The thing that i love
is not knowing what will
happen.
Because i am here and it is now,
and now is all that matters.
Monday, November 3, 2008
3 Weeks
You have told me this,
after the flower has wilted,
about it’s beautiful
morbid colors.
It has no meaning now,
the show is over and you just bought tickets.
There is nothing to forgive,
it Is your character flaw.
after the flower has wilted,
about it’s beautiful
morbid colors.
It has no meaning now,
the show is over and you just bought tickets.
There is nothing to forgive,
it Is your character flaw.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
V2. poem
Swinging.
Back and forth the swing groans
my body lain over
slouched.
I wish I had a coat
but it’s no big deal.
I would be cold either way.
nothing has changed my life
not even this.
Life has changed my Life.
Back and forth the swing groans
my body lain over
slouched.
I wish I had a coat
but it’s no big deal.
I would be cold either way.
nothing has changed my life
not even this.
Life has changed my Life.
Monday, October 13, 2008
peom.
Swinging.
Back and forth the swing sways
my body lain over
slouched.
I wish I had a sweatshirt
but it’s no big deal.
I would be cold either way.
Back and forth the swing sways
my body lain over
slouched.
I wish I had a sweatshirt
but it’s no big deal.
I would be cold either way.
Monday, October 6, 2008
final short long story.
Flannel Shirts Eric Johnson
Joey was a racist. Or at least he thought he was. The concrete was cold, and the night colder. His heart beat like canons going off on a mountain where the enemy made its way down. How did it come to this, he thought.
Joey grew up in a small Midwest town. He was what you might call a redneck. On the weekends he would go mudding with his friends or shoot guns along those lines. His best friend’s name was Franklin; they had been best buds since 2ed grade. He was what you might call a ladies man. He also had a burnout older brother named Red. In high school Franklin and Joey’s friendship grew exponentially, most of what brought them together was the love of the outdoors, ladies, and having a good time. There town was mostly all white people, so this made their mindset easier, but their neighboring town was almost the opposite. One night at a football game, in which the rivaling towns tested their physical strength, Joey and Franklin viewed the stadium from the tops of the bleachers. They smoked cigarettes and conversed with their other friends, paying little or no attention to the game unless a touchdown was scored and they were required to clap and say generic cheers. Everything in that moment was perfect. Their team won and they were all in a prideful mood saying things like, “Stallions!” and such, when a member from the loosing team shouted, “Get outa here ya hicks!” Joey’s crew looked at each other, and then stepped into action all at once without a word being said. Before they knew it, it was a full out gang fight. Joey found a scraggly kid and easily immobilized him. Franklin had two big black men on him and was getting pummeled; Joey reached into his pocket and within seconds warm fluid dripped from his hands. At once the fight was frozen in time. Franklin starred at him and they both knew at that second what to do. They both pilled into Franklin’s 71’ Chevelle and tore out. “I can’t believe you stabbed him man!” Franklin’s bloody face shot out. “I mean, you stabbed him!” Joey realized he was still holding the weapon and threw it out the window, still not responding. The car was silent. “He’ll be fine.” broke the silence.
“What?” Franklin sputtered.
“I saved your hide man”.
“It doesn’t matter man, you stabbed him!” Franklin was practically screaming. Silence filled the car for a long while as they reflected on what had just happened. “Are we still going to Brad’s party?” Joey asked.
“I don’t even know man what do you do after something like that?”
“You are freaking out about this more than I am man, settle down.” Joey interrupted.
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just a little shocked is all.” Franklin took a few deep breathes and they pulled into the gravel driveway.
“Howdy ya’ll!” Joey called as he draped his body out of the car. Cheers and common greetings filled the air and drinks are lifted as the hero arrives. Red stumbled up to his kid brother and blurted, “You are now a man, my little child, I am proud of you.” He was handed a drink and walks to the raging bonfire, which stretched at least10 feet into the air, shaking people’s hands and getting padded on the shoulder, half by people he didn’t even know. He sat down and everybody wanted to hear the story, from his perspective of course. He boldly restated how he had saved poor Franklin’s life and risked his own. He knew he was getting huge respect points for this. The rest of the night was a mixture of celebration and mayhem, as the alcohol took effect; he wandered to a field, staring at the stars. And all at once, he fell off his high stool and cried himself to sleep.
