Raindrops brightly gleam
Upon the magnolia,
Blades grinding closer
Taking On 2025 - Top Films
1 week ago
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
4 June, 2009 - Mirror Haiku
Morning rolls with pride,
The between hours fade out,
Night blankets the sky
Night blankets the sky,
The between hours fade out,
Morning rolls with pride
The between hours fade out,
Night blankets the sky
Night blankets the sky,
The between hours fade out,
Morning rolls with pride
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
2 June, 2009 - "Child Perched Atop the Tree"
"Child Perched Atop the Tree"
Nights float by, blending into days.
Pastels on the Earth's surface, blurring.
Mountains wash over waves, trees snap,
Red spills slowly over dense forests
In midday suns as rain cleans the canvas.
Canvases cleared for the next artist,
Perhaps for the next cans to knock over
Or another paint brush to fall off the shelf.
A bristle, at least waiting for a bristle.
Unattended and unacknowledged,
The linen becomes the breeze.
Nights float by, blending into days.
Pastels on the Earth's surface, blurring.
Mountains wash over waves, trees snap,
Red spills slowly over dense forests
In midday suns as rain cleans the canvas.
Canvases cleared for the next artist,
Perhaps for the next cans to knock over
Or another paint brush to fall off the shelf.
A bristle, at least waiting for a bristle.
Unattended and unacknowledged,
The linen becomes the breeze.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
30 May, 2009 - Untitled
Thrice through the night the clock blasts,
Waking the dead, walking with vigor
Past bustling cities and farms so vast
As Cain's child cuddles the trigger.
Waking the dead, walking with vigor
Past bustling cities and farms so vast
As Cain's child cuddles the trigger.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
May 28th, 2009 - Commercial Interruptions
"Commercial Interruptions"
Game shows roll across snowy screens,
Hissing and spinning nightmares.
Contestants clutch new furniture,
Wheel sofas inside cramped ranchers
Pressing against jammed doors,
Locked windows.
Talk shows turning up lost children,
Forgotten parents,
Mistresses of the plumber’s wife.
Stained glass windows shine,
Lighting precious china, golden candles.
Prizes, presents, and prisoners
Lovingly arranged and showcased,
Placed on shelves in suburban homes,
Suffocating hallways and cluttering cabinets.
Midday rides inside on a thoroughbred stallion,
Swords swinging like children in a playground,
Terrified tears trickling past a plastered grin
When a soap opera begins
And a teacup falls.
Game shows roll across snowy screens,
Hissing and spinning nightmares.
Contestants clutch new furniture,
Wheel sofas inside cramped ranchers
Pressing against jammed doors,
Locked windows.
Talk shows turning up lost children,
Forgotten parents,
Mistresses of the plumber’s wife.
Stained glass windows shine,
Lighting precious china, golden candles.
Prizes, presents, and prisoners
Lovingly arranged and showcased,
Placed on shelves in suburban homes,
Suffocating hallways and cluttering cabinets.
Midday rides inside on a thoroughbred stallion,
Swords swinging like children in a playground,
Terrified tears trickling past a plastered grin
When a soap opera begins
And a teacup falls.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
May 27th, 2009 - Rainy Evenings in Bastrop
Rainy Evenings in Bastrop
Memories remain stagnant and deep,
Perfectly lurking, gathering, growing
Graves lining the congested street
Lights spilling over roses in pavement.
Laughter swims past sad lamp posts
Standing guard as footsteps silence the night.
Flames light a broken grove,
Teenage hands gently claw out kittens’ eyes.
Memories remain stagnant and deep,
Perfectly lurking, gathering, growing
Graves lining the congested street
Lights spilling over roses in pavement.
Laughter swims past sad lamp posts
Standing guard as footsteps silence the night.
Flames light a broken grove,
Teenage hands gently claw out kittens’ eyes.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
March 28th, 2009 - Freyr Saga
“Freyr’s Flight”
Cardboard boxes wheeled in through the door,
Neighbors listened as the screams were suppressed.
Shoplifted dreams and expectations are stored,
Seeking a new final place to rest.
Our old house was like a garden
On a Saharan night in May,
Our new house is the wrapping paper
One morning after Christmas Day.
Cranes roost on the picket fence,
Gleeful stares shattering our windows,
While you watch nightly new programs
And the over burns our first dinner.
“Freyr’s Seclusion”
Raindrops spill over pots strewn across the floor,
Falling through our bedroom ceiling.
Retreating to my chair I contemplate these feelings
Longing for the flames that burned our home
Yearning for the fire that charred your face
Forgetting the flames that spared our hate,
Pouring another glass of scotch to douse my regret.
Water runs down the door’s throat
Cutting off the house’s lower level
Washing away our unpacked cardboard
Diluting open liquor bottles on the table
Vomiting old photos of our wedding night
Flooding from the front door into the street.
Cranes fly from storm clouds to the creaky roof.
Staring, my empty glass reflects a distorted face,
Winds blow a moldy scent through my nostrils
And a puddle numbs my bare feet.
“Freyr’s Morning Meal”
Cranes settled by the garden side, watching with remorse,
Our two plates piled with pancakes on the clean kitchen table.
Cloudy skies peeled away revealing an orange globe
Hanging from the neck of a raven taking a final flight west.
Cattle grazed and goats rammed heads along the fence,
Peacocks preened inside our kitchen, stripped of two walls,
As we sat in silence, pouring syrup and stale whiskey.
Cardboard boxes wheeled in through the door,
Neighbors listened as the screams were suppressed.
Shoplifted dreams and expectations are stored,
Seeking a new final place to rest.
Our old house was like a garden
On a Saharan night in May,
Our new house is the wrapping paper
One morning after Christmas Day.
