I'm No Poet

Slip ‘n Slides and Blanket Forts

Poems
By
Amateurs
Are not poems at all.
They don’t
f--
l;
o:
w.
They lack verse.
They scuttle and toddle
Like a half-witted horse.

Poems
By amateurs
Have no set form.
They stop
At creation,
Defy regulation,
Challenge expectation.

Poems by
Amateurs
Fail to make sense.
A fat bird covers the
Ocean. And dreams.
Birds.
Oceans.
Dreams.
They follow every cliché.

Poems by amateurs
Really suck.

My friendly is making this for me. :)

Three, Two, One. Blast Off.

It was a Wednesday morning at 7:30 am when I arrived at the Valley Hospital, still sharing a seat with my mother. It may or may not have been bright outside; it’s highly improbable that, even if I could remember, I could have felt through all the layers of skin and muscle encasing me. It would not be until twelve hours and forty-three minutes later that I would have actually felt what kind of miserably hot, Las Vegas summer my parents suffered to bring me there. But by 8:13 pm, Laura Cope weighed nine pounds less. After half a day in the hospital, she and my dad were thrilled, tired, and relieved. Silly, at such a pivotal point in my existence, I was completely unaware how that moment was quite literally the beginning of the rest of my life.

A Story of the Infected and Undead.

     Well, it took place in Cambodia, and next to this house I was staying in there was a big, creepy warehouse. My friend and I went looking for someone near this warehouse. We heard strange noises coming from it so we found the door and busted it open. The foulest of stenches emanated throughout the alley way we were in, and Cambodia smells miserable already. Through the darkness we saw body after disgusting, rotten body which covered the entire floor of the building. It was comparable in repulsiveness to a concentration camp mass grave. We ran. We had to run. There was nothing else to do, especially when the bodies started moving. They didn’t follow us but they moved enough to let us know they were not dead, only sleeping, and the light seemed to wake them.

     Over the next few days, we did nothing but disinfect ourselves and everything we and that air may have come in contact with. Friend after friend started disappearing but we knew better than to go looking again. The grocery store downstairs was really the only safe place we could go. That’s where I spent most of my time, stocking up on cheese and preparing for battle. Up in the house, we filled an entire room with anything we might need to keep ourselves alive. I would hold the mom’s very fat baby while she doused everything in  409 and, when that ran out, straight bleach. She would hold the baby while I went out to test the waters and try to find some way out. My faceless friend and I knew it would be dangerous but there was no way we would just sit and wait for our death.

     We were only outside the house for minutes when we saw that we weren’t alone. There were three of them and only two of us so we ran again. We ran till we couldn’t anymore but our adversary didn’t seem to slow down. A superhuman strength ran through their bones. We jumped into a tree and started climbing without paying attention to the growing crowd below us. This tree was massive and unnaturally branchy for this area of the world. The adrenaline pumping through my veins pushed me higher and higher. My friend and I helped each other with unnatural strength until we couldn't climb any higher. No one seemed to be following us either. Then the crowd started scattering to hide under the tree and under anything around. They pointed to the sky westward as they went. A massive flock of birds began to circle the tree and let their bowels loose on us. Where we waited, the leaves and branches were too sparse to hide under. A big-enough branch was several layers below us. We jumped down being far too careless about our footing, and wrapped out arms around the branch and guarded our faces from any polluted drops. The white rain fell for several minutes and when it stopped, there were no more people below us. Everyone else must have realized that if those birds had breathed the air of the undead, they would be infected and their droppings would be deadly...