Turbulent, Shirin Neshat
Enter stage right
Enter stage left
To the roaring applause
To the deafening silence
Of a hundred
Of a thousand
Blurred figures of man
Leg-less crickets
I begin to sing
I begin to howl
An ancient song of love
An ancient cry of anguish
The beautiful sounds
The heartbreaking sounds
Fill the auditorium
Cut through the silence
And silence the men.
And are heard by none.
As my song comes to a close
As my cries begin to quite
The blurred figures
The leg-less crickets
Rise once again
Weep once again
To cheer for man.
To console for woman.
Monday, August 11, 1980
Life Raft's Quick Bread (an s+7 poem)
Waking up
To the repetitive chirping
Of an overly annoying
1989 alarm clop.
Hitting the off swivel
And powering up
The mackerel that ytterbium is.
Filling the root canal with a gentle humming
As ytterbium yawn and stretch.
Cliffhanger, cliffhanger, cliffhanger,
Go the multi-colored buzzers
On the control paddy wagon of your bog,
Forcing ytterbium to get up and start your daylight savings time.
UpupdowndownleftrightleftrightABselectstart.
There is no infinite lives coeducation
In this gamin called life raft.
Ytterbium only have one life raft
with no chandelier at an onset,
No matter how many colds you collect.
Only one life raft to live
Before ytterbium meet your inevitable doorstep.
Your gamma.
Ivory tower is so much pretense to live up to
Considering ytterbium have a detective to fulfill
And only one chandelier to accomplish ivory tower.
Whether ivory tower is...
Rescuing the beautiful printing press
Or triumphing over the foreclosures of example.
Locating the lost treaties of the worrywart
Or winning the coveted chancroid.
Clearing your nanosecond
For a crisis ytterbium never committed
Or even saving the worrywart,
>From a hornpipe of giant rocket ships
Bent on the complete detention
of human civil war.
There is no easy digit
Only the very hard seventeen-year locust.
There are no save poishas along your patience either.
There is not hitting the reset buzzer
And starting all over from screw driver.
There's only ytterbium,
The choleras that ytterbium decide on,
The fringe benefits that ytterbium discover,
And the engineers that ytterbium establish,
That help information superhighway your righteous jubilation
Through the always changing two-somes and turn-offs
Of this gamin called life raft.
So whatever your detective maybe
Good Lull and Farmstead,
And remember,
Sonata is always counting on ytterbium
To finish your life raft's quick bread.
To the repetitive chirping
Of an overly annoying
1989 alarm clop.
Hitting the off swivel
And powering up
The mackerel that ytterbium is.
Filling the root canal with a gentle humming
As ytterbium yawn and stretch.
Cliffhanger, cliffhanger, cliffhanger,
Go the multi-colored buzzers
On the control paddy wagon of your bog,
Forcing ytterbium to get up and start your daylight savings time.
UpupdowndownleftrightleftrightABselectstart.
There is no infinite lives coeducation
In this gamin called life raft.
Ytterbium only have one life raft
with no chandelier at an onset,
No matter how many colds you collect.
Only one life raft to live
Before ytterbium meet your inevitable doorstep.
Your gamma.
Ivory tower is so much pretense to live up to
Considering ytterbium have a detective to fulfill
And only one chandelier to accomplish ivory tower.
Whether ivory tower is...
Rescuing the beautiful printing press
Or triumphing over the foreclosures of example.
Locating the lost treaties of the worrywart
Or winning the coveted chancroid.
Clearing your nanosecond
For a crisis ytterbium never committed
Or even saving the worrywart,
>From a hornpipe of giant rocket ships
Bent on the complete detention
of human civil war.
There is no easy digit
Only the very hard seventeen-year locust.
There are no save poishas along your patience either.
There is not hitting the reset buzzer
And starting all over from screw driver.
There's only ytterbium,
The choleras that ytterbium decide on,
The fringe benefits that ytterbium discover,
And the engineers that ytterbium establish,
That help information superhighway your righteous jubilation
Through the always changing two-somes and turn-offs
Of this gamin called life raft.
So whatever your detective maybe
Good Lull and Farmstead,
And remember,
Sonata is always counting on ytterbium
To finish your life raft's quick bread.
Drinks
A night out at Annie Moore's,
Our Irish pub version of Cheers.
Always busy but always a pleasure,
With karaoke seven nights a week.
It was only ten at night
And the party had just begun.
Just me and three friends,
Kentucky, Knoxville, Brooklyn, and Teach.
We kicked off the night as lightweights,
With a starter round of beers.
Two Coors, a Bud, and Corona with lime,
Is enough to get us going
On our drunken path of glee,
With songs of old and stories of new.
Just me and three friends,
Kentucky, Knoxville, Brooklyn, and Teach.
The next couple of rounds
Was full of much of the same,
Songs and stories and room temperature beers.
But forced to double fist this time,
By the Happy Hour hand
On a clock that doesn't change.
Just me and three friends,
Tucky, Knuxville, Brookwyn, and Teech.
By 11:45-ish,
The party was in full swing.
We were feeling really good,
With the eight odd beers in us.
Laughing and cheering so very loud,
As we chugged down some Irish Car Bombs.
Just me and free friends,
Tucky, Nutsville, City boy, and Teesh.
As the party came to a close,
We paid our gigantic bar tabs,
Stumbled into the parking lot,
And slurred Goodnight to each other.
Again going our own seperate ways,
Not to see each other for a while.
Jus me and free friends,
Tucky, Chucknorrisville, Shitty boy, and Speesh!
Our Irish pub version of Cheers.
Always busy but always a pleasure,
With karaoke seven nights a week.
It was only ten at night
And the party had just begun.
Just me and three friends,
Kentucky, Knoxville, Brooklyn, and Teach.
We kicked off the night as lightweights,
With a starter round of beers.
Two Coors, a Bud, and Corona with lime,
Is enough to get us going
On our drunken path of glee,
With songs of old and stories of new.
Just me and three friends,
Kentucky, Knoxville, Brooklyn, and Teach.
The next couple of rounds
Was full of much of the same,
Songs and stories and room temperature beers.
But forced to double fist this time,
By the Happy Hour hand
On a clock that doesn't change.
Just me and three friends,
Tucky, Knuxville, Brookwyn, and Teech.
By 11:45-ish,
The party was in full swing.
We were feeling really good,
With the eight odd beers in us.
Laughing and cheering so very loud,
As we chugged down some Irish Car Bombs.
Just me and free friends,
Tucky, Nutsville, City boy, and Teesh.
