Strange Things

Strange things happen all the time,
and I wonder is it a crime,
to be strange and mysterious,
to be sly and suspicious,
what would would you do,
if you it happened to you,
if you were a freak,
or even a geek,
how would you live,
what would you give,
would you give up,
or try to stand up,
you just can't fight it,
you can't stop it,
your not normal,
and that's all.

My Friends Death

I looked him in the eye and said, “The world’s greatest detective shall be no more.” Then with a leap, I thrust my fist upon his face. He fell down to the ground and I watched as blood began to pour down from his mouth. Blood that was as red as a crimson rose lit by the eerie light of the moon. I grabbed him by the collar and brought him to the edge of the high tower. He looked down, then back at me. And then he fell. You could hear his screams grow fainter as he fell further. Then there was silence. I had done the most amazing of feats that the world has ever seen. I had murdered the great Sherlock Holmes.

Time was of the essence, for I heard the screaming of women from below. I cleaned the blood as best I could, but the stone floor had been stained in a rich burgundy. I took up my things and made my way to the dumb-waiter. As I made my way down in the musky, moldy elevator I could hear the policemen making their way up the stairs in haste. I opened the door of the dumb-waiter and felt the rush of the cold night air come towards me. I made my way out of the tower and ran as fast as I could home. My heart was pounding like a calvary making it’s way to battle. By the time I had arrived my family had heard of the news. My wife made her way towards me, but I shoved her aside for I had business to attend to. I grabbed all the money that we had, and changed my clothes. I packed my stuff and set it outside. Then I locked my family inside the house, and made my way to the shed. I grabbed the jugs of whisky, and then made my way around the house pouring the whisky on it. Then with my bag in one hand and a lighter in the other, I through the lighter at the house and ran. I could feel the heat of the burning building come my way. As I ran, I heard the screams of my wife and children calling after me from inside the flaming inferno. As I ran, I remembered the joy my life used to have with my family. As I ran, I began to cry.

I ran to the nearest bar and drank to my sorrow. I could not bare to be Watson anymore. I decided that once I was sober I would change my name and leave the country. I drank until I could drink no more, and then I retired to my room. As I walked up the stairs I had a feeling I wasn’t alone. I entered my room and then I was smacked upon the head with a club. I awoke with a massive hangover and a stone ceiling in view. I sat up and looked around and realized I was in a cell. I jumped out of bed and looked about the room. It couldn’t be, I had cleaned up all of the evidence. I hadn’t left a trace behind. I grabbed the cold steel bars and rattled them shouting, “Let Me Go! Let Me Go!” But nobody heard my cry for help. I went back to my bunk and started thinking of a way to be free. I thought about it day and night, until I had and idea. I looked around and found a sharp stone and then I began to write on the ceiling. It took me hours at a time to think of the perfect plan, but I had it. I was ready to execute or be executed.

The time had come to execute my plan, so I went to the corner of my cell and pulled out a stone that had been sharpened to a point. Then I came up to the cell door and started yelling pure nonsense, as if I were a madman. The officer on duty came down and saw me there huddled in the corner. He came to me slowly, then he put his hand on my shoulder. Then I grabbed his throat with the grip of a python and stabbed him with the sharp stone. He fell down silently in a pool of blood. I ran out of my cell and exited the building.

I ran to the tower where I had killed my friend, and took the same dumb-waiter up to the scene of the murder. I had come to see what I had left behind and to rid myself of the evil I have done. But when I got to the top, there was a man with blood stained on his clothes standing there. I readied myself to defend myself, but to my surprise it was Sherlock standing there. I ran towards him but then he stepped towards the ledge where I had pushed him off of before. I begged him not to do it and then ran towards him. Then he vanished into thin air. And before I knew it, I was on my way down to join my poor departed friend.

You write one.

Hey, write a poem and email it to me at garrett.milles@stu.mccracken.kyschools.us

Lonely

Loneliness is a terrible thing,
it’s hollow and cold;
it never ceases,
it never gets old;
it just sits there until at one point,
you come and realize;
that there is other stuff,
that sits before your eyes;
so my message to you,
is if you’re lonely;
think about what I said,
and then you know you only;
have one other choice,
and I have chosen loneliness.

Chaos

When chaos ensues it's like a burning fire,
consuming everything in it's path;
and as it makes it's way around,
you can feel it's emanating wrath;
but like a storm it must pass,
and move on to some other place;
and then others will have to see,
the horrific sight of its face.

I'm a Disgrace

I’m a disgrace
I just stay in the same place
I don’t try nothing new
I reject whatever someone offers to do
I keep to myself and don’t move
This is a reason why I always lose
And why I write this is for just one thing
To make sure that you don’t end up like me
For I don’t socialize and I don’t have many friends
I just go straight on and don’t look around any bends
I just mind my own business and don’t say a word
And I go on with life without being heard
And so I tell you while I stay in the same place
That I’m a disgrace

What can I do?

What can I do,
I can’t run,
I can’t have any fun,
Can’t sing or dance,
I can’t even find a romance,
Can’t do anything I want,
So now I’m on the hunt,
On the hunt for something,
That I can do, that one thing,
That is set apart from all the rest,
That one thing that I’ll try my best,
Even though I’m not strong or tall,
And I’m not good looking at all,
I’ll keep looking for that one thing that will stay true,
What can I do?