THE MESSENGER, NOT THE MESSAGE
 
Virginia Tech -
 
cinched in for me.
 
I think back to when
I was in school,
and all the little
freaks
I used to pick on
 
and bully.
 
Everyone
including the
teachers,
thought it was just ...
 
so funny.
 
I remember the time I shoved
that faggot
into his locker,
locked him in ...
 
and left him there.
 
I remember that
other time ...
that stupid, quiet bitch ...
the one with only
one friend ...
I remember how I
offered her my
sandwich ...
after I spit in it
when I found out ...
 
she liked me.
 
Then there was
the time
that black boy
got on the bus,
and I tripped
 
him.
 
And since he was the only
black boy on the bus,
not a soul
including the
bus driver ...
 
rushed to defend him.
 
Those were the
ones
we had to watch out
for ...
 
the future Cho Seung-Hui's.
 
Looking back,
I should have looked into
getting myself and gun,
did everyone a favor,
and simply ...
 
blown each of them away!
 
Us acceptable
people
really need to
stick together
or we're just
begging to be
the next targets ...
 
of broken losers.
 
And don't even get me
started on
those creepy,
introverted ...
 
"poets."
 
Virginia Tech -
 
cinched it for me.


POEM ABOUT DEFEATING THE ALMIGHTY PURPOSE
 
In New Haven
Connecticut,
the Yale campus
is in close proximity
to the green
where the homeless
sleep on benches and
 
in tents.
 
According to
the City,
there should be
 
three shelters.
 
Two house
75 men.
 
The other one
houses
 
16.
 
In June,
when the semester ends,
one of the shelters
which holds 75
is closed
until Autumn when
the students return
 
to their studies.
 
During the hot, humid
summer months,
the New Haven green is
affectionately known
 
as "Tent City."
 
There are over 1,000
homeless people
in the city of
 
New Haven.
 
The locals
don't seem -
 
to mind them.
 
Throughout the school year,
the Yalie's pass out
food to the
disadvantaged
under "the guise" of
giving -
 
to the needy.
 
Pasta,
fried chicken,
hamburgers,
hot dogs.
and lots and lots -
 
of bread.
 
The motto is:
 
Keep them
full ...
 
and harmless.
 
You would think that
if a Yalie was going to
be raped,
she or
he,
would at least
want it
to be at the hands of a
creep
in half-way
 
decent shape.


ANTHEMS
 
I should have
never brought the portable
with me
to the shelter
and all those CD's
I burned
when we were
 
still together.
 
I Don't Want to Miss a Thing
 
skip
 
Hard Habit to Break
 
skip
 
If You Leave Me Now
 
skip
 
November Rain
 
skip
 
Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word
 
skip
 
Take it to the Limit
 
skip
 
My Heart Will Go On
 
skip
 
skip
 
skip
 
skip
 
skip
 
skip.
 
So much for shit that
runs -
 
on batteries.


20 / 20

After another
dateless year,
I decided to try

the personals.

It read a lot ...

like this:

I'm a 39-year-old gay
white male.
I have sandy brown
hair,
and steel blue
eyes.

Let's cut through all
the crap
and fill this
mailbox
with nothing
but

potential potentials.

If you're between
ages
of 18 and  30,
still living at home and hating
it,
and are interested
in living rent-free,
then I'm the man

for you.

I get enough
food stamps
every month
for the two of us
to live

like kings.

I manipulate between
$200 and $300
every month from my
grandmother's check,
which I put toward
one

sweet binge.

And,
when I'm good and tanked like
that,
I don't like to use
protection.

And,
if you're really
good,
I'll probably share
you -

with friends.

So,
if you hate your present
living situation
and can hang with a beast
like me,
then do us both
a favor
and holla back at

ya boy.

My ad got
no

responses.

I'd made two grave
mistakes.

I should have left out my
age
/or mentioned I
have -

a daughter.


KEEPING THE ENEMY CLOSEST
 
The Yale Students
last Fall,
held a vigilant
vigil protesting
the closing
of New Haven County's
overflow shelter,
right alongside
the homeless souls
that would
 
reside in it.
 
The homeless
wanted a place to lay
their heads at night,
without having
to worry
about others messing
with
 
their stuff.
 
The Yalie's wanted
to be able to walk
on the green late
at night
without having to fear tripping
over a body,
causing stains which
can't
 
be removed.


Bryon D. Howell is a poet currently residing in New Haven, Connecticut.
He has been writing poetry for a great number of years. Recently, his poetry has appeared in poeticdiversity, Red River Review, The Quirk, The Cerebral Catalyst, The Greasy Spoon Saloon, and The Lost Beat. Bryon is also the Editor-in-Chief of three online poetry 'zines: The Persistent Mirage, Bringing Sonnets Back, and The Brave Little Poem Daily.

Last update : 20-10-2007 16:14

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