I came across this poem from my college's "Wildwood Journal", which is a collaboration of students work. This poem is funny, but I really like it. I hope you guys like it too!
A Cornucopia of Lava-Hot Pop-Tarts
By: Gareth Gebhardt
I am exactly everything:
My parents' two halves,
weeds, stars, and atoms,
unimaginable size and mass,
scratches of graphite, sparks of arson,
and a shrinking ozone layer.
I am the sharp teeth of fresh lies,
peroxide in the wound, fish in barrels,
an uncaged child who rambles
in a blue summer
(and all the visible spectrum of the seasons between.)
I am forgetting. I am sprinting, I am stretching, I am flexing,
I am
discarded bubblegum pop song
on the bottom of a shoe
my fingers, they roll with god and darwin,
I speak in robot voices to converse
with Stephen Hawkins, Carl Sagan,
an I get high and write
broadway hits where each day
is a big bang, or a hiccup.
I am the playground bully,
the downtown junkie,
bugs bunny, Wayne Brady, the lunch lady,
Nick Sarkozy, old Humphrey Bogey,
and sometimes, I admit, a soup nazi.
I am electric-slide willow tree
in Jimi Hendrix's stratocaster breeze,
and swine flu trembles like a peon at my feet,
for I am the velociraptor influenza pandemic,
inventor of the wheel, founder of parliament funkadelic.
The first one to put scotch on ice,
Barack Obama asks me for bedroom advice.
I am a hundred-dollar frying pan from Williams Sonoma,
a decorated general of Salvation Army flannel,
master interior designer with milk crates,
duct tape, and low-cost Swedish furniture.
My triumphant mixtapes are commissioned by
the London Symphony Orchestra
I am grand master champion of Monopoly and Where's Waldo?
It does not rain usually,
until I am under cover, and if
I am patient for the precise amount of time,
traffic lights turn green when I snap my fingers.
And still I sit up nights, wondering
if I am doing this right.
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