Tag Archives: Life

The Model Meets The Gamer

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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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