cities

by bofa xesjum

there are billions of people in the world. more than can really be counted. twenty or thirty of them, maybe fifty or sixty, are “famous” and have “lives”. the rest are not “famous” and have no “lives”. some of the not “famous” who have no “lives” are resentful, most accept their fate. they congregate in large groups in small areas of the world called cities. many of them eat cheeseburgers and fries. some others eat tofu. a few old timers eat ham and eggs. some put ketchup on their fries, others choose not to. they live and spend their time in tall buildings which are arranged neatly in rows, called streets, in the areas called cities. despite the large numbers of people, the streets are often strangely deserted. it begins to rain.

the quiet road

by bofa xesjum

the road was strangely quiet. walter plodded on, impervious to despair. this is not the end, he thought positively. roberta would regret the way she had treated him. as for tony, the less said the better. as a young man, walter had been afraid of heights. uncle frederick had advised him to take up sky diving. in this pursuit, walter had first met roberta and tony. at that time, roberta dyed her hair orange. and tony often wore pink shirts with black ties. it was all just a game to them. they would never be satisfied until they had destroyed everything good and decent. they led walter down the primrose path. fortunately, walter had a friend in high places. it was all a great scandal at the time. howard harrison, walter’s lawyer, made a magnificent closing speech to the jury. justice was served, or so it appeared at the time. but you never know about the last word of the world. let us remember those who have been forgotten, and those who never attracted notice in the first place. now it was walter’s turn to be forgotten. and except for muriel, he had been. a cloud passed over the moon. very soon the dawn would come up over the road. but walter would keep on walking. he had nowhere to go. and muriel - where was she?

the way you wear your hat

by nick nelson

can i say something to you? why not? it is something i have been meaning to say for a long time. spit it out. it is kind of personal. that is all right, i am a personal kind of person. i don’t like your style. what? i don’t like your style. i never have. my style? i did not know i had a style. i thought i was just a person. everybody has a style. i just don’t like yours. what is wrong with it? wait - before we get into the particulars of what is wrong with it, why don’t you describe to me just what this so called style of mine is? style is notoriously difficult to describe. try. i think you owe me that much. it is just something people have. is it the way i walk? the way i talk? the way you walk - yes, now that you mention it, that has something to do with it. how, exactly? it is the way you lift your foot up, like you were almost ready to take a graceful step, and then you just clump it down flat on the ground, it’s called walking. most people do it, unless they run everywhere, or are in a wheelchair. there is just something about the way you do it. i just don’t like it. anything else? the way you wear your hat, always perfectly straight on your head. never the slightest deviation to the left or right, or backwards or forwards. there is something brutish and totalitarian about it, portending an authoritarian personality. i bet you voted for trump, didn’t you? i beg your pardon, i did no such thing! but in your secret totalitarian heart, you wished you did. style doesn’t lie. well, that is enough about the way i wear my hat, how about the way i sip my tea? i never noticed that you drank tea, i don’t, i am a coffee person, and always have been. i have to admit i have never noticed anything particular about the way you drink your coffee. in a spirit of full disclosure, i sometimes accept a cup of hot chocolate when i visit my grandmother. i have never accompanied you on a visit to your grandmother, so i really can’t make any observations on that score. probably just as well. is there anything else you can tell me about my deficient style? not in so many words. i never suspected you had such a keen awareness of style. it just goes to show that you never know what other people are thinking. i do not know what i am thinking myself half the time. neither do i. well, it has been very educational talking to you. goodbye for now. have a nice rest of your day.

poem 909

by dog e relaford

harold lived in a packing crate and wished he had a sister kate and that he would be touched by fate when he went to the symphony, he was late jonathon lived in a tree in the park and only came down from it after dark his shoes were brown and his hat was green he thought many things were better left unseen kenneth also lived in a tree and thought he was better than you or me he had a degree in psychology and all he wanted was to be free leonard was employed by the park service kenneth and jonathon made him nervous he was happy to get home at night because his shoes were a little too tight

a million times

by bofa xesjum

you can do it. it’s easy. i don’t know. i have done it a million times. you have done it a million times? yes, that is what i said. i can’t imagine doing something a million times. whatever. please try to do it once. if you have done one thing a million times, you must not have had much of a life. excuse me? if you have done one thing a million times, you must have had a pretty boring and pathetic existence, that is all i am saying. i don’t think i like your attitude. and who are you to judge me and my life? i was just saying. just making an observation. i think this iinterview is over. you have insulted me and i am not going to stand for it. oh, come on, let’s just get this over with. i am calling superintendent b right now. hello, superintendent? this is j, in the p d department. i have an s here, serial number 89644-32-906. he has insulted and disrespected me, and i would like to terminate the interview. that’s right, i was insulted and disrespected. yes. thank you. j turned to s. you may go. the interview is over. so i do not get the slot? obviously not. please leave quietly. but this was my last chance. i have nowhere to go. do not make me call security. s left the building. he looked down the quiet empty street. eternity stretched out before him like a long white drowsy caterpillar. he wondered if he would starve to death or freeze to death.

