R.A. - A Poet to Rent.

( R.A. by Chelsi M )

I am proud to say that I have known R.A. (Ryan) Robinson since the seventh grade. I say I know him, yet I know that I will never fully know him. Since we were young, we would galavant the streets of our home town; singing, laughing, making vulgar jokes, story telling, creating, and seldom wondering what we would do with our lives in the future. As time went on, those things changed as most things do.
Though time easily escapes me and fragmented experiences, both flighty and filling, are scattered across the landscape of my memory. R.A. has always been the one to remember everything. He is the friend I hold the most dear, even when he is out of reach.
He has always been one to keep record - always on paper and most times on cassette by means of his old tape recorder (I loved that thing). The way he wields his pen and forms sentences holds me in a state of awe and embarrassment. Where I would search for a rhyme to fit into a melody, he would reach for the sound that meshed perfectly to the word being used and let the melodic path lay itself.
He can take an experience so emotionally crippling and arrange it in a way so captivating and clear, you will jam to the words and understand the pain behind them.

"So Do Mites" is one of my favorite pieces of his. I call his works "pieces" because they are creations of art, perfectly crafted in the way of R.A. (often with him as the protagonist). Some of his works are more comedic than others but, like the product of an artist, his pieces ring true to who he is, and can be heard in his voice when read aloud in your mind as you journey across the text. Enjoy.
(This piece has been created/written by R.A. Robinson and can not be used in any way without R.A. Robinson's verbal and written permission/consent) 

So Do Mites

By R.A. Robinson

Ryan A and Aryan sit on cloud nine, looking at the world through a microscope, spotting the activity of two mites (mites are men) enjoying anal sex. Ryan A looks at the mites with a romantic gaze, bewildered.

Ryan A.: How do they do it?

Aryan still looking into the microscope, with an austere glare.

Aryan: Do what?

Ryan A.: Make love without loving each Other?

Aryan: That's not love. That is desire. It is bigger than them, or you and I. We cannot control it, but we must find ways to control ourselves.

Ryan A.: But how do we control ourselves when our desires symbolize freedom - our freedom to be ourselves? Freedom cannot be controlled or organized. Why, that's Scandinavian!

Aryan: Scandinavian?! That's the way of the world. You're free to leave it whenever you want.

Aryan, with his glinted index finger, touches and sets fire to the lining of cloud nine before diving down to Earth. Ryan A., unprepared, plummets downward, ass first.