phailbin

Our Lady in Heaven By: Ben Castro The sky above me is dark with clouds, and everything around me is a dull, lifeless gray. I walk through this wasteland, trying not to remember what this area looked like before. It doesn't help to think about the past, dwelling on it won't change what happened. I need to focus on the present, what's happening here and now. I have a purpose, and thinking about how things used to be won't bring me any closer to its fulfillment. I'm heading east across what used to be California. There's really not much left to see, an occasional burned out building, maybe a skeleton or two, the bombs really did a thorough jo

     Crash                              By: Ben Castro I stand at the crosswalk, waiting for the walk light to turn on, pressing the button again every once in a while even though I know it won't help. I look at the cars stopped at the red light to my left, there's only two of them, one in each lane. Then, suddenly, a car is rushing closer to the one farther away from me, not slowing down at all. The driver looks frantic. I pull out my cell phone to call 911 about the accident I can tell is about to happen. I slam my foot down on the brakes as hard as I can, but nothing happens, they aren't working. My car barrels into the one in front

Poem about nothing By: Ben Castro This is literally a poem about nothing I'm totally serious, there's no subject It's not about Bigfoot or leopards or bugs Or giants who eat frogs while sitting on rugs It's not about brothers or sisters or moms Or you, or me, or him, or her, and especially not them It's not even about those really small hens It's not about bags, and it's not about clothes It's not about aliens; I already did one of those It's not about leprechauns; I did one of those too And it's not about horses, or unicorn shoes This poem's about nothing, nothing at all It's not even about people who shop at the mall I have a

Little green men By: Ben Castro Normally people write poems That are depressing, and grim and so sad But this one was written by gnomes That find everything in life to be grand So let's put on our smiling faces And prepare to be flooded with happiness As we read about rainbows, and green-clad midgets Who refuse to share their gold with anyone but themselves Those leprechauns are greedy and mean And they dye all their clothes emerald green Yes, emerald green, not forest, or lime And they all wear funny little hats Now, let's get to the thing that most people assume When they hear the term "little green men" You know what I mean

The second rewriting By: Ben Castro He wrote it down once, then threw it away Then took up his pen once again He sat there for minutes, and hours, and days Then got a phone call from his friend He never did have a nice easy time Keeping his focus in check But sooner or later his friend would define The word we all replace with "Heck" Soon he got back to his desk once again and he wrote and he wrote and he wrote But it wasn't enough, for he crumpled it up And tossed it in front of a boat As you can tell, I do like to rhyme, over and over again I find it hard to demolish that habit, you see and it seems that your name isn't Ben O

Let's write another poem By: Ben Castro I know in my last poem, I tried to explain Why writing a poem is so simple But I guess it appears I got carried away But at least I don't have a big pimple So let's pick up a pen, and we'll try this again This poetry thing is quite easy I know this is sounding quite similar, but I won't get distracted this time We'll finish this poem, you'll buy me a gnome, and we'll all have a jolly good time Oh wait, I just realized, I've contradicted myself, in my other poem I truly said Those poems are quite hard to compose And unless you are wearing a cat on your head It is much simpler writing in pr

Let's write a poem By: Ben Castro Poetry is easy and simple to write If you know how to do it correctly First get a pen that is blue, black, or white And find a word that rhymes well with correctly I know that was tacky, horrid, and crude Rhyming a word with itself But to that all I say is you can just take your comments And shove them right onto a shelf I know it seems hard to write 20 lines But it's really quite easy, you see You don't need no pennies, or nickels, or dimes And don't take any breaks for T.V. I know what you're thinking; I thought it once too, "I'd rather be watching that sponge Who lives in a fruit and has lo

Locked By: Ben Castro Locked. The door is locked, the window is locked, everything, even the refrigerator is locked. I'm in a room, I have no idea how I got here, and I have no idea how I'll get out. The walls are painted emerald green, a color I would find pleasing under normal circumstances. These aren't normal circumstances. The room has one door, one window, a refrigerator, and a medium sized safe. I would try to open the safe, but it has a keypad on it; the keypad is five by five and all the keys are unmarked. If I had the patience to do it, I would try every possible key combination to open the safe, but I don't. Even if I did have t

Tests By: Ben Castro Bzzt. "Okay, time's up." She takes the paper from me while I'm still writing, leaving a line down to the bottom of the page. She looks my paper over, a disgusted look on her face, and my heart sinks as she crumples it up and throws it away.  "Again," she says, handing me another paper. I look at it and sigh as she turns the dial on the little egg timer next to me. I start reading questions and writing answers, I really don't see the point to any of this, but know not to say anything, or else I lose time on my next test. And there will always be a next test because, no matter how hard I try, I always fail. Bzzt.  "Time'

I Will Find Her By: Ben Castro Overhead is a cloud-darkened sky, blanketing the wasteland I walk across. All around me are fallen buildings and dead plant life. As I walk along, I come across a skull lying on the ground; it seems to be grinning at me, mocking me almost. Seeing the skull makes me think of people, and thinking of people inevitably makes me think of her, which, of course, makes me remember the last time I saw her. It was at a party, in a large ballroom, overhead was a huge crystal chandelier; all around me were dancing couples wearing fancy clothes, while in the background the orchestra played. All of this lost my attention