Downstairs I jump and grab the farthest corner. I wached the moon pushing pebbles beond anyones reach in black and white. A neon flash in these open fields. Framing the dark for my misstakes. Small boens on the curb of fantasies. I shield my eyes with my sleeve in the right light and perfect moonlight. Sweet smelling years like a searchlight. Its like there is no gravity. Flashing lights everywhere just like fourth of julys fireworks lighting up the sky in sevral diffrent colors red,orange,blue,red,orange,blue


-By Jack

Soul

A brown paper bag blowing around on the sidewalk.
You see your mother she passes a wisper It never stops.
You look into a camra , see a goat tucked away in the darkness.
The bright black shovel on the beach full of water.
Painted pink, the color of dawn.
You cant hear, your soul difts away.

R2-D2, Beep

Ya beep, beep, beep
nobody under stands me
Because All I can do is beep,
but the good thing about it
is people don't hear me complane,
Ha I didn't say It was for me.
The other thing that's bad is 3-PO
is the only other droid that under
stands me. I go beep he answers me Its
really annoying, but I still like being a droid.

Sadness

Your hammered down by the current

thinking it would be endless.

Your thoughts drift away.

Your quite you think of sadness,

you take a quick step to death.

A black snake slithering on the pavement,

a shadow of brightness, the world stops.

Under the White Tent

The white tent of freedom and cans and cans of soup. A sour-rose waiting for you to find it, hammered down in the pines that leads you to California. Repeating and repeating a wet load of socks. Ghosts call bring you to quiet places, that are endless. Under the current you find a bus filled with goats, sheep, and buckets filled with insects.

Neon Flash

Downstairs I jump and grab the farthest corner. I wached the moon pushing pebbles beond anyones reach in black and white. A neon flash in these open fields. Framing the dark for my misstakes. Small boens on the curb of fantasies. I shield my eyes with my sleeve in the right light and perfect moonlight. Sweet smelling years like a searchlight. Its like there is no gravity. Flashing lights everywhere just like fourth of julys fireworks lighting up the sky in sevral diffrent colors red,orange,blue,red,orange,blue.

Our Thoughts

Those stories slicing through brittle ribs in alphabetical order. Dreams flying in the yellow land, pressed together. Skeletons driving garbage trucks full of our memories past jugglers and clenched fists. I woke up talking backwards this morning. The roots too big to carry. Music evaporating in my head. These open fields are crashing every day.

Dare to Dream

While you wave you arm's like wooden blocks on the other side. As you billow into the distant planets looking up at the sky and someone is pumping sparks into the blurry night sky. As you can feel the seaweed twisting ready to catch her fall as you you have to cup the thing's that are hiding in the dark and at school. As you start teetering you bump into the tree of imagination but listen as you hear the water seeping out of the crack in the old well.As I run through the cold and damp mist. As I look up I can see the sunrise along the horizon times up. But what I really want to say is dare to dream.

You Must

You must walk across the salt flats with pockets of light shining down on you. You must see through the blurry air to find the glow. You must read a story about the past slithery as a fish. You must be miles away before you start your journey. You must be aware that when your heart gets crushed the beat stops. In the winter you see snow going up and down and later you see it melting away but the cold never stops. You must see a hundred boats flying through the air. You must hear, feel, smell, touch, and taste.

Four leafed Clover

Pitter-patter

the sweet splashes of feet in the fresh rain puddles

the water spraying my face as a truck rolls by

like they don't even notice my pale wet face

look a four leafed clover, watch out for the lawn mower

as it cut it down into shreds the grass covers my black converse

I sit down on a bench, the bench is wet, I guess watching a four leafed clover getting torn into shreds isn't such good luck after all

four leafed clover, demolished

Cake-Whistle

"Poetry is what makes the invisible appear."
-- Nathalie Sarrante

Cake-Whistle

100 years or older, the muffled old man walks down the street in his pjs. He goes into a shop called Cake-Whistle and a dog lopes out to greet him. The dog is old and withered brown, just like the man. He is tiny and thin and able to fit through small spaces like a red blood cell on its journey through the body in search of oxygen. The dog pulls, tugs on the man's shirt as he walks away. The last thing the dog sees is the man going into the wild. He is sad to see him go.

Under the Surface

As I walk over green hills
the sun shines on the grass

that is creaked and creased.

Blowing in the wind

as the seeds and weeds

fly through under ground 

tunnels where the light-air 

ghost roams guarding a

mystery. But above lies

a great city were the rich

and the homeless sleep

in the night.

