No Fly Zone

Sitting on a bench. This bench here.

Hands clasped.

Sounds muffled.

Time pierced by my stare.

My hair ruffled by the wind.

It doesn’t distract.

There is something important

I’m piecing together.

Something so grand, so eloquent.

A fly flies into my nose

And in that instant I’m out of the zone.

That thought is gone, completely forgotten.

World peace is gone

Because of one greedy fly.



This problem I have, I must admit.

This juice box craze – it’s overwhelming.

With just one sip, I begin to slip.

Before I know it, I’m 3 boxes in.

The pushers, they give you one for free.

That’s how they get you started,

How they get you hooked.

Every time I get that feeling, that itch,

Like a needle to a vein,

I slip that straw right in.

100 percent juice,

But I know it’s not real.


Just a slight bit too long,

Dragging everywhere.

Dirt along the bottom,

It catches dirt and hair.

I’ve gone to see a man,

A specialist of the sort.


He was taking far too long,

I couldn’t stand it any more,

Something snapped inside me

and I yelled out, “Damn it!”

He looked up at me, wide-eyed,

So I said to him,

“Please, sir, come size me!”



Some look forward to the day,

Filled with everlasting glory.

Some look forward to clouds parting,

And the sun pouring down like rain.

Time will be still.

Laws will be broken.

On this day, this most glorious of days,

All will be good, then all will be bad.

Those who were right expect to smile,

To brag.

The wrong will be wronged

And they will suffer.

While all along,

A silent stranger will be watching.

Whines and Spirits

In the darkness, they appear.

They torture and torment.

But light they fear.


When crowds gather.

Why can’t we sleep soundly,

Without trouble or fear?

Inside every nook,

Around every corner,

Lingering and loitering,

There they are.

Waiting to possess.