Sunday, February 28, 2010

Across the Tide

Across the Tide
.
I tried
To glide
Across the tide.

I blew from side
To side.

Behind a cloud I tried to hide
To outsmart the divide.

No cover, did it at all provide
As now in water I reside.

To swim or sink I can’t decide
Nor in whom I can confide.

Shelter I have been denied
With fear and current I collide.

A lighthouse over yonder I have eyed
Between there and here it’s not so wide.

The keeper though might see I’ve cried
The lack of hop within my stride.

It's better to enjoy the ride.
Let the ocean be my bride.

Still, it's pitiful I'm stuck to pride
Perhaps I shan’t be when I’ve died.
I'm sorry Mali.

Medical Mysteries

This week on Medical Mysteries we examine House Minority Leader John Boehner.  Ordinary man, or man with a dark secret?  If you've failed to notice, he exhibits all the signs of acute carrotiatus.  Overtime he has become oranger and oranger, and increasingly root-like.  He finds it impossible to move from a fixed position, even for something he wants, say, for instance, fertilizer.  Although, some say he has produced his own manure for this of late.

The politician shows a love of dirt as well.  He has spent most of his adult life buried in it.  Mr. Boehner possesses an affinity for vegetables through this, sometimes even having sex with them.  His personal garden has been coined the 'love nest.'

Although, this Mr. Boehner appears to be a carrot through his nature and orange complexion, I would strongly urge you to not accept juice from him.  His carrot juice lacks the nutrients you would normally find.  In fact, you will turn into an onion, and he will have his way with you.  Layer by layer.

Thank you for tuning in.
I thought it was funny.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Feeling Down

I See the Rain
.
I see the rain
Trickling, trickling, trickling down.

I feel the cold
Slipping, slipping, slipping in.

I see the sun
Setting, setting, setting now.

I find the night
Seeping, seeping, seeping through.

I gaze at stars
Glowing, glowing, glowing faint.

I’m cold from wind
Blowing, blowing, blowing harsh.

I’m wet from tears
Drenching, drenching, face and shirt.

I see lightening
Striking, striking at my soul.

I fall asleep
Dreaming, dreaming, quite forlorn.
I wish she were here

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Poem I Thought of Driving

WE ARE LIFE
.
Driving by the lonely graves
Sorrow does envelope me.

I contemplate the circumstance
That brought untimely deaths.

Perhaps somehow, someway
I might have changed an outcome.

If I had said a word or two quite differently
They might have stayed at home that night.

If I had made some friendly gestures
There might be one less suicide.

But I know that it’s unwell to dwell
What matters are my choices now.

Grief won’t move or shake the past
We must build on its foundation.

Above, all we must laugh, not cry
And know that WE ARE LIFE.

However small and infinitesimal
Within the confines of the Universe
We must, smile, know that WE ARE LIFE.
Some of us are also idiots.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

My Regards to Maya Angelou

Now for a paraody of I Know why the Caged Bird Sings...
.
I Know Why the Twitter Bird Tweets
.
The free bird leaps
on Google’s back
and scrolls down page
till the browser ends
and dips his wings
in Facebook rays
and dares to claim the internet.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow page
can seldom see through
his lists of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his claws to tweet.

The Twitter bird tweets
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tweet are read
on the distant hill
for the Twitter bird
tweets of freedom

The free bird may watch tivo'd Glee
And order up some good Chinese
and laugh as Sue Sylvester drones
On and on of kids off tone.

But Twitter bird stands on the grave of tweets
Getting “trends” for Trick or Treat
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his claws to tweet.

The Twitter bird tweets
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tweet is heard
on the distant hill
for the Twitter bird
tweets of freedom.
Das ist alles nur geklaut.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Untitled

Untitled
.
Sitting solemnly to watch time tic
Fighting back the words that made me sick
Perhaps I was too thick
My thoughts too far from quick!
Over this mental anguish I would take a kick
A soaring, speeding, soothing brick
Unto my brain that’s not so slick!
The wax has melted off my candle wick
My heart’s a faint and dimming flick
And surely, it shan’t take another lick!

So greatly now I fear that I’ve run out of rhyme
And the demons will return, that rob men of their prime!

So badly do I need a drink of something stiff
To help make me forget, I’ve fallen off the cliff.

Cupid, if you’re there, now trade your arrow for machete
And release my neck from ghastly mortal agony!
Shit.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

A Prologue

Legend tells of a book beyond any man has wrote; a book so great as to rival the Torah, the Qur’an, and the Holy Bible itself. In truth this is not even one compellation, but three. The Gods feared it so and split it, thus hiding its pieces far apart within the universe.

It was said an exceptional man may go many lifetimes before glimpsing one, and several more before laying hand on it. And even in immeasurable lifetimes it is hard to say if a man or women could hold a book within their hands.

What could be within these books, you may ask, for even the mightiest of Gods to fear? Everything. Everything that ever was, is, and shall be lies within these very books.

The Fates forged them in the beginnings of time, before the threads of life were spun. Clotho wrote the past, Lachesis the present and Atropos the future. In a sense, it was a universal thread of life. The book, originally one, had the power to undo all they would begin and end. It was a safety net, but a short lived one.

When Zeus had grown, taking Olympus and learning of the Fates, he feared them greatly, but saw his existence tied to the book. And its fate, the harbinger of all fate, was sealed.

No one, not even Zeus himself knew exactly where they ended up. His mind being tricked into its own demise he could not allow, as tempting and alluring as the power of ultimate knowledge may have been.

Once in a millennia, one still twinkles in the stars. A fool or two race after it, becoming lost forever in the heavens. Much like the books, they are never found.

In their celestial realm, neither here, nor there, the Fates are too busy cutting threads to bother making more. Zeus knew mortals and their flicking mortality would keep the Fates in check, and his self immortal. And he was right for many eons.

But forever is a farce and time will unravel the best laid plans.
Pope Pius was a bum.