Tag Archives: funny

An Old Ritual

Last night I partook in an old ritual. One my ancestors may have recognized. As an observer I felt more than I can explain, oddly enough. There were not many parts, but there was much fun to be had and many friends to be made. This I think I understand. The profound effects of a ritual always lie in the social aspect for me, the actual God or Gods taking the backseat in my mind. I think I’d quite like to do it again.

Regent of Hearts

I’ve met some great boundless one so far

Who told me how the world’s not so hard

Who filled my heart with no canard

That one who tells stories much like a bard

A sing-songy voice

But not by their choice

I of course must rejoice

They think of me more than a shithouse Joyce

Of gumdrops and lilypads

A fantasy land

Of good moms and good dads

There in that castle just by the sand

Idyllic machination

Psychadelic fascination

A world so full of recreation

And creation

A world so fully embraced the Mad

Thereby, The Window

I sit here at this table by the window. I wonder what to write. Another busy day today. Painfully out of sight. I wish to be so found, so desired, as to be the object of such constant praise but at the same time, no, I wish to slink back into the shadows and watch them all walk by. To be apart from it all. How does one reconcile these alternate desires? Someday I’d like to be the one that knows. Please enjoy the poem today, friends. I wrote it just for you.

Table by the Window

Do I ever know what to write?

The very thought

It feels so trite

Something that so seemingly cannot be taught

I’m finding that i think of you a lot

My heart so burns with numbness

I wish that i could go away and find that wardrobe

And be with mister tumnus

For now I sit and stare

At faces seem so bare

A thousand different things to fear

Shed but not a single tear

No sadness left to turn

From that torrent to slow burn

I’m finding now it’s hard to earn

A place now to discern

What option is the best

Why yes! You might ask

“What options might you have?”

Oh, wouldn’t You like to know?

Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall In Love

Consider it, my friends. To be in Paris in the 1920s, to escape and find that magic! To take it and bring it back to the present to find yourself and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Take that magic and that majesty you found in the past and apply it to the world at large. Oh, to be in a wonderful world of wizards and sorcerers, casting their magics on pages and canvases and the keys of pianos. What a wonderful world it will be, filled with art and song.

Carnival Comes to Paris

There’s flying and there’s dying

Both ending on the ground

Hearing that one final sound

Make refuge there, in burial mound

A man in a three-piece suit

Playing the piano

Can’t help but fall in love

Fly away, little dove

All affairs fair at the fair, long as you can pay the fare

Car broke down

Grab the spare

It’s a long way back to town

One day soon we’ll be back home

One day soon I’ll read that tome

Evil little lexicon

Stare me down, thereupon

Sitting on the shelf

Bore your holes

Whack those moles

Cross the bridge and pay the tolls

Find yourself and find our souls

Spell-Bound

Morning, friends. Today is a day to get up. Just get up. Out of bed. Off your couch. Up that ladder. Just get up and get out. It’s a wonderful day to get out and curse your enemies. I’ve got a spell for you today; said spell written by yours truly. I hope you enjoy it. Revel in the power of the…

Hex

I curse today and all the days

These Gods of ours in all their ways

When time has come and I will sum

Their heart against a stone I’ll weigh

I curse their bodies and their minds

Their every breath and every step

I curse the day that they were borne

From their chest, their lungs are torn

You fail us time and time again

Fail me and us and drop your pen

Your days are numbered

I’ll count to ten

Trucks Use Right Two Lanes

Driving today. I’m not sure I have the energy to keep being angry. I am at a loss for words, a somewhat rare occurrence for me. Probably something to do with the motion sickness. That and I’m hungover. What a wonderful life I live. That statement is both sarcasm and not. Please enjoy the poem today.

Little Dancing Monkey

Every day I sit here

A monkey at the show

Dancing for their amusement,

For their

Satisfaction

What am i?

A man?

A goon to do their bidding?

I am angry

I am unsatisfied

For it is not with my own agency i make these choices

But a need to survive

When i need to thrive

These animals

More bestial than the most terrifying wild thing

Concealed beneath the veneer of fake smiles and solid colored suits

They own me

They own us

Don’t you think it’s time to break free?