I am becoming a poetry nut. Really like the stuff. I would really like to read some original poetry…anyone feel like showin off their gift?
Risk looking foolish for love, for your dreams, and for the joy of living…
An ode to my lunch
by: Cow God
The money is taken; my feast is delivered.
A crunchy snack of nacho cheese goodness
Is blessed with pretzel coating. My red
Savior of divine refreshment is fullness
Personified as I crack apart its silver
Opening. Caffeine! Oh the rush! I cannot infer
The greatness of the blessed meal before
Me. Each crunchy tidbit of snacky passion
Fills me with a craving for plenty more.
I have fought the hunger. I have won!
These magical elves that have touched my belly
Give thy spark to mine body and soul.
The fluid passes down my throat, not merely
A gift, but a way of life. This dark black coal
Water gives me new meaning to happiness and delight.
The morsels of joy sprout wings and take flight
Amongst the waves of soda. I have been on
The journey of hardships but the sea is now calm.
The bag of Combos is now empty; the last one gone.
No sips are left in my coke can as I crush it in my palm.
(not bad for having been written during a lunch period about 10 minutes before it was due)
“I’m not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.”
– Calvin and Hobbes
Cold ashes, grey skies,lifeless dreams,
Dead
Last night the cold moon laughed at me
while I dreampt of life
Alone
Forgotten childhood fantasies,
broken dreams and hopes
Gone
Life has no meaning, but death comes to soon.
Why?
Three minutes left, then back to work
A slurp of soda, a half-formed thought
Two minutes left, then back to work
I cannot know anothers pain,
nor can he know mine.
But I can share his happiness,
and that will suit just fine.
I suggest you do a search for the Spamku website. I’d tell you the URL, but I forgot it. It’s filled with over 5,000 haiku inspired by SPAM, the luncheon meat product.
My love for you has transformed me
and I am now more
Armadillo
Than I used to be
With more than my share of predators
Cracking their teeth on my armor
And spitting me onto the pavement
Where I send them away with a hard and victorious
“Fuck-off”
But while I was busy dodging traffic
Your spiney fangs pierced
My soft underbelly with such
Finesse
That I didn’t realize I was bleeding
Till the droplets tickled my nipples
And I’m still not sure if I should
laugh or cry
But it’s becoming increasingly evident that
Armadillos
Have a rough go of it either way
“I think it would be a great idea” Mohandas Ghandi’s answer when asked what he thought of Western civilization
These are really GREAT !!! 
I hope they keep coming
Risk looking foolish for love, for your dreams, and for the joy of living…
Shipwreck:
Grey rat swims, drowning.
Claw reaches, final gesture. Sand.
Grateful, mournful, laughing, weeping,
Roll over, night sky, breathe.
The starfish buzzing perfect harmonies.
Through the looking-glass
a hazy image I see
is it the same one you get
when you look at me?
I don’t think the image is true
doubt clouds my mind
both building and fading
with the passage of time
As the days pass by
and the end draws near
I long for the day
when the image is clear
That cat’s something I can’t explain
The past is strong
It is always there, trying to envelope you
but this monster must be cast off
and sent screaming to the depths
for while you expend all your
energies in this struggle
the present, the one true companion
slips away
That cat’s something I can’t explain
S It’s been a while since I’ve posted, but I’d sure like to throw something onto the pile here. It is, as of now, untitled.
Oh so true that you are not a woman
And should you be glad for it!
Like the changing moons…shifting tides
by far the more complete of pictures
Where my body and soul are concerned.
Pity those you admire.
See all that beauty?
Don’t compare her to a summer rose
But to a mountain wild flower.
For winds blow cold and the pain is great
But the rain is sweet and the sun is warm.
Living on the brink of despair
Living in the midst of peace.
Nature is well named dear man.
Seasonal in a longer spectrum.
She is a woman through to the core.
Hey Tigs! If you really love poetry… here are some wonderful poets to try… the indomitable Ogden Nash (wonderful and hilarious!), e e cummings (of COURSE!..the master of image and determined writing), and something out of the ordinary which is fun is Pome of the Deep Song by Federico Garcia Lorca (Poema Del Cante Jondo)… which is amazing in both the history and it’s own right.
Growing old is manditory. Growing wise is optional.
Word Association
language
without words
without worms
with out worms
with our worms
witch our worms
witch our words
which
language
languish
anguish
angst wish
anger’s wish
angels wish
so fleeting.
and shifting.
words.
(Just a little something i wrote when bored in Stats class…)
Shortest poem ever, as told to me by an English Honors teacher(it obeys all laws to qualify as poetry, whatever they are)
Fleas (title)
Adam
Had em
I wrote this one for my boss (Harriet) one Halloween. It comes back to me in times of strife:
This is the body of Harriet.
Around the office we’ll carry it
Until the Board Members scream
and their faces turn green
And they say we have to bury it.
“I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it,” Jack Handy
Down
Dive down
deep inside yourself
see the lofty cliffs
the black sea crashing
on the sharp rocks below
a lone figure dangles from the edge
you try to help
but you are powerless
the wind whips through you
chilling your body
numbness to the bone
all you can do is watch
and hope.
