Category Archives: Poetry

Walter.

Once upon a time, there was an octopus who loved hyperbole. His favorite pastime was to sit around and spin long yarns about most anything. His second favorite pastime was to say hyperbole as many times as he could, because he loved the way it rolled off his tongue. (note, I had planned to strike this out by saying that octopuses don’t have tongues. Turns out they do. Humor attempt: thwarted.) Oh, wait, octopuses can’t sit. And it’s octopi. 

Once upon a time, there was an elephant who loved hyperbole. His favorite pastime was to sit around and spin long yarns about most anything. His second favorite pastime was to say hyperbole as many times as he could, because he loved the way it rolled off his tongue. This elephant’s name was Walter. Because of his tendency to tell tall tales, Walter was rather short on friends. You see, Walter’s peers did not share his appreciation for certain literary devices, and with good reason: they were animals. Animals can’t appreciate literature. Walter was rarely invited to parties anymore because of his habit of honing his hyperbolic handiness. However, he continued to collect his creative capabilities to conceive more compositions of colorful capacity. He often practiced his delivery in the woods, to make sure that his stories were as absurd and hilarious as he could make them. Though he seemed satisfied spending much of his time making up stories, Walter yearned for more. He wanted an audience. He wanted someone to appreciate his efforts. Soon, Walter became discouraged. He stopped practicing his deliveries. No one wanted to hear his tales anyway. Finally, he gave up entertaining even himself with his exaggerations. He used his trunk to burrow a hole in the ground, and when it was finished, he crawled inside it and hid, keeping only his trunk above ground for air. The sky began to rain. One drop landed at precisely the perfect spot on a leaf, and a tiny tree frog came tumbling down from high atop a tree and landed squarely on Walter’s trunk. This spooked Walter terribly, so that he jumped up from his hole in the ground, leaving behind a massive crater. The tree frog managed to hang on to Walter’s trunk, and he stayed there clinging for dear life until Walter noticed him.

“Why, hello, tiny toad. To what do I owe this surprise visit from such a petite reptile as yourself?” Asked Walter.

“T-t-t-t-t-titus is m-m-m-m-my name, s-s-s-sir. I-i-i-i-i’ve got, a t-tendency to stutter-ter-ter.” Walter gazed at Titus for a moment, mesmerized. Here was a minute tree frog, but he contained all the rapping power of Eminem and Jay-Z without all the swearing and crude content! This was brilliant! Titus glanced down, obviously ashamed of his imperfection. Walter’s mind began to spin at all the possibilities for greatness. With his literary genius combined with Titus’s hip hop prowess, the duo could be unstoppable! They set to work almost immediately on writing a rap that would soon gain renown as the greatest song ever written in the history of the animal kingdom.

The lyrics were as follows:

Born on the south side of the jungle gym
Where we rumbled and raved till the rhythms went dim
He had a body mass index of four hundred and nine
While some may call it fat, I think it’s just fine
He had alliterative tendencies that troubled my peers
They’re allergic to his aphoristic anthems, I fear
He has seventeen addresses that receive hate mail
And he checks them every day so it doesn’t get stale
As you can probably imagine this routine got old
So he poured out all his patience and stuck his head in a hole
In a log lying lamely in a luminous pile
Of Kentucky Fried Chicken spanning over a mile
His appetite was fierce and this aviary grub
Burned like fire in his eyes, so attractive to that chub
But as he sank in his teeth, out of the corner of his eye
He saw a fly being swallowed by a little green guy
T-t-titus was his name and a t-tendency to stammer
Put his rapping potential up with the likes of MC Hammer
He was bound for superstardom and if you can’t already see
The r-rapper called T-t-titus was none other than m-m-me

I travel the world in my 747
I hit up the clubs where we party till eleven
In the morning when it’s light, you’d think we be gettin’ tired
But I just down another Monster so as not to expire
Now a fateful Monday morning on a maniacal Monster craze
We’d partied so hard the room was filled with purple haze
My imp-p-pediment dulled my diction down to downright disgusting
All the sugar I’d consumed had my dental fixtures rusting
So Walter and I up and quit the clubbin’ scene
Yeah we joined a monastery like those dudes from Nicene
So the moral of the story as I think I’ve made it clear
Is if you ever see an amphibious rapper come near
Enjoy your little lick of limelight ’cause it won’t last long
Then prepare yourself for a life of chanting Gregorian songs
Now here’s another line as a bonus prize:
I like Italian dressing on Slovakian french fries

No that’s not quite right…how about “Hand me the vuvuzela or i’ll poke out your eyes!”

No, no, no…”Every time you catch a fastball a Puerto Rican child dies?”

No, that’s a bit racist. Hmm…”They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard, guys!!!!”

Wait a second, that’s not very original.

All this idiotic indecision is making Anna cry.

And that was the end of the song.

