April PAD Challenge 2015 Day 5

Day 5
Prompt: Vegetable
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I Look Out of My Kitchen Window

and I see them be born and grow up
running around with tomato cheeks
petering into beanstalks
into black clothes and celtic crosses

as long as their juices flow
pumping fresh through their perfect bodies
everyone goes wondering
if there’s a seed of wisdom inside

yes, the sun has no mercy on them
sadly, they ripe too soon, old too young
preserved in stuffed offices
hung over, tasteless and watery

and I see them turn into squash
round, long, bear-shaped: gaudy yield
harmless you’d think, but look
they’re eating away at each other

April PAD Challenge 2015 Day 4

Day 4
Prompt: departure
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Before Time

I know you don’t want to die
I wouldn’t either
it’s not even autumn yet
it’s not even cold

What? Crying? No, I won’t cry
it wouldn’t matter
my tears have never helped
I get it, you’re old

your skin is so fragile and dry
you want some water?
it’s pointless, yeah. don’t yell
just let it unfold

not yet, please, don’t say your goodbye
until it’s over
I’ll be with you, hold you tight
my sweet marigold

April PAD Challenge 2015 Day 3

Day 3
Prompt: machine
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Singing Gears

the world is a big machine
hum-mum-humming its tune
tick-tock-ticking through time
clink-clank-clanging through wars
jing-jing-jingling through Christmas
chop-chop-chopping through pain

evolving and re-evolving
revolving the best it can

knock-knock-knocking on doors
bang-bang-banging on walls
bling-bling-blinking through riches
end-enduring need

inventing and re-inventing
venting and giving vent

lub-dub-dubbing with love
hiss-siss-sizzling with hate
dye-die-dying though life
liv-liv-living through death

the world is a big machine
work-work-working its ass off
for us

April PAD Challenge 2015 Day 2

Day 2
Prompt: secret
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Under Willow Trees

Wait for me under willow trees
where the nightingale awakes.
Swing and dance
to the song of breeze,
to the song of breeze
meet the new day as it breaks.

I will run till death do us part
to the sound of battle drums;
no one will
ever stop my heart.
Never stop, my heart,
’til from under trees she comes!

Let no dream lead your mind astray
when it’s warm and night is black;
if I’m late
don’t you haste away,
don’t you haste away,
even if I don’t come back.

Wait and look among crooked roots,
find words that I carved out,
whisper them
when the first gun shoots,
when the first gun shoots
listen for my raspy shout,

“Wait for me under willow trees
where the nightingale awakes.
Swing and dance
to the song of breeze,
to the song of breeze
meet the new day as it breaks”.

April PAD Challenge 2015 Day 1

Last year I missed the November Challenge of WritersDigest's Poetic Asides, so I'm ready to work with doubled creativity and inspiration for this April PAD Challenge. The prompts are great as always and words just know when to pop up in my mind. I've chosen to explore the world this time, so all my poems will revolve around the amazing, surprising, inconspicuous, terrible and breath-taking things that comprise our beautiful world. World'Song is a working title for the Chapbook (which is not a necessity, but I like the idea of having some sort of an anthology), which will appear on this blog after the Challenge is over.

Ready, steady... Day 1
Prompt: resistance
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Wants and Dos

It has been snowing all morning
and no, I’m not projecting
I’m simply there expecting
the grotesque snowflakes to melt

It must, it has to be easy
to change the world for the better
as simple as a child’s letter
something everybody can do

It’s in me, this need for action
I’m thinking of it, I swear
the spring’s somewhat late this year
my soul feels salty and wet

I’m metal, my guts need etching
and maybe then I’ll appear
a hero without fear
metal without resists

June super contest

My winning piece for the June Super Contest on scribophile.com. First time first place, big thanks to all the judges and congrats to the other winners.
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I'm walking down the street wearing nothing but a smile. I'm not an exhibitionist, or a nut house fugitive, and, God no, I'm not a werewolf. I'm as ordinary as it gets. My wanna-be-original parents called me Mason. I looked it up. It tops almost all most popular name lists. Unlike my name, I'm not popular. Well, I wasn't, until now.

I'd better start with a party before spring break. I'm late and I'm skidding around the corner when I get a text. It says to get booze. I'm in high school and, funnily enough, it's both the reason why I can't buy liquor and why I can. I'm underage, but high schoolers are the most inventive people in the world. I find a girl who feels sorry for me, because I have puppy eyes (or so I'm told). I pay her from my savings and run to Dylan's house with a backpack of jingling bottles.

