despair

by tom tophead

i woke up this morning with a feeling of despair my head was on the floor and my feet were under the chair rain was beating on the wall and seeping through the window and i wondered with all my heart and soul what had brought me so low i sat up and wondered, where had i been i put my hand in my pockets but of course they had been picked clean outside in the street a truck blew its horn and i wished that i had never been born but i had been born - i surely had so there was no point in getting mad the pertinent question was where was i the rain continued to fall from the sky i sat there wondering why and wherefore when suddenly there was a knock on the door after a last glance around the little room i closed my eyes and awaited my doom later that evening at her majesty’s ball i stood in the corner and read the writing on the wall the rebel armies were advancing from the south the glass fell from my hand and the cigar from my mouth the generals were talking to a maiden fair of whose existence i had not been aware who is that ravishing creature, i asked the black prince but he passed me by, and i have not seen him since the room began spinning, and the walls to shake i wondered how much more i could take perhaps you are asking yourself the same thing but if we wait for a moment the birds will sing who are these wise men invading my dreams do they not realize nothing is what it seems i wrote them a letter a long time ago and for my good intentions have nothing to show

freedom on the corner

by dog e relaford

willie had a boo-boo johnny had a kangaroo they partied hearty with big artie because that is what they were born to do my daddy was a railroad man my mama was a giant squid you can try to hide forever but i know what you did genghis stood on the corner and said to omar khayyam all i wanted was to be free but you do not know who i am all i wanted was to be free and live my life untrammeled won’t you buy this set of dishes made of the finest enamel i wish i had a little dog who came when it was called my uncle joe wore red bow ties and my uncle bob was bald i went downtown to see the show but it was all sold out a band of angels surrounded me and gave a mighty shout now you know how it all started and why i live in a tree the world was there for the taking but you were not nice to me sally had an aardvark who liked sandwiches of cheese one night there was an earthquake and he was gone like a cool breeze

what i have learned from reading a million books in 10,000 lifetimes

by anonymous

there are people - they are probably people, but who knows ? - who rule the world they have ruled it since “the beginning of history” - about 6000 years ago or maybe longer they have complete control over human life, and all life on earth the greatest heroes, the most dedicated revolutionaries, the wisest sages are helpless against them the rulers grind the heroes, the rebels, the sages, into powder and laugh at them every day you and i and the whole human race are their helpless pawns there is an occasional pathetic stab at an uprising but it is quickly shut down they always win there is no light on the horizon and no horizon there is no light at the end of the tunnel and no tunnel and yet - this is the strange part - they, the rulers, are complete idiots who know nothing figures of fun mocked and cursed not only by the wise but by every passing bum or clown or bag lady a newborn child, a cat, a dog, a stone, know more than they why is this? how can this be? do you have any thoughts on this?

jojo

by dog e relaford

jojo went down to the river to buy his poor dog a bone but the river was dry no birds flew in the sky and he was all alone jojo reached into his pocket to find a nickel or a dime but his dog ran away and had nothing to say and jojo was out of time jojo went down to the city to see what was going on in the courthouse and jail there was nothing for sale and he silently watched the dawn jojo went down to the seashore to watch civilization collapse the best and the worst the last and the first are now just splendid chaps

who

by walter w johnson iii

my aunt judy was a nice person but maybe not so nice as we thought my uncle jeffrey made millions selling high end cardboard except that it turned out he really didn’t my sister sally talked until she was eighteen about running away from home but she never even left town and married a guy who worked at the local gas station <> i never did understand what my dad did all day it was easy enough to know what my mom did when i was a child i had a little stuffed bear i never called it a teddy bear my mom used to tell people how much i loved it it was the cutest thing and i was the cutest thing one day we were driving over a bridge on our way to yellowstone national park and i threw the bear out the window into the river below who am i? who is anybody? how are you doing? i have not heard from you in a while

