Call Me Paranoid, But I’d Rather Trip Than Risk It…


I’ve Heard It’s Good Luck

I’ve heard the birds are herding our words
Hoarding our nouns and hiding our verbs
Amassing an arsenal of arguments
In nests throughout the ‘burbs
To pepper us with platitudes
And bombard us with blurbs
Call it pigeon propaganda
(So said the little bird)
So I’m cautious of the crow
I see cawing on the curb
And I’m wary of the wren
As he’s easy to disturb
For avian avengers
Are hiding in the herbs
And today’s topiary twitters
Tomorrow may be turds

Published in: on July 23, 2010 at 4:43 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Horribly Cute

Two stray puppies playing
Indian dust and heat
Two joyful hearts uplifted
Two puppies in the street
Two smiles crack and falter
The horror is complete
Only one puppy is playing
The other is merely meat

Published in: on February 8, 2010 at 6:59 am  Leave a Comment  
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Underneath dry brown earth,
Mighty and deep-rooted,
Exists a well of rumbling mirth,
Subterranean and muted, until
His laughter breaks the surface.

Published in: on February 7, 2010 at 6:41 am  Leave a Comment  
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Sleeping Dragon

Summer in the dead of night
Kings on broken glass
Sleeping dragon takes a bite
Spits him out at last
Climbing high and circling
Like vultures at a feast
There’s a fire grumbling
In the belly of the beast
Towers tremble in the storm
Lightning strikes the hill
If one is always travelling
Then the other surely will
Gremlins in the alley groan
Laugh and flash their teeth
In the darkness of the labyrinth
Hallucinate for weeks
High on wise old shadows
Within the hollow ruminant
Ancient creature slumbering
Upon the wealth of graduates
Beneath the starry skies
Across adumbral grounds
He followed the ghostly cries until
His body could not be found
Rumors persist until this day
His ghost still stalks these halls
Every now and then, you know
You can see him in the walls
Reaching out for someone
Something that can’t be seen
But time and space and ignorance
Built a barrier between
Then and here and now and oh
Oh, what might have been…
This piece is based loosely on my new job here in the north, working security for a college campus.  Walking these halls in the dead of night, it’s easy to imagine strange things are dwelling around every corner… so I let my imagination wander.

New Shoes

It is a two-headed beast
With seventy-six eyes
Though presently
Nine are blind
It is a four-legged thing
With wandering feets
And four hands to rattle
Every door that it meets
It has fifty-two keys
Hear it jingle and sneeze
Its footsteps will echo
For it is never at ease
It has fifty-two keys
Hear it jangle and pace
While throwing its voice
All over the place
Published in: on September 4, 2009 at 10:34 pm  Comments (13)  
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Poet’s Lament

Here’s a poem I wrote about trying to write poetry… I’m sure anyone who has ever attempted to write anything can relate; writer’s block is a universal curse of those desiring to be creative, I think.

Poet’s Lament
Lost my mind in a wagon rut
Fell into a swoon
Got the curse of wanderers
From howling at the moon
Storms are gathering up above
While the grumbling thunder rolls
Gulls are crying on the wing
But the lightning never falls