The Million Dollar Poetry Project

responding to Help Wanted

by Wolfgang Nibori

i tell one thing with certainty: you will pay

despite unease that thought brings, ignore the dust

the clutter, the banging, screaming murder-bloody

an afghan here, floral couch where lay the dummy waxen

not real hair, i promise, some petro-based immitation of flattery

you want real hair, don’t you? ok. i promise

follow me, now, pitter-patter down hallway, turn

see that? no, she’s not asleep. like her better this way.

oh, the jar. right. i saved part. is that so bad?

i can call this art if i want to. it did stain the jar, though.

calm down! calm down! i realize it must all look so

so confusing. you’re new here. your first night. it gets better, i promise

oh for crying out- hey! get back here! oh NO YOU DON’T!

now calm down just a minute, listen. are you listening?

you cannot unlock the doors from the inside. the windows barred.

you’re not going anywhere so come back here before i use this

quit crying, i don’t want to wash the floors. she made me wash

see the way the light plays across that crust, there?

yes, i know what it is. but that rusted shade - heaven

i dislike the blue that’s happening in the soft bits, though

will have to go, that whole mottled area. hand me that? thank you.

listen, strange in here, i know. i need help, though. too much work

now it’ll make a snapping sound when it comes loose. cover your face

the blubbering’s a waste of time, child. very much work to be done.

use these gloves. now hold this steady, no shaking. two hours, tops.

then i feed you. room and board, you see. after all

i cherish each apprentice

This poem for sale.

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These are the verses to the 3rd experimental video…

"to the last Drop"

Hello Little lost Girl, Snowflake spinning through the world

Terrified that candle, Love, might melt you down

This cracked, half empty glass of tears you call your life

Bet you were born with angel-wings, but the Devil stole them, right?

You know, for playing such a gentle lamb, you’ve got awfully sharp teeth

You took the saying literally, Leave a deep impression on everyone you meet

I, the fool who trusted you, mainly blame myself

Sewed my own heart on my sleeve, you kept yours on a closet shelf

Poor Little lost Girl, film script friends in a cartoon world

I confess I knew better, knew your words to be pretty painted lies

Saw how you always plot your dramas as the star of a fairy tale

Your loyalty sits on the auction block, your affection stays on sale

Even though I learned from this I can’t help but wonder "Why?"

I fell in what I hoped was love, believing we might bond for life

Crashed down, on to your cardboard heart I fell

As the magic faded I came to see your love’s nothing!

But a bed of nails

This poem for sale. Original hand-written hard copy available (has notes on it, too).

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