Cranes roost on the picket fence,
Gleeful stares shattering our windows,
While you watch nightly new programs
And the over burns our first dinner.
“Freyr’s Seclusion”
Raindrops spill over pots strewn across the floor,
Falling through our bedroom ceiling.
Retreating to my chair I contemplate these feelings
Longing for the flames that burned our home
Yearning for the fire that charred your face
Forgetting the flames that spared our hate,
Pouring another glass of scotch to douse my regret.
Water runs down the door’s throat
Cutting off the house’s lower level
Washing away our unpacked cardboard
Diluting open liquor bottles on the table
Vomiting old photos of our wedding night
Flooding from the front door into the street.
Cranes fly from storm clouds to the creaky roof.
Staring, my empty glass reflects a distorted face,
Winds blow a moldy scent through my nostrils
And a puddle numbs my bare feet.
“Freyr’s Morning Meal”
Cranes settled by the garden side, watching with remorse,
Our two plates piled with pancakes on the clean kitchen table.
Cloudy skies peeled away revealing an orange globe
Hanging from the neck of a raven taking a final flight west.
Cattle grazed and goats rammed heads along the fence,
Peacocks preened inside our kitchen, stripped of two walls,
As we sat in silence, pouring syrup and stale whiskey.
Friday, March 27, 2009
March 27th, 2009 - "Evening Scenes Performed inside the Ford"
“Evening Scenes Performed inside the Ford”
He holds me, my Father, rocking me lazily,
Whispers find my ear, overflowing compassion,
Confidence flowing inside my crystallized veins
Delivering, lethargically, signs of slow smoke.
Down, through clouds, I fall. Divine eyes scanning His Earth
Lovingly fixed upon huddling, famished masses.
Penetrating fluff, breaking seams, dodging jet planes
He gently guides me, with safety, to His surface.
He spies on me weekly, sending cards on Christmas,
Assuring me of His presence every Easter,
Calling me on weekends with unwavering care.
His glory eternal, always necessary.
Up, in chains, I search. Judges gazing upon me.
Sun rays caress my scalp like fingers holding coal.
Crowds shout as I, with a son’s confidence, confess:
I shot the Devil. And the blade fell.
He holds me, my Father, rocking me lazily,
Whispers find my ear, overflowing compassion,
Confidence flowing inside my crystallized veins
Delivering, lethargically, signs of slow smoke.
Down, through clouds, I fall. Divine eyes scanning His Earth
Lovingly fixed upon huddling, famished masses.
Penetrating fluff, breaking seams, dodging jet planes
He gently guides me, with safety, to His surface.
He spies on me weekly, sending cards on Christmas,
Assuring me of His presence every Easter,
Calling me on weekends with unwavering care.
His glory eternal, always necessary.
Up, in chains, I search. Judges gazing upon me.
Sun rays caress my scalp like fingers holding coal.
Crowds shout as I, with a son’s confidence, confess:
I shot the Devil. And the blade fell.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
March 24th, 2009 - "Battery Park, Flat Twelve in Gateway Plaza"
“Battery Park, Flat Twelve in Gateway Plaza”
One: Woman average height,
Drop the sheath down the front, hold the towel.
Thread the needle and sew.
Number Two: Man average height.
Slice and stitch, dispose of excess in jar,
For skin lost patch as needed.
Pull the lever, send the man, the women.
Elderly man, number three, skin sagging.
Raise arms, insert pins, tug the face,
Smile, always smile.
Number Four: Aged Woman, over weight.
Barren and dried up, productivity down.
Left, send her left and Reevaluate.
Number Five, Number Six: Couple,
Both balding and destitute
Decaying in town, reassignments needed.
Homeless woman, Number Seven.
Medicate, Educate – wait,
Gauge response or Dispose.
Number Eight: Man, middle aged.
Waiting – Working, without direction,
Starving nightly, Drinking hourly.
Number Nine: Woman, barely.
Sexless and Diseased, walking Porcelain
Ready to smash when Pushed.
Push the switch, send the woman, the men.
Number Ten: Boy, sixteen and innocent.
Science, Sports, and Sex, all removed,
Stripped and sewn, stunted in Development,
Slowly Straying from Society,
Shackle and Sedate, use Force.
Number Eleven: Child, obese.
Gender gone, Plaster applied
Brutally Kind, Locked aWay.
toddler, number twelve, inferior,
deficient, indecent, cowardly,
useless, and strangled, sadly surviving.
Number Thirteen: Baby.
One: Woman average height,
Drop the sheath down the front, hold the towel.
Thread the needle and sew.
Number Two: Man average height.
Slice and stitch, dispose of excess in jar,
For skin lost patch as needed.
Pull the lever, send the man, the women.
Elderly man, number three, skin sagging.
Raise arms, insert pins, tug the face,
Smile, always smile.
Number Four: Aged Woman, over weight.
Barren and dried up, productivity down.
Left, send her left and Reevaluate.
Number Five, Number Six: Couple,
Both balding and destitute
Decaying in town, reassignments needed.
Homeless woman, Number Seven.
Medicate, Educate – wait,
Gauge response or Dispose.
Number Eight: Man, middle aged.
Waiting – Working, without direction,
Starving nightly, Drinking hourly.
Number Nine: Woman, barely.
Sexless and Diseased, walking Porcelain
Ready to smash when Pushed.
Push the switch, send the woman, the men.
Number Ten: Boy, sixteen and innocent.
Science, Sports, and Sex, all removed,
Stripped and sewn, stunted in Development,
Slowly Straying from Society,
Shackle and Sedate, use Force.
Number Eleven: Child, obese.
Gender gone, Plaster applied
Brutally Kind, Locked aWay.
toddler, number twelve, inferior,
deficient, indecent, cowardly,
useless, and strangled, sadly surviving.
Number Thirteen: Baby.
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