Hidden Singer

Cool air swirls
around me,
as my bare feet
patter across the
cold floor.

I turn the corner
and climb on the bed.
Folding my legs,
I press play.

Music flows
through me.
I smile and sing.
No one is bothered
by me here.

Furry Begger

NO.
You may not
have my hamburger.

It is mine.
No matter how big your eyes are.
No matter how you whine.
It belongs to me.

Even if you twitch your whiskers
just so slightly,
I will not give it to you.
Drooling doesn't help either.

You believe you must have it.
After all,
cows
are bigger than your head.
The hamburger
is bigger than your head.

You do not care.
Why should you?
You are a cat.

Ode to Celery

I look at you,
as you are pulled
from the plastic bag.
Long slender stalks
of pale green,
with darker leaves.

Did you aspire
to be a tree?
You do not
seem to be
cut out for it.

The Cat

I wrote this in the summer of 2010:

Meow,
Meow,
Meow.

You
have awakened me
at two a.m.
for food.

You
have used my legs
as scratching posts.

You
have begged
for things
that you do not
diserve.

You
have bitten
my fingers.

You
have shed
on my popsicle.

You
left when
I
needed you.

What
makes you think that
I will feed
you?

Letter to Flashdrives

Dear Flashdrives,
Let me spell this out for you. You. Are. Awesome. I can move my fifteenth page story from my computer to one at work. I can show my friends things from my computer without having to drag a computer to work. You are a stroke of genius. Whoever created you was one of the greatest people to ever walk the Earth. I am serious.
Without you, I would have been dead this Monday. The printer wasn't going to work with me. That much was clear. Then there you were. Sitting on my desk as normal as anything. I plugged you in, saved the document in your memory, and safely removed you. You rode around in my pocket all day, until you were needed. You did your job splendidly.
I would have very little chance of having a computer if my mother didn't know she could use you to move files from computer A. to laptop B. In fact, I owe a lot to you little rectangular device. So many things would have killed me if you didn't exist. This is why I am thanking you. Of course, you cannot read, but I still am writing a blog post just for you.

Kara

I'm Listening

There are two kinds of people. Type A tends to be quiet and intelligent. Type B is pretty much everyone else. Type B people are human. They know that they can't hold all of their emotions and thoughts inside. In order to release the stuff inside their heads they talk to type A. Type A's job is to listen to type B's ranting. Type B will talk about anything. It it is on their mind they must get it out. They can talk to other type B's, but type B's know that sometimes they can't always trust their own. Type A doesn't talk about what the type B's say to them. They lock it away and forget about it until the B that told it to them talks to them again. That way they have a simple understanding of that B.
There is sadly a difficulty with the system. That being that type A's hold up the B's thoughts and concerns as well as their own. This is, in simple words, dangerous. The A's are so used to not speaking of the B's thoughts that they don't vent their thoughts. The thoughts and emotions build up at an alarming rate, because they harbor the B's as well. Once the A has reached it's limit there is usually a depressive swoop, if not a complete mental break down.
Type A's seem to be normal people. Sometimes they even seem to be the weakest of the humans. this is wrong. They are the strongest of us. The ones that carry our burdens, hopes, fears, and dreams. Sometimes we don't even realize that they are there, but they watch out for us and protect us from ourselves.

Letter to the March Weather

Dear March Weather,
You have brought Spring to me. I thank you for that. You are indeed my friend. I will play outside in your light and roll in the grass with the cat. I will build little houses for tiny humanoids that people say do not exist. The woods will be explored with fascination as to how nice it feels outside. Until, that is, the bugs that follow you try to eat my flesh. I will of course miss the snow, but your warmth is welcomed. Thank you for this warm front of happiness.

Sincerely,
Kara