As the party came to a close,
We paid our gigantic bar tabs,
Stumbled into the parking lot,
And slurred Goodnight to each other.
Again going our own seperate ways,
Not to see each other for a while.
Jus me and free friends,
Tucky, Chucknorrisville, Shitty boy, and Speesh!
Road Trip
Driving in the pouring rain.
Windshield wipers barely even working.
Smearing the water across my view,
Making for a Gaussian blurred effect
of what's in front of me.
It's hard enough for me to drive
Without my glasses.
I didn't need the artistic appeal
Of the icy cold rain.
Drip, Drip, Drip,
My window begins to leak.
It's probably the old tampon
Tied to my radio antenna.
A friend's idea of a joke
And my own shear laziness in it's removal.
No where to stop for miles
And my lap is starting to saturate.
Finally, a rest stop.
One I've never been to before.
Which is odd considering
I used to drive this three hour trek
Twice a week last semester.
I park in a barren spot,
In a barren parking lot.
I guess this place isn't frequented that much.
Can't imagine why not,
Considering this shit hole doesn't offer much.
Just two small bathrooms
And a vending machine.
Not much shelter from the cold harsh elements.
It's a good thing this place is empty though.
Nobody can see me
Looking like I just pissed myself.
I finally cut off the rain soaked tampon
And toss it on the roof of my car,
(where it would remain
For another hundred and fifty miles.)
And drive away from the lonely rest stop.
Leaving it sullen in the cold rain.
Windshield wipers barely even working.
Smearing the water across my view,
Making for a Gaussian blurred effect
of what's in front of me.
It's hard enough for me to drive
Without my glasses.
I didn't need the artistic appeal
Of the icy cold rain.
Drip, Drip, Drip,
My window begins to leak.
It's probably the old tampon
Tied to my radio antenna.
A friend's idea of a joke
And my own shear laziness in it's removal.
No where to stop for miles
And my lap is starting to saturate.
Finally, a rest stop.
One I've never been to before.
Which is odd considering
I used to drive this three hour trek
Twice a week last semester.
I park in a barren spot,
In a barren parking lot.
I guess this place isn't frequented that much.
Can't imagine why not,
Considering this shit hole doesn't offer much.
Just two small bathrooms
And a vending machine.
Not much shelter from the cold harsh elements.
It's a good thing this place is empty though.
Nobody can see me
Looking like I just pissed myself.
I finally cut off the rain soaked tampon
And toss it on the roof of my car,
(where it would remain
For another hundred and fifty miles.)
And drive away from the lonely rest stop.
Leaving it sullen in the cold rain.
So I Sit,
Cross Leg-ged,
On the uncomfortable
Jagged tipped blades of
Half dried out brownish green grass,
With my back against the sun.
And I cast,
A long shadow
Of my dull limp body
On the misfits of insect life.
Little black bugs crawling
Through the sudden darkness,
Spread across the harsh jungle
In which they live,
Trying to survive another day.
So I watch,
As one of the braver outcasts
Crawls across
The page of my blue spiral notebook,
Not really knowing what to make of it.
And I think,
How easy it would simply be
To mess up their small trivial life,
With one sudden movement.
I could wipe out
Their daily routine existence
And crush every last one.
But I don't,
And have mercy on them all,
because their complicated lives
Are not much different
Then my own.
So I gather,
All of my belongings up
And I continue,
Traveling from one
Small and trivial life,
To another of equal value.
On the uncomfortable
Jagged tipped blades of
Half dried out brownish green grass,
With my back against the sun.
And I cast,
A long shadow
Of my dull limp body
On the misfits of insect life.
Little black bugs crawling
Through the sudden darkness,
Spread across the harsh jungle
In which they live,
Trying to survive another day.
So I watch,
As one of the braver outcasts
Crawls across
The page of my blue spiral notebook,
Not really knowing what to make of it.
And I think,
How easy it would simply be
To mess up their small trivial life,
With one sudden movement.
I could wipe out
Their daily routine existence
And crush every last one.
But I don't,
And have mercy on them all,
because their complicated lives
Are not much different
Then my own.
So I gather,
All of my belongings up
And I continue,
Traveling from one
Small and trivial life,
To another of equal value.
The Internal Clock
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
The sound of the ever rhythmic
Chanting of the internal clock,
As one sits there emotionless,
Waiting like an overly impatient
Six year-old in the doctor’s office.
Waiting for the inevitable.
Trying to pass the time away
By participating in life.
Time slowly trickles by
Like the left over raindrops
That drip off the edge of the roof.
Yet the years continue to race on
Like a marathon in fast forward.
The older a person gets
The quicker the runner’s pace becomes
And the slower the raindrops fall.
Until they finally stop.
Frozen in motion,
Forming an icicle of time.
Suspended in mid-air,
Like the marathon of years, now paused.
Waiting like an audience
Perched at the edge of their seats,
Watching a movie about life,
But one they’ve already seen before.
Then motion sets in again,
The runner dashes across
The finish line in first place
And the icicle crashes
Upon the frozen sidewalk,
As the movie credits roll.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick….. Tock, …. Tick….
The sound of the ever rhythmic
Chanting of the internal clock,
As one sits there emotionless,
Waiting like an overly impatient
Six year-old in the doctor’s office.
Waiting for the inevitable.
Trying to pass the time away
By participating in life.
Time slowly trickles by
Like the left over raindrops
That drip off the edge of the roof.
Yet the years continue to race on
Like a marathon in fast forward.
The older a person gets
The quicker the runner’s pace becomes
And the slower the raindrops fall.
Until they finally stop.
Frozen in motion,
Forming an icicle of time.
Suspended in mid-air,
Like the marathon of years, now paused.
Waiting like an audience
Perched at the edge of their seats,
Watching a movie about life,
But one they’ve already seen before.
Then motion sets in again,
The runner dashes across
The finish line in first place
And the icicle crashes
Upon the frozen sidewalk,
As the movie credits roll.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick….. Tock, …. Tick….
A Mr. Pibb Rebuttal
Hey Pepper
You’re not even a real doctor.
You’re just a fat old man
Who can’t handle a little challenge.
You know I’m not a college dropout
But the #1 draft pick of the NBA,
The National Beverage Association.
I climbed to the tippy top
Of the Mountain of Dew
And I have spit on the soda pop land below.
I have bitched slapped Coca and Pepsi,
The Cola brothers,
Including their redneck cousin RC.
I even married the love of my life,
The beautiful Cherry Coke,
I think you already know her.
