Mitch’s Stuff

This is a test of the emergency Mitchcasting system.

If this were a real Mitch, the artwork, poetry, and stories below would be a heck of a lot better.

           

                  Pain

       A

     Tear                                           Happy

     drop                                      Please don't fear me,

     falls,                                    Pity or shun me.

 an ego pops,                                  Laugh if you wish,

a lift starts                                  With but not at.

heading down,                                  I used to be you,

 a life looks                                  But I'd rather be happy.

   back on

itself.

 

"We're going to have to stop sleeping together"

She said, sending agony's dread through my heart,

Until she continued, with sensual splendor,

"Or else we can never sleep soundly apart."

My pain, brief in coming, has leapt from my chest

And never again upon me shall it creep,

For my love is true, and quite sensible too,

And forever with her will I find my night's sleep.

 

Don't say Man's duty,

Why, the pawn's surely right,

But the crowds that he wailed

At denied fight, past screaming.

And the Rockettes read Glare; in bars thirst everywhere.

Brave truth to the Right, hat or magazine hair.

L.A. set that star-strangled manner-set way

For the brand of the He and the womb of the grave.

 

 

As time runs 'round this square-clocked world,

                    the prayer of not repenting begins.

 

FATE

    And then she started talking about Fate.  It made sense at the time, but looking back it meant much more.  It was simply her stating what she believed, and although I wasn't really confident with my personal beliefs, I fell into it.  Now I'm full of "What if", "What next", and so forth.

Boom.

            She never came.  We never met.  We were never friends.  And then some.  What effect has she had on me?  How am I different?  And vice-versa.  How is her life different?

Boom.

            Even if she hadn't come into my life so far, according to fate, if we were supposed to meet, we would.  But what if she was never part of my fate?  What if it just happened?  Did it mean anything?  Did we beat fate?

BOOM.

            We never knew.  I spent my time with others.  I spent a lot of time with others, one in particular.  She and I, we did see each other.  As a matter of fact, we are still together, but we just don't see a lot of each other during the summer.  Other than that, I really have no complaints.  As a matter of fact, I have no reason to write this.

BOOM!

 

Real World

Hi, and Hello.

            I've got a big problem,

                        a dilemma, if you will.

You see, well, I've got

            this bad thing inside me,

                        a conscience, in layman's terms.

Along with this comes the

            horrible, terrible, no-good

                        trait known as adulthood,

                                    which, although it is strived for

                                                by all us boys and girls, it can be

                                                            a pretty icky thing, to say the least.

The responsibilities that come

            with becoming a big person are

                        creating a nuisance with my inner child.

Everyone needs some time

            where they can be a real goof

                        in order to remove some stress

                                    from their everyday not-so-normal

                                                pain in the butt lives on this planet.

Unfortunately, there must also

            be time for everyone to

                        get all their useless work done

                                    so no one gets mad at them and they

                                                lose what social life they might have had.

Yeah, well, here in my world

            these times for necessary maturity

                        and having fun get in the way of

                                    the opposite, and this is where the

                                                source of my afore-mentioned problem lies.

It is quite difficult to be

            anal enough to actually do my

                        work while also trying to keep a

                                    bit of levity and humor, brainless as

                                                it may be, in my loosely structured

                                                            but chaotic-looking, fun-loving life.

People often tell me that

            I can never take anything

                        seriously, and then they

                                    turn around and tell me

                                                that I need to loosen up.

All I have to say to them is,

            "Leave me alone, you noseybodies!"

No, wait, don't go, I was

            only kidding around a little.

Did you think I was serious?

Well, in a way, I sort of was.

I believe you may have seen

            the applicable qualities of

                        my stupid problem by now.

I don't really want to grow up,

            but it seems that I am already

                        just a tiny bit too late for that.

 

 

When the world rolls by like a parade,

And you stand at the side waiting for someone to wave,

That is the time for you,

Catching a hold of the final float,

Holding on until you can turn enough to wave.

Try not to find yourself confused

Holding my words as the amused.

In living, I just say my mind

Not what I deem you need to find.

Know that I'm somewhere close behind.

 

Window

                           With wondering thoughts of right and wrong,

                                    Staring off into a window of blackness,

                                Surrounded by the society's morter.

                              Amongst shadows of what was,

                            Focus fell only on Him.

                         Quite and amazing,

                    With an stare,

                 Ever-moving.

     Surrounded by the lights who once shined for themselves,

                          But now lived for hopes of His approval.

                         One no more or less in stature until--

                        A flash to blind and ignite.

                   A fire without warmth,

                 And then nothing.

               The lights go dim,

      Then each strains to fill the impression made on Him.

                           For He feels no pain,

                          But He knows where,

                       He knows when,

                     He knows how.

                   Why?