Mortis

Saddam Hussein Abd al-Majid al-Tikriti,

1937-2006
One of the United States' greatest allies in the Middle East.

He will be missed.

Celebrate the Hatching of the Paleo-Christ!

Imagine yourself sitting in the most comfortable seat in your house. You are watching your favorite television show, drinking the best mug of hot chocolate you can remember. You are wearing what could possibly be the softest pair of flannel lined pants in existence. Suffice it to say you are comfortable. At the time, you are having the best Saura-Christmas ever.

Now imagine that you are me.

Now, I bet you are pretty bummed. I'm use to being me though, also I'm not wearing undershorts and these are extraordinarily soft pants, so I'm still having a pretty good Dinomas.

I hope you are too.

Love you all. Except for those of you I don't.

Sigh...

Is it just me, or does this whole "the new blog" thing just suck?

Real Poetry (Why Not?)

Fate they say, is like the wind,
Before which we must stand.
And when it blows, it’s nice to know,
That you can hold her hand.

Because it’s a short, hard life that we must live,
And without someone special to give,
Your self, your heart, your love,
Life’s a damn hard thing to rise above.

So cherish what you have found,
And celebrate it on every single day.
Because too soon the wind will blow,
And we’ll all be swept away.

-

It’s a single cephalopodan eye,
Glistening, yet dull, devoid of life,
Its thoughtless gaze burns and tears through flesh.
It’s the color purple,
The color of beaten skin now bruised,
And of royalty, the oppressors.
It’s the stench of rotting corpses,
Of a meaningless and reasonless end.
Seen fair by the blind.
Proclaimed just by the mute.
With a final plea heard only by the deaf.
It’s a shrill cacophony,
The flautist unseen,
That grinds like the rough, wet tongue of the wolf as it devours the innocent lamb,
Its guardian, its savior, its shepherd unseen.

The jester’s verdict now law.

-

There once was a man from Nantucket,
And there was a hole in his bucket.
Although he did try,
The hole stayed awry,
So he decided to fuck it.

Couldn't help myself.

All For Naught

There once was a bat,
The night flying rat,
Nobody liked him it seems.

Though he had a heart,
He lived in the dark,
Without love or the light that it brings.

He then saw a girl,
His wings did unfurl,
He flew to pluck her heartstrings.

But away she did run,
So out came his gun,
And he ended his little bat dreams.

Poetry Session

After having conjured up the poem for Naught during my American Literature survey, I held onto my momentum and wrote some more crap too.

Haiku

Winter sorrows come,
Frozen flowers felled by frost,
Hey, I just farted.

(It alliterates)

Women in the crowd,
Do their titties see my stare?
I await the slap.

Some girls must love me,
But their lying lips say, "No!"
Restraining Order.

Beer makes the girls say,
"Patrick looks handsome tonight."
I am a bad man.

Free Form Poetry

Sometimes I feel like a nut,
Sometimes I don't,
Almond Joy's got nuts,
Mound's don't.
Sometimes I question the wisdom of writing poetry while watching TV.
Usually I don't.

Poetry is a sham,
Just another stupid scam,
For the men who want some pussy,
They just act sensitive and wussy.
So young women I emplore thee!
Please, oh please do not ignore me!
Find a doctor, lawyer, or a banker boy.
You can treat them like a toy,
They will buy you happiness,
And when you are bored there's always the pool boy's penis.

I'm a lot more fun when I've had coffee.