satire
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The Job Interview
I’m sorry, Joink, but I can’t give you this job. You’re too happy to be a clown. Being one isn’t about going to clown school, cheering up a bunch of sick kids in the hospital, blowing balloons or doing cartwheels. It’s so much more than that. There’s a certain depth to this life that only… Continue reading
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Branching out
A friend once told me that his sorrow owed him something. I believed him then, but no longer do. The only thing my depression owes me is to stay far away from me, never nudging me to explore the darker places within — those desert spaces where the humidity kills and an umbra of madness… Continue reading
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Pinky’s Burger House (Part 1.5)
Part 1 I’ve well documented my struggles with faith. I’d prefer not to dwell on it now though and instead give you part 2 of Pinky’s Burger House. Yes, all my posts are back. You can view them leisurely and lament my madness and yada yada. But before we launch into part 2 of Pinky’s… Continue reading
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A simple man
I cannot understand what you’re trying to say. I wish you’d rid your poems of fluff, obscure allusions and weird alliterative sequences and write in simple sentences. Better yet, I wish you’d give up poetry altogether and start writing prose. I don’t get why you must say, the son of perdition spitefully looks down at… Continue reading
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Pseudo Mini Cantos
A.S. I have never read The Cantos and don’t plan on doing so. Sister Margaret’s resignation 1 It’s time for me to leave the nunnery, And become a pioneer of modern gunnery. To Agnes and Augustine, I’m no longer tied, I’m a gun moll and I need my Clyde. 2 enough of vespers and choir… Continue reading
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Make it new
1 The old descriptions are no longer with us with their odes to silver-brown cobbled paths like rows of distorted chiclets stained with nicotine. We’ve spoken of dusk so many times that the muses yawn when the crickets chirp as swatches of gossamer darkness shove the rosy blooms. … Continue reading
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Obsession
When I spied on my grandfather watching porn in the basement, his buttocks twisting and turning, his hip rising and falling like an Irish lilt while his hand drifted everywhere — his thighs, his belly, his nipples and his cock, I developed an obsession for obscure poetry. … Continue reading
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Shall I compare you to a winter’s night?
Shall I compare you to a winter’s night? You are so prudish and troublingly cold. Your fiery scorn asphyxiates the light And damn, I can’t take it! I’m getting old! The blazing depths of hell gaze up at me, And my complexion is dulled and dimmed. Please stop! Leave me alone! Just let me… Continue reading
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Why we must cancel Chelsea Owens
A few years ago, I came across a poetry contest on WordPress that was still in its nascent stages. It was Chelsea Owens’ Terrible Poetry Contest. I think everyone knows about it now. Winning it is like winning a Pulitzer to some, and I empathise with those people, because I felt that way once, too.… Continue reading
About Me
Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.
Ordinary Person 