Jacob Buurman's Poetry Flyer


It all started with a juice box

So tasty and innocent

But soon its insides

Would be much less magnificent

It all started with a boy

That thought he was a baller

But little did he know

That a Korean shouldn’t bother

It all started when he said,

“Should I shoot it in the trash can?”

But it was too late

Before I could halt his plan

It all started...

Majestically gliding…

But the juice box met its end

When it hit the window; striking

It all started with a juice box

Now it’s causing a scene

But somehow barely anyone noticed

And we walked away clean

Laser Pointed

I dreamed of the future

Until it finally came

A wonderful game of remembering the past

One day on the Delaware boardwalk, my friend made victory bells and whistles

The past was unwinding before me

We all shot it miles into the ocean, until we had an idea

The fragments of my dreams

On the hotel balcony, unsuspecting bystanders

The reality which I had always taken for granted now became the most remote fantasy

Dazed, confused, oblivious to the source

No present existed

No present existed


Cookies have many races

Sugar, chocolate, oatmeal

Cookie universe - diverse

The Perfect Game

Three canvas bases

Perfectly placed.

Home plate and the mound

Perfectly spaced.

The chalk laid down

In a perfect line.

The infield dirt

Raked perfectly fine.

Then the teams take the field -

And we're reminded again.

It's a perfect game

Played by imperfect men.