A thousand pin pricks
All 'cross my skin, from the cold
Bites of March morning.
29 March 2017
26 March 2017
"Past Presents" (P.o.t.D. 3/26/17)
I'm riding this wave
Of poems penned two years ago -
Yet silence, today...
Of poems penned two years ago -
Yet silence, today...
"Technical Evolution" (P.o.t.D. 3/26/15, no rev)
There was a time...
Before calculating devices,
When stories around fires reigned.
There is a time...
Men and tools are so tied together,
Struggles 'gainst this stream are vain.
There will be a time...
When computers become self-aware,
No longer needing these men.
Before calculating devices,
When stories around fires reigned.
There is a time...
Men and tools are so tied together,
Struggles 'gainst this stream are vain.
There will be a time...
When computers become self-aware,
No longer needing these men.
25 March 2017
"Over the Rainbow" (P.o.t.D. 3/25/15, rev ???)
Red -
For the blood, sweat and tears sacrificed,
Fighting the dark demons in those first days...
Orange -
Color that my blood turned
After a decade of Austin decadence,
Masquerading as an attempt at a degree...
Yellow -
Glad to be pissing clean and clear,
Despite severe damage done in that one year,
With much less toxins for organs to fear...
Green -
Always striving for more green,
I'm surprised it's not abundant
With far fewer drains that I've seen...
Blue -
Saddened, after another decade;
Because goals go unrealized,
And life still feels like a struggle...
Indigo -
I don't know?
Violet -
Feeling like royalty,
For that second decade
Still had unexpected promises fulfilled.
For the blood, sweat and tears sacrificed,
Fighting the dark demons in those first days...
Orange -
Color that my blood turned
After a decade of Austin decadence,
Masquerading as an attempt at a degree...
Yellow -
Glad to be pissing clean and clear,
Despite severe damage done in that one year,
With much less toxins for organs to fear...
Green -
Always striving for more green,
I'm surprised it's not abundant
With far fewer drains that I've seen...
Blue -
Saddened, after another decade;
Because goals go unrealized,
And life still feels like a struggle...
Indigo -
I don't know?
Violet -
Feeling like royalty,
For that second decade
Still had unexpected promises fulfilled.
23 March 2017
22 March 2017
"Fueled by Frustrations, Suicide Sinks In"
I imagine myself twisting up my bed shifts into a make-shift rope, tying them to the guardrail on the Jones Road bridge, and hanging myself over the creek.
Other days, I feel this urge to jump in fount of the cars speeding down Manchaca Road.
Or... do I poison myself by taking all of the prescriptions simultaneously. What is it like to die on a month's worth of Lithium?
There's even a thought to go to the gun shop, ten minutes away, and buy a gun.
So far, that's the extent of the ideations.
They're not constant, but they're recurring. I suspect they're fueled by frustration and failures. The first time that I attempted suicide, it was not a cry for attention; I wanted to find oblivion, to be done with this circus, to make room for those who seem to be succeeding...
I hate the places my brain can take me.
I hate the expectations that our society imposes on me.
On second sight, I would seriously consider escaping by running away to a monastery (with or without notice, depending on my mood) - all the above suicides seem to have a bit of pain and suffering involved in them.
So, yes, I'm a bit frustrated right now. When I look at the outsides, though, I'm actually not bad off. Yet, like some crazed addict, I want more... more money, more toys, more games, more food, more sex, more attention.
Yet, hearing myself talk, these last couple of days, I'm not too sure that I'm very pleasant to be around. Will you still love me, when I stink?
Sooo... that's me, reaching out in a third/fourth Facebook thread. I'll probably call somebody in the next couple of hours, because I strongly suspect that no one will call me.
(maybe this is all the result of too much caffeine? )
Other days, I feel this urge to jump in fount of the cars speeding down Manchaca Road.
Or... do I poison myself by taking all of the prescriptions simultaneously. What is it like to die on a month's worth of Lithium?
There's even a thought to go to the gun shop, ten minutes away, and buy a gun.
So far, that's the extent of the ideations.
They're not constant, but they're recurring. I suspect they're fueled by frustration and failures. The first time that I attempted suicide, it was not a cry for attention; I wanted to find oblivion, to be done with this circus, to make room for those who seem to be succeeding...
I hate the places my brain can take me.
I hate the expectations that our society imposes on me.
On second sight, I would seriously consider escaping by running away to a monastery (with or without notice, depending on my mood) - all the above suicides seem to have a bit of pain and suffering involved in them.
So, yes, I'm a bit frustrated right now. When I look at the outsides, though, I'm actually not bad off. Yet, like some crazed addict, I want more... more money, more toys, more games, more food, more sex, more attention.
Yet, hearing myself talk, these last couple of days, I'm not too sure that I'm very pleasant to be around. Will you still love me, when I stink?
Sooo... that's me, reaching out in a third/fourth Facebook thread. I'll probably call somebody in the next couple of hours, because I strongly suspect that no one will call me.
