I’m young and very beautiful
As you can clearly see,
And so I guess you’re losing sleep
So oft you think of me?
…
It’s true that you are beautiful,
It’s true that you are young,
But I think of you as often
As the flavor of my tongue.
Tag Archives: Life
The Givers Of Up
When you’re dead but your body won’t let you be
When you’re closed but the sign says you’re open
When you’re trying to sleep in the light and the heat
And can’t cope with how well you’re coping
It might be you’re sideways and falling
To the ground that you already touch
And it could be you feel unwelcome
In a world that adores you too much
And it could be you suffer from comfort
All alone in a room filled with you
But I have to ask why you would stay closed and die
How you feel okay to just sleep through the day
How you admit defeat to the ground at your feet
When your choices define what is true
Filed under Poems
The Longest Road
I travel by the road at dawn,
The sunrise at my back,
Unaware in blissful youth
Of all the things I lack.
When day has broken, I press on
In a cardinal direction,
Unaware that I’m unguided
Save by pleasure and affection.
By noon I sweat and labor on
Beneath the sun I know,
Still the same despite the fact
It has a harsher glow.
Beyond that point I cannot see,
The sun filling my eyes,
And do not know that all I know
Is naught but youthful lies.
Then I lie down to rest myself
After the sun has gone
And wait until the sun returns
To blindly carry on.
What few have seen when journeying
Beneath the gold sun’s light
Is how the road’s a circle
Sloping gently to the right,
Still fewer will discover
(And even fewer learn)
Is whether we are blind or wise
When, to dawn, we must return.
Filed under Poems
Wallace and Gromit
It’s truly not a hoax
That there are only two types of folks:
Those who think Wensleydale is cracking
And those whose education is lacking.
Filed under Poems
You Have It, But You Choose How
I share with you a secret
That you think cannot be true:
That everything to ever be
Exists solely for you,
That every book and every shell
And every coin and bill
And every star and sunrise
And every sloping hill
Exist as in a melody
From one eternal voice,
That you might seek to claim them
Through your only power: choice.
For if you choose to value wealth
Then wealth you will attain
Through labor, luck, investment,
Or through theft and threat of pain.
Perhaps you value honesty
And see all worldly truth,
Or perhaps you choose your body,
To sustain the light of youth.
But though the universe is yours
You cannot hold a star
For the heat of it would burn you up
(And also, it’s too far).
So too, if wealth should pass you by
Or youth and strength should wane
That too’s the gift of everything
Preventing unseen pain.
So if you wish to value
That which pleases most of all,
Don’t wish for that which others give
(Or to be six feet tall)
But choose to value where you are,
To dream only to be,
And you shall live in paradise
For all eternity.
Filed under Poems
When The Subtitles Don’t Match The Singer
Sometimes I wonder
If deaf people have to censor rap videos
Because someone accidentally curses in sign language.
Filed under Poems
An Honest Fairy Tale
A long, forgotten time ago
In long-forgotten lands
There lived a pair of lovely twins
Who worked as stablehands.
The first girl was named Allison,
The second, Mirabella.
Both had dreams of rescue
By a prince (or princely fella).
Both were bright and beautiful
And full of youthful vigor,
Their smiles were breezes in the heat
And fires within the frigor.
Allison worked hard all day
Attending to the mules,
Believing that her honest work
Would lead to princely jewels.
Mirabella worked instead
As little as she could,
Aiming to stay soft and clean
As any princess should.
Many peasants came to try
To earn a sister’s heart.
Some were strong or rich or brave
And others still made art.
But neither flowers and poetry
Nor deeds both great and small
Could attract the twins, who wanted
A prince, else none at all.
Allison grew old and strong
And wealthy all the while.
Mirabella just grew old,
But did it with a smile.
There are far fewer princes
Than lovely stablehands
In both the world in which we live
And long-forgotten lands.
Neither twin could find a prince
And neither was a wife
But both, at least, had managed
To live a happy life.
Filed under Poems