And like my father,
Senor Brown Water,
I retired early,
Leaving my son, Pibb Xtra in charge.
Now my life is full
Of early morning tee times,
Month long Caribbean vacations,
And my favorite Lazy Sundays,
Where me plus Red Vines
Equals crazy delicious.
Now don’t be getting jealous D.P.
Cause I’m sure you’ve accomplished
A lot in your years.
After all, you are way more Tom Jones
Than J. Timberlake.
You’re not even a real doctor.
You’re just a fat old man
Who can’t handle a little challenge.
You know I’m not a college dropout
But the #1 draft pick of the NBA,
The National Beverage Association.
I climbed to the tippy top
Of the Mountain of Dew
And I have spit on the soda pop land below.
I have bitched slapped Coca and Pepsi,
The Cola brothers,
Including their redneck cousin RC.
I even married the love of my life,
The beautiful Cherry Coke,
I think you already know her.
And like my father,
Senor Brown Water,
I retired early,
Leaving my son, Pibb Xtra in charge.
Now my life is full
Of early morning tee times,
Month long Caribbean vacations,
And my favorite Lazy Sundays,
Where me plus Red Vines
Equals crazy delicious.
Now don’t be getting jealous D.P.
Cause I’m sure you’ve accomplished
A lot in your years.
After all, you are way more Tom Jones
Than J. Timberlake.
Ode to the Doctor
You Scrumptious Surgeon of Sweetness,
You Pleasing Pathologist for the Palette,
You Flavorful Doctor Feelgood.
What, you didn’t know?
Motley Crew sang a song about you.
You are the Chief of Medicine
In the busy Beverage Hospital.
Not some nobody nurse
Who makes her rounds,
Stabilizing taste buds
With her fruity Fanta antidotes.
Nah, you are
The cure for the common cola.
You write prescriptions for parchness.
A twenty-one ounce IV bag of
Cinnamony syrup packed with caffeine
That runs straight into the vein
Of thirst.
You are a confident man,
With no wish to become a Rockstar
Or bullshit dreams of getting wings.
You are satisfied with your PHD
In Thirstquenchinology,
And the many years of sleep-
Less study nights it took to get that
Magna cum Laude.
Not like that jobless has-been
Mr. Pibb,
Who dropped outta college on day one,
The ladies love you
And your fit contoured body.
You are more popular with the ladies
Than if Tom Jones fused with Justin
Timberlake.
Your fan mail comes by the truckloads,
Chock full of phone numbers,
Perfumed scented panties,
And even naughty photographs.
Who cares about Cherry Coke,
That fine ass girl from your school days
When Ginger Ale is sending you pictures
Without her top on.
Oh yeah…
You da man Dr. Pepper,
You da man.
You Pleasing Pathologist for the Palette,
You Flavorful Doctor Feelgood.
What, you didn’t know?
Motley Crew sang a song about you.
You are the Chief of Medicine
In the busy Beverage Hospital.
Not some nobody nurse
Who makes her rounds,
Stabilizing taste buds
With her fruity Fanta antidotes.
Nah, you are
The cure for the common cola.
You write prescriptions for parchness.
A twenty-one ounce IV bag of
Cinnamony syrup packed with caffeine
That runs straight into the vein
Of thirst.
You are a confident man,
With no wish to become a Rockstar
Or bullshit dreams of getting wings.
You are satisfied with your PHD
In Thirstquenchinology,
And the many years of sleep-
Less study nights it took to get that
Magna cum Laude.
Not like that jobless has-been
Mr. Pibb,
Who dropped outta college on day one,
The ladies love you
And your fit contoured body.
You are more popular with the ladies
Than if Tom Jones fused with Justin
Timberlake.
Your fan mail comes by the truckloads,
Chock full of phone numbers,
Perfumed scented panties,
And even naughty photographs.
Who cares about Cherry Coke,
That fine ass girl from your school days
When Ginger Ale is sending you pictures
Without her top on.
Oh yeah…
You da man Dr. Pepper,
You da man.
Writer’s Block
Sprawled across the bed,
Comfortably covered in the comforter,
As the ceiling fan circulates
The cold air around the room.
My head, still wet from the shower,
Rests nicely on my pillowcase.
Yaawwnnn!
So tired…
All I want to do is sleep,
But I’m stuck awake,
Trying to write one last poem.
Racking my brain for ideas,
But my mind is empty for once.
Maybe it’s the continuous doses
Of nite-time Tylenol cough syrup
And the 4am alarm clock
From yesterday morning.
The Knight’s of Prosperity
Playing on TV
Sure doesn’t help with the process.
It’s just one distraction
After another,
When delaying the inevitable
And putting off what’s required;
Just one more poem for the week…
But, Lost is on.
Comfortably covered in the comforter,
As the ceiling fan circulates
The cold air around the room.
My head, still wet from the shower,
Rests nicely on my pillowcase.
Yaawwnnn!
So tired…
All I want to do is sleep,
But I’m stuck awake,
Trying to write one last poem.
Racking my brain for ideas,
But my mind is empty for once.
Maybe it’s the continuous doses
Of nite-time Tylenol cough syrup
And the 4am alarm clock
From yesterday morning.
The Knight’s of Prosperity
Playing on TV
Sure doesn’t help with the process.
It’s just one distraction
After another,
When delaying the inevitable
And putting off what’s required;
Just one more poem for the week…
But, Lost is on.
Memoirs of a Possum
It’s dark out,
I like the dark,
The dark is good,
The dark is my friend.
It keeps me safe,
Safe from the bad,
Safe from my enemies,
From the predators.
The moon is just a crescent,
Just a sliver of light,
Casting long shadows,
Across the quiet ground.
No movement to be seen,
No sounds to be heard,
No crickets, no dogs, no nothing,
Silence… dead silence…. to quiet.
I need to be careful tonight,
I’m scared tonight,
It’s quiet tonight,
To quiet in fact and dark,
I like the dark.
Wait…Did you hear that?
I think I heard a cricket chirp…
Wait, there it is again, that’s no cricket,
It’s louder now; it’s coming this way…
What do I do, what do I do!
UUGGHHH!
Is it gone? Did it see me?
What was that?
It was fast… real fast,
Too fast in fact… I better go.
Look… over there.
A trash can.
I bet it’s full of food.
Sweet delicious food,
Yummy food.
Food!
I can’t wait to see what’s inside,
Spaghetti and meatballs,
Brown rotten apples,
Fuzzy dinner rolls,
A doggy bag from the Outback,
An Ice Cream Sundae!
Wait… that sound is back.
What could it be?