Believe

The whole world is watching
your shadow
on a turning curve
of tingling change.
Leaves
of October,
wrapped in
crushed pumpkins
on the moon.
Explosions of light
shaking your head
down to the soul
Take a minute.
The whole world
is answering
your dreams
in a swirl.
Tall as
a tree,
small as,
a frog
the whole world
is watching
your shadow.
So what if it's
lamb chops,
or a salt shaker.
Believe in yourself.
Spin around
spreading
snorts and spits
like the good days.
If you believe,
that is
every day
life.
If you believe,
a quiet square
can be
a huge bowl
of ice cream
waiting an waiting
for your lips to swallow your
creamy body.
The music thuds
as you dance
on a pot
of gold.
Trust, Try, and Believe
it's all on what remains.

Joe

Bitter 
Creamy brown
from organic milk
splashed
into a Peet's mug
to cool the brew.


Joe on t.v.
Joe in my cup.
Good to the last drop
(I've heard that before)
Supercharged,
Time to go to school.

You Must

You must get gripped on the sugar coating of life. You must open the dark door full of white and green smoke. You must fly up to the pretty blue pool of magic. You must carry a baggie full of shooting stars. You must hear the woosh of the gleaming sun. You must light fires in the sky creating voices up in the crackling moon. You must catch a breath of purple air and love the sweet candy of life. You must open the platapuses jaws full, wild cats meow..... sssssssss. You must fly away to heaven, up away and out.

Monkey

A monkey can climb as fast as my hamster runs on his wheel.

A monkey can make as much noise as my soccer team dose when we make a goal.

A monkey can be bigger than a moped or smaller than a bunny.

A monkey can be smarter than a smart car.

A mon-key can fit in to a door lock right a way.

A monkey can eat bananas or they can eat a $ 5 foot long sandwich from Subway.

A monkey can live in a pom tree or a motor home run by bananas in The Tropical Rain Forest.

A monkey.

Dare To Dream

Finding one infinitesmall piece of ground salt, 

as it swiftly hobbles along carrying dreams of endless light. 

Don't let there be sorrowing scissors as another salt grain leaps a pit 

of the never ending of the pounding on a roof. 

A moment when salty seaweed is getting pulled back by a fiasco of force, 

then the ocean gives in and the next wave clatters the sand and the stretched seaweed 

disolves to bubbles of sweet peaches.

 Running to the top of a city, but I looked and saw green scales, 

my feet felt like sinking in quick sand, then the burning sensation of my melting boots 

stuck in tar.

Decisions made a purple bus that floated over puddles of soft pudding. 

Then staring at the hills of farms, as a hay bail crackled into an animals den. 

My feet hit the dusty ground and I ran. A sound behind me like boulders breaking was following me. I turned my head, but my body collided with the dirt. My face  turned brown as I lay in complete silence. Suddenly I jumped up, as if my heart had turned off for a second, then right back on.

Though I tried to move my legs faster, it seemed like time had slowed down around me 

and I was swimming in oil. Then I trudged into a scratchy cement brick wall 

and came stumbling out the other side, this time swimming in easy thin water.

 I found myself walking through a familiar green grass patch, the smell of daisies at my nose.

  

I sat on a cake colored bridge and watched the clouds, until the day I touched them.

What is Left

It's all one big continuous adventure

The root of the tipping world

off to the east

from the black currant,

how vast amiss

The temporary blindness and fractured fragments

Fall flames flicker,

tumbleweed and pine bark wander

the lights are dim,

the water is shallow

Light pours in,

Flashbacks begin

from the source,here's what remains

The Earth will blossom again

My Shoes

                                              My black and white Nike's

                                              shimmer down 

                                              the moonlit street,

                                              all laced up nice

                                              and tight ready

                                              to sprint

                                              my high tops

                                              so smooth

                                              they make me run 

                                              like an angry

                                              dog ready to

                                              strike. 

                                              I start to run

                                              I can't stop

                                              I'm home

                                              Finally I take

                                              them off and

                                              put them in

                                              my closet to  

                                              rest for tomorrow. 

                                              

You Must...

You must hike the mountain of vanilla bean marshmellows as your feet squish into the white puffyness of them. You must plant cherry lollipops in your garden so when they bloom the sourness sucks up your fear. You must suck peppermint candy until it fates away into your tounge. You must play tug a war with your banana laffy taffy. You must drink your chocolate milk with your blueberry sour straw. You must never fergot to invite skittles to your birthday party. You must jump into a pool of Dr.pepper. You must not be afraid of those kind gummie bears. You must get your face stuffed into cotten candy. You must go tubing in a chocolate dounut. You must sqeeze that tooth paste on that toothbrush as the cilver lighting shivers at midnight.


I would have to say my golden line is you must go tubing in a chocolate dounut.

Everything

Aranging two dozen tales
knitting and unknitting
raindrops crash in the early
morning golden and barely
used mirror
afraid of waking standing there
in the kitchen free air in your
prayers smileing there study
as a strip of paper cherries
as red as fire a street light
brides, boats, gated gardens unknown
streets silver streams it's everything
finding waht you didn't lose.
Listen.