ham and eggs on the corner

by tom tophead

i was standing on the corner waiting for my bulldog to bark when along came my erstwhile acquaintance danny the dinosaur and his longstanding companion sal the shark how are the ham and eggs today, danny asked me pleasantly i had known danny a long time and knew he was always looking for something for free they have been better before, and they also have been worse i replied, giving an opinion easy to reverse we were interrupted by eddie the ectoplasm with his face all in a twist spouting a litany of grievances which we were powerless to resist frank the flounder sauntered by, with his alligator in tow he had had the alligator forever, but it never seemed to grow the alligator’s name was gus, and sometimes he looked sad but all in all, his life was not so bad hoover the mover, the local groover, now entered the scene in his brand spanking new limousine where, i wonder, did the curious expression “brand spanking” originate? perhaps it is futile to speculate jenny the jingler jiggled by, wearing a boot and a shoe and asked if any of us had seen king henry the kangaroo he is hiding in the kitchen with a ham and an egg, miss laura lee opined brightly and do not forget to come to my show, which plays at the palace nightly hiding in the kitchen with a ham and an egg, madam x exclaimed outraged i guess he slipped that one past me, when my attention was otherwise engaged nobody could have guessed what happened next which is the subject of this text out of the swirling depths of space, old man mose appeared he wore the same old stovepipe hat, but seemed to have trimmed his beard peter rabbit, who had the habit, of laughing at all he saw looked around in panic, and said, we had better summon the law i know this poem makes no sense, and apologize in advance i write it under the influence of a demon haunted trance if you see the ham and the egg pass by, tell them i said hello the hand of fate is calling and i really have to go

reptile

by tom tophead

the roaring rotation of the relentless rain penetrates my reptilian brain how many times must i explain that i do not wish to be king again? the corridors of power are filled with dead flowers and the palace stairs are carpeted with despair the spider waits the ambassador of fate i want to go back to my mushroom shack beyond the castle walls where wet leaves fall without a thud in the mud

the cupcake

by bofa xesjum

victor jones was walking down the street. he was not famous, and no one knew who he was. he had nothing to do, and nowhere to go. he kept walking. it was dark, and the streets got darker and darker. finally, he came to the end of a street, and there were no more houses or buildings or lights. he turned back. he came to what looked like a little coffee shop on a corner. there were no signs indicating whether it was open or closed, but he tried the door and it opened and he stepped inside. he did not see anyone behind the counter or seated at the two little tables, which had two small chairs each. there was a glass display case beneath the counter but it was empty. victor was just about to turn and leave when a person in a white apron appeared. can i help you? the person asked. i would like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. we do not have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. well, what do you have? chocolate cupcakes. all right, i will have a chocolate cupcake. victor expected the person in the white apron to ask him if he wanted anything to drink, but the person disappeared into the shadows and quickly reappeared with a small chocolate cupcake on a plate. victor took the plate with the cupcake from the person’s hand, and opened his mouth to ask for a cup of decaffeinated coffee - because it seemed to be late in the evening - but before he could speak the person said - that will be three thousand dollars. victor was surprised, but not as surprised as he might be, because he had had experience of the world’s curious and sometimes ridiculous nature before. oh in that case i do not think i want it after all, victor said with a smile. i did not realize it cost quite so much. it is too late now, the person in the white apron replied. you should have thought of that before you ordered it. come now, victor laughed good-naturedly. this won’t do. do you take me for some peasant who just fell off a banana truck in the middle of the trackless desert? i am a citizen of the world, and wise to your roguish tricks. where is the trickery in asking for payment for services rendered? have a care, fellow. it is you, i am afraid, who do not know who you are dealing with. victor was not in the habit of looking directly at his fellow humans or for that matter at any living creatures, and for the first time he took notice of the person in the white apron. why, i do believe i know you, victor exclaimed. of course, the man in the white apron - who had blue eyes and a small scar just below the left the left eye, which had caused victor to recognize him - replied. you are victor jones, and you were the best solver of crossword puzzles at winchester high back in the day. and you are gary milton, who dropped what would have been the winning two point conversion in the big game against east columbus, although butch bailey hit you right in the hands. i never expected you would turn out a baker of chocolate cupcakes! and i never expected that victor jones would turn out a lonely wanderer in the night! life is strange, victor and gary agreed.