It’s loud,
So loud…
And scary….
UUGGHHH!
Whew, that was close,
Very close,
To close for comfort.
What was it? I couldn’t see it…
It was dark, really dark…
Ooo… dark chocolate,
Who throws away dark chocolate?
My belly is so full,
Full of yum yums,
Full of goodness,
Full of greatness,
Of great-goodness!
Wait… there it is again.
It’s closer this time…
I’m going go look for it.
There in the distance…
Coming right at me…
It’s beautiful….
So pretty,
So bright,
So big,
So….. Splat!
I like the dark,
The dark is good,
The dark is my friend.
It keeps me safe,
Safe from the bad,
Safe from my enemies,
From the predators.
The moon is just a crescent,
Just a sliver of light,
Casting long shadows,
Across the quiet ground.
No movement to be seen,
No sounds to be heard,
No crickets, no dogs, no nothing,
Silence… dead silence…. to quiet.
I need to be careful tonight,
I’m scared tonight,
It’s quiet tonight,
To quiet in fact and dark,
I like the dark.
Wait…Did you hear that?
I think I heard a cricket chirp…
Wait, there it is again, that’s no cricket,
It’s louder now; it’s coming this way…
What do I do, what do I do!
UUGGHHH!
Is it gone? Did it see me?
What was that?
It was fast… real fast,
Too fast in fact… I better go.
Look… over there.
A trash can.
I bet it’s full of food.
Sweet delicious food,
Yummy food.
Food!
I can’t wait to see what’s inside,
Spaghetti and meatballs,
Brown rotten apples,
Fuzzy dinner rolls,
A doggy bag from the Outback,
An Ice Cream Sundae!
Wait… that sound is back.
What could it be?
It’s loud,
So loud…
And scary….
UUGGHHH!
Whew, that was close,
Very close,
To close for comfort.
What was it? I couldn’t see it…
It was dark, really dark…
Ooo… dark chocolate,
Who throws away dark chocolate?
My belly is so full,
Full of yum yums,
Full of goodness,
Full of greatness,
Of great-goodness!
Wait… there it is again.
It’s closer this time…
I’m going go look for it.
There in the distance…
Coming right at me…
It’s beautiful….
So pretty,
So bright,
So big,
So….. Splat!
Two Foot Ted
Early one morning
Tucked into his bed,
Lay two foot Ted
Pretending to be dead.
“No school today Darling,”
His mother had said.
“It snowed last night
And it’s over your head.”
Leaving his pillow
And the blanket he shed,
Ran two foot Ted,
To the window he sped.
Everything was covered
Like a big snowy bed,
As far as he could see
For miles it spread.
Filled with excitement
He jumped on his bed.
Bounced two foot Ted,
Til his face had turned red.
“Come down for breakfast,
It’s time to be fed.”
“No time for toast Mom,
I’ll settle for bread.”
Leaping through the air
No danger to dread,
Flew two foot Ted
From the foot of his bed.
He dressed in a hurry
And from his room he fled.
Into the kitchen
When his mother had said,
“Make sure you eat something
And watch where you tread.”
But two foot Ted
Rolled his eyes instead.
So he wolfed down his food
To the last tiny shred,
While strawberry jelly
Made his lips really red.
Standing in the doorway
Looking at the snow bed
Stared two foot Ted,
At his half buried shed.
Remembering his Mom
And what she had said,
He knew he was crazy
And dove in with his sled.
All covered in snow
Way over his head
Lay two foot Ted
Pretending to be dead.
Tucked into his bed,
Lay two foot Ted
Pretending to be dead.
“No school today Darling,”
His mother had said.
“It snowed last night
And it’s over your head.”
Leaving his pillow
And the blanket he shed,
Ran two foot Ted,
To the window he sped.
Everything was covered
Like a big snowy bed,
As far as he could see
For miles it spread.
Filled with excitement
He jumped on his bed.
Bounced two foot Ted,
Til his face had turned red.
“Come down for breakfast,
It’s time to be fed.”
“No time for toast Mom,
I’ll settle for bread.”
Leaping through the air
No danger to dread,
Flew two foot Ted
From the foot of his bed.
He dressed in a hurry
And from his room he fled.
Into the kitchen
When his mother had said,
“Make sure you eat something
And watch where you tread.”
But two foot Ted
Rolled his eyes instead.
So he wolfed down his food
To the last tiny shred,
While strawberry jelly
Made his lips really red.
Standing in the doorway
Looking at the snow bed
Stared two foot Ted,
At his half buried shed.
Remembering his Mom
And what she had said,
He knew he was crazy
And dove in with his sled.
All covered in snow
Way over his head
Lay two foot Ted
Pretending to be dead.
When It Rained
I stare blankly out the window
At the chilly February day,
As memories of her come flooding back.
The day we first met,
Her vivacious body,
Her Betty Davis eyes,
Her long flowing hair,
And her crescent moon smile
That captured my heart in an instant.
The way she smelled, moved, and kissed.
Even the way she looked
Sleeping, laying next to me.
The way she would stare for hours
Out the bedroom window
And watch the raindrops dance through the air,
She always liked it when it rained.
It’s only fitting now
That I am standing here
Watching the rain fall to the ground
As my breath fogs up the window.
My tears, fall like the raindrops,
Landing at my feet
And blanketing the floor
With shallow little puddles.
I’m surrounded by loved ones
But I’m all alone.
She always liked it when it rained.
At the chilly February day,
As memories of her come flooding back.
The day we first met,
Her vivacious body,
Her Betty Davis eyes,
Her long flowing hair,
And her crescent moon smile
That captured my heart in an instant.
The way she smelled, moved, and kissed.
Even the way she looked
Sleeping, laying next to me.
The way she would stare for hours
Out the bedroom window
And watch the raindrops dance through the air,
She always liked it when it rained.
It’s only fitting now
That I am standing here
Watching the rain fall to the ground
As my breath fogs up the window.
My tears, fall like the raindrops,
Landing at my feet
And blanketing the floor
With shallow little puddles.
I’m surrounded by loved ones
But I’m all alone.
She always liked it when it rained.
Life’s Quest
Waking up
To the repetitive chirping
Of an overly annoying
1989 alarm clock.
Hitting the off switch
And powering up
The machine that you are.
Filling the room with a gentle humming
As you yawn and stretch.
Click, Click, Click
Go the multi-colored buttons
On the control pad of my body,
Forcing me to get up and start my day.
UpupdowndownleftrightleftrightABselectstart.
There is no infinite lives code
In this game called Life.
