Bite More / Taste Less -------> (Ramblings)

Ramblings of a alleged realist, supposed poet, and apparently ambitious something-or-other.

Apocalypse in Aminor (Or The Self-Fulfilling End of Everything)

Right after I hit puberty

I became a prophet.

Most of my friends were just counting the hairs on their chins

or getting insecure about their pecs

But I was dreaming dreams of the end of the world.

At night, I was laying my head down on my pillow

my own little Patmos

and seeing into the future…


One night I was at Neal Middle School

and our class walked single file out to the buses

to a parking lot on fire.

Everything was burning politely,

the school, the neighborhood, the birds,

but not the buses.

We sat in our seats

leaned our little heads against the windows

and watched the world burn

waiting for our bus stop.

And Mrs. Parrish, our bus driver, had a mustache,

And guess what?  It was on fire…

Another time the sun was walking across the city roofs

like granddaddy long legs

eating pigeons off of satellite dishes

and smoking trees like cigarettes.

The people stared in awe and took pictures

muttering prayers to themselves

and the pigeons and trees were muttering their own.


Some nights I would wake up and not remember

a thing, but I would feel epic

and vulnerable.


Another time I was the moon and I was angry.

I shook my fist at the earth

And I still don’t know why.


And another night I was sitting in the back seat

and my father was shouting “Jesus is coming Jesus is coming!”

And the sky was a mirror stretched out over the earth

 and it was opening its mouth, yawning.


In the last vision I remember

I sat and watched people gather in Times Square

on New Years.

my little head leaning against a dull window,

they were watching a Mayan king on a grand stage

remove the heart of Tim LaHaye.

The king pulled his hand from the chest

and raised a glowing disco ball in the air

and lowered it slowly

as the people counted down to zero.

And out of the mouth of the sky

a flash of light and graffiti,



there was nothing.


In my dream, the voice of Morgan Freeman boomed

out of the blankness:

“And the end came because they believed it would.”


I would wake up from these dreams and know that I knew something

that no one else did.