Fairy

Fluttering around sugarcrustered skies,
prancing about and swinging
a lethal wand- his imaginary arm,
a glow of pristine light at the tip
a jerk backwards
and a point foward.
Zzap! a shot of brightblinding colours.
dizzy and swimming in circles.

Spurts and magical happiness
an excercise in gaily routine.
rolling around the sweetlysickly
viscous nectar the lethal wand
has mindfully conjured.
yummy yummy.
and it all ends as sunshine sets,
the vespers shine.


Like a butterfly,
he glides home on gratified wings,
wand in hand- tucked safely and deeply
in a receptacle with the silveryencrusted
made-in-china, like theotherboy next door,
(and brokenwindows of yesteryears)
safely away from mama's eyes.

All she knew was her lovelypretty boy,
went by the smallyellow church today.

a fairy's day out.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 10:31 pm

  Flustered


I wonder if big kiddo likes me.
Never felt so young.
Wanna marry her.
Funny I call her big kiddo.
Maybe I should call her..
twig. yea.
j and the twig.

i miss her already. argh.


cuRRent...jer

(not a poem, just unbriddled streams of consciousnes cascading into the painful realm of reality)  ¶ 1:17 pm

  Conversations
and maybes

Dedicated to the broken-hearted
and to the bigger kiddo.
Move on.

hush hush.
maybe the light will
come in soft measures
and tickle your chin.
maybe your smile will come real
once again.

shattered is soul
and hungry is body
your emotions are withered
but you are beautiful.
still. yours truly.
husha husha

words can fade and
conversations still.
and you could stand there
perfectly huggable
yet resistant to
the brush of time
the fire of reality.

the shards can stay
imbedded and your heart bleeding
scars will remain. hush hush
but summer can come and go.
so will memories.
why do you hold on so much?

perhaps you couldkeep love like
how you hold thoughts
in a diary encrypted by cyphers.
maybe the sympathy might
stop pouring
but who knows.
who knows?
hush huhs. how would you
want me

to react?

memento mori. so
our expiry dates - just dots
on history books.
the crosses could break but
why won't you let the other mend
the pieces?

afterall
love is the howler
and the penance later.
keeps you breathing
stops you breathing.

You don't really need to
know someone
to love someone. maybe its easier.

move on big kiddo.
im in love with you.



cuRRent...jer  ¶ 11:20 am

  Table-top
a teacher's day dedication

The lines scratched between
the hardened russet pieces of plank and
the nails of a deranged carpenter.
the smooth glistening brown where
the table-top beckons.

The students find frantic ventholes from
the daily fracas of mad pedagogues and
the rectitude of youthful naughty-ism.
the institution is gilded in facism ergo
the table-top beckons.

The etiolated smile of a befuddled teacher
the confabulation with another and
the persistent discourse on scandals.
the "tsk tsk tsk tsk, I think he's rotten."
the table-top beckons.

The lecture drags on unfazed
the notion of time fading away
the pen drops and another snore emerge.
the random line on the transcript
the table-top beckons.

The underacheving scripts
the excruciating solecism "argh argh argh"
the grammar is wayward and the content.
the clock and red ink ticks away
the table-top beckons.

The ten-year series never ending
the "flip flip flip, chapter on market structures"
the intermittent yawn and a roll-eye.
the counting of sheeps and days
the table-top beckons.

The numerals never ostensible
the impart of wisdom-manqué is green
the voices lull and teeth grit.
the circle never seems complete
the table-top beckons.

The return of papers
the dismal grades
the utterance muttering incoherently.
the "She is a crazy eff-ing bitch"
the table-top beckons.

The lethargy of school engulfs for
the repose before midnight is
the sinniest sin students/staff should eschew.
the deprive accumulates and so
the table-top beckons.

.

education's a sad life .

school's insipid. vapid. period.
so are the teachers.
so are the bloody adminstrators.
and so are we.



cuRRent...jer  ¶ 12:01 am