5 years later Joey had become a successful lawyer in New York City. If anything he was the complete opposite of his younger years. He rarely even thought about those days, he found it a little embarrassing to tell his new friends that he grew up in a Midwestern town. He thought that they would make fun of him for cow tipping and say howdy ya’ll whenever they saw him. He had a new life now and he enjoyed it very much. He and his fiancé’ Andrea were getting married in the spring, and they were very happy together. He strolled down the crowded New York streets one day in a rush to get lunch and head back to the office. He had a very important case he was working on and he didn’t want to waste any time. He could spot his cutoff flannel shirt from a mile away and he hurried to meet his old best friend. They hadn’t talked in about 2 years because Joey had been so busy with work and Franklin had been in and out of prison. They punched each other like old friends do, and said there common greetings, although Joey was slightly embarrassed to be seen with this very Midwestern fellow in the busy streets.
“Hey man you want to go grab a beer later or something?” Franklin blurted out.
“Uhh… I don’t know if I have…”
“Of course you have time for old Franklin come on we’ll have fun.” Franklin interrupted. Joey agreed and they made the place and time. They parted ways and Joey continued his rushed afternoon. The rest of the day he kept thinking about how stupid he was for accepting his invitation. He didn’t want to deal with a drunken redneck in New York City; he didn’t even ask him what he was doing there in the first place. But if he didn’t go, he knew there would be consequences.
He showed up at Joes Bar around 8 o’clock and sat down. Franklin was always late. He watched the game in the smoke filled room, and couldn’t think about the last time he had gone out. He usually spent his nights studying or working on a tough case. Having fun for him would be getting Taco Bell on his lunch break. Franklin showed up at 8:17 and plopped down next to his best friend. “Well howdy kid, how’s a little hick boy like you doing in a big city like this?” he said in his Midwestern accent as he waved at the bartender for a beer.
“How are you doing in a town like this? It must be hard for you; they actually care if you piss in public here.” Joey quickly replied.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Look at you, successful lawyer in the big city. Boy have you grown.”
“Yup, looks like you haven’t changed much. Are you still ranching cattle out on the farm?” Joey said through an awkward smile. He hated when his old friends gave him a hard time for being a lawyer.
“Yes sir, they keep growing, we keep cutten em up.” He replied cleverly. They caught up on old times and had a good times and Joey felt as if he had taken a time travel to the past and was reliving all the great times they had had together. At around eleven they stumbled out of the bar and headed to Joey’s apartment. Franklin spotted a couple black people smoking in a dark alley and in his drunken stupor, said some things he would regret later. Soon a storm cloud of hateful words filled the air and turned into fists. Joey started pulling Franklin back, he knew that Franklin could beat him any day, but he had changed since moving and he wasn’t the same as he used to be. He knew the only reason Franklin wanted to fight him was because of his race. Then in one swift motion Franklin revealed his pistol that he carries on him at all times, the one he had robed a liquor store with in high school, and started his downfall. The man went at Franklin unfazed by the gun and Franklin fell backwards on top of Joey when a bang shot out. Joey felt the same liquid as he had felt before, accept this time it was his own. Joey was a racist. At least he thought he was.
Joey was a racist. Or at least he thought he was. The concrete was cold, and the night colder. His heart beat like canons going off on a mountain where the enemy made its way down. How did it come to this, he thought.