Within about 2 weeks of radio play, the song had eclipsed every number 1 that has ever been released by Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and Ke$ha, combined. It went viral all over the internet. Soon, Walter and Titus became so ridiculously famous that they had to go and hide in the rain forest to escape all the paparazzi. To ensure that they went out with a bang, Walter and Titus had wax replicas of themselves made to look like they were dead. They left the replicas in their shared apartment along with several empty bottles of pills. When Walter and Titus arrived back home in their African rain forest, they breathed a sigh of relief. They were glad to be rid of all the publicity. Coincidentally, they found the recording studio where all the “dead” artists make their music. There, they ran in to Tupac Shakur, Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Walter and Titus were offered a multi-million dollar contract with the studio, but they refused. The elephant and the frog were now officially out of the music business. They’d had their fun, but it was time to go back to being an animal again. They declined the music contract, and the two lived happily ever after as renegades in the African Rainforest, writing raps that would never be read and resting them in a red repository which was reserved in a remote region which required religious repetition of rites for reception.

-THE END-

Special thanks to Jeremiah for that EPIC rap! Also to http://www.thesaurus.com for help on the alliteration. 😀

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Repair

This week’s poetry:

(note: it gets a little cheesy in the last stanza. I’m still trying to figure out how to not do that)

Repair

Why is it so hard
For me to see you in pain?
I’ll duct tape up your heart
And try to seal your leaky drains
But the clamps stop up your blood
Your heart fights hard against my plugs
Burning me with your disdain

Why can’t I just let go
And trust that God will have His way?
I’ll fret since I don’t know
You won’t repent, I go insane
So I rig up clamps that stop your blood
Your heart grows faint due to these plugs
The situation doesn’t change

When will I ever see
That my tendencies could kill?
I’m causing you to bleed
But I just want you to be still
So I’ll loose my clamps and free your blood
Your heart beats free without my plugs
Now God can do His will

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Pages

Wow, three weeks in a row! I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up! I also don’t know how much longer I can say silly things about accomplishing a fairly menial task! And just for good measure, here’s another exclamation point!

All silliness aside, here’s this week’s poem. Which has a marked difference in tone from that first paragraph. Whatever.

Pages

Empty pages mock me
Screaming in their silence
Filled with empty violence
Chaos waiting to be born
Some just waiting to be torn
From bindings worn thin by time
But not by use, for blankness screams
Potential teems in countless reams
And dreams the dreams of meaning
To contain the thoughts of a sage
Or even a lunatic’s rage
Anything but the nothingness
That fills an empty page.

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Home

Hey look! It’s on time! Here’s this week’s poem:

Home

A red piece of wood
Carved up and strung
White paper, black ink
Framed and hung

A stand and a chair
Brown shelves full of books
A closet with clothes
Draped over their hooks

Some speakers and picks
A mahogany table
Flourescent duct tape
Binding audio cables

Blue blankets and sheets
Strewn out over a bed
Sheetrock and beams
Standing firm overhead

Cicadas and crickets
Singing proud in the night
The fire of a sunrise
Burns in glorious light

A blinding reflection
The moon’s brilliant dome
The sights and the sounds
Of the place I call home

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Let’s see how this works…

So Anna really wants me to throw some of my poetry up here. I’m going to try to throw a poem up here every Friday that I can. What, it’s Thursday? Whatever, maybe I should have said “weekly”. Don’t kill me if I miss a week or two…or seven. Sometimes I get lazy. So without further ado, here’s the first one. And before you think I’ve gone of the deep end, this was written a long time ago, during a particularly tough time. Hopefully it means something to you, because it does to me. I thought it would be fitting to begin with, because it was really the poem that got me started writing poetry in general. Enjoy!

Beauty

Rollling down my face
Drip, drip, drip
Tickling and stinging my cheeks
I can’t help myself
Flow. Stop. Flow.
This is starting to get old

All I can do for now
Is wipe them away
But more are taking their place
It’s like a quiet little stream
Bitterly serene
Yet violently churning underneath

But listen:
Hope.
The Creator speaks
And the stream becomes a river
Becomes an ocean
Becomes beauty

 

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Life Goal of a Christian: A Poem

I met God today on a busy street
On a crowded walkway where the people looked beat.
I met God today and I asked Him why
All these people were sad, and I started to cry
Then He said,
“Look down and see the shoes on your feet.
Now look up at the faces of the people you meet.
They may not be pretty, they may not be nice,
But I love them enough to pay the highest price.
Show them my Love.”

I met God today in a quiet place
And I felt all alone in time and space.
As I looked all around and began to feel lonely,
My heart was confronted by the One and Only
And He said,
“Get out of your shell, because people are hurting,
Looking for love and all the while deserting
Me, the One who gave them life,
And looks forward to meeting them as my future wife.
Go, and make disciples.”

I met God today at the pearly gates
And I felt as though in an angelic state
I looked up and around and started to see
The people from the street who’d made contact with me.
And God said,
“Well done, My child, you’ve completed the task
You’ve brought home my people and didn’t hold back.
Now my bride is here, the battle is won,
But come inside, friends, the celebration’s begun!”
Then He glanced back at me and said
“Well done.”

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