Making Outsiders Insiders
Photo by: Sosse Karasarkissian Squirrels of Vanier We quaint bundles of fur Run forth and then run back Roam campus to and fro In constant search of snack We tiny kings and queens In our thrones atop trees Humbly wiggle our tails For such students as these We do chase each other Spectator sport for you And curious as well Will watch the humans too We hate the cold weather Soon all of us will sleep But campus is tether So you’ll see us again Written By:…
Read MoreI zoned out again. I have always enjoyed thinking to myself, thinking about who I am. I supposed that I was the protagonist in a story of my own creation. I always delved into these thoughts when I was alone. Coasting down cold snowy roads, skipping across searing hot street, no matter the season, I would still get lost in my thoughts. One particular afternoon was a lovely one. The family would take the car out on day trips, and I would always stare out the window. Through the window…
Read MoreThe following short is the preface to The Unexpected And Highly Misguided Theory of Everything, allowing for readers of The Insider to get an exclusive excerpt from my upcoming Novella. For more information and to be notified upon its availability for purchase, visit www.facebook.com/junerossaert/ and like the page. ______________________________________________ FIFTEEN YEARS AGO, in the small town of Coanesbury, Ontario, in classroom 33B, on the second and highest floor of the elementary school on the 55th of Maine Street, a young boy raised his hand. His name was…
Read MoreI believe I am a Carnival, A cheap attraction; STEP RIGHT UP! I am a visual masterpiece I’ll blow your mind in sweaty plastic colours I am a kitsch Wonderland, Ring a ride on the merry-go-round, I’ll spin you round, and whistle in tiny tunes At twenty-five cents a pop I am a capital C Clown, Horse balloons and penny tricks So pick a card, any card- And I’ll show you how to make a nightmare I am a Pirate Ship, Broken rhythm, in the warm, putrid…
Read MoreHer words are paper-maché She sews them haphazardly They are broken and eaten and doused in clay She goes ‘round with a clumsy rhyme: brazenly As she does so, I will stop Always thinking: will I drop? Her stanzas are magical, or perhaps not Maybe I just need to write: ‘tis worth a shot He writes careful, in a deliberate side-step She writes madness, in a turmoil of a process They’re a sludge of heavy pep Toss the form! It’s a goddamn mess Neither knows what the…
Read MoreI just don’t feel inspired I have worried and waited I’ve already debated But now I just feel tired So, so, so much work And more to do still I no longer smirk I have had my fill In the very beginning Things were always lots of fun But now I just feel “so done” No longer am I grinning Have I ever felt like this friend? Wanted all my problems to end? I may have some helpful advice Hopefully my words will suffice I Turn…
Read MoreI think in swollen metaphors, I am not drowning, I am eaten So I hold my thumb on the pulse of the universe and it is dead; I spin my mind like fingers for fun, And dream my veins soiled in chocolate cake So I taste the sweetened marrow and my teeth mold in cheap rum My throat wilts and dries, I am not a flower in winter, I am a weed in a housefire So I kiss the arson on the mouth and it tastes like warmth…
Read MoreSo you want to change the world? Well, good luck with that, they say. What is your strategy to get people to pay? Because pay they must, And buy they will, In this consumerist society, Based on good products, Not good will. Order now, Pay later, It’s a limited time offer. There’s a deadline. It’s a race to use up, Our greatest lifeline. Checkout lanes are packed, With the dump’s future contents, Because one man’s treasure is – Every man’s trash, Right? We monitor progress, In dollars…
Read MoreI let my mind meander, and words find me… If only for a moment, it’s a miracle to see… Guided through a fog By shallow morning sun All which lay concealed is found Perplexing past problems, just reflections of a time When questions are asked, and answers are lost If this is ideal, then what is the cost? How a spring’s breeze, Can echo through the trees As forlorn feelings fall Someplace, a point in space obscured by memories Exists sweet and pleasant dreams If…
Read MoreThree young men in flashing outfits Six chords over four Pretentious smiles, oh what misfits! The lights dim, the crowds quiet And a true horror Cynics petition in half a tormented riot Why oh why would my son lend a hand To this crappy rock and roll band? Written By: June Rossaert
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