Official website of Seattle-area actor and writer Nathaniel Jones

Three Poems

Published in  “Shattered Glass” Magazine, 1998-1999

“The Teacher and the Student”
The classroom is full, in comes the student
To be any later just wouldn’t be prudent.
The teacher checks “tardy” next to the boy’s name
He walks to his seat, and says “this is LAME!”
The teacher walks up to him, grabs on to his ear,
And says, “I don’t want any of your wisecracks, ya hear?”
She sets the boy down back on the floor
The boy decides not to talk any more.
He pulls out some paper
He pulls out a pen
He wonders what would happen if he talks again.
He stands on his desk and gives out a yell:
“Hey teacher, if you don’t like this, you can go to –“
The teacher drop-kicks him and sends him flying
Out the second floor window, he’s lucky he’s not dying.
He hits the fence and is turning around
When the teacher jumps out and lands with a bound.
He runs toward the fence and starts a great hopping
But the teacher comes after him, with her hands chopping.
She hits him in the back and sends him up to the room
And says “One more word will be your doom.
You get back up there, and start your writing,
and remember that I’m the champion of Ultimate Fighting!”
From that day to this, the boy never speaks
And he limps when he walks, and when he sits his back squeaks.
The teacher had fixed him, or his attitude, at least,
And when the boy died, she had quite a feast!

The mask goes on, the crank is turned
The gas goes on, and as you’ve learned,
You start to giggle, then guffaw,
And make a snort as loud as a saw.
The mask comes off, the laughter continues
As shiny metal tools begin to go in you.
But the gas inside makes you say “Haw, haw!”
The pain is great, but the laughter is greater
That’s when you see them grab the alligator.
It pierces your gums, the blood is pouring,
But the gas inside you keeps you roaring.
The teeth come out, pink with bits of your gum,
The dentist keeps stabbing, the dirty bum.
The tools leave you mouth, the blood dries on your shirt
When the gas wears off, you scream, “Oy, that hurt!”

“The Old and Bitter Man”
Out on his porch, there was an old man
Who always held a stick in his outstretched left hand.
They say the stick  was used to stab litter
by the man who sits out here, all old and bitter.
In the summer he’s warm, in the winter he’s cold,
That man who sits here, all bitter and old.
They say he was buff – no one was fitter
than the man who sits out here, all old and bitter.
He was an athlete, or so I’ve been told,
The man who sits out here, all bitter and old.
They say now he eats kids who dare to litter
in front of the man, all old and bitter.
I would try it, but I’m not so bold
As to test the man out there, all bitter and old.
This poem isn’t funny, but it’s better than mold
This poem ‘bout the man, all bitter and old.
But the funny thing is why it is that he’s bitter,
The silly old athlete who picks up the litter.
He used to play baseball, he was a great hitter
The old man who’s out here, all old and bitter.
But one day while playing, he was attacked by a spitter
That ended his days as a great baseball hitter.
Now the only thing he can do, besides pick up litter,
Is sit on his porch, being old and bitter.

2009 - Nathaniel Jones