history 2

by tom tophead

civilizations rise and fall some are big, and some are small some only serve a happy few all are old, and all are new a few will turn the whole word red with mighty conquerors at their head they burst the dams and burn the towns and all before them must bow down sargon sat upon a throne and he sat there all alone he was the mightiest of all and summoned nations to his hall princes came from far and wide queens rushed up to be his bride they threw their kingdoms at his feet as he looked down from his golden seat though modern folks might think it odd he proclaimed himself a god but in time his act grew stale and he did not live to tell his tale alexander was called the great but suffered an unhappy fate from a lamppost he was hung although he was so very young genghis khan had but one eye with which he looked up at the sky he swept the earth like a kitchen floor but now, alas, he is no more napoleon rode a horse of white and put the kings of earth to flight he marched through sand and rain and snow it does not seem so long ago churchill smoked a big cigar as he travelled wide and far the british empire ruled the waves but in the end could not be saved marx dreamed in a library dim and cool to make humanity his tool and end the story once and all it turned out it was not his call rockefeller discovered oil and slowly put the earth to boil henry ford invented cars and dreamed of driving them to mars heroes break out of the box and leave their names scratched on the rocks that crumble in the noonday sun perhaps the story has just begun

pastoral

by wiggly jones "the little hippie boy"

the grass is green the greenest ever seen the sky is blue and the birds are too the gardener is gray he works hard all day the lady’s hair is red she wears a hat on her head her dress is white her eyes are bright when they rest upon a cat on the lawn which is playing with a ball which has all the colors of the rainbow but nowhere to go like the elderly gent whose back is bent he lights his pipe with a frown as the sun goes down

happy hour

by bofa xesjum

zenobia williams, a woman wearing a blue t-shirt, was watching television. it was happy hour, and she was drinking a glass of wine. it had long been her habit to indulge herself in this way. her husband, porter, did not approve but kept his own counsel. porter was out on the highway, selling used automobiles. it was tuesday, and wednesday would be the same. zenobia heard a car pull into the driveway. she had not been expecting anybody. the doorbell rang. zenobia left her seat on the couch, happy to be curious. she did not expect the caller to be a serial killer. she would have been quite unprepared for such an eventuality. she did not recognize the person she beheld on opening the door. he looked like a quiet type, wearing a heavy sweatshirt the color of quails eggs. don’t you recognize me? he asked zenobia after she had stared at him for three seconds. he looks a little bit like jonathon, zenobia thought, but did not say aloud. jonathon had been her husband in her younger days. but he had apparently been devoured by a strange sea creature off the coast of the indian ocean many years previously. you may have seen the story on the news, or read about it in the newspapers. it had been a bit of a story back in the day, although believed a hoax by many. eventually zenobia had collected a little bit of money from an insurance company. she herself had been the subject of jokes in the more scurrilous reaches of the media. who winkingly professed to regard her as responsible in some way for jonathon’s fate. jonathon’s body had never been recovered. i am afraid i do not know you ,sir, zenobia told the man in the quails egg colored sweatshirt. i guessed you might think that, the man responded with a deep sigh. his sigh sounded a bit like the one that had annoyed her from jonathon. excuse me, i do not wish to be rude, but who exactly are you? zenobia persisted. oh, what is the use! the man cried. i never should have come here! zenobia was amused - this was a welcome change of pace from the game show she had been watching. darn it, zenobia - i am jonathon, your long lost husband who supposedly perished in the indian ocean twenty-three years ago! i see you have done your due diligence, sir - i believe that is the phrase - it was exactly twenty-three years ago last friday. perhaps i should have written before coming. maybe you would like a drink, or a cup of tea or coffee ? you look a bit tired. you act like this is some sort of joke. would you like the drink or tea of coffee or not? i fear i am imposing on your generous, though skeptical, nature. please, come in. i won’t bite you. the door closed behind the man with the quails egg colored sweatshirt. no one could ever establish exactly the time he left the house. * a tree stood beside the house. it was a pear tree, but did not produce that many pears. gray clouds floated by from time to time. nobody knew or cared what went on inside the house. some people thought the house had a sad air about it. the man calling himself jonathon rogers had thought long and hard about approaching it. finally he just did. his motives may never be known.

the prophet

by horacee p sternwall

the world was all wrong until i came along i may have been uncouth but i told the truth crowds came to hear me speak down by the creek i fed them red meat and they took to the street i wrote a book and empires shook i delivered speeches on highways and beaches everyone knew my name and i had no shame i spoke in thunder and the world wondered has the time come? will this bum unleash the sleeping forces beneath history’s courses all the kings and priests the greatest and the least took a little time to make up stories of crimes that devoured me like ants i never had a chance like those that came before me because everybody likes a story and the world turned and i learned i was yesterday’s news i put on my walking shoes and rejoined the ranks of the forgotten and the blank and stood in line counting my nickels and dimes of fame and friends bereft i went down and left town on the next bus it was ever thus