We only have one life
With no chance at a 1-Up
No matter how many coins we collect.
Only one life to live
Before we meet our inevitable doom,
Our Game Over.
It’s so much pressure to live up to
Considering we all have a destiny to fulfill
And only one chance to accomplish it.
Whether it is to…
Rescue the beautiful Princess
Or triumph over the forces of evil.
Locate the lost treasures of the world
Or win the coveted championship.
Clearing your name
For a crime you never committed
Or even saving the world,
From a horde of giant robots
Bent of the complete destruction
Of human civilization.
There is no easy difficulty
Only the very hard setting.
There are no save points along your path either.
There is no hitting the rest button
And starting all over from scratch.
There’s only you,
The choices that you decide on,
The friends that you discover,
And the enemies that you establish,
That help influence your righteous journey
Through the always changing twists and turns
Of this game called Life.
So whatever your destiny maybe
Good Luck and Farewell,
And remember,
Somebody is always counting on you
To succeed on your life’s quest.
To the repetitive chirping
Of an overly annoying
1989 alarm clock.
Hitting the off switch
And powering up
The machine that you are.
Filling the room with a gentle humming
As you yawn and stretch.
Click, Click, Click
Go the multi-colored buttons
On the control pad of my body,
Forcing me to get up and start my day.
UpupdowndownleftrightleftrightABselectstart.
There is no infinite lives code
In this game called Life.
We only have one life
With no chance at a 1-Up
No matter how many coins we collect.
Only one life to live
Before we meet our inevitable doom,
Our Game Over.
It’s so much pressure to live up to
Considering we all have a destiny to fulfill
And only one chance to accomplish it.
Whether it is to…
Rescue the beautiful Princess
Or triumph over the forces of evil.
Locate the lost treasures of the world
Or win the coveted championship.
Clearing your name
For a crime you never committed
Or even saving the world,
From a horde of giant robots
Bent of the complete destruction
Of human civilization.
There is no easy difficulty
Only the very hard setting.
There are no save points along your path either.
There is no hitting the rest button
And starting all over from scratch.
There’s only you,
The choices that you decide on,
The friends that you discover,
And the enemies that you establish,
That help influence your righteous journey
Through the always changing twists and turns
Of this game called Life.
So whatever your destiny maybe
Good Luck and Farewell,
And remember,
Somebody is always counting on you
To succeed on your life’s quest.
Somber Under the Rainbow (pt4)
4.
I’m standing at the edge
Of existence, like a gargoyle,
Watching the busy body street below.
Millions of rain drops plummet
From the night sky, drowning the Earth.
My clothes are becoming
Saturated and heavy,
As a steady stream of rain runs
Down the side of my face
And off the clef of my chin.
People becoming umbrella tops
Scurry about below,
As cars zip by splashing puddles
Onto the already soaked sidewalks.
A yellow taxi stops along the curb,
The on-duty light comes on
As the back door opens wide.
A woman hurries out
Shutting the door behind her.
Quickly she dances around puddles
And disappears through the doors
Of a corner coffee café.
She looked a lot like my Ex, Alice.
Then again, recently
Everybody and everything
Reminds me of her.
Ever since she left me
I can’t get her out of my head.
She freaked out, said she couldn’t watch me
Deteriorate in front of her,
She couldn’t watch me do nothing
As the cancer slowly kills me.
But who has the courage to fight,
When you know the outcome is loss?
So now I stand on this rooftop,
Toeing the line between
Life and death, right and wrong,
And the wind eggs me on
With every breezy push,
Whispering in my ear to just fall.
I wish I had the courage
To solider on, but I’m getting weak.
Slowly I lean forward
Until gravity grabs a hold of me
And the wind gives one final push.
The descent is peaceful
As I close my eyes
And thoughts of Alice flash before me.
I’m standing at the edge
Of existence, like a gargoyle,
Watching the busy body street below.
Millions of rain drops plummet
From the night sky, drowning the Earth.
My clothes are becoming
Saturated and heavy,
As a steady stream of rain runs
Down the side of my face
And off the clef of my chin.
People becoming umbrella tops
Scurry about below,
As cars zip by splashing puddles
Onto the already soaked sidewalks.
A yellow taxi stops along the curb,
The on-duty light comes on
As the back door opens wide.
A woman hurries out
Shutting the door behind her.
Quickly she dances around puddles
And disappears through the doors
Of a corner coffee café.
She looked a lot like my Ex, Alice.
Then again, recently
Everybody and everything
Reminds me of her.
Ever since she left me
I can’t get her out of my head.
She freaked out, said she couldn’t watch me
Deteriorate in front of her,
She couldn’t watch me do nothing
As the cancer slowly kills me.
But who has the courage to fight,
When you know the outcome is loss?
So now I stand on this rooftop,
Toeing the line between
Life and death, right and wrong,
And the wind eggs me on
With every breezy push,
Whispering in my ear to just fall.
I wish I had the courage
To solider on, but I’m getting weak.
Slowly I lean forward
Until gravity grabs a hold of me
And the wind gives one final push.
The descent is peaceful
As I close my eyes
And thoughts of Alice flash before me.
Somber Under the Rainbow (pt3)
3.
Thunder echoes through the clouds
As I stare at the backyard
Shrouded in darkness.
Gripped tightly in my left hand
A half empty bottle
Of Johnny Walker red label,
The best friend a man could have.
In the right, the Colt .45
My Dad gave me when I was 16.
A car would’ve been great at that age,
But my old man was a firm
Believer of learning
To protect your family.
Who would’ve thought that 20 years later,
That birthday gift would be
My final un-doing.
I can smell the rain on the wind,
But the foul smell of death
Still clogs up my nostrils.
Their blood, now dried,
Paints polka-dots across my body.
Why would she do this to me?
How could she?
After 12 years of marriage,
Of me being faithful,
Of treating her like a queen,
This is how she thanks me…
By bringing home a man
And fucking him in our bed!
She should’ve just cut
The heart out of my chest,
Since I don’t need it anymore.
She got what she deserved,
Who knows how long she’s been
Whoring around on me.
Guess I’ll never know,
Guess I’ll just sit on these old wooden steps,
The empty shell of a man that I am.
I should just finish the job
And scatter my brains across the yard.
But could a man with no heart really die?
And would I want to re-unite
With that cheating whore so soon?
I’d rather just sit here in the rain
And rust away for eternity.
Thunder echoes through the clouds
As I stare at the backyard
Shrouded in darkness.
Gripped tightly in my left hand
A half empty bottle
Of Johnny Walker red label,
The best friend a man could have.
