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Literature Text
The Gugabluck lives in the ocean blue.
He pops out to bother you.
Or maybe he lives in the trees to tall.
Actually, he can live any where at all!
He comes in colors blue, purple or green.
Being rather not nice, he is often mean.
His temper is wild
He has rarely ever smiled.
He has no friends, which is sad.
This is why the Gugabluck can get so mad!
So, if you see him ask him to stay.
Tell him you would like to play.
The Gugabluck is a sad sort.
He never learned manners, as children should be taught.
What will you do with this monstrous little guy?
Teach him manners and kindness by and by.
In doing so, you will lift ignorance's lid.
You see, inside the Gugabluck is a little kid.
He pops out to bother you.
Or maybe he lives in the trees to tall.
Actually, he can live any where at all!
He comes in colors blue, purple or green.
Being rather not nice, he is often mean.
His temper is wild
He has rarely ever smiled.
He has no friends, which is sad.
This is why the Gugabluck can get so mad!
So, if you see him ask him to stay.
Tell him you would like to play.
The Gugabluck is a sad sort.
He never learned manners, as children should be taught.
What will you do with this monstrous little guy?
Teach him manners and kindness by and by.
In doing so, you will lift ignorance's lid.
You see, inside the Gugabluck is a little kid.
Literature
The Moon
To gaze upon an empty night
Showered by the darkest light
The moon, hangs with beauty show
Pale and sick in it's dim glow
Oh envious moon, reaching her demise
To shining sun and morrow's rise
And slowly sinking into black
Where path and light start to lack
As the moon floats into a starry sea
And sinks in depths to try and flee
The approaching dawn and sunlight's kiss
Oh moon, for you I truly miss
As earth hangs on the verge
Watching the moon, begin to submerge
Drowning under space and ocean
Sinking into celestial motion
Drowning only to run away
Trying to escape the coming day
Literature
Night Falls
Night falls,
caught by no one.
Spreads her legs,
she begs
for lovers
in the darkness.
She beckons chaos in.
Anything,
to feel something...
The stars hiding in her eyes
fall one by one,
as she cries,
but she is warm
for her morning rise.
Night falls,
caught by no one.
She softly cries,
"I am warm…
but was it worth the moon?”
Literature
The Last Song
Do you think we'll get a last song?
I'm not sure. This diary I'm writing in is full of holes. It's sopping like a wet sponge. It reeks, but what doesn't in the filth and the mess?
Storm's passing. Not like I've ever seen here. Even the explosive storms of my youth; running in the fields, the junkyards, the rust-ravaged train tracks of old wasn't quite like this.
Something's exploded against the skyline. Orange is reflecting off the glass; the spider-striped, near shattered glass I kicked two weeks ago while mowing the grass.
It might be the gas works. Or the chemical sheds. Weyrdstorms do this, you know. That's what the warning
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I wrote this poem some time ago but, only came across it recently. I am very glad I came across it too because, I am a preschool teacher and I am dealing with a "Gugabluck" right now. A Gugabluck is a monster but, it is also a child who has never been taught how to act and what is accepted of him or her. It is very easy to get angry and frustrated with these kids. However, we need to remember that it isn't the child's fault. They need to be taught what is appropriate behavior. This should come from home but, unfortunately it often has to come from the teacher.
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