Joey grew up in a small Midwest town. He was what you might call a redneck. On the weekends he would go mudding with his friends or shoot guns along those lines. His best friend’s name was Franklin; they had been best buds since 2ed grade. He was what you might call a ladies man. He also had a burnout older brother named Red. In high school Franklin and Joey’s friendship grew exponentially, most of what brought them together was the love of the outdoors, ladies, and having a good time. There town was mostly all white people, so this made their mindset easier, but their neighboring town was almost the opposite. One night at a football game, in which the rivaling towns tested their physical strength, Joey and Franklin viewed the stadium from the tops of the bleachers. They smoked cigarettes and conversed with their other friends, paying little or no attention to the game unless a touchdown was scored and they were required to clap and say generic cheers. Everything in that moment was perfect. Their team won and they were all in a prideful mood saying things like, “Stallions!” and such, when a member from the loosing team shouted, “Get outa here ya hicks!” Joey’s crew looked at each other, and then stepped into action all at once without a word being said. Before they knew it, it was a full out gang fight. Joey found a scraggly kid and easily immobilized him. Franklin had two big black men on him and was getting pummeled; Joey reached into his pocket and within seconds warm fluid dripped from his hands. At once the fight was frozen in time. Franklin starred at him and they both knew at that second what to do. They both pilled into Franklin’s 71’ Chevelle and tore out. “I can’t believe you stabbed him man!” Franklin’s bloody face shot out. “I mean, you stabbed him!” Joey realized he was still holding the weapon and threw it out the window, still not responding. The car was silent. “He’ll be fine.” broke the silence.
“What?” Franklin sputtered.
“I saved your hide man”.
“It doesn’t matter man, you stabbed him!” Franklin was practically screaming. Silence filled the car for a long while as they reflected on what had just happened. “Are we still going to Brad’s party?” Joey asked.
“I don’t even know man what do you do after something like that?”
“You are freaking out about this more than I am man, settle down.” Joey interrupted.
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just a little shocked is all.” Franklin took a few deep breathes and they pulled into the gravel driveway.
“Howdy ya’ll!” Joey called as he draped his body out of the car. Cheers and common greetings filled the air and drinks are lifted as the hero arrives. Red stumbled up to his kid brother and blurted, “You are now a man, my little child, I am proud of you.” He was handed a drink and walks to the raging bonfire, which stretched at least10 feet into the air, shaking people’s hands and getting padded on the shoulder, half by people he didn’t even know. He sat down and everybody wanted to hear the story, from his perspective of course. He boldly restated how he had saved poor Franklin’s life and risked his own. He knew he was getting huge respect points for this. The rest of the night was a mixture of celebration and mayhem, as the alcohol took effect; he wandered to a field, staring at the stars. And all at once, he fell off his high stool and cried himself to sleep.
5 years later Joey had become a successful lawyer in New York City. If anything he was the complete opposite of his younger years. He rarely even thought about those days, he found it a little embarrassing to tell his new friends that he grew up in a Midwestern town. He thought that they would make fun of him for cow tipping and say howdy ya’ll whenever they saw him. He had a new life now and he enjoyed it very much. He and his fiancé’ Andrea were getting married in the spring, and they were very happy together. He strolled down the crowded New York streets one day in a rush to get lunch and head back to the office. He had a very important case he was working on and he didn’t want to waste any time. He could spot his cutoff flannel shirt from a mile away and he hurried to meet his old best friend. They hadn’t talked in about 2 years because Joey had been so busy with work and Franklin had been in and out of prison. They punched each other like old friends do, and said there common greetings, although Joey was slightly embarrassed to be seen with this very Midwestern fellow in the busy streets.
“Hey man you want to go grab a beer later or something?” Franklin blurted out.
“Uhh… I don’t know if I have…”
“Of course you have time for old Franklin come on we’ll have fun.” Franklin interrupted. Joey agreed and they made the place and time. They parted ways and Joey continued his rushed afternoon. The rest of the day he kept thinking about how stupid he was for accepting his invitation. He didn’t want to deal with a drunken redneck in New York City; he didn’t even ask him what he was doing there in the first place. But if he didn’t go, he knew there would be consequences.
