The following poem is not true!
Have you been to the land of Nappy? Where nothing’s perfect, and it is all crappy? There’s men with big nasty feet, and people on bikes down the street, where people take and never give. Well sorry, that is where I live.
You can feel the love as
it goes on
All the swaying hands
and bobbing heads
The room is silent
not a word to be spoken
the sounds of the saxophone
inspiring the broken
Warming the hearts
off all the dead souls
Bringing smiles and showing
hope
The saxophone that plays
It’s so outspoken
showing the love for
all of the unawoken
A single cell, person, all alone and envious,
Another petal on a dull flower.
Tons of passing faces in New York City,
Rushing worker bees, flying very swiftly.
Falling, falling from a person’s arm
like a leaf falling in the wind
in the middle of fall. Bright, dark,
I can’t tell. I’m a bee that stung them.
They screamed, I died wondering
why I stung them. I might come back
but don’t know when.
You have a pencil, new
as a fresh pound of cow
meat, good looking, beautiful.
Going to school can’t wait
til you use it, excited, scared
you might lose it like a mouse
and its cheese, trying to get
the cheese and hoping you won’t
get snapped by the trap but
then you lose it, you search every-
where for it, like a bat looking for
darkness, but then you leave for
about five minutes to calm down you
come back and you found it in the
same area you were searching
in, so confused, like a fifth grade
student doing eleventh grade math
homework.