Jordanchristianson's Blog

BBW (Facebook Poem)

jordanchristianson — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 05:39:41 +0000

Jiggle Jiggle my skin is brittle.

Wiggle Wiggle i have a big ole

Ass.

Call me out, put me on blast.

“Angel Arms.”

“Thunder Thighs.”

Woe betide,

I’m still fly.

Cinder Blocks (FB POEM)

jordanchristianson — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 09:34:22 +0000

My mind is a bullet train,
My life is a flashback,
My body is a silent film,
and My soul is on cinder blocks.
My heart is a muscle,
My eyes help me see,
and the birds in the bush are just birds to me.

Not my best. Nor my most original. But it definitely describes my current feelings well.

Face Value (Facebook Poem)

jordanchristianson — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 06:20:36 +0000

Reflections are inadequate, frail tricks of light.
Job Security is minimum wage for life.

Mirrors reflect a canvas upon a skull,
But they neglect to reveal your beautiful soul.

Watch my loving eyes, when you speak and smile,
And forget how you look for a little while.

Small Town Scene, Big City Dreams (Flash-Memoir)

jordanchristianson — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 06:35:57 +0000

The sun came down like rain on the hay bale where Jonathon and I sat, watching the cattle graze. We were tired and thirsty. We were beaten and bored, but content with spending the remainder of that lazy afternoon soaking in the solitude. We could barely hear our parents in the distance, chatting on the porch, savoring the occasional breeze, which kept them cool through warming beer and burning cigarette filters. We had tired of their politics, their music, and their problems long ago. I was eleven and Jon was nine, but we knew what fun was.

Fun was hunting for snakes with Swiss Army knifes.

Fun was turning up the corrals in the field and pretending to be hamsters.

Fun was peeing in the open and fighting for our favorite tree.

It was ditching each other.

It was being scared for our lives in our own back yards.

It was drawing tracks in the sand and fooling ourselves in to following them.

Fun was anything we could do without permission.

Fun was anything dangerous.

Fun was anything we did and we knew it.

“Jordan. Jonathon. Get over here!” my mother yelled from behind us.

We turned around as quickly as possible, fearing the worst.

She laughed, “What are you guys doing out here by yourselves?”

“Just hanging out, Mom,” I responded.

“Well, dinner is ready. Jonathon, your dad made that yummy drunk chicken again.”

Jonathon hopped down immediately and began struggling with the screen door on the porch. I sat back smirking, in no particular hurry to call it a night. Mom opened the door from the other side and gave me her best “giddy up” look. I slid to the ground from my mountain and rushed by, hands in my back pockets, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a playful spanking as I passed.

Jonathon and I dished up as quickly as possible and bolted for the back door. We never thought eating at a table to be adventurous or civil. But our parent’s had other plans that night.

“Hold your horses son, where ya goin’?” my dad asked.

“To…the…trampoline?” I said.

“No, you’re not, you need to eat your dinner and go to bed.”

“But it’s only ten seventeen, Dad.”

“Yeah, well I think you guys have had enough fun today.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you still haven’t packed your things yet.”

“Don’t be stupid Dad, we don’t move for another week!”

He glared at me, and I felt Jonathon take a few steps back.

“We move tomorrow.”

“Yeah dude, why do you think I’m here, We’re helping ya’ll,” Jonathon said.

“I don’t wanna move to Orlando,” I shouted, embarrassed and defeated.

“We’re moving to Apopka, son. Now go to your room.”

I ran away, infuriated. And watched as Jonathon slipped outside for a cigarette and a beer.

Driving Fast (Facebook Poem)

jordanchristianson — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 07:11:40 +0000

Driving fast, lights pierce and pass.

The colors blur like they have in the past,

At varied speeds.

Familiar eyes and a familiar face,

Driving by in an unsung race.

Roll down the window, look and see,

It was just my reflection chasing me.

So High (Facebook Poem)

jordanchristianson — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 07:01:26 +0000

Drip, drip,

The ceiling cripples and discolors,

The shape of a heart.

This is my house and mi casa es su casa,

But none lay claim to the blemish.

We all stand idly by, tied to the ground,

Waiting, wishing we could be so high.

Big Fish (Facebook Poem)

jordanchristianson — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 06:58:57 +0000

I’m looking for something wholesome,

Something worthwhile.

But it’s not an easy find in this tired pile.

I’m a big fish in a little pond,

Swam this circle ’til the rest were gone.

“Just keep swimming,” mama said.

And I’ll keep on swimming ’til these waters spread.

Lust (Facebook Poem)

jordanchristianson — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 06:56:42 +0000

I’m through with lust.

It’s ashes. It’s ashes.

It’s dust. It’s dust.

They’ve run their course, these sinful ways,

like the brightest stars on brighter days.

Compromise

jordanchristianson — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 18:54:01 +0000

Look both ways, at stop signs, twice

Double take,

Smile occasionally,

Not so much as to give

The wrong impression,

To a lonely passerby.

Believe that all others

Are naturally evil

But never wonder where you stand.

All the ignorant faces think the same.

Walk like omnicients.

Talk like kings.

Act like fools.

Claim we know not where we’re headed,

But only face in two directions.

The saints go north,

The bastards, south.

Sunrise and sunset,

Only peripheral.

Pressing on, reluctant,

Toward certain uncertainty

The dust settles at our backs.

Not so worth the hardship,

Shallow tracks remain,

Soon to be overstepped,

By those going the same way.

~Jordan Christianson (3-12-09)

Similac Schwasted

jordanchristianson — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 18:48:12 +0000

I am happy you’re fun.

I am happy you’re indulgent.

But I’m not fond of gloating.

You are lustful, demeaning, and intoxicated.

Yet I am unimpressed by your multifunctionality.

You bawl in the booze as it drips from your breasts

and ravishes your infantile stature.

Everyone stares and laughs,

feeding like parasites.

You are unaware and unperturbed.

I am watchful and duly uncaring,

wishing you the best as you find your worst.