He showed up at Joes Bar around 8 o’clock and sat down. Franklin was always late. He watched the game in the smoke filled room, and couldn’t think about the last time he had gone out. He usually spent his nights studying or working on a tough case. Having fun for him would be getting Taco Bell on his lunch break. Franklin showed up at 8:17 and plopped down next to his best friend. “Well howdy kid, how’s a little hick boy like you doing in a big city like this?” he said in his Midwestern accent as he waved at the bartender for a beer.
“How are you doing in a town like this? It must be hard for you; they actually care if you piss in public here.” Joey quickly replied.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Look at you, successful lawyer in the big city. Boy have you grown.”
“Yup, looks like you haven’t changed much. Are you still ranching cattle out on the farm?” Joey said through an awkward smile. He hated when his old friends gave him a hard time for being a lawyer.
“Yes sir, they keep growing, we keep cutten em up.” He replied cleverly. They caught up on old times and had a good times and Joey felt as if he had taken a time travel to the past and was reliving all the great times they had had together. At around eleven they stumbled out of the bar and headed to Joey’s apartment. Franklin spotted a couple black people smoking in a dark alley and in his drunken stupor, said some things he would regret later. Soon a storm cloud of hateful words filled the air and turned into fists. Joey started pulling Franklin back, he knew that Franklin could beat him any day, but he had changed since moving and he wasn’t the same as he used to be. He knew the only reason Franklin wanted to fight him was because of his race. Then in one swift motion Franklin revealed his pistol that he carries on him at all times, the one he had robed a liquor store with in high school, and started his downfall. The man went at Franklin unfazed by the gun and Franklin fell backwards on top of Joey when a bang shot out. Joey felt the same liquid as he had felt before, accept this time it was his own. Joey was a racist. At least he thought he was.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Long short story
Eric Johnson
Joey was a racist. Or at least he thought he was. The concrete was cold, and the night colder. His heart beat like canons going off on a mountain where the enemy made its way down. How did it come to this, he thought.
Joey grew up in a small Midwest town. He was what you might call a redneck. On the weekends he would go mudding with his friends or shoot guns along those lines. His best friend’s name was Franklin; they had been best buds since 2ed grade. He was what you might call a ladies man. He also had a burnout older brother named Red. In high Franklin and Joey’s friendship grew exponentially, most of what brought them together was the love of the outdoors, ladies, and having a good time. There town was mostly all white people, so this made their task easier, but their neighboring town was almost the opposite. One night at a football game, in which the rivaling towns tested their physical strength, Joey and Franklin viewed the stadium from the tops of the bleachers. They smoked cigarettes and conversed with their other friends, paying little or no attention to the game unless a touchdown was scored and they were required to clap and say generic cheers. Everything in that moment was perfect. Their team won and they were all in a prideful mood saying things like, “Stallions!” and such, when a member from the loosing team shouted, “get outa here ya hicks!”. Joey’s crew stepped into action all at once without a word being said. Before they knew it, it was a full out gang fight. Franklin had two big black men on him and was getting pummeled; Joey reached into his pocket and within seconds warm fluid dripped from his hands. At once the fight was frozen in time. Franklin starred at him and they both knew at that second that it was time to dip out. They both pilled into Franklin’s 71’ Chevelle and tore out. “I can’t believe you stabbed him man!” Franklin’s bloody face shot out. “I mean, you stabbed him!” Joey realized he was still holding the weapon and threw it out the window, still not responding. The car was silent. “He’ll be fine.” broke the silence. “What?” Franklin sputtered. “He’ll be fine, trust me”. “It doesn’t matter where you stabbed him, you stabbed him!” Franklin was practically screaming. Silence filled the car for a long while as they reflected on what had just happened. “Are we still going to Brad’s party?” Joey asked. “I’m going to need something to calm my damn nerves man…” “You are freaking out about this more than I am man, settle down.” Joey interrupted. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m just a little shocked is all.” Franklin took a few deep breathes and they pulled into the gravel driveway. “Howdy ya’ll!” Joey called as he draped his body out of the car. Cheers and common greetings fill the air and drinks are lifted as the hero arrives. Red stumbled up to his kid brother and blurted, “You are now a man, my little child, I am proud of you.” He is handed a drink and walks to the raging bonfire, which stretched at least10 feet into the air, shaking people’s hands and getting padded on the shoulder, half by people he didn’t even know. He sat down and everybody wanted to hear the story, from his perspective of course. He boldly restated how he had saved poor Franklin’s life and risked his own. He knew he was getting huge respect points for this. The rest of the night was a mixture of celebration and mayhem, as the alcohol took effect; he wandered to a field, staring at the stars. And all at once, he fell off his high stool and cried himself to sleep.
