One In A Million of A Kind

Ice bombs. Blondes of suicide. Arctic plates. Drink spaghetti, eat water.
There's some random words we learned about. Now I'll incorporate my way. The strange words will apply as intervals. How about an intro?
What is poetry? Poetry is everything: the air we breathe, the words we write, our native tongues..like Whitman said, the story of America is a poem in itself. Poetry is you and I, my friends. Poetry is magic.
do you know what it's like
to feel the need
to be a shadow of yourself?
yeah I'm just a good person
to whom bad things have happened,
when the moon peaks you'll be able
to savour my senses,
wash them clean,
wring out the lasting liquid
while the picture skims adjacent
to our dimming vision,
blinded by the flash-
lights, camera, action!
Purple petal bears. Rainbow meal. Three-cheeked Gloria.
the chemicals ran gently through his blood
like a disguisingly mellow river until
we come to a waterfall.
this quickly he tumbled
over the edge
to lifelessness,
solitude.
Blind cash. Queen ant. Class clown. Personalized dog.
Like the traitor on death's doorstep, begging for forgiveness
Like the pestilential vagabond who swears to stop indulging in drugs
Like the released jailbird who prays she stops receiving nasty glances
Like the married whore who admires a new bedroom each night
Need I go on with this?
You lock your eyes on the bait and reel in with that mating call
How you continue to get your wish is the biggest mystery of them all.
Sober smile. Pink punk phone. Dusty disc. Sullen song. Midtown to downtown.
the Asian staggers under a pitiful wage
not due to age, or performance, but to race
the Asian doubts his pursuit up to the big stage
not due to age, or performance, but to race
What have we become?
so infested by this craze
the praises received as beautiful
have sorely gone to waste
the Asian, now thrust upon the blame
stares with sunken eyes behind the metal cage
due to the place from which he came
not due to guilt, or crime, but to race
Not a word to speak against a single soul,the Asian is betrayed by the place he once thought home.
Melancholy socks. Frozen hairbrushes. Orphaned Anythings. Broken bank. Shattered sun.
Thunderstorm. For them, a time that urges the thought of indoors. A time to be careful. A period representing a melancholy picture. They must avoid the rain. That is, for them. But for me? Thunderstorm. Rain- the water flows through as the blood in my veins. New life has been breathed into me. I need not provide shade this day. Time for rest and relaxation. The hand of God has waved to me. Many thanks, I shall resume my duties tomorrow. For now, sweet dreams.
Golden picket fences. Shallow unicorn. Hockey ball. Soccer puck. Chemical pool.
Such beautiful melodies, put with his feelings so he can freely express them and inspire others in his wake with what is in his heart. Strokes of his instrument bring such brilliant noise, he fulfills his passion and awakens others. The fire burns within them all-they sing out of love and appreciation for his songs. He can't help but smile while singing the songs of which tell his stories. Every time they strengthen his happiness, he knows his dreams are complete. He and they are united forever.
Red day. Smashed ham. Vegetarian buffalo wings. Sudden streets. Scratch walls.
How will our legacy be measured come the day of our funeral? The number of people who care to show? The dampness of the ground? Length of the eulogy? What does it even matter when you're walking stone towers and imprinting funnel clouds? You gonna care that you fade in thought with each passing century? You gonna care if your precious remains are placed so respectively in the middle of three-hundred twins? Oh, wait, I forgot where I reside. The only memory that matters here is the amount of chemicals it took to send you packing. I'm sorry, is that disrespectful? Well that's all you talked about when you were alive so that's all I've got for you here. Death is supposed to sadden us, though...fuck you. Stop browsing the gateway and sleep with bloodshot eyes under the permanent sun. Look like you're still "alive". Stop shaking your corpse. I'll see to it your final bottle is laid to rest beside you. Meanwhile, we'll...actually no, we'll save our tears. Trying to fucking con usfrom the afterlife? No, I think I'll smile. I'll give you life when you take it. Run, cry, and smile for anyone. But I suppose it's too late for that now. There will only be ten people at my funeral,the eulogy finished before a single sullen sob rings out(that center of attention thing isn't for me). I may only die of natural causes, or maybe your brother will get drunk and hit me with his car. Either way, I'll go out with a sober smile. This alone makes me proud, makes me good. I am horrible for saying these things about one who's deceased. Maybe I should've lied- said he was good; he didn't deserve it; proclaimed religion in the dying seconds. God I'm horrible- forgive me? Guess I'll see you in hell.
Tiny ladder. Brick bookshelf. Standing smoke. Wilted window. Annoying alliteration.
Kneeling down before your throne
confessing to a heart of stone
planted and grew my sins whole
adults can't turn the lies they told

the mindless ideas inside my head
show the distance I've been misled
you proved yourself as my little Queen
and that scared the shit out of me

oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
take me to the river and wash me clean
oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
give me just one more tryout for your team

laughter, kindness, humility
smiles made of cheap purity
complements and rose pink cheekbones
your model of beauty set the tone

hand in hand, my thoughts centralized
the first one I had who'd become all mine
lingering thoughts of past depression
blind a man from true expression

oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
take me to the river and wash me clean
oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
give me just one more tryout for your team

drunk on pins and needles galore
turned down all the gifts you explored
couldn't bear to see eye-to-eye
waved a cowards' silent goodbye

should I ever cross you again
you'll pick out the boys from the men
forgiveness is not an issue
because I've got too much to prove

oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
take me to the river and wash me clean
oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
give me just one more tryout for your team

oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
won't you be the flood on this inferno?
oh Sabrina, oh Sabrina
a glorified demon can be a hero.

A glorified demon can be a hero!

What do I want from life? Happiness. Absolutely nothing else is necessary. Be happy, and do whatever it takes to make yourself happy. Does that sound selfish? Maybe it is. I don't care. Anyway, I'm tired of gazing out the window and seeing the millions of people who look the same, act the same, care about the same things. We're all the same; we work, go to school, pay bills, go on a vacation now and then, get married, have children, etc. I want to do something different. I want to do something big. I will do something big.

A parting thought for this first piece, something to make you think. For everyone who believes we came from Adam and Eve: if we all came from them, then aren't all humans on earth related? All of us in class, are we all brothers and sisters? Think about that!

JOE BALLARD