A Poem of Golden Polar Bears

You must hear the golden polar bear
under a soft blanket of grass
to the rough rug upon the shallow waters
under the ocean

You must speak of the mythical creatures in their cave
slowly the birds sing into the the cave of despair
a golden compass in the limelight
a green thumb to its pink covers
a rough road
not an ending to life

Secrets whisper as an orange otter makes its way to earth
a wave of wonder
a silver sea carrying leaves

Hear my story
come see a magic like no other
a world, a song
you must reach of a crystal light above a dove

Hear a sound
hold it like no other
a musical chorus hidden throughout the universe
dare me to lift a hundred thousand stars
in the band of blue
invisible lines holding a secret unknown

Knight

As their sword as there arm
their shield as there heart
their helment as there head
and there armor as there skin
they fight they fight for their pride
they fight for their land
and most of all they fight for thir freedom

Listen

Listen gears turning in your head, telling you to listen listen to the dim chatter of the towns resraunat lisen to the flickerng of flames in the coal black fire place, listen to the story teller saying "the story always begins " listen to his sister drumig to her heart, listen to the an arplane touching down listen, listen

In 10 minutes

On a farm, dim lanterns glow, a plain brick building so big and sad the town's restaurant suddenly a flicker of red, flames licking the rafters climing ever higher scalding the way over the roof the color of stadic electricity. 10 minutes the fall a new wastland.The odor of burning pine bark and skinny ceders sweet-sharp color blossoming again. The story always begins then ends.

The Rose and the Stars

Soft velvet.
So thin.
So small.
Remember not to pick it, then it is gone. I touch it, it pierces my finger with its thorn.
But for some reason I dont care.
It takes me on a long jurney into thought.
I wish.
Then the next day I wake and run outside.
But it is gone.
Gone forever.
The rose.
Then I look to see it at my feet.
Left alone.
Nothing but alone.
But then on such a beitiful day, it starts to rain.
The rain turns to darkness.
And the darkness turns to night.
Then the stars come, I can see the light.
They make me smile.
And they make me think about today.
But I find myself awaking the next day...

New World

The invisible lines sink me down, down, down,
into the light. Unhooked, you could say, falling,
falling. I am leaving the light behind as I drown
myself into a new world. I see a 14-foot-high
grasshopper in my way as I twitch as I stand there,
smelling the cheese snacks in the distance. Where,
where is that beautiful aroma coming from?
Then I venture out. I hear trumpets flare a lullaby.
I see the shimmer on these amazing instruments.
The musicians, I see have white faces, they each have
one pencil tooth. There jackets are of raven's fluff.
Horrible men, I think. Their sweaty index fingers moving
constantly on the little keys. I move on though, toward the
cheese snacks. Soon, I am there, and breathing hard. Now
all I hear is light tinkering of trumpets in the distance.
Delicately I reach out my finger, toward the cheese snacks,
shaking all the way. Then I grab it. I have finished the quest
and have made my father proud. Then I weave through the
crowd of trumpet players, through the giant grasshopper,
and back to where I came from. The entrance is damp and sweaty,
almost a slide down back to my old home. It is time
to leave the old world for the new.

Back to the Beginning

You must fan the flame

cracked and crimped,

reach for the thousands

of waxy thoughts in your head.

Know that there is nothing

to fear.

Follow the bright path above,

wait until you get spidered

tightly once again.

Don't stop and look

at the man in his car

or the suns high fever,

remember laughing.

Watch the thread

of rain fly though your hands.

Cracks formed,

your hope of an end was fading.

One quick step and you drifted

down, down, down, and landed

in the exact flavor of the beginning.

Mist

I can see the mist rising and closer and closer to me it looks like a heavy glass of mystery. The cactus are wet and so is my doorway. I can also smell the free air reaching to grab me up and up to the white heavy sky that is hard to find now I can see the city light in San Francisco. The sun is rising and so am, I say good bye to the white heavy mist of magic.

Dare Me To Be Afraid

Tomato kissed children

lifting off into the darkness

dare me to be afraid

weave through a quest

eating a thorny peach

hidden through out the

humid breakfast burrito

moving out down hill

until it stops

rain drop footsteps

come crashing down on

my window

I'm left standing there

in your prayers

white wool shone through

the mirror

afraid of waking

gold barely used

arranging two dozen

tales

bridges, boats,

a street lamp twenty

feet away

freckle soup splashing

me in my face.

skipping egg cartons

over the lake.

canvas sneakers carrying leaves.

not an end but a begining.

