Childhood Illness

Stomach aching, feeling wheezy
In the toilet is my macaroni extra cheesy
Hyperventilating, peering over the seat
Now I just upchucked my luncheon meat
Off of the toilet to take a sip.
Down my throat the liquid slips
But not for long because it soon comes out
All chopped and discolored like sour crout
Now pain alleviates and I sit with my dad
Stomach ache subsides and I don't feel so bad.
Empty stomach, allures me to eat some din.
But after five minutes the cycle starts over again
Hunger is over, discomfort is all I feel
Then I throw up my most recent meal.

Grandma

Put one foot in front of the other that's what grandma always said,
After rotting in the hospital now grandma's dead
She told me to leave, she didn't want me to see her that way, but never got mad when I decided to stay.
Finding a time and a date to visit we always found a way
The doctors told us she would be OK,
Then after she died they told me the pain would go away
But what do doctors know anyway
If god saves lives, then why did my grandma have to die
Seldom times I cry, but I often wonder why?
Was she not strong enough?
I argue that her life wasn't long enough
The doctors couldn't be wrong enough
My grandma was tough and now because of God my family has got it rough.

Oral History Project Interview Questions

Could you please spell your name?
Tell me a little bit about yourself?
Where were you born?
Where did you grow up?
Tell me about your family life?
Do you have any children?
What did you do for a living?
What were some of your first jobs?
How much did you get paid for your first job?
Tell me about the schools you attended?
If you could leave advice to today's youth, what would it be?

High, Low, and In Between

Pink my deep misconception, the tenderness and compassion stored deep within my gigantic aortic pump.

Blue shades the cheerfulness and hides satisfaction under the thick opaque darkly colored blue blanket.

Purple my in between, the mediator of my feelings. Nonchalance, tiredness, and slight content encompassed in one.

Pink my high,
Blue my low, and
Purple the mystery and enigma of the in between.

Popcorn by Mail

Dear Sall Sall,
I just received and consumed the delectable popcorn you just sent me via ground mail. Thanks for not delivering it by sky mail, I mean who wants fresh popcorn? Since you used UPS, I obtained my popcorn in 8 business days. There is nothing like week-old popcorn. Soggy puffs balls drenched in butter, stale from open air, and insipid as a result of the large quantity of salt you dumped in it. My wife calls your little popcorn package, Coronary Infarction-In-a-Bag. By the way, would it hurt to seat it in a air-tight bag next time. The texture was analogous to those decade old Famous Amos cookies you sent me last week. Do us all a favor here at the Rogers-Martin house hold, and stop sending me food that you need to get rid of.

Sincerely,

Jacob Rogers-Martin

Lady In the Water

Still, tranquil, immobile, yet vivacious. I lay stiff in the river dead in body, but fully active in spirit. Clatter surrounding me: frogs, fish, tress; the very essence of nature. My dress caked and logged heavy with the dirty water from the infinite stream. Insects gather and feast ruthlessly on my punned corroded flesh, minoes swimming between my toes. Birds chirp loudly shouting orders, but who cares? I am at rest at peace, nirvana. Wildlife snagging at my dress with immense perseverance disparately seeking my attention, but I give them none. My muscles don't move, cells don't budge and bones don't crackle. I am still. At peace more then ever, lost in my own world of unlimited thought where physical life is scarce. As I float on down stream I hear voices followed by shrieks. Spectators cry and become petrified at first sight of me, I don't budge, I am still tranquil, full of life, yet dead.