Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
About
I've derived these small moments
Into sweet nothings,
Not nothing like a whisper or a shout,
Bird in its cage rattled about.
No.
Oh no,
A sweet nothing worn down to its core,
Nothing upon nothing, upon nothing
And the tattered clothing that which held
it end on end literally falling to pieces
Is,
Withered down too
Like acid rain vomit
Wicked words ruined this one.
Into sweet nothings,
Not nothing like a whisper or a shout,
Bird in its cage rattled about.
No.
Oh no,
A sweet nothing worn down to its core,
Nothing upon nothing, upon nothing
And the tattered clothing that which held
it end on end literally falling to pieces
Is,
Withered down too
Like acid rain vomit
Wicked words ruined this one.
Stainshane
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
the tortoise and the hare
You fell asleep on the floor
Loosely wrapped in a white towel
We shared everything behind this door
Undressed like sweet nothings
Moisture dried of two perfect bodies
And you no longer possess the strength.
My words also, are too weak
Meager feeding, let us be.
Let it be, let us feast.
Its not what I think its about either,
Add the sums, deduced birds daydream like sleepers.
Its like the words are flawed from the start
The stop, its not. The fart,
Flatulence placed on my heart.
Relative teachings, teach the nations first born.
Raised my own plant of earth and scorn.
No miracle gro, too far from tulsa's last snow,
So we know we don't know.
No prophet, no silk robe
But hey you've got that crown.
Use your last efforts to hold it down
Like liquor churning in a warm belly.
The weather is fair, distance from the rabbits hole, the habits fold,
and double up those bets.
Betting on the muse like betting on the hare
And not the tortoise sitting there.
less like a little old man
And more like
the touch of a cold hand.
Loosely wrapped in a white towel
We shared everything behind this door
Undressed like sweet nothings
Moisture dried of two perfect bodies
And you no longer possess the strength.
My words also, are too weak
Meager feeding, let us be.
Let it be, let us feast.
Its not what I think its about either,
Add the sums, deduced birds daydream like sleepers.
Its like the words are flawed from the start
The stop, its not. The fart,
Flatulence placed on my heart.
Relative teachings, teach the nations first born.
Raised my own plant of earth and scorn.
No miracle gro, too far from tulsa's last snow,
So we know we don't know.
No prophet, no silk robe
But hey you've got that crown.
Use your last efforts to hold it down
Like liquor churning in a warm belly.
The weather is fair, distance from the rabbits hole, the habits fold,
and double up those bets.
Betting on the muse like betting on the hare
And not the tortoise sitting there.
less like a little old man
And more like
the touch of a cold hand.
Stainshane
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sleep dreaming for day walking
At least 60 years of age
Feebly climbing into a gray acura
Driving away from the library parking lot
Cold as it may be,
She was warm.
Sheltered away from the loud streets
Lined with carbon monoxide.
Like ants,
Very small ants, antennas bouncing off one another's heads.
Not really getting anywhere new.
Same old sounds and smells
Basically for survival
To keep this polite ant colony marching.
"Paper or plastic?"
"Would you like katchup with that?"
"Cream or sugar?"
I sure don't want to be an ant.
As the sun warms my cold little body,
Its that wind chill factor
I need be weary of,
Not the sun in these cold bitter months.
Even with things falling out and such
I feel a renewed sense of hope,
Of change,
But not Obama.
Sure he can help but at the end of the day
Its an individual ant choice.
To lead of follow.
Stand in line or get out of the way,
Push out the middle man and ensure any person
Making less than two million annually
Middle class.
Oh yes, these wonderful economic times,
With none rivaling since the great depression of the early twenties.
I wonder so much in these modern days.
Did it ever change?
Was the USA destined to be a socialist country from the start?
This so called melting pot,
Centralized here around our nations capital
I feel, is slowly moving towards communism.
And I don't know what to do.
I know things are difficult for everyone
And justly so
I continue to pray for our own sake
And save us from our own deadly sins.
Amen.
Stainshane
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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