But you know what kills me?
People who find poetry obsolete, antiquated, useless...unimportant. I want to revive it! You don't hear much about poets these days...namely novelists. Which is what I am first and foremost, and "Matches" is insanely important to me! Oh well...
Anyway, here's a sample, one of my favorites that I'll be trying to get published: (although still needs quite a bit of editing.)
EYES ON ELDERLY
Lingering in this alleged hallowed haven
A feather amid a whirling blizzard
I submerged myself in absurdities and pure imagination so that The time would pass more rapidly
Killing time is no easy feat
Put enough thought into it, wonders can be yielded
Absurdities and pure imagination ooze
Strong suits that must suffice for sixty minutes
A glimpse caught at the tattered and vomit-colored seat
Beside me, a gaunt old toad snivels and chortles
“Oh the peculiarity,” rolls through my mind like a roll of parchment
I twitch my eyes and proceed to shoot her
A discreet withering stare
Ever so slightly
Elderly sans dental work
Sporting dark, colossal bifocals
Her beady, grim eyes---the size of bowling balls
Loon was clad in Vera Wang, a pantsuit to my surprise
"Hmm...how out of the ordinary!”
“What an odd attire for a squishy old moppet!”
I transformed into crude, rude, vindictive
Yet I wasn’t to be halted
The daggers pierced my flesh where her eyes grazed upon
Ruddy cheeks
As if fresh out of Aspen
Coins and paper washed over, her paleness fading, waning
Like a light wind, a breeze barely felt upon your skin
Gobs of eye shadow, blush, eyeliner
Smeared all over the doughy face
Like paint upon a thick palette
Gold-digger implications
Maroon as purple as her dialect
Splotched negligently across her pucker
“Or she could be a crack whore.”
Ten cents, a fitting slogan, I decide and cringe
I gaze at the filthy, cracked clock dangling from a nail
At long last, the choir merged into muteness
The instruments fainted into translucence
Dissolving into the atmosphere with a hiss
It was time to go
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