Optical Allusionist

Idealism Concerning the Occupation of a Janitor

For the school to be rid of its grime,
If the teachers would just give it time,
It'd take care of itself;
The students would help
To make their school shimmer and shine.


Shakespearean Sonnet

Across the burning bridge, I see the maiden fair.
Her every action pleading freedom from self- inflicted dragon.
Yon dismal dreaming maiden with the pallid face
Her eyes a piercing azure, hair: locks of teeming ebony
The bridge ablaze before me, neither she or I may cross.
Despite the cruel reality, I call for her to come.
She dare not move and neither I in case of callous peril.
With wings spread wide, the infernal beast swoops from yonder perch.
Bonfire extended from fortified jaws, directed at maiden fair.
Ideal visage strikes bitter tile. She ducks to avoid his flame.
And I limited to inspecting the dishonorable deed.
Ashes and smoke hide the falling bridge, but Clash! rings loudly in my ear.
I call for her to come once more, but all for my despair.
Due to the beast, I must depart. A knight I was, but now no more.


Berlin

I run down these streets watching the planes fly over.
My friends laugh at them, pointing up into the sky,
But my father told me about these planes.
Bombs, he said-- to destroy the Fuehrer.
Of course, it was the first year in many
That we hadn't had to worry about food.

Why would Britain take that away from us?
I don't laugh and point with the others.

My father shakes me awake. "Wach auf!! Sie kommen! Sie kommen!"
They're coming. A great horn cuts the night,
As we scamper to the bomb shelter.
Great bombs shatter the peace of the night.

Why are they doing this?
I shake and cry with each new bang.
Closer and closer.


A tear stained pillow in the God-forsaken bunker
Welcomes the new day.
"Wo ist Vati?" Where is father?
My father, Mother says, went outside that morning.
There was no food in the bunker.
I jump to follow him, but my mother grabs me back.
No, she screams, I cannot lose you too.

But I leave soon enough anyways.
We can't stay cooped up in the bunker for forever.
The light from outside blinds us until...
I wish it would blind us again.



He went out for food? I ask mother.
There is no food. It looks like it did before Hitler.
There is no anything. This is what the Fuehrer had saved us from.
Rubble and debris clutter the streets.
Listless comrades trudge through the streets of our beloved city.
Berlin.

We search for Vati.
He must come back sometime.
For days we don't return home. There is no home now.
Only the bunker has been spared. No bed. No food.
No anything.

My mother is small.
She cowers. She does not eat enough.
But that may be only due to the fact that we don't find enough to eat.
Vati was never found.
Mutti doesn't seem to care anymore.
I can hear her chatter in her sleep.

I'm angry.
Hitler gave us food.
He gave us pride.
He gave us bravery.
He gave us self-respect.
He gave us protection.

And now they take it away.
They take it away like they did before.

I run to the enlistment office.
I will teach these British Schweinhuende.
But the men in their uniforms laugh.
We know you want to help, they say,
But come back in a few years when you're older.
Be a good German boy now.
We will teach them.

But I don't miss the terror in their eyes, and the creases in their brow.

I run down these streets again
The streets of a once- stunning city.
But now the only stunning thing about it is that it
Is no longer the wonder it once was.

Berlin.


Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde

Fiddling around with test tube memories
Mixing chemicals of brain and time
Chemistry, a sudden strong point
My lab coat a wild blur.
Frantically combining a toxic solution
Of memory and attention span.
A decade of thought, to think in a moment.
A slip of hand, and a crash of glass bottles.
Fumes become a projector screen for the past.
Breathing sensations in, suffocating time.
A monster arises- leather hands and cat-like eyes.
Avoidance is the only answer in response to monstrosity
No question in the motive of it's flailing claws.
“Away!” It cries, “Away from here!” The roar deafens.
Until painful decibels, a train rumbling into the station.
A station of horror, pain etched in posture and visage.
The only sense of control left is to stay indoors
Windows barred, to hide the secret of a past.
Test tubes litter the floor.


Dramaturgy

Jeffrey's eyes looked everywhere
At people's clothes, at people's hair
His voice erupted in a yell
"Why do you insist in hell?!
Are you real?
Can you feel?
That there's no point in catching up
To everyone who's matching up!"
But no one heard his desperate plea,
And that's what brought about the deed.

They found him lying on his bed.
The cry rang out, "Jeff Hunter's dead!"
Anxious fingers read his note,
The lyrics to the song he wrote.
"Why can't we see?"
"Oh, why did he?"
His shaky words cut through the page,
The ending to another day.
Tears were shed, and silent songs
Stayed there where Jeff's pen had hung.

"Everybody's selling something;
Everyone is buying.
I'm sick of all this dramaturgy.
'Spent my whole life crying.
'Cause you won't show me who you are.
Why won't you tell me who you are?"

They bring his coffin down the aisle.
The pain they feel is nothing mild.
The choir sings a solemn hymn,
The feelings low, the lighting dim.
His mother cried;
His best friend lied.
His father stood and spoke about
How masks we wear leave room for doubt.
He read Jeff's song in memory.
All eyes were wet with reverie.

"We strut around.
We're in a play.
'Know what to do.
'Know what to say.
Tell me who you are.
Won't you tell me who you are?

"The Jocks the Freaks,
The Science Geeks.
We're giving you all labels.
The Mollys, Peters,
Cheerleaders,
The Marthas and the Mabels.

"Everybody's selling something;
Everyone is buying.
I'm sick of all this dramaturgy.
'Spent my whole life crying.
'Cause you won't show me who you are.
Why won't you tell me who you are?"


After Ward Prayer

I step into my Ford Taurus
And I sob.
But there's no true reason to sob.
I pass my singles ward friends,
Smile like Jennifer Anisten,
Wave and wipe my eyes,
Beaming "There's nothing wrong with me!"
I turn the corner, but pull over to the curb.
Something's wrong.
And I catch a blink of the horror.
Suddenly, I'm caught between a sob and a scream.
"Don't touch me!" A voice shrieks in my mind.
A little girl sobs in time with me.
And as soon as it came, it stops
I'm surrounded by my own muffled grasp for air.
But that's all.
"What do I do?" I speak aloud.
I turn the car around and park in the lot.
Again.
After sitting numbly in the seat,
I open the door,
Slam the door,
And walk to the crowd.
Caitlin looks confused, tired, and maybe a little worried.
"You came back."
"Yep," I reply. I'll explain later.
Wei notices that I'm shaking.
"Oh, are you cold?" Cameron hands me a jacket.
Minutes later, Wei takes my hand.
"You're warm, but you're still shaking."
I won't tell him why I'm shaking.
When I leave soon after,
I drive around some more
And get home after 10
To crash in my bed
And sleep.



Nocturnal Child

As bedtime nears, she awakens.
I feel her yawn and stretch inside me.
A child is here.
She blinks the sleep out of her eyes,
As I blink mine in a fitful lethargy.
Do you see her?
She is silent as she climbs out of bed,
Pausing to listen for a hidden commotion.
Frozen in fear.
I pace the room, not ready for sleep
And the nightmares that arise in the midst.
She is the nightmare.
Trembling hands and clammy skin.
She awaits for him to come to her.
This is her welfare.
I feel her shaking, shaking my heart.
I grab my knee and rub
I try to calm her.
She mouths her question silently.
Her eyes reflecting the same question.
"What now?"
I stare blankly back at her,
My mind as blank as my eyes.
"...and how?"
Gray matter constricts, and
A growing hurricane erupts.
I have no answer for her.
How can I help her be calm,
When I am terrified?
Have I broken my vow?
I promised to protect her.
I promised she'd be safe.
But she and I are haunted.