Category: NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo 2014 – IV

If this stinkin’ apartment loses all its things
to a flood or a feckin’ foreclosure,
we’ll all have to come out for one last hoorah
in a toast to the memories stored there.

Rather than sit down and make a long list
of extraordinary memory figments,
I’ll bust the front door down with cannonballs,
dragonflies and one very insecure rhino.

We can’t trust our city to get the job done,
that blind faith is ludicrous, people.
Please get out your pickaxe and uncage your birds
for a night we might never forget.

NaPoWriMo 2014 – III

I have a little box of buttery chicken
sitting on the windowsill,
and I’m afraid that the rain
might disrupt its prime state of edibility.

It was eligible just a few minutes ago
when I put it there, steaming
and practically bulging with flavor notes.

But it seems as though the birds in the trees
have discovered their fallen sister
and subsequently called
to their great bird in the sky
for watery vengeance.

NaPoWriMo 2014 – II

And if that lump
looked like a goiter to you,
that’s most likely because
you had too much of that
bad spinach lasagna last night.

I’m not responsible
for any hallucinations
you may or may not have
due to leafy greens.

I thought you’d at least managed
to grow up into a respectable adult
since you last visited me, but
I’ve been wrong in my judgments before.

NaPoWriMo 2014 – I

Peddle the metal
unresponsively–

pile unrequested
bile and homages
to the dank

and stormy pelican hoop danglers.

NaPoWriMo XX

I’m hell-bent on causin’ a ruckus, yessir. I’ve got all the implements, motivation too. Now all that’s left is the sweet smell of havoc.

Now you must be askin’ yourself: “Why does this dude keep talkin’ the talk without so much as a step in the demolition direction?”

Stop that thinkin’ right there, friend. You think I’m chicken? I’ve been bustin’ shit since you were in the womb, don’t give me that grief.

In fact, I don’t know why you even bothered to open your mouth and dispute me. You are some piece of work, you know that?

Of course you do.

Now, while we’re young, why don’t you run over to the corner store and grab me a bottle of Jack.

Don’t give me any of that lip. Jack helps me think. It’s a doin’ man’s drink. You wouldn’t understand that, sweetheart.

You don’t mind if I call you sweetheart, do ya, darlin’?

Didn’t think so.

NaPoWriMo XIX

The day after we lost our conscious billing cycle, all hell broke loose. We threw money at all our problems in the hope that they wouldn’t surface again until the next month. No ledgers, no account balancing, no clear plan for the electric bill.

We absolutely lost it and spent our time worrying about existential matters. Why are we here? Where are we going? How do we grow as autonomous beings when we inhabit a suffocating hive mentality of a society?

NaPoWriMo XVIII

I went to the store for a super ball–
couldn’t find any.

I did find big bouncers,
calibrated latex orbs,
limited edition high-flying sky cutters,
360-degree vortex vaulters
and rubber rabble rousers.

But they’re just not the same.