|Here is Chapter 2, Act 2 of The Human. "Short Change"|
NostalgiaNostalgia by jackgunski
I sit at my desk, and turn on my record player.
It’s Unforgettable by Nat King Cole.
An orange hue floats out from my desk lamp,
and hits my eyes like a flood of memories.
Each thought pumps happiness into my mind.
It is a distant happiness, not one I can touch.
My head slumps down to my desk.
It’s a deep mahogany.
I look into the scratches, I smell the lacquer.
Every fiber of the wood seems to cry out,
And so I weep.
And so I weep.
Stranger WordsStranger Words by jackgunski
We are never talk so well,
Things to say we cannot tell.
Words from small to bigger man,
learn to live, while living can.
Face with eyes and mouth don’t move,
Nothing saying, does not prove.
If you hearing through the fuzz,
learn to be, while being does.
Where beyond the quiet place,
search to see the change of face,
use your time left just to see,
be a living, live to free.
leaving now, but hear before,
easy caring, to ignore.
Do not to hear these words ban,
learn to love, while loving can.
From The Desk Of The World's Most Considerate ManFrom The Desk Of The World's Most Considerate Man by jackgunski
Thank you, random person,
for not running me over with your Jetta.
The appropriate timing of your brakes
made it clear that
you were in control the whole time,
and not texting on your phone,
on the sole basis that it’s still
Future generations will
have you to thank for my
not becoming a splat.
Thank you, penguin,
for not carrying some
weird Antarctic supervirus to my home,
and subsequently killing me.
I don’t know if you carry a supervirus,
but I can only attribute your absence
to your concern for my health.
Thank you, stranger,
for not murdering me.
I realize that the growing number
of knives in the world
makes it so much easier to
gain access to a lethal weapon,
consequentially making my
murder easier and more affordable.
The fact that you chose not
to make me the victim of
senseless murder is truly amazing.
Thank you, dog,
for not mauling me as I stepped out
your front door this morning.
Granted, you’re a Pomeranian,
but don’t think the ge
The Piano BoyThe Piano Boy by BlackGoddess13
What melody does this young one play
Of silent eyes and starlit rain
Moonlit winds drift by him round
As echoed notes reach out in vain
Yes, my eyes are captured by
And heart by stricken lullaby
That he does orchestrate on whim
As shattered notes force me to cry
And yet, while echoes touch my heart
Not another soul does start
Drifting by on journeys end
Nothing near to a remark
But he plays not for my love for him
Nor the scourges' paradigm
But his eyes on the piano rest
Taken as one to his limbs
He does not see me anyhow
His smile starlight in eyes brown
Dare he not look up at me
Lest he cease his melodic sound
Oh, his name I do not know
And love for him I do not own
But his music has captured me
As I look upon this rogue
With no word I shall depart
But imprisoned shall remain my heart
Not in the boy's shining brown eyes
But in the melody lit with stars.
SilentlySilently she sits, sad, stopping sobsSilently by shanathehuman
Escape everything eventually
Scars show seconds spent silently screaming
Waiting, wondering, withering, whispering
Feeling far from freedom
Dismal, dark, damned
Harmfully hoping, helplessly held
She stays silent
Not In GAMING ModeNot in GAMING ModeNot In GAMING Mode by Michel-le-fou
For Puabi and lovers everywhere
Games and gamers are all around
Setting the world as their boards
They are running this into the ground
And I am getting bloody bored
Where will it end, and will it end with Love?
Or is love a game by now?
Who wins love has to throw the heart
Oh heaven forbid
Keep Love away from them now and forever
Love is not a game or a sport
Not in gaming mode
Puabi and I love devotedly
We play no games with Love
The Old Man's StoriesHey old man, pull up a seat,The Old Man's Stories by CoreyDevon
get comfy and tell me a story.
Tell me about how it used to be,
tell me about those days of glory.
Tell me all about those classic ladies,
how they always maintained a state of grace.
The way they always smelled like daisies,
and always had on the most pleasant face.
Tell me how those ladies revered their bodies,
and the way to get in was earned with respect.
You called them lady, they didn't answer to hottie,
anything less they would flat out reject.
Tell me all about those bold men of character,
how they lived lives of virtue and common sense.
How they stood by their morals and didn't stagger.
Taking only what they earned, no sense of entitlement.
Tell me how they managed their priorities,
"A man don't work, then a man don't eat."
How they took care of their responsibilities,
the family came first, then maybe a personal treat.
Tell me all about the innocent youth,
and how they didn't mature before their time.
How they only knew to live by the truth,
The Great PerhapsPerhaps the stars are in the sky for the number of souls that I love.
Perhaps the sun shows that we should also radiate like her.
Perhaps the night hides all our dark sides.
Perhaps the laughter takes away the pain and gives hope.
Perhaps the sea does not know where to spread, knows no bottom.
Perhaps the waves hit the shore, at low tide and high tide.
Perhaps the cycle of the sun, over hill and vale.
Perhaps the bothering dream, day and night.
Perhaps a balance tilts to the left or right.
Perhaps an uncertain decision, whether yes or no.
Perhaps is the dance rhythm of possibilities
Perhaps sits as deep as the sea of time.