The Earth

What made this planet?
What made this spherical rock we call home?
What made the earth?

This earth, I mean ---
the one that is brimming with forest green,
the one that is overflowing with sapphire water,
the one that shines like a bright blue marble out into space,
who is so new to the universe while being so old,
who is orbiting the sun so effortlessly yet elaborately.

Now it is our home, our little planet in the big sky,
now it flows seemingly abundant.
I don't know exactly how the earth works,
I do know it only contains so much,
a very strict and limited amount of resources.
How will you help to protect and save it
which keeps it alive.

Tell me, will you save the earth?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious earth?

Nightmares

The emptiness is the most terror filling horror,
when your heart can't love,
your hunger unsatisfied.

Uneasy gropes at nothing
like blindness.
Where are the moon and stars
to guide you away.

The monster under your bed,
the goblin in your closet
the ghost in the attic.

What is the bump that keeps you up at night?

Wanderlust

Palm tree leafs rustle,
sea breeze naps on balconies.
Golden sand frames feet,
surf slaps the ankles.

From the marble monuments,
to the whitest house.
The seemingly old,
blended to new.

Ancient Roman Gods tower above,
much alike the Colosseum.
Sculptures of Michelangelo,
swims in a field of grapes.

Two Sentence Stories

"Hi yes your Honor my dog shall be representing me in this legal matter."
"Woof."

The man was juggling jars of jelly.
He dropped one.

The child sneezed extremely hard.
A long glob of snot hung from his nose.

A woman was being smothered by a pillow.
But nobody was there.

The whole family was in the kitchen.
And then the front door shut.

The basketball player jumped to dunk the ball.
He missed.

The customer went for his wallet.
It was in the car still.

The boy was looking at his reflection.
It blinked.

Don't Stare at Ceilings

It's 2:00 am, and I stare at the ceiling. My body has never felt so awake. My entire skeleton reminisces about when I first saw you. It stung like a bee into my soul, it made my knees wobble like an Ali punch on Liston, my stomach floated like a butterfly.

It's 2:02 am, and I stare at the ceiling. My mind has never felt so alive. My cranium crackles with the time I first heard you speak. Such angelic beauty should never have been bestowed on me. My ears tingled like I just took a Mike Tyson bite.

It's 3:00 am, and I stare at the ceiling. My body has never felt more drained. My soul is no longer whole, rather ripped into two. I watched the final time I saw you, just walking away. I heard your last words, "You're just not good enough. I'm sorry."

It's 3:01 am, and I stare at the back of my eyelids. My mind has broken again.


- John Oeters

Love / Hate

Your dark maroon lips linger after kisses like a 3:00 am rerun of Full House. Dark gray woolen sweater sleeves always pulled past your knuckles like a fingerless glove.

I hate how much I love you.

Your condescending voice makes my ears ring like a punk rock concert. Gentle hints as to who is smarter while we argue drives me crazy.

I love how much I hate you.

When your name pops up on my phone for the seventh time today just because you want to hear my voice. When you howl with laughter over my harsh criticism and mocking dialogue of TV shows. I can’t help to smile.

God Damn it. I love you. 

- John Oeters