Dylan, the guy who sent the text, is on the porch, snogging my ex-girlfriend, Allison. I met her thanks to him, and lost her to him. But he's a better match. He's hot, rich and rules High School. All I have is puppy eyes.
"Macy, buddy!" He makes a grand gesture of welcome and pats me on the back. The bottles jingle, and he swings the backpack off me. "I'll pay you back later, deal?"

"Yeah, fine."

He never pays back, but he buys me stuff like clothes, gadgets, hair product, so I don't mind. 

"Hi... Allison," I say to my ex, actually, to her back, because they walk inside and he's whispering in her ear, making her laugh.

I follow them into the acrid fog of dancing bodies and elbow my way to the couch. Lola flops beside me out of nowhere and with a grin shoves a beer can into my hand. I thank her with a nod and take a sip. A swig of cold bliss feels like a reward for the hard day. 

I like Lola because she's different. She acts like she's a college girl who came to school for a visit. And she's not enchanted by Dylan. In fact, she's a jerk-free version of Dylan.

"Running errands for him again?"

"Huh?"

She snaps her fingers in front of my face. "What did he ask you to do today?"

"Nothing special, just get some stuff."

"Illegal?"

"Not exactly." I shrug and smile. She shakes her head at me.

"He's using you dirty, don't you see that?"

"I owe him."

"Owe him what? Life as an errand boy?"

If you think she's right, you've never been bullied in High School. I know Dylan's a jerk, but for the three months under his protection I never once had to put ice pack to my face or worry about a broken rib.
"Lola, we've been there. For the hundred's time, Dylan's my friend."

"I should think so," he says and towers over us. Lola scoffs, as he leans to her, close enough to make my hands itch with jealousy.

"Scoot," he says. In response, she presses her middle finger to his nose, pushing his face away. He snatches her hand, and she groans through her teeth. I'm not sure what to do, so I just say his name. He turns to me, still squeezing Lola's fingers. "You wanna say something?" His look is magnetic, powerful, like he owns me.

"Let her go," I mutter.

"Sure." He slackens his hold and Lola bolts up to leave, but Dylan stops her. As he pulls an envelope out of his pocket, I feel sick to my stomach. I stole this envelope from the principal's office this morning. Dylan told me he needed it to help someone.

"My friend Mason, here, delivered this to me," he says, slowly ripping the envelope to pieces. "But I'm not Lea Olivia Leighton. You are." He smirks, letting the pieces fly. "Oh, was it your college application? Jeez, the deadline's today? I'm sorry."

Lola shakes, and I can't even move. I had no idea what her real name was and no time to get to know her better. I want to strangle Dylan with my bare hands, so I stand, but he freezes me with his look.
"She's no good for you," he says. "I'm trying to protect you."

He pats me on the cheek and leaves. Lola's crying, and her eyes tell me I lost her forever.
"Stop lying to yourself," she says and drowns in the crowd.


When I'm done feeling like crap, I come to school and meet Dylan and Allison in the hall. He's all grand gestures and smiles, but I don't smile as I give him a slap. Before he can react, I yell, "How could you do that to me? You're breaking up with me for her?" I point at Allison. The hall goes quiet, I can feel all eyes on us.
"What the hell are you—"

I don't let him finish. "Is that because she's better than me in bed?"

His eyes are so wide I'm afraid they might fall out, but I don't stop. "You know what? I don't need you. I don't need anything of yours." I start taking off my clothes and throwing them at his feet, till I'm standing in my boxers. "Take all of it. Give them to another boy-toy of yours." And then I kiss him. His lips are tight, but he's too shocked to resist. I pull away to see his face, purple with rage. He makes a move to hit me, but his fist freezes in the air, because I take my boxers off. "These boxers I borrowed from you," I say. "They are too small."

As I walk out of school, I hear, whispers, laughs and another slap.

"Him? Seriously?" It's Allison. She tells Dylan to get away from her, and I smile. 

I've just lied to the whole school. But it hurts less than lying to myself. Actually, it feels pretty good.

Zelder summer series

Zelder summer series...
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One morning I went to look for myself. I didn't remember losing myself, but I knew I had to find me.

You know, one good thing when looking for yourself is you don't need a picture. You can just point at yourself and say, 'Have you seen anyone looking exactly like this?' I learned that people see you in all kinds of places. It's hard to hide even in the biggest city of the country.

In the end, I did realize I was doing a pointless thing. When you run after yourself, you inevitably run away from yourself. So I stopped and stared.

There I was, just where I had left me.