(maybe this is all the result of too much caffeine? )
"Couplet on Defeat" (P.o.t.D. 3/22/17)
neglected. abandoned. wasting away...
why do I keep trudging, day after day?
why do I keep trudging, day after day?
21 March 2017
"Light Up My Life!" (P.o.t.D. 3/21/15, no rev)
My neighbor's flowers
Are little sunbursts, alive
With rays and colors!
Are little sunbursts, alive
With rays and colors!
18 March 2017
"Carpenter at Work..?" (P.o.t.D. 3/18/15, no rev)
Pondering our lives:
Hardness, surface, depth, and grain
Like some woods we stain.
Hardness, surface, depth, and grain
Like some woods we stain.
17 March 2017
"Jody's Limerick" (P.o.t.D., 3/17/15, rev 4/5/17)
Arrived early at the movie site,
Without getting a quick breakfast bite...
Stayed busy through the day,
Yet options I did weigh,
I ended up playing at Game Night.
Without getting a quick breakfast bite...
Stayed busy through the day,
Yet options I did weigh,
I ended up playing at Game Night.
16 March 2017
"On the Court" (P.o.t.D. 3/16/15, no rev)
With a wink and a gracious bow,
The lad offered his hand to the girl,
To take her onto the dance floor
Where they'd go round and round in a whirl.
By the fourth dance, she was laughing
As they tried to move in East Coast Swing,
Even though he had no lessons...
What's absurd? He also thought he'd sing.
She gave him points, though, for trying;
So, he offered his hand to the girl,
As he pulled out a diamond ring -
From there, 'tis a secret, what unfurled...
The lad offered his hand to the girl,
To take her onto the dance floor
Where they'd go round and round in a whirl.
By the fourth dance, she was laughing
As they tried to move in East Coast Swing,
Even though he had no lessons...
What's absurd? He also thought he'd sing.
She gave him points, though, for trying;
So, he offered his hand to the girl,
As he pulled out a diamond ring -
From there, 'tis a secret, what unfurled...
14 March 2017
"Failing..." P.o.t.D. 3/14/15 (pi day!), rev ???"
Right now, this moment, I find myself asking, "Why?
Why did my well of wonderful words run dry?"
Probably running around too much, running myself ragged -
So, it becomes a chore of Epimetheus, pulling thoughts jagged...
Fail:
I'm Unsure of the Greek boulder-pushing guy,
And I'm Forcing the second rhyme.
I'm not even checking syllable counts,
Let alone, their stress patterns.
Stressed indeed -
A full plate before me,
Yet so little money
To get feed?
Fail again?
Beating ourselves up over stuff contrite,
Leads to mental blocks when we try to write -
Still, we win?
I see an insanely busy week ahead...
Maybe I could write much much more,
Yet I must also find my way to my bed.
Why did my well of wonderful words run dry?"
Probably running around too much, running myself ragged -
So, it becomes a chore of Epimetheus, pulling thoughts jagged...
Fail:
I'm Unsure of the Greek boulder-pushing guy,
And I'm Forcing the second rhyme.
I'm not even checking syllable counts,
Let alone, their stress patterns.
Stressed indeed -
A full plate before me,
Yet so little money
To get feed?
Fail again?
Beating ourselves up over stuff contrite,
Leads to mental blocks when we try to write -
Still, we win?
I see an insanely busy week ahead...
Maybe I could write much much more,
Yet I must also find my way to my bed.
13 March 2017
"Words With W" (P.o.t.D. 3/13/15, no rev)
We wield this whip,
To work, work, work -
For what money
Or career perk?
To work, work, work -
For what money
Or career perk?
10 March 2017
"Cats'... Bird... March... May... Start?" (P.o.t.D. 3/10/15, no rev)
Today's poem will be a string of words:
Cats chasing errant little birds...
Posts and tweets galore
Spewing from Austin's floor -
Music and film and computer madness
Leads to citizens feeling badness...
March is upon us, with rain and cold
And so many events, good as gold -
Rodeo, basketball, and fest
Makes me feel this month is best...
Well... May is quite awesome, too,
With the academic events,
Like the state one-act-plays,
And the end of college days.
All that started from cats,
What, then, would be sparked from dogs?
Or, if you're more esoteric wizards,
You could play with goldfish or lizards!
Ready..?
3..2..1.. Write!
Cats chasing errant little birds...
Posts and tweets galore
Spewing from Austin's floor -
Music and film and computer madness
Leads to citizens feeling badness...
March is upon us, with rain and cold
And so many events, good as gold -
Rodeo, basketball, and fest
Makes me feel this month is best...
Well... May is quite awesome, too,
With the academic events,
Like the state one-act-plays,
And the end of college days.
All that started from cats,
What, then, would be sparked from dogs?
Or, if you're more esoteric wizards,
You could play with goldfish or lizards!
Ready..?
3..2..1.. Write!
09 March 2017
"Accumulate" (P.o.t.D. 3/9/15)
It rains upon me:
Water falling, tasks undone -
Both pool into floods.
