Author Archives: cottonbombs

About cottonbombs

Peter Fulton is a writer with a love for every style from comedy to haiku. This site will be a showcase of my passion for the written word, though if you want to bring it to life, I recommend reading while doing an interpretive dance. For the haikus, let me suggest the two-step.

How We Fall

Look out,

we’re all jumping out of the 103rd floor of the south tower of the World Trade Center

September 11th, 2001

and we chose to jump instead of burn to death

and as we fall to our last breath

our only options are

do we scream

or do we enjoy the fall?

Yeah,

I’m screaming too.

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All I Need to Learn about Male/Female Relationships I Learned from the Nature Channel

Running across the March ice

of Lake Erie

(even its name says

it’s eerie)

and

how that ice might look safe

but

it’s eerier

cause it could break

at any second

and

how thin is the difference between fear and terror

when you fall through winter’s ice in spring

even when you’re running your fastest

across this frozen spider’s web

like a male spider

attempting to reach the black widow spider

even after her ripping off his seven arms and legs

in his attempt at love

and sex

he strums his last remaining leg along

her finely weaved web

and the male spider’s thinking:

I’ll get her this time.

Abraham Agreed to Kill His Son in Several Tongues

There’s nothing more important

in this world to more people

than their religion

therefore it is our duty

both as citizens of this society

and all other societies

to know which so called God challenged Abraham to sacrifice

Isaac or Ishmael

and ultimately how much does this matter

when either way Ibrahim went with Allah

or Abraham went with God

we’re all brothers and sisters

and third cousins twice removed

thanks to this

and Facebook.

When Your Hospital Wants You To Call

It’s scary stuff when your hospital feels the need to mail you

a formal envelope

your first question is: am I dying?

Your next is: how do I feel right now? I have a sore throat; I must be dying

says the hypochondriac

and the idiot

and in my case both

and in your case

your writer

and your reader

who

now knows

the words within the formal envelope

spell out sentences asking me to make a checkup because it’s been

so long since I’ve had a doctor’s hand

up my ass

so now I know

I’m fine

but either way one day

but that’s OK

because I scheduled my death some time between now and infinity.

Renting the Penthouse to the Tower of Babel

The stars were once wrenched

from the fabric of this universe

tossed into an intense kiln heat

burning till they settled into ourselves

though now we don’t know how

where when we came from

some take to religion

some take to the moon

some make the moon their religion

through periods, times and Ramadans

all thrive on this lunar tide

dancing into the Sea of Tranquility

swimming backstrokes to infinity

still language keeps us from

being we

when we were we and we were this close to divinity.

Evolution of the Geek

Being a bit of a geek took a bit of work

back in my day

(I find myself referring to a day I never had)

back then it meant knowing the capitals of all fifty states

now it simply means having watched an entire season

of Game of Thrones

in a single day.

 

Good Luck Crossing the River Styx with a Bouquet of Roses

The flowers we leave for the dead

white lilies

make a lousy bouquet for a first date

but are perfect for the last date

especially if our date is waiting for us six feet below

(talk about a cheap date)

and you meet her at a funeral

and roses seem so inappropriate for a funeral

especially when they’re red

cause life and death are so black and white

except if you’re a ghost

like Bruce Willis in Sixth Sense

then you must be so confused

when the mirror is held up

to you and though you feel alive and well

you’re dead

and you don’t know whether to go to the night or to the light

and so you give grey flowers to the ferry man

who tosses them into the River Styx

and you stand at the riverbank

watching them drift off into the abyss

checking your pockets for change.