Old FriendsOld Friends
An old, very old, dusty playground.
Filled with echoes. Filled with laughter, long since gone.
Just a swing.
And a slide.
And a tear and a million thoughts, from an old friend, on a bench.
But, he never saw, was better off.
Was better just, to wonder where, his old friends went.
In an old, very old, dusty playground.
It's not here, friend.. you belong.
Beauty and the Beast
Beauty and the Beast
And you are the beauty that is but skin deep.
You shall cause kindness and many to weep.
You may disguise evil, or be trapped inside,
But I am your equal, wherever, you hide.
And you are the beast that would deform the kind.
You shall cause falsehood and sharpness of mind.
You may conceal virtues, or wait and prepare,
But I am your equal; where you are, I'm there.
Or so it is said..
The beast on the outside,
The beauty within.
We keep swapping places
But which one shall win?
The endless collision,
The strangest of balance,
As naught can survive
Without kindness and malice.
For you, are of the beauty,
And you are of the beast.
And none can be the other..
Without, the other's least.
Or so it is said..
I keep this wish
I keep this wish
There was a man, once said to me;
The sunrise, just over the hills here.
In the morning.
He was a story higher, still it was an empty street.
There was no sound but crackling torches,
And souls I'd never meet.
I paused my short adventure.
And passed not lightly, through this town.
For come the morning, it would be beautiful.
And it was.
And it would be ever more.
Not alone here, but in so many worlds.
So many worlds that I'd never explore.
Part of me spent eternity, lying a story beneath.
Beneath a man who once told me, upon an empty street.
He said to me..
The most beautiful thing you'll see.
Yet there are so many places I'll never explore.
To have more than one, eternity..
The third wave approached, sending forth a quiet blanket of water to carry a third distribution of sand between his malnourished yet strangely kempt looking toes. He knelt down to reach for a particular sparkle the sun had delivered to him, but slightly before a fourth attack, his balance gave way to a ray of dizziness that had caught him off guard. He fell forwards but witnessed no collision. Instead, a Grecian column found him leaning against it, his strength being diminished by the light of the moon and stars that were watching over the quiet, silver town that surrounded him. Somehow he was in no way alarmed. His mind summoned a rustling of the star like leaves of a nearby tree. A gust passed through the town, quenching the crackling sound of three nearby torches, and extinguishing the flame of the moonlight. He inhaled the air of the void around him in a long breath through his nose. Part of him smiled.
He felt a familiar hand gently touch the side of his face; a hand which would h
I sit and watch the stars' adventures,
Atop my cliff the world re-enters,
When I blink, the oceans crash,
When I think it all has passed,
Compare to this,
The endless list
Of things to come.
Never thinking I'd mature,
Begin to write, or find this land.
Find a friendship new as yours,
Or live to share with you, my hand.
I wonder, this time next year,
If I'd come back to this sky,
Just how this poem would read again,
Good day sir, MMI.
Pach, 61st night of Winter, MMI
Shall I Clobber Thee
Shall I not clobber thee?
Having thought the Clavi died, he ventured;
He knew that Clavi'd get no daily poem..
But now the fiend returns, with new dentures,
While Banjo brings the Ukulele home.
Mama took those batteries from Santur;
He'd handed Ukulele to the Borg,
Banjo had to be the gallivanter;
Saved him from bostonclavichord.org.
I sir, am Bick Pentameter, you know.
Leading ev'ry Clavi poem.. it's sucky.
'tis chimpanzees, not bubbles ye shall blow..
Sonnet's not intrigued, it's in Kentucky.
And this macadamia nuttlery,
She has tremendous taste in cutlery..
Never'd fit in a sonnet, any ending climatics,
You can keep yer pancakery, ye of odd aromatics..
Pach, 31st night of Winter, MMI
The gracious Karmadillo ventures far in search
of far but nearby trees near which to search;
to search for ever distant souls who search forever
wondering why the Karmadillo doesn't stop to search
inside their church nearby the tree; To search there for eternity.
The wondering souls want answers that the Karmadillo knows,
but the Karmadillo knows the souls must know that on their own
they'll find they'll know that which the Karmadillo ventures on his own
for; the things they long to know for, that the Karmadillo knows.
The Karmadillo knows they search
for nearby trees like him.
Perhaps someday they'll understand,
they'll know they're just like him.
The bolder boulder's getting colder; older as the boulder smoulders.
Kept it all inside her folder, despite the words the boulder told 'er.
But still it's all so savvy, without the boulder's clavi,
It seems it has all gone, as is the supple's Mon'.
Still I wonder.. 'this a blunder?
Where's the thunder? All snow'd under?
Now I ponder, over yonder,
Helloh, is John ther'? The Banjo's fonder..
Speaking of which, speaking from a ditch,
At a very high pitch, like he had a strange itch.
Since there has been no word, tho' it may be absurd,
The rule is, I've heard, that the clavi comes third..
And the Banjo shall reign, shall be freed of his pain..
Dammit I miss Elaine.. still this honour I've gained.
There'd best be word soon.. for soon will come the noon,
And the Banjo play'll the victory tune.. as he sits on his boulder.
Doesn't look lahk they's commin'..
Still the Banjo keeps hummin'..