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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

A Nauseous Nocturne

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Another night deprived of slumber,
Hours passing without number,
My eyes trace 'round the room. I lay
Dripping sweat and now quite certain
That tonight the final curtain
Drops upon my short life's precious play.

 

From the darkness, by the closet
Comes a noise, much like a faucet
Makes: a madd'ning drip-drip-dripping sound.
It seems some ill-proportioned beast,
Anticipating me deceased,
Is drooling poison puddles on the ground.


A can of Mace, a forty-five,
Is all I'd need to stay alive,
But no weapon lies within my sight.
Oh my gosh! A shadow's creeping,
Omnious and black, it's seeping
Slowly 'cross a moonlit square of light!

 

Suddenly a floorboard creak
Announces the bloodsucking freak
Is here to steal my future years away!
A sulf'rous smell now fills the room
Heralding my imm'nent doom!
A fang gleams in the dark and murky gray!

 

Oh, blood-red eyes and tentacles!
Throbbing, pulsing ventricles!
Mucus-oozing pores and frightful claws!
Worse, in terms of outright scariness,
Are the suckers multifarious
That grab and force you in its mighty jaws!

 

This disgusting aberration
Of nature needs no motivation
To devour helpless children in their beds.
Relishing despairing moans,
It chews kids up and sucks their bones,
And dissolves inside its mouth their li'l heads!

 

I know this 'cause I read it not
Two hours ago, and then I got
The heebie-jeebies and these awful shakes.
My parents swore upon their honor
That I was safe, and not a goner.
I guess tomorrow they'll see their sad mistakes.

 

In the morning, they'll come in
And say, "What was that awful din
We heard last night? You kept us both from sleep!"
Only then will they surmise
The gruesomeness of my demise
And see that my remains are in a heap.


Dad will look at Mom and say,
"Too bad he had to go that way."
And Mom will look at Dad, and nod assent.
Mom will add, "Still, it's fitting,
That as he was this world quitting,
He should leave another mess before he went."

 

They may not mind at first, I know.
They will miss me later, though,
And perhaps admit that they were wrong.
As memories of me grow dim,
They'll say, "We were too strict with him.
We should have listened to him all along."

 

As speedily my end approaches,
I bid a final buenas noches
To my best friend here in all the world.
Gently snoring, whiskers seeming
To sniff at smells (he must be dreaming),
 He lies snuggled in the blankets, curled.

 

HEY! WAKE UP, YOU STUPID CRETIN!
YOU GONNA SLEEP WHILE I GET EATEN?!
(Suddenly the monster knows I'm not alone!)
There's an animal in bed with me!
An awful beast he did not see!
The monster never would've come if he had known!

 

The monster, in his consternation,
Demonstrates defenestration,
And runs and runs and runs and runs away.
Rid of the pest,
I now can rest,
Thanks to my best friend, who saved the day.

 

The End.

Ocean Vuong - Summer Romance

In the summer, it is easy to have
the urge to catch a butterfly.

They flutter about making
acquaintances with all the strangers

while offering ripened melons
to sweeten the tongue's cracks.

But to see that fairy so frail in its flight
to believe those wings

could beat a heart to death
creeps chills as icy fruit

slips between my lips
like a smooth whisper.

Upon tasting its nectar
so cool, so satisfying

alone, the silence of a dark car
beckons the comfort of sound.

I whisper - what ifs- to an empty seat
while clutching the wheel for Fall.

That summer I caught a butterfly
and devoured bowls of melons

but out of all those lies
"I love you" was most delicious.