In the right, the Colt .45
My Dad gave me when I was 16.
A car would’ve been great at that age,
But my old man was a firm
Believer of learning
To protect your family.
Who would’ve thought that 20 years later,
That birthday gift would be
My final un-doing.
I can smell the rain on the wind,
But the foul smell of death
Still clogs up my nostrils.
Their blood, now dried,
Paints polka-dots across my body.
Why would she do this to me?
How could she?
After 12 years of marriage,
Of me being faithful,
Of treating her like a queen,
This is how she thanks me…
By bringing home a man
And fucking him in our bed!
She should’ve just cut
The heart out of my chest,
Since I don’t need it anymore.
She got what she deserved,
Who knows how long she’s been
Whoring around on me.
Guess I’ll never know,
Guess I’ll just sit on these old wooden steps,
The empty shell of a man that I am.
I should just finish the job
And scatter my brains across the yard.
But could a man with no heart really die?
And would I want to re-unite
With that cheating whore so soon?
I’d rather just sit here in the rain
And rust away for eternity.
Somber Under the Rainbow (pt2)
2.
Sitting in my bed I watch
As the sun slowly sets on the city,
Recalling the good day today.
The memories of my past
That I was able to remember.
My beautiful wife,
My job as a teacher,
The hundreds of friends I’ve made in my life.
I once lived a wonderful life.
Instead now I’m confined to this bed,
Left staring out the sixth floor window
Of this bitterly cold hospital room.
Unable to defend myself
From the crows outside
As they freely fly about,
Like kindergarteners on a playground.
“I hope you get hit by a bus!”
But they don’t answer back. They just sit,
Awkwardly perched on my window sill,
Mocking me with their stares,
Like the dark silhouettes of
Names and faces I can’t remember.
I can hear the distant rumbles
Of thunder in the clouds
As I drift off to sleep.
I dream of better times
When I use to have a brain,
Before my body and mind
Had withered away beneath me.
Sitting in my bed I watch
As the sun slowly sets on the city,
Recalling the good day today.
The memories of my past
That I was able to remember.
My beautiful wife,
My job as a teacher,
The hundreds of friends I’ve made in my life.
I once lived a wonderful life.
Instead now I’m confined to this bed,
Left staring out the sixth floor window
Of this bitterly cold hospital room.
Unable to defend myself
From the crows outside
As they freely fly about,
Like kindergarteners on a playground.
“I hope you get hit by a bus!”
But they don’t answer back. They just sit,
Awkwardly perched on my window sill,
Mocking me with their stares,
Like the dark silhouettes of
Names and faces I can’t remember.
I can hear the distant rumbles
Of thunder in the clouds
As I drift off to sleep.
I dream of better times
When I use to have a brain,
Before my body and mind
Had withered away beneath me.
Somber Under the Rainbow (pt1)
1.
Beyond the borders
Of broken promises
And shattered dreams
Lives the fairytale lies of home,
And I’m stuck somewhere in between.
I left a life of bruises
And uncaring parents;
A mother who overdoses
On bottles of oxycotin,
Trying to numb the pain
Of a drunk violent husband
Who abuses her teenage daughter.
To live a life of loneliness
On the unforgiving streets.
A junkie by the light of day
And a prostitute by night,
Whatever it takes
To keep the needle in my veins.
As the sun sets on my life
I begin giving myself
To hordes of strange men
More gentle than my father.
This glamorous life is no paradise,
But sometimes I thank God,
It’s no place like home.
Beyond the borders
Of broken promises
And shattered dreams
Lives the fairytale lies of home,
And I’m stuck somewhere in between.
I left a life of bruises
And uncaring parents;
A mother who overdoses
On bottles of oxycotin,
Trying to numb the pain
Of a drunk violent husband
Who abuses her teenage daughter.
To live a life of loneliness
On the unforgiving streets.
A junkie by the light of day
And a prostitute by night,
Whatever it takes
To keep the needle in my veins.
As the sun sets on my life
I begin giving myself
To hordes of strange men
More gentle than my father.
This glamorous life is no paradise,
But sometimes I thank God,
It’s no place like home.
Sister Sue ( a tanka)
“Shes simply shy sir,”
Said Sally to salesman Sam,
“My sister Sue sits
Silently by the seashore
Searching the shore for seashells.
She spends days sitting
Singing to the seagulls and
Standing in the surf.
She stares into the sunsets
And she sleeps beneath the stars.”
Said Sally to salesman Sam,
“My sister Sue sits
Silently by the seashore
Searching the shore for seashells.
She spends days sitting
Singing to the seagulls and
Standing in the surf.
She stares into the sunsets
And she sleeps beneath the stars.”
Who are you?
Are you a thinker who thinks
All the thoughts that are sought,
Or a dreamer whose dreams
All the dreams that are caught,
By the sayers and writers
Who write and who speak,
For the teachers of learners,
Of the timid and weak.
Are you a doer who does
All the things that they’re told,
Like a slave to the world,
They are bought and then sold,
By the sellers and buyers
Who buy and who sell,
To the needers and wanters
Who want water in hell.
Will you follow the leader
From the back of the line,
You never step forward
But you’re willing to whine.
Or like stealers and liars
Who lie, cheat, and steal,
Will you continue to sin,
Satan at your heel.
A believer who believes,
And has faith in the Lord,
Or a giver who gives
All that they can afford.
If you don’t know who you are,
You might want to start.
Take a look inside yourself
And follow your heart.
All the thoughts that are sought,
Or a dreamer whose dreams
All the dreams that are caught,
By the sayers and writers
Who write and who speak,
For the teachers of learners,
Of the timid and weak.
Are you a doer who does
All the things that they’re told,
Like a slave to the world,
They are bought and then sold,
By the sellers and buyers
Who buy and who sell,
To the needers and wanters
Who want water in hell.
Will you follow the leader
From the back of the line,
You never step forward
But you’re willing to whine.
Or like stealers and liars
Who lie, cheat, and steal,
Will you continue to sin,
Satan at your heel.
A believer who believes,
And has faith in the Lord,
Or a giver who gives
All that they can afford.
If you don’t know who you are,
You might want to start.
Take a look inside yourself
And follow your heart.
Lady Night
She arrives shortly after sunset,
But I can sense her coming hours before.
She is beautiful,
With her flowing dark hair, bright starry eyes,
And the smile of a crescent moon.
She embraces me
Whispering to me sweet nothings;
Like the chirping of crickets
Or the croaking of frogs.
Holding me tightly in her arms,
I feel safe,
Protected from the world around me.
