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Literature
One for Dad
I was back in the house where I could feel the melancholy
of the lonesome, crowded west.
The same house but all the memories seemed so far away.
The smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the air,
and the walls I had once scratched and dented were bare.
A film of neglect clung to the books he never let me touch,
“Always end up damaged.” he’d say.
Not realising that love changes things,
makes friendships stronger, give things sentiment.
Those worn covers and creased pages,
not a sign of carelessness but a sign of greatest care.
There were the bottles of wisdom placed in the cellar,
full of learning, but paling to the lesso
Literature
How to Be
She fidgeted nervously as she stepped closer to the big door. Her white dress flowed with the light wind and she tucked a few strands of white hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched as she neared the two black guards standing outside the door. She tried to make her breathing even out as she stopped in front of them, looking down at the ground in fear.
“What do you do here, miss?” One of the guards asked and the girl tensed.
“I wish to enter and gain color.” She said, barely holding the trembling away from her voice.
“Then look up at me.” The other guard said and she complied. She stared with wide eyes a
Literature
Book Club
You mistake
The knife for the cake.
You savour the gore, lick
The conflict, flavour already
So like blood, but more.
Heady, metallic.
Hang a balloon in your ribs,
Pop it with a rail spike.
Bang.
A peel of plastic, maroon,
Like a bib, remains.
That’s how it feels,
That pain.
Promises are hammers.
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"Children died. Teachers were mutilated with safety scissors." I don't know which is worse – those sentences, or the fact they made me laugh so much.