The Spinning Chair

The spinning chair lives in my room.My spinning chair is as big as a "marry go round". Spinning in both dimensions around and around, spinning the counter way of the world but still going at the speed of light. "BOOM" the sound barrier was broken. Hop on the chair and make someone spin.

Walking through the tumbul weed

Tumble weed a tender mover down the road.
Crawling to the chocolate meadow of light and for a moment you see the sunny day of may.
Last year a fairy tale longer than longer.
Worden chair be no more for a moment.
Over the hills to to the waterdark street in which you trot down the street.
Black goat don't go I just want to see you.
I don't dare but in the furnace you will find the passageway.
In the vineyard after day brake white smoke warns you now the mountain is closing time to go see you later.
After the pink clouds now you see the horse in need.
With each breath you jump on his back and take off and never come back.

Past the Hills

Past the hills,

lies a wonder filled valley,

with green here, green there,

and brown nowhere.

Past the hills there is a secret place,

and by the secret place,

there is a secret sea,

and in the secret sea,

there is a secret silver fish,

and on there secret silver fish,

there is a secret scale,

and the secret scale is flashing

fantastically with color.

And the secret scale,

is on the secret silver fish,

in the secret sea,

next to the secret place,

and all this is past the hills.

Past the hills there is a good place for life.

Past the hills a new life can be started.

Eroma of books

Books a blessing of dust in my eyes.
Pages as smooth as leaves.
The taste of pages turning & turning.
The feeling that sticks like gum.
Oh sweat book fill me with happiness.

Without Words

Without words I couldn't tell
you my grandfather was on
the narrow grumbling about the buzzing-
stairs.You must remember the smell
of the pipe smoke whaling,yanking
our eyes from the sleepy blue.The
foot sorrow and summit song running
with the earth.You must remember
the sound of a love story injecting
venom and the radio blending
the curves and water the shape
of a sunburst being poured above
the trees.Remember the x-ray canvases
covering green skin and brown soap.
Remember the flutes off the the side
of a salt-lined cave and a ruby
and a pearl in a plain tree
no longer green underneath a cucumber
night melting into the pit.
A hairy scream even has a smile
in late spring.A scrape
of hangers under planted with roses.
But what I really want to say
is I'm leaving,going,gone

Rain

The smell of firewood crackling. The pitter-patter of wet little footsteps racing to the window pane. Wrapped in with my family struggling to keep warm. I fall asleep hoping no one wakes me. I open my eyes. I felt the thunder shaking the house. I try to turn the lights on. They flicker on and and suddenly there was another rumble. The lights dim, then turn off. I shake the switch, I wait a second, nothing happens. I go back to sit down with my family, they welcome me into a cave of blankets. I get a chill down my spine, it goes through my legs and out my purple double layered socks. I snuggle in my moms lap. I hear the pitter-patter of the rain stop in their tracks. The thunder dies down into the deepness of the earths core. It's over. The sky is surprisingly clear. I go outside. not even a drop lands on me. It's done.

The Wind

A soft wish carries me into my thoughts. People running to get away. But not me I stay. it starts to rain I can hear the lighte drop of it starting to sprinkle all over the ground like it is big smooth choclate cake. But the wind is still there while I wait. But what am I waiting for? Something, something inportant. but what? But then as I start to walk away I see someone els im not alone or am I...

Flowers

Flowers are the new day sun, Morning Glorys. One of the many signs of love, Roses. A scent every mother knows, Baby's Breath.

Poem to frog

Frogs, frogs can hop like a bunny but 1,000,000,000 times more.

And its big red eyes the size of basketballs.

And their feet are as sticky as the gum on my shoe.

No offense.

They are as green as a apple on a ice creme saturday with a topping of green bananas.

Their size can be bigger than a bird house or smaller than a leaf.

When frogs are alone, who knows what they do?

They might just sit there and day dream,

or they might be professional soccer players,

or they might be pro base ball players or pro sailors,

but I know one thing

there is one frog that's the mascot for a restaurant.

Frogs,

--Cole Jordan--

Ice Cream

I walk on the burning sidewalk. It presses against the bottom of my shoes. Wait I see it! I run as fast as I can, not eveen thinking about the heat, until I get there. The ice cream truck! The long line of people. But I must wait my turn. Finally after waiting and waiting I get up to the front. I decide to get a double scoop chocolate ice cream in a cone. "Drip" a small drop of the perfect summer mix falls to the ground. I watch it sizzle on the ground for a half a second wile it is still there but then it is gone. Then I start on my ice cream. The coolnes of the thick cream touches my tounge. Then I take a couple more bites. But wait I forgot! I forgot to eat it in the shade. But it's to late it's already started to melt and now it is gone.

Ice Cream

A Snowy Day
My face forms in to a heartwarming smile as my dog, Buddy runs around in the snow. We play laugh play and make snow angles and have a happy day, a snowy day.