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Very intricate, shaman. Modern day Shakespeare I'd say. I kind of just made this up now based on my little quote of the moment.
i cry whilst your crystalline eyes make me fly by the by
as when you sigh i brush the sky with wisps of lashes that tickle your skin and make you laugh my dreamer
and i smile at the pitter patter of little ant feet trailing across your fingers in the grass as you sink your nails beneath the soil and pull the taut strings of my heart
Here is something I wrote while sitting in the Kuwaiti desert during "Operation: Iraqi Occupation".
REGIME CHANGE
The Regime is dying. The voices of Many can be heard protesting otherwise. Which Regime are they protesting? Supporting? The rhetoric of the religions Creates confusion like the blinding sandstorm. The noise of the thunder overhead is deafening. Death defying. The locust carries fate under its wings.
On Locust?s wings we ride. Carried into battle to do as It is written. For Him. As Fate has determined. Should we believe in Fate? Him? Why do we stake our lives on such Nostalgic ideas? Should history repeat itself?
The sleeping Dragon is awake. He violently waves His gun in the air And shoots culture between the eyes. Nostalgia is dead. Is this a new beginning? Or an old end. A means to an end?
The Machine is hiding something. It has betrayed us over and over again. Yet, we listen and we act According to what we hear. The Revolution is coming.
A short poem about everybody's favorite person, Miss, oh wait Mrs., no it's miss again, got married again so it's Mrs., now I lost track, Jennifer Lopez.
Oh J-Lo, what does the future hold? What will you do when you're old? How many husbands will you tally? Will you find your next one drunk in an alley?
Memo to you, nobody on Earth cares About your marital state of affairs. Try making good music or movies we can bear. I'm serious, Gigli made me run scared.
Marc Anthony, get out before it's too late. Take your ex-wife out on another date. J-Lo's desperate to get people to watch her. By next week, she'll be with another.
She never did really stop writing poems. Every once and a while, she writes one. Habit I guess. She wrote the "television" poem a day before I posted it.
The moon shines slowly, pulled away by the cloth of seething moonlight. The tiger looks up at it, crystal eyes burning brighter than any fire ever seen. The tiger takes a deep breath, standing just as a majestic as ever and FARTS.
"We don't make movies for critics, since they don't pay to see them anyhow."
The next door neighbor, seems so normal A car in the driveway, curtains in the windows A pool in the back, close to the porch, And an empty doghouse, old and blue.
Went to see what was inside. Its pull on me, I could not explain. So perfect on the outside, Must be as good inside.
The furnature, broken down and frail. Nothing works, all is in disrepair. The darkness feels of midnight gloom. So many tears were shed in here.
Passed through the door to the outside world, Nothing is what it may seem. The signs are there if you carefully look Of the contrast between body and heart.
Coach K with the name I cannot spell Said no to the Lakers' circus from hell. Makes me wish Jerry West is still there To bash Kupchak with a steal chair. I bleed tarheel blue, Glad to see he's still there. Duke wouldn't be the same without you.
Interests poems, Rob. I just thought you wrote funny ones
Who is "Inside" about? I get the other ones, but "Inside" strikes me as being very personal. Who are you talking about? Anyone specific? Anyone I would know?
You remember the kind of stuff I wrote back in high school. I'm returning to that. But I am currently compiling material for a new slam-against-celebrities poem that I hope will be really funny.
As for "Inside", it is personal in a way. And you should know who it's about. But we all know at least one person who fits this mold. So great on the outside, but sad and depressed on the inside. That was the basic idea behind it all. The old, blue doghouse is the most important part of the poem. I'm surprised you said nothing about that.
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