Friday, September 25, 2009

glass

Broken glass upon the floor
It glitters brightly
In tiny shards
Shards of glass, glass like stars
Winking and twinkling
In the black pudding of the sunless sky
Shards as clear as the tears
That trickled down her face
Before I broke the bottle
On her head

Saturday, September 19, 2009

names pt. 2.5

first draft

In jokes and stories, certain surnames and surname forms are likely to appear. They will be typical of a group that is looked down on in society or allowed to be made fun of. At the turn of the 20th century, many jokes in the US involved people with German/Yiddish or Scottish/Irish names. The M(a)c- prefix is still used for funny names, e.g. Homer Simpson renaming Marge "Chesty McBoob". Another example is the early 20th century comic character Boob McNutt.
The surname Jones is also used often for funny or light-hearted characters, possibly because its large number in the population make it easy to use without seeming to point to any particular person, thus avoiding provable insult or slander. Some examples are Jughead Jones, Skippyjon Jones, and America Jones. Even Bridget Jones could fall into this category.

Friday, September 18, 2009

unbearable

Speak to me not of thy grandiose dreams,
Of thy troll-slaughter, of thy zombie death toll.
Fill not mine ears with words a-drip with fantasy.

Tell me not of futures beyond a decade and a world,
When thou art unrecognizable and bold,
And rejoicing in existences here known but vaguely.

Why dost thou envision such a lofty mirage?
Why can I not fall back and go?
Why do I cling to a hallucination of thee?

Tell me now, what thou saw'st on the street this morning,
How the scuttling clouds chilled thy soul.
Fill my head with words stuffed with normality.

Speak to me of a woman in the train
And her hair that swayed to and fro
With Medusa locks she pushed away to see

And weave a tale of nothingness to sooth and calm
My nervous mind, make it catch and slow.
Describe the tiny bird that hopped off free.

Thou dost not see the present, nor I future.
Our eyes do not meet as we well know.
I reach thru fog and darkness to clasp a hand to me
And find my emptiness and numbness only grow
When thou look'st off to whatever thou and thou alone would see.