Fading into darkness and dreams,
She comforts me,
Slowly stroking my hair
As I lay with my head in her lap,
Singing me to sleep with lullabies
Of thunder in the distant clouds.
But I can sense her coming hours before.
She is beautiful,
With her flowing dark hair, bright starry eyes,
And the smile of a crescent moon.
She embraces me
Whispering to me sweet nothings;
Like the chirping of crickets
Or the croaking of frogs.
Holding me tightly in her arms,
I feel safe,
Protected from the world around me.
Fading into darkness and dreams,
She comforts me,
Slowly stroking my hair
As I lay with my head in her lap,
Singing me to sleep with lullabies
Of thunder in the distant clouds.
New But Familiar
I use to love the fresh scent of a wash
Being carried by the morning breeze,
As it hung on the line in the summer sun.
The way a newborn baby smells,
The oncoming droplets of rain,
The freshly cut blades of grass,
The smell of something new but familiar.
Now I love the gaseous scent of a car
Carrying me on my morning commute,
As its stuck in traffic in the sizzling sun.
The way an empty dumpster smells,
The upcoming dirty water dogs,
The freshly paved parts of roads,
The smell of something new but familiar.
Being carried by the morning breeze,
As it hung on the line in the summer sun.
The way a newborn baby smells,
The oncoming droplets of rain,
The freshly cut blades of grass,
The smell of something new but familiar.
Now I love the gaseous scent of a car
Carrying me on my morning commute,
As its stuck in traffic in the sizzling sun.
The way an empty dumpster smells,
The upcoming dirty water dogs,
The freshly paved parts of roads,
The smell of something new but familiar.
Seattle
I am Seattle
With my cloudy overcast
And mostly rainy days.
With my busy streets
And cluttered sidewalks.
Starving artists and punk rockers,
Drunks, degenerates, and doctors,
Homeless bums with bottles of rum,
And plenty of corner cafes.
She is Los Angeles
With her cloudless skies
And mostly sunny afternoons.
With her busy shops
And touristy attractions.
Big screen starlets and action heroes,
Models, movies, and make-up,
Surfing on waves with beach babes,
And her 15 minutes of fame.
I am Seattle
She is sunny LA
A thousand mile difference
And we are pretty much the same.
Beach sunsets and iced frappachinos,
Life, Love, and Laughter,
But she is the sunshine
And I’m the rainy day.
I am Seattle
With my cloudy overcast
And mostly rainy days.
With my busy streets
And cluttered sidewalks.
Starving artists and punk rockers,
Drunks, degenerates, and doctors,
Homeless bums with bottles of rum,
And plenty of corner cafes.
She is Los Angeles
With her cloudless skies
And mostly sunny afternoons.
With her busy shops
And touristy attractions.
Big screen starlets and action heroes,
Models, movies, and make-up,
Surfing on waves with beach babes,
And her 15 minutes of fame.
I am Seattle
She is sunny LA
A thousand mile difference
And we are pretty much the same.
Beach sunsets and iced frappachinos,
Life, Love, and Laughter,
But she is the sunshine
And I’m the rainy day.
I am Seattle
Dance
There she is
Looking even more beautiful
Than the day before last.
Dancing and moving
In ways that only gypsies
And belly dancers do,
Enticing me even more so
Then I was before.
My crush,
My infatuation, and friend,
Dances by me but not with me,
Teasing me more and more
With every smooth curve
Of her ravishing body,
As it rolls and shakes it's way
Closer and closer to me
With every beat of my heart.
I can feel her,
From across the circle
Of mindless moving flesh.
I can feel her eyes
Penetrating me as she moves,
Gyrating her hips to the music.
I see her watching me,
Waiting to begin the seduction.
My gaze meets hers,
She captures my sight
Like a prisoner.
Our eyes lock on to each other
And they begin to dance,
The way only passionate lovers do.
While at the same time
Our bodies find each other
Amass the wide side of flesh,
And begin to move in one
Simultaneous motion,
Entwining ourselves,
And becoming one being.
Even though it was only
For a moment each time,
The fiery battles lasted all night.
Back and forth the seduction went,
until finally,
Covered in each other's sweat
The war ended in a draw.
The night had finally ended,
The music stopped,
The sea of flesh had been parted
and disbursed.
We went home together,
But to separate rooms,
Forever remembering
The way my crush concurred me.
Looking even more beautiful
Than the day before last.
Dancing and moving
In ways that only gypsies
And belly dancers do,
Enticing me even more so
Then I was before.
My crush,
My infatuation, and friend,
Dances by me but not with me,
Teasing me more and more
With every smooth curve
Of her ravishing body,
As it rolls and shakes it's way
Closer and closer to me
With every beat of my heart.
I can feel her,
From across the circle
Of mindless moving flesh.
I can feel her eyes
Penetrating me as she moves,
Gyrating her hips to the music.
I see her watching me,
Waiting to begin the seduction.
My gaze meets hers,
She captures my sight
Like a prisoner.
Our eyes lock on to each other
And they begin to dance,
The way only passionate lovers do.
While at the same time
Our bodies find each other
Amass the wide side of flesh,
And begin to move in one
Simultaneous motion,
Entwining ourselves,
And becoming one being.
Even though it was only
For a moment each time,
The fiery battles lasted all night.
Back and forth the seduction went,
until finally,
Covered in each other's sweat
The war ended in a draw.
The night had finally ended,
The music stopped,
The sea of flesh had been parted
and disbursed.
We went home together,
But to separate rooms,
Forever remembering
The way my crush concurred me.
What Ever Happened...
To storybook romances
And happily ever after.
To forbidden affairs
And secret midnight rendezvous.
To damsels in distress
Who let down their hair
And knights in shining armor
Who always save the day.
What ever happened to
The once upon a time fairy tales of old.
Read aloud to children
As they drifted off into fantasy.
Did they really exist
Outside of someone else's mind?
Or was it just a way to help
Children believe in something better
Then the world in which they lived,
Deluding their fragile minds
With hopes of happiness
Where nothing is really as it seems.
Where storybook romances
Never end the way they should
And happily ever afters
Are always two minutes too late.
Where forbidden affairs
Carry tragic penalties
And secret rendezvous are exposed
On the cover of a magazine.
Where damsels in distress
Stand on every corner
And the knight in shining armor
Is really a wolf in sheep's clothing.
So close your fairy tale books
And open your sleep encrusted eyes.
Leave behind your fantasy lives
And live happily never after.
And happily ever after.
To forbidden affairs
And secret midnight rendezvous.
