I haven’t folded any siblings at the present moment, though I’m confident to say that my upcoming moments will involve exponential growth in that arena. I’ve stumbled upon a great new widget for bending my brothers and sisters to my will, and I’m certain that, with a little practice, I can effectively coerce them into doing my bidding (at least 96% of the time). There are always going to be a few kinks in the system, but my reign as tyrannical overlord is bound to get its feet off the ground within the next calendar month. You can count on that, you cynical renegades, you.
Category: Poetry
Chronicles of I – #2
I took some money from the drawer; it gathered in a pile. I watched the pile dwindle slowly and consistently in time, as though I would never be content with any amount of it. I kept taking money from that sacred drawer, and it just as consistently flew away, never to be grasped again by my own hands. Then the drawer dried up; I had nowhere to go for a currency fix. I asked everybody I knew if they had drawers they could lend to me, and they gave me the cumulative stink eye. I was alone in my destitution, doomed to traipse along a desert of moneylessness. Parched, weak, tired, and overall just not a happy camper.
Well, Yeah XXVIII
Take the cucumber from the box and measure it against the zucchini. Are they the same size? If this is the case, one must be shortened by biting an end and either chewing vigorously or spitting (this is entirely your choice). I cannot emphasize enough the importance of having one vegetable shorter than the other before you proceed. Okay, so we have produce of different lengths sitting adjacent to one another, just far enough apart for no monkey business to take place. We don’t need a vegetable mutiny on our hands before we go on this picnic, do we? Nobody signed up to be humiliated or injured for the sake of cuisine.
Well, Yeah XXVII
I’ve built a life for myself alongside the skyscraper dreams I’d learned to toss aside. I haven’t taken out the trash yet, as the pile isn’t too high for comfort. I know that any day I’ll have to rid myself of all this rubbish, but I’m hoping that something will come along to make me forget it all. A kindly old man who falls and breaks his hip while I’m waiting for the bus, or a sad little kid waiting for her dad to pick her up from soccer practice, or a charismatic oaf getting his clock cleaned by someone he didn’t ever view as a threat. Any of these things could possibly make life more interesting for me in that moment, but I’ll shrug them all off and keep on with the drudgery. I’m afraid to root through this pile of aspirations; I don’t want to give myself any more bad ideas that I’d already nipped in the bud. They seemed so promising at the time, but something made every single one unfeasible. Are there any at my disposal that I can achieve after all my struggles? Let me take a look here. “Fly like a bird.” Stupid. “Eat a 64 ounce steak.” What was I thinking? “Write a book of short fiction.” Well, nobody would read it anyway. “Settle down in the suburbs.” That was a dream? More like a nightmare. I’ll have to burn that one.
Good God…
Can God pull a rubber band so hard
that it breaks and comes back together
at the speed of a hummingbird wing?
He can’t? Then what can he do?
Jesus, this God character
isn’t much of a superhero.
Can he at least spy on people
24/7 without using binoculars?
The whole world?!
Okay, that’s impressive.
Skin a Cat
To whom am I addressing this?
Dear Sir Galveston,
please give me money.
No, that’s too formal.
Yo, Mr. G,
gimme some money.
No, that’s too slangy.
Hey, Galveston,
pony up the dough.
No, that’s too mobsterish.
Excuse me, Mr. Galveston?
Can I have some money?
No, that’s too namby pamby.
Is this Mr. Galveston?
Oh great, I’ve heard so much about you!
I’ve come upon troubling times,
and I wonder if you could help me out.
Just a little bit of money
would really go a long way. Please?
I swear it’ll just be this one time,
and you can take my word on it.
No, that’s too panhandler-y.
How do loan officers prefer to be addressed these days?
Celestial Notes
The moon didn’t come out tonight.
I don’t know if it got the memo
that we’re having a midnight picnic.
Well, as long as the sun shows up
when it’s supposed to tomorrow,
I won’t file any police reports.
WHARVED 