You disparage insects;
I see you flitter;
Pull your hands away.
Heart ache desire
And obsessive sentiment
Has left this empty -
You disparage insects;
I disparge you.
Hey, look-ie here! Another poem written during Humn! Won't Shawnda be proud...
Has Anyone seen Greek theater?
Has anyone seen Greek theatre?
I seem to have misplaced it.
That first scene...
I do not remember.
Lost amidst two thousand years
Was I there? Was it there?
To know, to finally now,
Am I so old?
But there:to my un-dismay
High on the scales,
There it is, the chance
Of a life-long-lifetime. This poem was noted down during Communication (with Jay).
I also wrote a stream of consciousness essay, that's actually what sparked the poem.
It's untitled, and it follows the poem.
When I write
When I write I
don't notice my
self dotting the
i's.
Very prominent using this stream more they thought - the bus engine is running out the window.
Fab. 1906. Surreal, daydream, modernist art. Okay. Fix the watch. I like pictures, don't you know.
Realism - Toby is a photo-realist. Doors of Lazarus.
Ripples in the pond. Completely natural style. A way of representing the world.
Superficial Superman.
Reproduction - not with a copier.
Raise a red hand.
Big eyes - aliens - X-files - Cartman get's an anal probe. Kenny always dies.
Violin in Palet-strings. Turn a page.
Nothing is wrong with him - cough, cough.
Reality is complicated - we like the crazy stuff.
Not anchored in a - move to notes.
Yesterday, all my troubles, yeah stop singing
Whirlpool - what's the word?
Must stop - I cannot concentrate
I'm not confused!
Bye-bye And here are two more, written in Wyoming A3D, while watching television.
Colors
Blue, red, yellow, white
These colors - my fright
SB if not before 7 star haunted castle lane
Blue, red, yellow, white
These colors - my fright
Spree grin if drinking not combing for secrets
Blue, red, yellow white
These colors - my fright
Desk set tender caring roofs if snow columns
Blue, red, yellow, white
These colors - my fright
Steps to light
Steps - to the light.
Untitled
"Coffee table, I am your Master."
You are low, you are my slave -
Move your feet, you whisper -
I WILL NOT.
Snicker, turn my chin
Disdain, contempt,
Accept your place!
Now what?
You slither quietly away -
A contest?
Tap, tap - perhaps I have lost
schripp
My feet take to the ground - and my eyes are still. I wrote this batch at 2 AM alone in my room, and they maintain that "2 AM alone in room" quality.
50%
Kindly give me half a clue
I'm shy and dumb
And don't know what to do.
Plea
Normality calls for
Senseless wandering;
Sensibly speaking, have you
Any help to bring?
My reflections on the Beatles song, "I Want to Hold Your Hand"
Trite, it might be -
Lite, it sure sounds -
Bite, it has none -
Quite the hit.
Old in some eyes,
Bold in mine,
With a backbeat and a melody and a
Message of hope
Still unattained.
I'm in a free experimentation/nonsense mood right now, here's one for you:
Nonsense Poem 3
Mathcad PLUS 6
What's it all about?
Math has no cads
Batteries have cads
Cats don't have hands
Plus + - = symbols and signs
denote and connote times
six is a round line
with a line top curvy
black on white so what
white on black what so
writing papers suck
writing poems rock
media studies, on the other hand, are my true joy and wonder in the dismal world through which we trudge our muddied soles.
Somebody requested a happy poem - here you go folks, it's all in the title.
March 13 1999 ~3 AM
Yippee!
I was cleaning my room today, and while going through lots of stuff from high school, I came across this poem. I must have
written it in my senior year, I think. It's a little rough - I'd like to revise it, but I will remain true to my past self's
wishes. It's clear what the intention (structurally, at least) was - but I think the content is very interesting, I've been writing
sappy love poems for a while, I guess. I have no idea who this was written about - probably just the emotion, not any person in
specific.
I'm also testing out a new font method - tell me if you like it or not.
...But I'll Be With You Tomorrow
I sit in my room.
Boredom.
I leaf through my math book, but it cannot hold my attention.
I reach for the VCR remote, and I switch from channel to channel.
Nothing works.
I nibble on some swiss cheese, and my mind wanders away.
I remember walking with you, hand in hand,
and I smile with happiness.
But as my eyes open, you are not here.
A barren wasteland appears on the TV -
a winter white, a lone snow leopard crawling across the barren tundra.
I am alone...
Finally, two new poems for you to read. Inspired by troublesome back pain.
Untitled [TV]
I always wanted to be a TV.
A TV thrown out a three story window
smashed to the ground
parts all around
a garbled junk mess of picture and sound.
Untitled [Newspaper]
I always wanted to be a newspaper.
Coupled through with a stapler,
a piercing of words
and a bleeding of stuff -
stuff they call stories (but I just call fluff).