To damsels in distress
Who let down their hair
And knights in shining armor
Who always save the day.
What ever happened to
The once upon a time fairy tales of old.
Read aloud to children
As they drifted off into fantasy.
Did they really exist
Outside of someone else's mind?
Or was it just a way to help
Children believe in something better
Then the world in which they lived,
Deluding their fragile minds
With hopes of happiness
Where nothing is really as it seems.
Where storybook romances
Never end the way they should
And happily ever afters
Are always two minutes too late.
Where forbidden affairs
Carry tragic penalties
And secret rendezvous are exposed
On the cover of a magazine.
Where damsels in distress
Stand on every corner
And the knight in shining armor
Is really a wolf in sheep's clothing.
So close your fairy tale books
And open your sleep encrusted eyes.
Leave behind your fantasy lives
And live happily never after.
Hallucinating Memories in the Hibernation of the Genius
The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali
Barren wastelands of a forgotten time,
Gravitating lethargically
In the midnight dreamscapes
Of the abyssal twilight,
In a mind wrought with mass confusion.
All the time in the universe
Yet it disintegrates and oozes
Through the robust fingertips
On decrepit swollen hands,
Of a child obscured in memories.
Hours and even days can hastily transpire,
In the darkest of dark cavities
Where illusions and phantasms dance
In post comatose states of vegetablism,
While reality slowly drifts by in minutes.
Eternity becomes infinity,
When conjuring up vivid memories
Or stimulating fantasies
In parts of the brain left dormant in the sun,
Only to be exasperated at night.
Barren wastelands of a forgotten time,
Gravitating lethargically
In the midnight dreamscapes
Of the abyssal twilight,
In a mind wrought with mass confusion.
All the time in the universe
Yet it disintegrates and oozes
Through the robust fingertips
On decrepit swollen hands,
Of a child obscured in memories.
Hours and even days can hastily transpire,
In the darkest of dark cavities
Where illusions and phantasms dance
In post comatose states of vegetablism,
While reality slowly drifts by in minutes.
Eternity becomes infinity,
When conjuring up vivid memories
Or stimulating fantasies
In parts of the brain left dormant in the sun,
Only to be exasperated at night.
Rain Sprite (A Tanka)
A cool cloudy day
Raindrops falling from the sky.
Catching in my hair
And dripping off of my brow.
I see you at a distance.
Running through the rain
As it begins to down pour.
Hair soaked from the rain,
You splash through a big puddle.
I smile and then you're gone.
Raindrops falling from the sky.
Catching in my hair
And dripping off of my brow.
I see you at a distance.
Running through the rain
As it begins to down pour.
Hair soaked from the rain,
You splash through a big puddle.
I smile and then you're gone.
Forgotten Title
Living with an absent mind
That’s present everyday.
Walking with my head in the clouds
On a sunny afternoon.
Always knowing,
But never knowing what to know.
Forgetting everything that’s important,
And remembering nothing that’s forgotten.
Constantly full of clutter,
But always empty inside.
Why do I always stare
When there’s nothing else to do?
A virtual blackout
On the freeway in my mind.
Never paying attention,
But enough sense to pay the toll.
Going a hundred miles an hour
Down the right side emergency lane.
Destination imagination.
And I’ll get there however I can.
That’s present everyday.
Walking with my head in the clouds
On a sunny afternoon.
Always knowing,
But never knowing what to know.
Forgetting everything that’s important,
And remembering nothing that’s forgotten.
Constantly full of clutter,
But always empty inside.
Why do I always stare
When there’s nothing else to do?
A virtual blackout
On the freeway in my mind.
Never paying attention,
But enough sense to pay the toll.
Going a hundred miles an hour
Down the right side emergency lane.
Destination imagination.
And I’ll get there however I can.
When I grow up… I want to be
An astronaut, an artist,
An apple core plucker,
A bull fighter, a barber,
A bar-fighting trucker.
A card-dealer, a comrade,
A crash tested dummy,
A dog walker, a doctor,
A decade old mummy.
An Eskimo, an egghead,
An elephant painter,
A fireman, a father,
A flea circus trainer.
A gambler, a genie,
A gravy boat captain,
A hang glider, a hero,
A horrible villain.
An invader, an icon,
An igloo house carver,
A janitor, a joker,
A jolly cab driver.
A know it all, a keeper,
A knight in his armor,
A lumberjack, a lover,
A ladybug farmer.
A movie star, a monkey,
A magical guesser,
A nincompoop, a neighbor,
A nutty professor.
An officer, an outlaw,
An overweight lizard,
A pianist, a poet,
A pinball game wizard.
A quarterback, a Quaker,
A quite outsider,
A rock climber, a robot,
A rodeo rider.
A samurai, a solider,
A super secret spy,
A traffic cop, a tailor,
A teary-eyed goodbye.
An umpire, an uncle,
A unicorn tamer,
A vampire, a Virgo,
A video gamer.
A weatherman, a wingman,
A wacky naysayer,
A xenophobe, an X-man,
A xylophone player.
A Yankee fan, a yuppie,
A youthful private eye,
A zookeeper, a zero,
A zombified dead guy.
But most of all, when I grow up…
I just want to be me.
An apple core plucker,
A bull fighter, a barber,
A bar-fighting trucker.
A card-dealer, a comrade,
A crash tested dummy,
A dog walker, a doctor,
A decade old mummy.
An Eskimo, an egghead,
An elephant painter,
A fireman, a father,
A flea circus trainer.
A gambler, a genie,
A gravy boat captain,
A hang glider, a hero,
A horrible villain.
An invader, an icon,
An igloo house carver,
A janitor, a joker,
A jolly cab driver.
A know it all, a keeper,
A knight in his armor,
A lumberjack, a lover,
A ladybug farmer.
A movie star, a monkey,
A magical guesser,
A nincompoop, a neighbor,
A nutty professor.
An officer, an outlaw,
An overweight lizard,
A pianist, a poet,
A pinball game wizard.
A quarterback, a Quaker,
A quite outsider,
A rock climber, a robot,
A rodeo rider.
A samurai, a solider,
A super secret spy,
A traffic cop, a tailor,
A teary-eyed goodbye.
An umpire, an uncle,
A unicorn tamer,
A vampire, a Virgo,
A video gamer.
A weatherman, a wingman,
A wacky naysayer,
A xenophobe, an X-man,
A xylophone player.
A Yankee fan, a yuppie,
A youthful private eye,
A zookeeper, a zero,
A zombified dead guy.
But most of all, when I grow up…
I just want to be me.
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