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Schizophrenic Alabaster Effigies

The schizophrenic alabaster effigies

Burn,   

the hot flame dancing

on cool stone

Nearby, the stopwatch

stops,

incessant ticking

ends in absolute silence

The brilliant vibrant nebula

collapses,

far out in the darkness

myriad colors cease

Below, the infant

child

awakes to the light

of a thousand glowing suns

A Piece of Prose

A piece of prose is nice to have but not as nice as rhymes


And speeches serve their purpose, Well, at least at certain times 


Books and essays too long winded, Eulogies too blunt


and don't you get me started on the people that just grunt


books are far too hard to write (every section needs correction)


and angry rant that are scribbled down, often seem to lack direction


what I find the best at times, are simple poems of seven lines.

If I have a Piece of Paper

Red-Rage

In class if I have a piece of paper in front of me and a pencil in my hand I compulsively draw, or more accurately, doodle. I can't help it. It's so bad that if I happen to have a pencil and no paper I go into ninja mode and, quite hostilely and stealthily, spring onto my opponent the question... "may I please have a piece of paper?" and if, God forbid, I have a piece of paper and no pen I go into a frenzy known as red rage which I probably inherited from some ancient ancestral tomato. Anyways that's why this example of my doodles is red. By no means is it red from the night vision, which I had no idea existed on my camera, that automatically turned on when I covered the flash with my hand because of the glare. Pshaw! That would be ridiculous.

Fenwick: Part I

"Goddammit" Fenwick mumbled, "I'm awake"
He looked down and saw he had no pants.
"I have no pants" he said dumbly
"It's dark out" he continued in a similar vein-again stating the obvious.
"I should get up"
He fell back asleep

"Goddammit" Fenwick mumbled, not realizing he had said this just a couple of hours before, "I'm awake"
He looked down and again saw he had no pants. Again this surprised him.
"Why am I not wearing pants?" he asked, of no one in particular.

A man walked up to him, looking concerned.
"Are you okay sir?"
"I don't have pants"
"You look shaken up, are you all right?
"I don't have pants"
"Yes I see that"
"Where are my pants?"
"What?"
"You heard me, I want my fucking pants"
"I think you are delirious, sir"
"I'm not delirious, I just don't have pants is all"
It was not in fact strange that Fenwick found himself having conversations of such intellectual caliber and, using his logical reasoning, he was clearly winning the debate
"Give me my fucking pants, you retard" he yelled persuasively. 
However persuasively he yelled the man of intellectual caliber only nodded and smiled and wrote things down, not looking intellectual but more like the retard that Fenwick had labeled him. Looking intellectual wasn't the point. If you acted intelligent people would ask you to do things like triangulate graphs and quote Nietzsche and Kant, and tell them the periodic table and the atomic count of their phones; there would be no end to it. So he tried not to act too intelligent and got by most of the time, but sometimes that didn't work and he had to let his intelligence show. Like right now with this fucking lunatic, (hey he was the one who started the swearing-ok? That stuff was contagious.) yelling about pants.
"Yes, I understand sir, but I don't have your pants"
"Then why do I not have pants on right now?"
"Maybe I didn't take them" he had to be patient, these things take time.
"Um."
"Maybe you lost them." The man of intelligent caliber suggested, helpfully. Or so he thought.
"What? Oh"
This had not occurred to Fenwick before.
"Sorry, that hadn't occurred to me."
"No problem" the man said. 


To be Continued.......in part Two 

Lo After These Many Years

Lo, after these many years one wonders what has happened. One thinks, wow was that really many years? Then one thinks, well, duh, how else could it be, I mean several hundred weeks have gone by, and yet, really, years? Yes, really, years. So fast and yet the days creep along, like the last snail in a snail race, you're yelling and screaming, "GO FASTER GO FASTER!!" and yet the snail just keeps on at its own maddening pace. Well it is actually highly deceptive, seeming like several hundred years, rather than weeks, but it has happened and there is no stopping  it.
Yes life can be maddening as a portrait, or rather time is maddening, although life is time because as a portrait time is one of your few possessions. Actually you're more of time's possession, for with nothing of interest to do or any other variation in the day time is unbearably uncontrollable. As I have already stated I am a portrait. What kind of portrait you ask? Well I am an oil based painting. I am no longer sure from what era; as the years pass with nothing to do to exercise your memory you begin to unlearn what you thought you'd always known. You couldn't date the style the artwork either, if art work is what you'd call me, for the artist was if my memory serves me correctly a bit of an eccentric. He would come in from outside with handfuls of mud and scrape it onto his pallet in an attempt to make the "medium come to life" and in a fit of passion throw mud around the room shouting "the world is my canvas!" He would then run back outside to cry about how cruel the world is before having a conversation with the dandelions. He never finished any of his work. In fact he didn't even finish me. The family dog was the one that put the finishing touches on me after eating too much grass and projectile-vomiting all over the painting. Upon seeing this the painter realized that the green fibrous splatter was a perfect summation of the feelings he was trying to evoke. So here I am; just your ordinary impressionistic water scene.

Guava Utterances

Often, we find out that things in life do not go as planned. For instance, just today, I planned to say something funny but when I opened my mouth all my hopes and dreams were shattered as the words  from my mouth hung limply in the air before dropping like the pitiful utterances they are to the cold hard linoleum tiles. I planned never to do this again. I have the suspicion that my plans are in some way flawed. Maybe this is due to the fact that I often say random things that don't make sense or maybe it's really true that radioactive guavas are out to get me.


No one really knows about radioactive guavas that much and this surprises me considering how dangerous they would be if they were real. I mean, think about it;  your chance of getting caught in a hurricane or struck by lightning is like, one in a million or something. Since radioactive guavas are fantastical and hypothetical, they can,  hypothetically strike anywhere at any time. Be afraid. Be very afraid.


(see right: angry guavas ready to fission and attack)

Alfred and Rupert Walking

Two bears were walking down the road in the forest. Then they heard people voices coming down the lane. The two bears hurriedly took cover in some near by bushes. This took a bit of time though as both the bears were trained expertly in bear etiquette so each insisted that the other take cover first. This was solved by them taking cover at the same time on either side of the road. They had barely settled themselves when two hunters came jaunting down the path with guns in hand, wool hats on head, and scruffy beards on chin. One stopped to sniff the air.
Stupid man 1: "what is it, what do you smell?"
Stupid man 2: "I smell... I smell... cookies!"
Stupid man 1: "I love cookies!"
at this point the bears, since they couldn't roar over the lane to each other, they began to text.
Alfred: (Bro! have u been baking?)
Rupert: (Naw bro!... maybe.)
Alfred: (Stupid man looks like ur sister :P)
Rupert: (Lol)
You'd have to be a bear to get it.....
TO BE CONTINUED

Fun with Zombies

It's 2011 and you know what that means. Next year will be 2012....THE END OF THE WORLD! As this dark time approaches we can only wonder what THE apocalypse will be like. As Whitman, Stephen, and Xander sat on their back porch playing chuck-cards-at-the-cat and drinking shots of water they stopped to look up at the darkening sky. The clouds were pooling in brilliant yet terrifying colors. Stephen remarked that the last apocalypse wasn't that bad. Then their minds wandered back to the last time the earth ended... in 2010 and remembered how they manage to pass the time when everything seemed so bleak. Like most earth ending events, the apocalypse invariably means hordes of zombies roaming around ready to eat you. This can be very stressful for a person