Remarkable
Time to run, time to lose
Time to eat, time to snooze
Time to be nice, not mean
Time to be lean, not green
Have you had a remarkable day?
Have you lost yourself in play?
Growing riches within your mind?
Blowing britches in kind?
I like to run and it feels good
But not until I’m skinny and wood
Getting there with light and focus
After all, no one really knows us
Bread gone, spinach here in tow
Lemons and Mushrooms, some cilantro
Ice and cranberry juice, onions and olive oil
Monterey Jack packs, salmon in foil
Job Hunt
JOB HUNT
Making copies of your life into a paper fill
Green little monsters rapidly moving in
Typing and fretting, it’s exhausting to find
Pressured by well-wishers and wallet alike
Damn this, I’m going home, I’m going to roam
Sitting and surfing, praying and calling home
Lying in the sun for fun, I run
Hands across the counter beat the drum
I’m on the hunt, but not really, I’m waiting
I’m flaking and shaking, but not really, I’m skating
I’m on the hunt but for what, a snot, a rope?
I’m hunting without a gun, maybe a stick, nope!
Maybe some relief is on the way, I get a call
Mr. Regal, Mrs. Callus, when should I fall
Today is the day; I get the notice, the rice
I knock on the door dressed in my ice
–Jason L. Scarabin
Elite
ELITE In a world where pleasure is criminalized The elite fleet stares at your feet Today it pays to lay and to lay you must pay Oil boils your curls in foil Pressure and leisure feathers the weather -Jason L. Scarabin |
When We Wed
I don’t want to see you listening
I don’t want to hear you seeing
I don’t want to taste you feeling
I don’t want to feel you tasting
and I don’t want to smell you at all
Your skin sees my ears
Your eyes taste my nose
Your ears feel my fingers
Your nose hears my eyes
and your tongue smells nothing
But how can we live, go on pretending
delicious excitement
unsightly moaning
loud drinking
coarse odors
with all we dull our senses, we haven’t a thing to bring or sing to the king
shoulders taste ok
tongues see ok
ears smell ok
noses hear bread but is it dead in the red bed when we wed?
–Jason L. Scarabin
Sorry small man
I’m sorry you’re small, not tall, not thick
I’m sorry you’re obsessed with lack of d_ck (your own)
Peeny small man, your jealousy is despicable
You’re not smart and you’re not slick
I’m sorry small man, your mind is injured
I’m sorry dolt, you prey on unaware minds
Spend your time aching to destroy others
While you frown in the mirror at your ugly face
Small man, you were not given tools, you’re not fortunate
Your hatred of yourself will never benefit anyone until you’re awake
Your hatred of others will never benefit you until you’re under
Hey small man, your control of others will never be
You’ll live in pain in misery all of your days
You’ll always look to cut others to the bone
Because you see, little man, you have no bone
spine or you know the other kind
Little man, I don’t wish you well
I wish you nothing but continued humiliation
You know the kind you get when you look in your mirror
Oh I forgot, little man, I’m not sorry
Looney
Looney
Reason I Died
REASON I DIED
The reason I died is because I could find no… no reason to live.
08-25-2003 11:35am PDT
08-29-2003 12:50pm PDT
– Jason L. Scarabin
The Storm
One time my family went on a picnic. We ate then we played ball. The whole sky was blue. Then one big cloud covered the whole place. And it started to rain and thunder and lighting (sic). And every one was DEAD.
Jason Scarabin, circa 1977, 7 years old