Bubble Boy #2

I am the Bubble Boy,
Stuck in the bubble,
I am the outsider,
Lost in a pocket.

I may not feel the waves crash,
I may not feel the bee sting,
Or the dog bite,
But I'll never be sad,
In my secure little bubble.

*This is a "redo" or "remix" of my 2nd poem ever. Enjoy!!!

You're My Memory

A memory is a memory is a memory,
Is a thought, is a feeling,
Is perception, is pleasure,
Is pain,
Is a memory, is Life.


How can I explain?
What a pleasure it has been,
To live with you,
To laugh with you,
During the good times and the bad.
You've always been there,
To have and to hug.

The best part of you,
Is that you are forever,
As long as love truly exists.


How can I explain?
What a day it was,
How horrid,
How dreadful,
How memorable.

A sheep with cloth,
Held over its eyes,
Could still hear the screams of the slaughtered,
And so could I.

I knew it was happening,
I couldn't do anything,
I was helpless.

A lamb in the corn,
I couldn't stop it,
But why should I?
I knew he was going to a better place.


How can I explain?
The weeks, the months of pain,
I scratch your back,
You stab mine.

Twist the blade,
Even deeper,
Till it touches the heart,
And it begins to bleed.

You're my memory,
That's all you'll ever be,
As Johnny Thunders said,
"You can't put your arms around a memory*."

*Both Johnny Thunders and Ralph Kramden used it in the Honeymooners

A Thousand Voices

A thousand drops of water,

Leads to an ocean.

A thousand pieces,

Finish a puzzle.

A thousand lies,

Lead to the truth.

A thousand twigs,

Build a tall tree.

With a thousand minds,

A thousand voices break the silence,

They can turn the tide,

Of any man, fiend or foe.

A thousand doves,

Flying high in the sky,

Can steal the hearts of men,

And there shall be war no more.

When a thousand tired eyes,

Open their sleepy lids,

And gaze their watchful gaze again,

The world will finally be free.

A thousand ideas,

Come together,

To make only one,

Om.

The Angels Will Dance At Your Grave

The Angels Will Dance At Your Grave,
They'll laugh, they'll sing,
They'll dance a jig,
All to send you on straight to Heaven.

No wonder they'll dance,
Your soul is light,
That shines upon the Earth,
Gives strength to mankind,
And everlasting hope to us all.

No wonder they'll dance,
Your tears are sweet rain,
Candied gumdrops,
Waiting to be eaten,
Your tears are worth more than the finest jewels.

The Angels are already dancing,
Waiting for you to come home,
Because any angel knows,
One of their own.

This poem should be a happy one. It was a request by Nikee Rivera because she was having a bad day. So I tried to make it extra cute and sweet. Enjoy!

The Bells (Ancestors In Paradise)

A happy family,
Lived in a happy home,
Father,mother, sister, brother they be,
They were happy, damn happy,
As good as good can be.

Then came The Bells,
Telling of the past, the present, the future,
You can learn a lot from,
The rolling and the tolling of The Bells.

Father started getting sick,
Black spots covered his body,
He first couldn't eat,
Then he couldn't move,
Then he couldn't sleep,
Then last It took his body,
Piece by little piece,
Till all that was left,
Was the fruitless shell,
Of a truly wonderful man.

They told me to go to the yard,
When my father died,
They covered his lifeless eyes,
With a small loin cloth,
Took him to the crematorium.

We took his ashes home,
And put them next to Grandma's,
To watch over us forever,
And for us to remember forever.

I cried a lot that day,
The waterfall from the abysses of my heart,
To the lake in my soul,
Washed away my sorrow,
And helped me mourn.

My father had breakfast with his kinfolk,
Then lunch with our ancestors in paradise.

I'll always remember The Bells,
Telling of the past, the present, the future,
You can learn a lot from,
The rolling and the tolling of The Bells.



This poem was a poem requested by Nadia Khan about the Black Plague. I researched the Black Plague a lot and found it to be a lot like cancer actually in the way it kills people. I related it to my father, so there you go. I got the idea from Edgar Allen Poe's "The Bells." He wrote it about his dying wife as well. The second to last stanza is based on a quote by Giovanni Boccacio, an Italian noble, about the Black Plague.

Skulls and Smiley Faces

One and one half wandering fools,
Wandering through the desert sand,
Then the Skull met the Smiley Face,
And By God,
There was rain.

They were once two,
But now two faces twirled into one,
All was good,
As good as good can be.

But all of a sudden,
The Skull called it quits,
Said it would be better,
If they just stayed friends.

The Smiley Face wasn't smiling,
When she heard the news,
The Smiley Face took aim with her forty-four,
Five times with a rooty-toot-toot.
The sad Smiley said,
"He's my man, and he done me wrong"*

*The last 4 lines are directly based on a part of the American folk song Frankie and Johnny.

This is a very odd poem. It's based on Ivan Quezada and Deeana Altvater's relationship that recently ended. I was a little sad when I heard because they were my favorite couple. Even better than Brangelina. So, I decided I'd write a poem about it. This is very fictional. Ivan is alive and well. I didn't want any details so I could have more creative freedom with it. Well I went wild with it and here it is. Enjoy!

The Last Chestnut

Everlasting winter in the City,

Jack Frost's nipping at my nose,

Hell tugging at my shoulders,

Here's to the last chestnut,

Before I drop dead.

But alas,

I am saved,

By this wondrous chestnut,

Heat flows through me like a raging volcano,

The delicate, curious flavors entice me and astound me,

I am reborn.

The haunting hotdog,

The pointless pretzel,

The stomach churning churro,

Could be nothing next to the

Last Chestnut.

Rafael Joson