Emotion
As she voyages down the
lonely expanse of the hallway,
she realizes that she has forgotten...
something.
The only dilemma is that
she's not quite sure what it is
that's absent.
She comes to the conclusion that
she really doesn't need it anyway.
After all, if it really mattered that much,
would she be so absent-minded
as to leave it where anyone could find it
and possibly victimize it?
She doesn't think so.
So she leaves her heart on the
cold
marble steps,
where it lies
trampled
and broken,
and she walks off
to live a
painless,
joyless,
miserable life.
February 1992
Nothing
You are pretty as gold,
though not worth as much;
as bright as the sun,
but not warm enough;
livelier than life,
though not as much fun;
this poem's real stupid,
and now it is done.
February 1992
Rage
Filth and putresence,
that's all you are;
picking out fights
in every bar.
In the bellybutton of life,
you're not even lint;
your breath really stinks,
you should suck a breath mint.
I wish you would die,
you fat wad of snot!
I'll spit on your grave,
and hope that you rot.
February 1992
Wool Love
Love is a lot like wool:
You put it on unguarded,
and it becomes itchy, irritating,
and burning.
But wear it wisely,
and it warms your whole body,
inside and out.
March 1992
Ryan
Fuzzy-headed,
harmonica-breathing,
pigtail-pulling, insanely-smiling,
annoying, worthless piece of
happiness.
March 1992
< 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 George's poems >
Home Weblog The Baltimore Story Reviews Contributions The Line Game Monkeys Calendar Gallery WTF Links