Ph"D" is for Death

Curriculum vitae
fills twenty
and six single spaced

pages. My blue ribbons
adorn a
plaid sweater vest-

but mercy flows not
from my vorpal
blue-blood heart.

J.P.

Am I an esteemed colleague, a friend, or both?

My First (pseudo) Sonnet

Gone and dead are the times of romance,
the chalky candy is quickly discarded.
Hallmark greetings fail to create the trance
of love - but this is disregarded.
Flowers withering on the window pane
next to half-bitten chocolates with
stale cherry filling. It feels lame
to buy into this commercial myth.
Cheap cliches inexplicably wrapped
up with love and committment.
All my thoughts and feelings are sapped
of sincerity - I'm not content
with half-truth banalities, sappy dinners,
and waiting for love to inevitably simmer.

To J.P. on the occasion of an affront prior to a forthcoming midterm

My Esteemed Colleagues and Friends:

Ahem. . .

"Woefully Ignorant"
You call me
And people like me

[Now] These feelings lain bare
Eleemosynary praise
Soothes not my soul

My shelf of treasures
Aspires not
To bear your volumes

Have mercy J.P.
Upon the cretinous mind
Who sits before you.


The End

I Am Tantalus

The slow burning paper of a failing cigarette illuminated his tired face. The sweet smoke slipped out of his open mouth and danced along his face, stinging his pensive eyes. The cold fog had already swept over the city and a soft, sad
rain began to speckle the cement.
Save for his pulled up collar, Nolan seemed unaffected by the dropping temperature. As he sat on the curb he mentally revisited the events that had just transpired. He knew something big had happened, but he didn't know exactly what. He knew decisions had been made, but he felt little relief from his inner conflict. The image of Kat crying was almost enough to crack the tough facade he'd worked so hard, for so long to maintain. He felt his eyes gloss with tears and quickly took pains to repress them. Not a single tear fell. He continued in his fruitless conjectures.
He couldn't help feeling like an ill-fated new mother. A mother so excited about her new baby, full of love and concern for the little thing lying in herarms. Feelings welling up in her, from where she knows not, that she would do anything for the little one, anything to protect and care for it. Instinctually she kisses and hugs the babe. Her passion, so ardent and novel, causes her to smother the child. Death by misguided affection. Nolan felt like her.
Sparks flew from his cigarette as he flicked it into the wet lawn. He raised himself and walked away into the fog.