Joey was a racist. Or at least he thought he was. The concrete was cold, and the night colder. His heart beat like canons going off on a mountain where the enemy made its way down. How did it come to this, he thought.
Joey grew up in a small Midwest town. He was what you might call a redneck. On the weekends he would go mudding with his friends or shoot guns along those lines. His best friend’s name was Franklin; they had been best buds since 2ed grade. He was what you might call a ladies man. He also had a burnout older brother named Red. In high Franklin and Joey’s friendship grew exponentially, most of what brought them together was the love of the outdoors, ladies, and having a good time. There town was mostly all white people, so this made their task easier, but their neighboring town was almost the opposite. One night at a football game, in which the rivaling towns tested their physical strength, Joey and Franklin viewed the stadium from the tops of the bleachers. They smoked cigarettes and conversed with their other friends, paying little or no attention to the game unless a touchdown was scored and they were required to clap and say generic cheers. Everything in that moment was perfect. Their team won and they were all in a prideful mood saying things like, “Stallions!” and such, when a member from the loosing team shouted, “get outa here ya hicks!”. Joey’s crew stepped into action all at once without a word being said. Before they knew it, it was a full out gang fight. Franklin had two big black men on him and was getting pummeled; Joey reached into his pocket and within seconds warm fluid dripped from his hands. At once the fight was frozen in time. Franklin starred at him and they both knew at that second that it was time to dip out. They both pilled into Franklin’s 71’ Chevelle and tore out. “I can’t believe you stabbed him man!” Franklin’s bloody face shot out. “I mean, you stabbed him!” Joey realized he was still holding the weapon and threw it out the window, still not responding. The car was silent. “He’ll be fine.” broke the silence. “What?” Franklin sputtered. “He’ll be fine, trust me”. “It doesn’t matter where you stabbed him, you stabbed him!” Franklin was practically screaming. Silence filled the car for a long while as they reflected on what had just happened. “Are we still going to Brad’s party?” Joey asked. “I’m going to need something to calm my damn nerves man…” “You are freaking out about this more than I am man, settle down.” Joey interrupted. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m just a little shocked is all.” Franklin took a few deep breathes and they pulled into the gravel driveway. “Howdy ya’ll!” Joey called as he draped his body out of the car. Cheers and common greetings fill the air and drinks are lifted as the hero arrives. Red stumbled up to his kid brother and blurted, “You are now a man, my little child, I am proud of you.” He is handed a drink and walks to the raging bonfire, which stretched at least10 feet into the air, shaking people’s hands and getting padded on the shoulder, half by people he didn’t even know. He sat down and everybody wanted to hear the story, from his perspective of course. He boldly restated how he had saved poor Franklin’s life and risked his own. He knew he was getting huge respect points for this. The rest of the night was a mixture of celebration and mayhem, as the alcohol took effect; he wandered to a field, staring at the stars. And all at once, he fell off his high stool and cried himself to sleep.
Monday, September 22, 2008
55 word play?
There once was a boy, and there once was a girl.
They both loved Lord of the Rings.
And it was good.
Then the truth came out.
And it was not good.
They both loved Lord of the Rings.
And it was good.
Then the truth came out.
And it was not good.
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