Best Fantasychange Poems
I wonder what ether infuses consciousness
Why this delirium after last night’s show?
What’s in a name?
Oh how I’d watched her
Every skillful every reckless change of face
Every dancing change of pace
Her outrageous fling of clothes
from Flatbush
to Paris
Dominating every set of scrambled spangled disarray
She might have jigged the crown at old Bolshoi
No one would be aware
No one would care
Posy
Wild flower
All alone
I wonder at the indelible ghostly mix
In that face
Such delicacy
a breeze-filtered smoke
clouding my eyes
Or is it all in a name
Posy?
We were helping my dad and uncle with something in the back of the truck in the
backyard. The yard was full if weeds and grass. So you could not see what was
hiding and waiting.
My uncle just got done telling everyone to watch out for the monkeys. He didn't tell
us they were monkey people however. I had my back turned not paying any
attention to the grass.
Out popped a boy and girl monkey people. They scared the holy crap out of me. At
first they didn't come at me right away, so i let my guard down. And turned around,
went back to what i was previously doing. The next thing i feel a horrible pain on my
shoulder, saw blood run down my arm. In a split second i was one of them.
Some other humans came started spitting on us. I'm in shock because im a monkey
person and getting spit on.
One man told us why He said "Only a immune persons spit can change you back.
Then he went on to tell us what he meant by immune person. Immune person is
someone who was turned into a monkey person and turned back to human. Only
their spit can change you back."
Thinking absolutely nothing, yet needing something just the same. I have my pride, my
strife, my doubts--though never quite ascending to greater heights than self. Full of mortal
intricacies & predictive mindless tendencies. Subpoenaed in a room of shadows. Lingering in
& out of childhood sorrows. If I had the strength to change myself, I'd change into a torrent
if just for a moment & lement over all that I have done. For seeded deep within lies the
screwtape seed of sin. No sooner than I began do I find myself hand in hand with the
shaman. Seated around a ring of mirrors, the shaman comes with blood & mire anointing my
head with hope on fire. He chants a prayer, a vex, a snare. Casting me off into Satan's lair,
to combat the fame of the witching hour.