locked the door.  He laid down in bed and began to thin about other career choices.

Being a criminal wasn't on the list.  But a drug dealer, no that he could do.

Inclined

I am sole and honest for you

I have no place to stand

So let me sleep a while longer

Everything I say can't hold you

My words are just no match

So I'll keep waiting for another year

Oh you are so inclined, inclined to realize

And oh, you are so alone

But I am here to whisper in your ear

Every heart I've taken from you

Seems to disappear

So I'll just talk to myself from now on

You're feeling so far and distant from me

I hate to say your name

So now I can pretend I didn't hear

I've told you before

I'll tell you again

This is the last time

Water in my mouth

I have nothing left

This is the last time

Oh you are so inclined, inclined to realize

And oh, you are so alone

But I am here to whisper in your ear

Darkness

I'm quite alone here

And that's OK

I like the quiet as my thoughts decay

I'm quite alone here

That's just alright

I'd rather be by myself than in a fight

I'm quite alone here

In this darkness

I can pray silently I guess

I'm quite alone here

But I'm really not

God is with me, reading my every thought

I'm quite happy here

All I can do is smile

I'm out of breath, after running for miles