Sunday, June 26, 2011

Camping Trip. InapPoem #2

Camping Trip.

By Lara

Sophia Johnson’s flying out to Fiji in two weeks.

She’s so excited she gets loud and spittles when she speaks.

For their vacation Nate and Jess are off to see their ‘gran.

And as their luck would have it, that old broad lives in Japan.

The neighbors packed and left and flew to Paris late last week.

But we got stuck with Nature Dad, a crazy outdoor-geek.

My friend Alyssa’s family is going to Orlando.

But I’ll be sitting in a tent with dad who’s gone commando.

Last trip, it took a hundred hours to drive the whole way there.

And when I stepped out of the car, a bird crapped in my hair

Dad couldn’t set the tent up right, and we got bugs inside.

And when it rained my bed got wet and smelled like something died.

Dad burnt all of our hot dogs and we had to eat just beans.

So I found out what “rustic camping bathrooms” really means.

We were “getting back to nature”, and were ‘sposed to be alone.

But I could hear dad swearing about “bars” and his “smart phone”.

My dad insisted that we take a swim around the lake.

And that was just an awful, slimy, nasty big mistake.

My brother wandered onto shore, refreshed after his dip,

And he had a giant blood-smeared leech affixed to his right hip.

We went back to the camp to eat some more of dad’s canned beans.

And all that I could think was: “Ben Monroe’s in New Orleans…”

The peaceful wilderness was pierced with screams of “holy Jesus!”

My sister had a tick-- they drink your blood and cause diseases.

I couldn’t sleep at night because the nature’s really loud.

Mosquitos swarmed around my ears in tiny, buzzing clouds.

My brother told ghost stories and he terrified me good,

claiming lots of Unabomber-types are living in the woods.

I woke up soaking, dad was “cooking”, but the wood was pretty wet.

So I got a runny egg, and dad said, “this is all you get”.

Then we heard my sister crying-- she was tired of it all.

A mosquito bit her eye and it was swollen like a ball.

A bee attacked me. Turns out dad is bad at pulling stingers.

I got a nasty splinter in the webbing of my fingers.

My sister missed and wet her pants when we were in the woods.

My brother stole my driest pants and kicked me in the goods.

The trip was awful, yet I see it’s on the list this summer.

I can’t discern a way to use our break time that is dumber.

I’d rather go to Mexico, heck, I’d go to Pakistan!

But this year “our vacation” means I’m sleeping in the van.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

A long overdue post. Since I'm starting a project.

So my job has been keeping me busy, but in the interest of doing some fun writing, I've decided to start a summer project. I'm working on a compilation I call "Inapproems", or inappropriate children's poems (intended for adults). I'm going to post some of them to keep me motivated. My goal is to do one at least every other day.

So here's the first one:

Tooth Fairy.
By Lara.

So that tooth that was wiggling inside of your jaw

busted loose from your face with a hem and a haw.

Now your mama has placed a beneath-pillow stash

with that tooth swaddled up, and she says you’ll get cash.

It’s the fairy, mom says, that arrives in the nights

to swap crisp dollar bills for enameled delights.

The fairy collects them, and saves them for luck.

Says your mom, with a grin and a spirited cluck.

But your dear mama told you a lie sweet as Splenda

‘cause mom has a secret, kid-fooling agenda.

Have you ever thought, “Why does she want my old tooth?”

Well, I’m here, little friend, to deliver the truth.

See the fairy was once a sweet, kindly young sprite.

Who practiced her magic skills all day and night.

She was honing her talent at fairy-kid school

so she’d float to the top of the hiring pool

But then came semester one, high school year three,

And a horrible nightmare the kids called “P.E.”

Our poor fairy was forced to wear thigh-hugging shorts

And to run back and forth across basketball courts.

She knew if she couldn’t do burpees and squats,

Little fairy would suffer- her g.p.a. shot.

Though she tried very hard, fairy just couldn’t master

the pickle ball cross-serve. It was a disaster.

And so at the end of her fairy-school days,

Fairy had some big “F’s” and a few less of “A’s”

With a record so blemished, no job was in sight.

And the fairy subsisted on ramen and Sprite.

‘Til an ad in the Fairy Times caught her wee eye:
“Fail P.E? Need a job? Come on in and apply!”

So she answered the call, but the job was so bad.

Still, she couldn’t move back in with her mom and dad.

With the rent overdue and her landlord a jerk,

She sighed and enlisted in horrible work.

She became a tooth fairy, the lowest of sprites.

Now she works long, long hours- she is always on nights.

She sneaks into our houses, to reach under our heads

While we sleep uber-deep in the soft of our beds.

With her breath on the cheek of your one-tooth-less face,

she slips thin dollar bills in the tooth-hiding place.

Then she scurries away, taking flight off your deck

to deliver the teeth and collect her paycheck.

Pearly-whites are brought in, in gigantic red buckets.

They use ground up old teeth to bread chicken mcnuggets.

It’s a sad life, a hard one for that poor Tooth Fairy.

So reach for those dollars, but don’t get too merry.