ruMble junglE

ruMble junglE
JCD Kerwin

I like spaceships and caffeine
and I have no idea
what “normal” means.

I laugh at puns,
and think we’re overrun
with assholes.

My baseball hat
is part of my act
to be someone I am not.

Airplanes give me panic breath,
I always fear dark water depths,
and crowds make me very
nervous.

I can’t live without blasting
my ears full of tunes
because I think music,
can save me.

And if I may,
I feel the rain
is worth a hellavua lot more
than to ignore
with umbrellas.

I don’t think it’s wrong
to act along
with my favorite cartoons.

I’m quiet on the outside
but inside I hide
thunderstorms.

I hate talking on phones
and sometimes I want
to be left all alone.

I think maybe books
are the closest to Heaven
that I’ll ever be.

I always fear
what tomorrow brings,
but I still want to know
what’s around every corner.

I’m friends with monsters
hiding under my bed and
deep in my head,
calling to me in low whispers.

The light in the hall
is the only thing keeping
this dark world from creeping
into my heart.

I’d like to swing from stars,
and I often wonder
if Ray is happy on Mars.

I’m sure I dream too much
(I know there’s no such
thing as magic),

but maybe somehow, someday,
I’ll build a spaceship, and
sail far away.

(October 2014)

Blink This

Not particularly well-written, but the idea still delights me.

Blink This
JCD Kerwin

I often dream
about the so-called
“Rise of Machines.”
I picture blenders
and ice machines
flinging food at passersby.

I imagine
the computer reaching,
wrapping chords
around my knees.

I bet the coffee pot
has got
some built-up steam
toward all us
impatient, cranky beings.

I confess I adore
the image of
automatic doors
sounding like Hal.

In any case,
I sort of wish
these robots would
amass and attack.
It’d sure explain
why everything I own
runs like shit.

(Sept. 2014)

Vomitus

It really grosses me out.

Vomitus
JCD Kerwin

I’d really like to know
why all these people
feel the need to eat
ten different times
a day.

As I sit in my cube
(a classy, simple drab-gray),
all I hear is crinkle,
crunch,
gulp,
and munch.

Makes me nauseous
when I think
they’re insides must be saying,
“Slow down, please!”

How can you really
completely digest
the oatmeal and bagel
from breakfast,
in time to inhale
a pound of leftover
lasagna?
(Remember to sneak it
in-between
your snacks of
chips and cottage cheese.)

I can’t help to wonder
what the hell they eat
for dinner.
No wonder this country
can no longer fit in its jeans.

(Sept. 2014)