What am I writing for?
Why?
Every week I open my laptop,
And pound out a poem,
Or a chapter,
Or an article.
Or a meaning,
Bound up in these words,
Lost in translation,
Between my mind,
And this page.
And the eyes that read.,
Trying to glean,
Some meaning,
From my strange dreaming.
Category: Poetry
No Value
These words that you read,
Have no value.
Nothing I say,
Here,
Can hold a dollar amount.
Not because they shouldn’t,
But because,
Not enough people,
Read them.
We made it this far
Authors note: Today is my 5 year wedding anniversary so I figured I would write a poem to celebrate that. Hopefully my wife will actually see this without me having to draw it to her attention.
We made it this far,
Despite everything,
We made it this far together,
No matter what anyone else has said.
So why not further still?
What’s fifty more years,
With love like this.
The Aeon Sea
I am adrift on the Aeon sea, this place that connects all reality. This place that makes the worlds serve it’s call. The ocean is made of rainbow light–or is it water? It’s so hard to tell. When I throw a stone into the water it is sucked in as though the water is made of tar. I have no hope of swimming or even rowing. So adrift I will be.
My craft is a dead bit of land that somehow floats on the sea. Set adrift by the end of our current–or former reality. And so I’m left to ponder how long I will last. Alone, alive, and adrift on the never ending Aeon Sea.
Question
The question now imposed,
The one I must answer beyond all reasonable doubt.
All truth in one word that still escapes me,
Yet I must learn it’s meaning to see the next scene.
What secrets must I sacrifice to learn of this one words meaning?
What things must be stricken from the record forever?
So I may learn this one word?
Ode to Spam
Authors note: This is an old poem–I actually have not herd anyone use the word spam for some time now.
I sing to thee, oh gods of distraction. You who have aggravated me so often before; I thought I was rid of you long ago. But as it has been proven time and time again, you will always be there to distract people from the main point. You are like the phoenix born again bringing a burning flame of flaming with you. Oh I see now that you must be that you must have a place in our world. But how people are so obsessed with you; why are you so why must you distract and why—oh crap this is spam isn’t it.
Nothing
I,
Fought,
So hard
Thinking I would,
Find light,
Or dark,
Or something,
With meaning.
Some dream,
That would justify,
All this fighting,
And bleeding.
But I started,
With nothing,
And so,
I end this journey,
With nothing.
