Tennis Balls to Tentacles

Poem by Casey Yeaman

The day I got a new life, was the day I died, twice.

The neighbours I despise, because they make me despise myself.

The morning comes, I awake to laughter, and crying.

The road to work, lined with false ambition.


I’m ready, promotion.


The bubbles, robbing me of my earnings, breath and soul.

The Krusty Krab, more like the Briny Bubble.

The sponge, no better off, but he is happy.




The pineapple, why does it not rot?

The starfish, lets no rock crush his spirits.

The joviality, what do they have that I do not?


It is more than just a piece of paper, or a cardboard box.

Imagination, can I use it as well?


They come, into my house.

They show up, in my bed.

They ask me, if I’m ready.


I must have finally reached, Bikini Bottom.

Life, just a bucket of pencil shavings.

0 comments on “Tennis Balls to Tentacles

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: