Four figures emerged from the smoke;
The horsemen of the Apocalypse are on the march.
The horsemen destroy everything in their path.
Men, women, and children scream and run for their lives.
The horsemen's armor reflects the fiery destruction around them.
Death, War, Famine, and Pestilence are upon us.

Church Radio

Look, this chessboard needs mending.
Submission pending, money lending.
It needs new white squares.
Manila Man, he stares at them
like they’re his children, spawn of hardware,
caution tape, and architect’s pencils.

Every skyscraper, filled with paper.
Chessboard light, fading, taper
into the distance, perspective lane.
Telephone wire disappearing, dwindles.
Straight, crisp lines. No focal strain.
Feeding towards manila business folders.

Blue paper, he has a tame and quiet name.
The architect underground has no fame.
He sees it needs new white squares.
Creator of manila folders, straight lines,
A million blueprint-white affairs.
Good clean brain, no paper crane,
No paint stain, no astral plane,
no focal strain, precise and sane.

How we love him.

Leopard
 
Alert, intelligent, swift
Orange as the most orange orange
Graceful like a gazelle
Protective like a mother

Pink is fun
It tastes like lollypops
It smells like the circus
It reminds me of cats, roses and bubble gum
Pink makes me want to run

Navy

Navy is depression…
It tastes like salty tears…
It smells like the bitter cold breeze…
And remind me of dark waters…
It sounds like silence…
Navy makes me feel sad…

The Apartments

The leaf sits softly on the patched cement walkways
The grill sits forsaken waiting for the next summer
Leaves scattered softly across the courtyard
A tree planted firmly is bare of its leaves
The wooden fence rests covered in green ivy
Green grass is turning brown in spots
Cloud cover sits heavily blocking the blue sky
Tiny ant crawls across the walkway
Tie wall rests with spots of moss
Old deck sits having experienced many winters

Evil is silver
It tastes like bitter coins
It smells like frozen wind
It sounds cruel laughter
It reminds me of sharpened daggers
Sorrow is silver

Old Lady

My stomach was growling,
I needed to eat.
I walked to the restaurant
That was right down the street.

I walked down Park Place,
And looked up ahead.
I saw an old lady.
She looked almost dead.

She was walking a dog;
It was twice her size.
It saw a squirrel –
Ears started to rise.

Like a shot from a gun
He ran in despair,
And pulled the old lady
Along in the air.

I’m from the sweet smell of the freshly cut grass,

From the delicious scent of my sister’s vanilla shampoo,
and the clean sweet earthy smell of the new rain,

I’m from the fresh smell of newspaper,

From freshly brewed coffee in the morning,
and my grandma’s powerful lingering perfume,

I’m from the funny everlasting smell of our car,

From the warm smell of macaroni and cheese, and the salty air of the
Florida Coast I’m from annoying, buzzing bees around my head,

From chirping birds, and the cicadas humming on long summer evenings,

I’m from babies screaming in the yard, Tugboat and Squirt barking across the street,
and eating salty pumpkin seeds on Halloween,

I’m from white beaches, perfect for making sandcastles, and weekend family
trips to the cabin.

I am from white, fluffy beaches and clear, frigid water.

From Sukie and Pepper to lemon linguinie.

From the curious, comforting smell of new books.

I am from dad's thick beady-eyed glasses and mom's loud,
rustic cough.

From Grandpa's fresh, smoky car.

I am from Paul's country " Git ur done".

I am from brightly lit streets of New Orleans.

From Aunt Becky's childhood stories.

From Dandy's big, hazel-brown eyes.

I am from sweet, tangy garlic to cocoa butter lotion.

From Hannah and I's big, plastic spring horses.

I am from long, thick grass and privacy fences.

From freshly cut grass and warm garlic bread.

I am from hot chocolate, from Hannah's soft, comforting music box.

I am from love and family emotions.

I am from shattering objects as my name is being called.

From “Here comes Trouble with a capitol T,” as I walk in the room.

I am from “be quiet.” “Your annoying,” “she started it,” “go away,” “you’re stupid”, “don’t touch,” but I live for that roll!

I am from putting hot pans on tables and burning holes.

I am from hot sand and multi-blue waters.

From strange stares and the sweet smell of the Greek bakery.

I am from a big loud amazing Greek/American Family

I am from big Easter parties. From roasting lambs, cracking eggs and lots of food.

I am from chubby arms and legs

From boney arms and legs and “you’re too skinny”

I am from my grandparents Carpentry and painting workshop smell

I am from a laughing sister and turkeys climbing on my head.

From naming and chasing lambs and goats.

From racing to get the egg when the chicken clucks.

I am from one of the worst feelings in the world.

From not being able to control yourself after surgery.

From IV's and crying and trying to stay still

From medicine taking over my body.

And that is where I am from.