in the south of france

by bofa xesjum

do you really like me? what have i told you before? i expect you have told me a lot of things. you make me feel very tired. is that all i make you feel - tired? derek sighed. a great, heaving, eye-rolling sigh. what have i done to deserve this? weston asked pitiably. outside, evening began to fall. all this transpired in a villa in the south of france. derek closed his eyes, and tried to recall jollier times. it had been a long time since he had been truly amused by anything. he knew, of course, that the good times could not last forever. suddenly, the doorbell rang. derek felt a wave of perfect gratitude sweep over him. without counting to ten, or counting at all, he headed straight to the door and flung it open. and there stood miss quinn! i was not expecting you, derek managed to blurt out. perhaps you are not going to let me in? miss quinn replied regally. my dear miss quinn, derek replied suavely, if my astonishment at seeing you here temporarily overcame my sense of the proprieties, i apologize from the bottom of the deep well of my sincere heart. are you really going to stand there like a frog, and not invite me in? and my bags are in the cab. have them retrieved, and pay the driver, if you please. derek stepped aside with a rueful smile masking his repressed fury, and miss quinn swept past him and entered the drawing room. the unfortunately empty drawing room.

sincere poem #4

by anonymous

understanding eludes me remembering henry, i feel drowsy he was my best friend but i never understood anything he said perhaps we were all to blame luck played a part when it was over, i felt a great sense of relief however, i would not be too sure it is getting dark outside nothingness descends yet again i expected the worst, but it was not so bad i guess everybody has a story to tell i did not see what was so funny i never had much of a sense of humor maybe some day i will start to understand but not this evening, when i am so thirsty <> why do you all hate me? what did you expect from me? i could take a joke, if it was funny that is just the way i am, deal with it multitudes march through my brain but they leave no footprints i knew you would never understand maybe i will try again some day

sincere poem #3

by anonymous

i am so sad so sad and lonely what is this nonsense? will you please shut up? nobody wants to hear it you are alive aren’t you? would you rather be dead? i know i know i should just kill myself but maybe just maybe i don’t want to do that maybe i don’t want to give you the satisfaction hey will you just shut up? no! you just shut up i will do the talking here and i will do the shutting up now just shut your mouths both of you all of you nobody wants to bleeping hear it is that clear am i making myself clear? yes, sergeant yes, mother all right then good night click click

sincere poem #2

by anonymous

i said i was the loneliest person in the world and nobody cared i said i was the most miserable person in the world and a few people laughed but mostly nobody cared i said i would do anything just to have a friend and two persons shook their heads pityingly or maybe it was one person with two heads maybe he really understood but even he or maybe it was they passed on and left me standing on the dark highway maybe nobody wants to hear it but it’s true this is what they do to you so wake up before it is too late and just say no to so-called fate it is what i mean to do because my heart is true

sincere poem

by anonymous

what is the sense happy happy birthday all the birds are sorry tomorrow will be kind i am so lonely sad and lonely and low-down ten years lost forever how can i ever find the time eternity is forever so is my sadness endless tears of white rainbows never reach the end sadness is forever edge of the earth is purple how will i ever find it apples grow in the islands

poem 843

by dog e relaford

the bear watched the man walk down the road and thought his iceberg would explode but then he heard his bulldog bark and went for a walk in central park the dog woke up on christmas day and decided to write a broadway play the play turned out to be a hit but his new pith helmet did not fit an elephant with nerves of steel made a passionate appeal to all citizens of good will to lean upon their windowsills and watch the victory parade of every creature who ever made a fortune in the building trade and from the true path never strayed

poem 10,001

by dog e relaford

if i was bad and you were good would we hitchhike to hollywood? if i was good and you were bad would we sit on a park bench feeling sad? all will be forgiven buddha sat under a tree columbus discovered america dogs run free elephants remember flowers bloom in spring giants walk among us how do we know anything? i tried to tell you justice will be served king richard was kind hearted but lions are not birds maybe tomorrow will be different but no one will know outside in the garden a puppy dreams of long ago you are really quite a joker i remember you all too well st swithin sends you his regards i hear the tolling of the bell under the polite veneer of violent discourse wise men adjust their spectacles but exceptions are in force you promised me last summer to meet me at the zoo but i must hitchhike to hollywood because my heart is true

snake read book

by bofa xesjum

i was running down the road and i heard a snake reading a book he stole into my heart because all straight lines have a hole in them we went into the louvre because the alamo was closed i ordered apple pie and he ordered pumpkin pie and vanilla ice cream he was not really a snake but i was really a refrigerator i said seventeen and he said two hundred and three we lived happily ever after and never saw each other again

poem 10,000

by dog e relaford

i have a billion poems buzzing inside my head and i think a couple of them before i go to bed a beautiful princess stands at a window in a gown of purest white a deadly assassin walks alone through the darkest night a homicide detective sips a cup of coffee a whirling planet says please get off me the last person on earth finds a billion dollar bill if genghis won’t do it khan will johnny put his hat on to go to the fair but after he shot the sheriff nobody was there the pope walks into a bar with a flower in his hair delilah says to samson don’t be scared abe lincoln picked a flower to adorn his buttonhole he remembered to buy a pack of gum but not to save his soul noah stands on the corner waiting to place a bet suddenly the rain comes down and he gets wet pick a number, any number and close your eyes real tight count to a trillion and open them everything will be all right

poem 123

by dog e relaford

the sun goes down and i feel sad about the friend that i once had he turned out a no good bum i blew his carcass to kingdom come he was the sheriff’s brother in law the sheriff challenged me to a draw i cut him down like a boardinghouse clothesline because he was no friend of mine i must travel from town to town followed by my evil renown no pretty schoolmarm waits for me just the shadow of the hanging tree you say you have heard my tale before that it has no why, and no wherefore i agree that that is true the trail is dust, the sky is blue the buzzard circles overhead with feathers of black and eyes of red the sun shines down on bones of white curfew shall not ring tonight