Water falling, tasks undone -
Both pool into floods.
08 March 2017
"Time ticks by..." (P.o.t.D. 3/8/15)
Time ticks by...
Happy - lying beside my love,
Watching minutes weave and wander
Through their periodic patterns -
Palindromic time: 10:01, 12:21, 1:41;
Repetitive time: 10:10, 12:12, 1:11 -
And on and on, they cycle through...
Time ticks by...
I study mathematics,
She studies Roman classics -
Was this love bound to happen?
...or is it "Fated to Fail"?
Then, as sweaty summer ends,
So ends our brief relation.
Time ticks by...
The sun rises later today,
As we add an hour, in our way.
"Spring Forward" will cause missed meetings,
And confusion from clock readings...
Of course, a host of Facebook posts
Bemoan our time loss, through their roasts.
Time ticks by...
We are but one week away
From the century's Pi Day -
So much fuss now being made
Over time just so arrayed...
Seems so faked, so I ask "Why
We write numbers 'cross the sky?"
Happy - lying beside my love,
Watching minutes weave and wander
Through their periodic patterns -
Palindromic time: 10:01, 12:21, 1:41;
Repetitive time: 10:10, 12:12, 1:11 -
And on and on, they cycle through...
Time ticks by...
I study mathematics,
She studies Roman classics -
Was this love bound to happen?
...or is it "Fated to Fail"?
Then, as sweaty summer ends,
So ends our brief relation.
Time ticks by...
The sun rises later today,
As we add an hour, in our way.
"Spring Forward" will cause missed meetings,
And confusion from clock readings...
Of course, a host of Facebook posts
Bemoan our time loss, through their roasts.
Time ticks by...
We are but one week away
From the century's Pi Day -
So much fuss now being made
Over time just so arrayed...
Seems so faked, so I ask "Why
We write numbers 'cross the sky?"
05 March 2017
"It rained..." (P.o.t.D. 3/5/17)
It rained...
It rained tears of angels,
Crying at how we live our lives.
It rained sweat of many birds
Tring to fly away,
And escape narrowly with their lives.
It rained a nasty potluck of chemicals
Pumped without conscience, into our skies -
Slowly eating away at beauty outside,
And leaving a few afraid to live healthy lives.
I tell you, "It rained...",
And most of us
Skipped along, blind to the pain.
It rained tears of angels,
Crying at how we live our lives.
It rained sweat of many birds
Tring to fly away,
And escape narrowly with their lives.
It rained a nasty potluck of chemicals
Pumped without conscience, into our skies -
Slowly eating away at beauty outside,
And leaving a few afraid to live healthy lives.
I tell you, "It rained...",
And most of us
Skipped along, blind to the pain.
"Sing a New Song" (P.o.t.D. 3/5/15, no rev)
It's a tough challenge
Writing a new poem, each day -
Think before I say...
Writing a new poem, each day -
Think before I say...
04 March 2017
"Delusions" (P.o.t.D. 3/4/15, no rev)
Bubbling up from within my core,
Thoughts bounce around my head, in war.
From where do I draw my life's power,
When crisis looms upon the hour?
Is it through talking with my friends
Upon which "Solution" depends?
...Or praying to something above,
Source of unconditional love?
Maybe following set of rules
Is key for my base kit of tools...
Then, while walking back to my home,
Thoughts of undead did slyly come.
Am I a vampire, like disease,
Drawing life out, with fatal bites?
Or maybe a lich, living through
Arcane studies, learned in dark nights?
Could I be some sort of foul ghoul,
Feasting on flesh, in carnal rites?
'Tis not literal life effects,
But treats others as "things we fight"...
Then, the whisper comes, in my mind,
On the solitary night walk -
"How'd I survive, sixteen years past?
Am I embedded in matrix,
Or implanted with small machines?"
...So my mind wanders, in weird ways...
Thoughts bounce around my head, in war.
From where do I draw my life's power,
When crisis looms upon the hour?
Is it through talking with my friends
Upon which "Solution" depends?
...Or praying to something above,
Source of unconditional love?
Maybe following set of rules
Is key for my base kit of tools...
Then, while walking back to my home,
Thoughts of undead did slyly come.
Am I a vampire, like disease,
Drawing life out, with fatal bites?
Or maybe a lich, living through
Arcane studies, learned in dark nights?
Could I be some sort of foul ghoul,
Feasting on flesh, in carnal rites?
'Tis not literal life effects,
But treats others as "things we fight"...
Then, the whisper comes, in my mind,
On the solitary night walk -
"How'd I survive, sixteen years past?
Am I embedded in matrix,
Or implanted with small machines?"
...So my mind wanders, in weird ways...
01 March 2017
"Haiku on Frustration" (P.o.t.D. 3/1/15, no rev)
My mind disconnects
From hunger and lack of sleep,
Making poems so hard.
From hunger and lack of sleep,
Making poems so hard.
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