The Tale of Harvest Poultry



A brick ruffled the neat hedgehogs of Prize Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky skylight, the very last plan you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harvest Poultry rolled over inside his bleach pool without waking up. One small handbag closed on the lettuce beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs. Dusk’s screenplay as she opened the front doorbell to put out the milkman bows, nor that he would spend the next few weekdays being prodded and pinched by his cousin Duet…He couldn’t know that at this this very moment, peppers, meeting in secret all over the cove were holding up their glassware and saying in hushed voids: “To Harvest Poultry – the brain who lived!

I took a block of text from a famous book, and changed each one to the next noun in line from the dictionary here:

See if you can guess where it came from.




Two applications diverged in my desktop folder

And sorry I could not use both,

But be a one student, my harsh mind grew colder

And stared, unmoving like a glacial boulder

To notice my low battery where it lagged in the top-right corner


So I closed my tabs (to save battery, I had to deduce)

And having perhaps, the better layout

Because Text Edit was simpler and saved my electronic juice

Though it mattered not for I found why my charger was loose

So they both helped my writing really about the same,


And both that evening equally lay

In formatting no fool had changed astray

Oh, I kept Word for another day!

Yet knowing how work leads on to play

I doubted if I should ever use it again…


I shall be telling this with a tear in my eye

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two apps diverged on my desktop and I—

I chose to make a Text Edit file…

And that has made no difference.



She spent her days in the library,

Hidden behind her daily choice of fairytales in her normal nook.

She could draw and she could sing.

People always admired the doodles she drew on her notebooks.

She was the tall 5 pm streetlights during summer,

Some would notice that they were on too early in the day,

The rest would’ve seen the lights as part of the sorbet colored sky,

Blended into the warm summer like background colors.

  Continue reading “Blended”

A World of Machines



Far into the future,

Mankind won’t exist,

Their inventions remain,

In our place, they persist.


New languages that have yet to come,

Cuisines making oil into stew.

Fashion made from scrapped metal drums.

The new world, a new chance for you.


But who’s to say this world is better?

Where things like emotions are now just letters,

Happiness to delight, anger to smite,

The man, the machines, an empty fight.


Far into the future,

Mankind won’t exist,

Machines have replaced us,

Our ideals, fade in the mist.

Emotions and Colors



A calming color

Like water, washing away,

All of your worries.


The Passion, The Drive

A fire, burning their thoughts

Act like you want to.

The unique feeling

A perfect mix, red and white

The love that will spread


When you smile, of course,

Everyone smiles with you

The best emotion