2009-03-05T02:53:00.004-05:00

Once again, the Lord has shown me a faithfulness I cannot match, nor understand. Its a wonderful reminder of His grace, His mercy, His love... Its a strong sense of peace, despite reason to be feel otherwise. Its a patience underserved.

A short poem for you

2009-02-06T10:11:00.002-05:00

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Fresh leaves are green
Your snot is too

If you have the time
I'll tell you a poem
Some poems rhyme
This one doesn't

So please pardon me
If I break the rhythm
But as you can tell its hard to find a good word that rhymes with rhythm

I hope you've enjoyed
My few playful words
I know some were bad
Most were just turds

"Last Meal" OR "The Good One"

2009-02-04T10:16:00.001-05:00

“Last Meal” OR "The Good One"

John walks up to a horizontal freezer and opens it up and starts to look for a "good one." He picks up a frozen fish and puts it on a nearby scale--5 pounds. No good. He takes the fish and tosses it into a nearby pool filled with chocolate pudding--the fish quickly unfreezes, swims about for a little bit, then jumps out of the pool and does a double back flip/flipper reverse somersault right onto a nearby grill made of jewel encrusted gold, burning with diamonds and coal. Naturally, he starts quoting Shakespeare (Hamlet, specifically..."to be or not to be")...this helps ease his transition back into death. Now--John, clearly un-phased by all of this, returns to the freezer and dunks his hand into the yellow ice. He tells himself it’s perfectly natural for the ice to be yellow. As he moves his arms--elbow deep--through the ice in search of his proverbial "good one," his muscles begin to stiffen as a lovely mix of black and blue starts to travel towards his shoulders. Before this disgustingly beautiful case of frostbite has a chance to reach his neck however, John pulls his arms out of the freezer with two "good ones." In his left hand, he holds a giant skunk--green with orange stripes--4 times the size of the Shakespearean fish; In his right hand, he holds a rainbow feathered banana two feet thick, and 4 1/2 feet long. With Frankenstein arms, John walks over to Jane who has been "waiting patiently" in an electric chair (non-functional), strapped to the seat with slimy spaghetti strands. He looks at the objects in his hands and finally decides how he wants to do this. After gently placing the giant banana on a nearby table made of bamboo turtles, John takes the skunk in one arm, and the skunk's tail with the other. He cocks the skunk like a shotgun, aims, and blasts Jane's face with a skunktacular explosion of potpourri. "Son of a!" he thinks to himself. He cocks and shoots two more times. The first shot released a fog that smelled a lot like ancient gym socks mixed with garlic breath. Jane snores loudly. The final shot releases a sweaty pair of underwear (with a brown stain in the center) that hits Jane straight in the face, clinging to her nose. It only takes one breath for Jane to wake up and realize what is happening. Pleased with the current state of things, John tosses the skunk in a nearby raisin-bagel bush. Within seconds, the skunk walks out wearing a purple pimp costume, followed by a crank-skank-skunk and 12 newborns (oddly enough, newborn rabbits). John picks up the feathered banana, holds it like his favorite baseball bat, and stands ready at the plate. He lines up the swing with Jane's face, prepares his swing and....HOME huh? As soon as the banana makes contact with the Hershey-trail underwear, both items disintegrate into a flurry of moths and butterflies. Jane is clearly relieved as she takes in a deep breath. She inhales a couple moths, but thinks nothing of it as she chews to her hearts content. Noticing her level of hunger, John walks over to the golden grill, and with arms still frozen, he picks up the finished fish. He places the diamond barbecued chocolate marinated creation on a bowl he made last week by using fresh guano (bat droppings). He puts the bowl on a straw mat just outside of Jane's reach and places an electric fan right by it so the succulent scent can tease Jane further. He hobbles to a bed behind Jane and falls asleep to the amazing sounds of awful alliteration. As he drifts further into dream, he wonders if Jane will ever realize that spaghetti isn't strong enough to keep someone trapped in a non-functional electric chair...

Skin color

2009-02-04T10:13:00.003-05:00

I realize that there may no longer be pure white or pure black races...expect gray babies soon.

Since thoughts come...

A short poem for you

"Last Meal" OR "The Good One"

Skin color