I must have had a bad day when I wrote that.
That cat’s something I can’t explain
Lucifer… That poem instantly brought to mind another of mine. Oddly, though there’s very little in common.
(another untitled)
Settle down, deep down. Don’t stop so close to the surface.
There’s so much… oh so much, to see here.
I’d offer you it all, but I’m afraid much of it is yours to begin with.
Truth be told, you’ll do all the work. I, you want to know of I?
I will only watch. Watch as you slip, slide, settle down, deep down.
Sigh quiet, peaceful quiet. Take in the scent and let it out.
The silence just holds you. It rocks you like none other.
Sweet perfume, a mild winter flower, carresses with air.
The winds are one touch of heat over your own. Fingers of air.
Fingers of air on skin to help you slide, settle, sigh quiet, peaceful quiet.
Embrace hope, loving hope. Stretch wide your arms.
I’ve had it here forever I sometimes think. Just waiting for your
wish, your desire.
Pluck the feathers of hope from the air, where the sigh holds it
suspended.
Gather them and hold them. They brush your neck, your chin.
I’ve had them too long. They’re yours when you settle, sigh, embrace
hope, loving hope.
Fly well, skyward well. Step up off the ground.
I’ve never done so, but I’ll watch. I’ll learn.
Give this moment, the air, the surrender, to the stillness.
And while you fly, I can marvel; wings outspread, feather down, touched
by starlight, by sunlight, by earthlight.
What an emerald gold on virgin white. Because you’ve the leave to sigh,
embrace, fly well, skyward well.
Growing old is manditory. Growing wise is optional.
well, I have never actually let anyone read these (oh please be nice) but, here goes…
my love for you
There’s nothing to be said for it’s all been thought before
Words unspoken like mist instead of rain.
Can you read my mind, ofr you always said you could
I’m blinded by a wall of glass through which I cannot see.
I try to deny it and disguise it.
My logic like water to a flame cures any confusion I could have.
I feel so confused like a person in a river.
At times I drift along, but ohters I strain to keep my head above the water. currents gently carry then overtake me.
I cannot describe what I feel.
It’s like an archer without a target…
or a writer with no quill.
Like a painter with no paintbrush
or a poet with no muse
to attempt to explain to thee how I feel-
t’would be of no use.
my hand
Under a crescent moon
where lovers have swooned
O, visible light, make this night
mine
If you were the moon, I’d be your stars
Can’t you see…
without you: I’m empty
a candle with no flame
a baby with no name
I want to feel your touch
for you to hold me in your arms
to keep me safe from alarm
a ripple on a lake
the moon reflects…
someone’s floating shadows
innocent and pure
I’ll always want to be sure
before you take me hand; be true with me
tell me you love me truly for who I am
and that with me you long to be
then you can have my hand.
the cesspool
I wanna scream and cry
to fit as a child who cannot have her way
I am so tired of keeping it inside
and silently spiting
these circumstances and feelings you have
for other than me
I wanna hit you and make you hurt
and feel the pain my heart does
and for once see what it’s worth
How can you ignore me
I’m tired of trying
Mad at you Mad at me
For things I think you don’t want to be
I’m so tired of crying
I can’t pretend to not see
so tired and don’t know how much
longer these things can be
so tired of crying.
tipi
well, I have never actually let anyone read these (oh please be nice) but, here goes…
my love for you
There’s nothing to be said for it’s all been thought before
Words unspoken like mist instead of rain.
Can you read my mind, ofr you always said you could
I’m blinded by a wall of glass through which I cannot see.
I try to deny it and disguise it.
My logic like water to a flame cures any confusion I could have.
I feel so confused like a person in a river.
At times I drift along, but ohters I strain to keep my head above the water. currents gently carry then overtake me.
I cannot describe what I feel.
It’s like an archer without a target…
or a writer with no quill.
Like a painter with no paintbrush
or a poet with no muse
to attempt to explain to thee how I feel-
t’would be of no use.
*** my hand***
Under a crescent moon
where lovers have swooned
O, visible light, make this night
mine
If you were the moon, I’d be your stars
Can’t you see…
without you: I’m empty
a candle with no flame
a baby with no name
I want to feel your touch
for you to hold me in your arms
to keep me safe from alarm
a ripple on a lake
the moon reflects…
someone’s floating shadows
innocent and pure
I’ll always want to be sure
before you take me hand; be true with me
tell me you love me truly for who I am
and that with me you long to be
then you can have my hand.
the cesspool
I wanna scream and cry
to fit as a child who cannot have her way
I am so tired of keeping it inside
and silently spiting
these circumstances and feelings you have
for other than me
I wanna hit you and make you hurt
and feel the pain my heart does
and for once see what it’s worth
How can you ignore me
I’m tired of trying
Mad at you Mad at me
For things I think you don’t want to be
I’m so tired of crying
I can’t pretend to not see
so tired and don’t know how much
longer these things can be
so tired of crying.
tipi