Golden eye

Staring back

What can I do

To make it stay

I want to run

And love and hate

Myself included

Fate excluded

Gallop and glimmer

Fly and shimmer

Receding deeper

Into the void

The golden eye is gone

Everything is black

Frantic and fleeting

Furious fervor

I want to go back

I want to hide

To flee the blackness inside

I can see you there

Can you see me too?

Can I ask

If you've seen a golden eye?

You look offended

What did I say

They always run away

It's golden and wise

That lovely eye

Where has it gone?

Leaving me all alone

I wish it would end

All the fear and pain

Maybe then I could be free

And happy again

But not without the eye

Where has it gone?

To leave and deceive

And set us all to rot

It isn't fair to live enslaved

I won't take it

Or be a victim

But the hole inside

Grows deeper still

Nipping, gnawing, nagging

Insatiable darkness

Checked by the golden light

Farther than near

Nearer than far

The eye has returned

Magnificently golden

Shedding heavenly light

I cannot stand the darkness

I cannot live alone

Please magnificent god

Don't leave me on my own!

Where did you go

Please come back

Don't leave me in the darkness again

Just hold that happy thought, Peter, don't let it slip away

Maybe you'll be surprised someday

What are the chances that I'd find you here and now?

What made you say goodbye?

I want to run away

Maybe I will someday

Will you come too?

Or shall you be happy for a while?

Your ways confuse me Peter, and yet I ask you now

To come with me

Unless you can't

Or maybe you don't want to

That's all good an fine

But why did you come then?

Was it only to gloat and nag?

To throw temptation in my face, and tear it all away?

I hate you

You enrage me for sport and bask in my fury

Well just hold that happy thought, Peter

The game is over now

You've deceived me for the last time

So don't come back again

I hope you rot and shrivel

"Peter!"

"Yes, mother."

Where is Peter?

I've lost him again

Am I Peter?

Impossible

Peter was in the mirror

Dropped my juice

It's in the sky

Flying free

Floating high

Where is here

How long is now

Trapped in fog

Wondering how

Down is lost

And up is gone

Fate anew

Brings murky dawn

Juice again

Hovers nearby

Swings around

I don't know why

Trapped within

This petty place

Eye to eye

And face to face

Yet with whom

I shan't deduce

God of none

Master of juice

Gone is time

Lasting never

Bleak echo

Rings forever

Three years ago

My grandma went away

We sat down for lunch

Yesterday

Memory gone

She couldn't stay at home

Once an elegant

Epitome

Hopeful she found peace

In a mind lost elsewhere

I was surprised by

An old stare

A grin met her eyes

As it had long ago

She asked me to sit

Not to go

We talked for a while

The years melted away

We laughed and she spoke

Clear as day

She was beautiful

A marvelous echo

Of a time ended

Long ago

But she soon grew sad

Beauty foreign and strange

And she paused for one

Last exchange

With a steady hand

She took one of mine and

Asked me to please

Understand

Before she was kind

With unwavering grace

And she was now too

One last trace

And then she was gone

I stood lost and alone

Yet I did not mourn

Lifeless bone

She had found her peace

Her soul was truly free

And she chose with love

To tell me

I fell in McDonalds

When I was three

Deprived of fries

Woe was me

The floor was wet

I was excited

Events blended

Danger unsighted

There may have been

A warning to heed

Not helpful

When you can't read

I got up fast

I had a mission

I did not need

Further permission

"She's fine", they said

I agreed

Not caring when

I began to bleed

Stupid chin

Cut on the floor

A rising pain

I chose to ignore

More important

Were other things

Crispy fries

That heaven brings

Carried away

I shoved and fought

They said I was injured

I cared not

Tears of longing

Couldn't bring fries

An opportunity wasted

Upon fate's surprise

The day was over

Chin gushing and bleeding

At least I learned

The importance of reading

Dropped my juice

It's in the sky

Flying free

Floating so high

Where is here

How long is now

Trapped in fog

Wondering how

Down is lost

And up is gone

Fate anew

Brings murky dawn

Juice again

Hovers nearby

Swings around

I don't know why

Trapped within

This petty place

Eye to eye

And face to face

Yet with whom

I shan't deduce

God of none

Master of juice

Gone is time

Lasting never

Bleak echo

Rings forever

Troubadour, bard and sausage maker

In a time before the booty shaker

Unlikely team

Babbling stream

Their art was a money raker

Every story has a beginning

The climb before the winning

Song and story

Time before glory

The laughs and fists that send them spinning

A drunken loon that all ignore

Waltzed upon the butcher's door

Angry shout

Cast out

The nonsense-chanting troubadour

Around the sausage maker turned

Saved as the little market burned

A man saved

Adventure craved

Unlikely debt to be returned

Singing and dancing with no justification

Blending the days with no destination

Princes of mud

Fall with a thud

All to be shunned by a nation

But in the muck they met another

Cast from a tavern, a third unlikely brother

Running hard

Came the bard

In a crash to match no other

Cast from the village were all three

With only each other for company

Treading a wood

Where none should

Combating their fears in harmony

Around then they all discovered

Their hidden talent uncovered

Tales of long

Cast in song

As the people marveled and hovered

Across the towns they would flourish

Singing by tunes of lute and Moorish

Low and high

They sang to sky

To the soul the music seemed to nourish

So now you see how in a time so hard

Of the plain commoner whom none regard

Three ill-fated

The hand belated

Upon a sausage maker, troubadour and bard

One can always Celebrate

If given a Bubbly Heart

Ready to Engage

Idle talk is Candy

Others hush and cower

Mourning a loss unseen

Song that never Rose

Within that heavy soul

In despair they Dine

Seconds lasting Forever

As words unspoken

Ring in solemn ears

Quip Chaddick stands idly in his merchant's stall in a side street of London. He hasn't made many sales today, but that's not unusual. "You need to upgrade to a keyosk, mate", his friends used to urge him,"Stalls are old stuff now. No good anymore." Quip hardly knew the difference, and he didn't care. Sometimes Quip missed when he used to feel alive. He used to love immersing himself in the most ridiculous explorations he could fathom. One of his favorite pastimes was to completely engross himself in the etymological flimflammery in the early rococo. He just found it to be the most fascinating subject. Another time, his querying mind snagged on something completely new: wavy pinstripes, and what they represent in Bishkek, Florida. Unable to resist any longer he booked a trip to Florida to explore the phenomenon in full. He also took the opportunity to learn about cleaning air conditioners in the age of uncertainty. Quip loved it in Florida so much that he extended his stay for several months. For a while he was happy, but with Thanksgiving, an American tradition he had yet to experience, Quip fell into a void of depression. He found the turkey such a fascinating creature, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how the turkey got his snood. The subject perplexed him, and he worked day and night to find answers, only to meet dead ends at every turn. Defeated and exhausted, Quip returned to England and settled on spending his days as a lowly street peddler.

Many people are curious about the pocket contents of Anne Cleves' pockets, but not Quip. Quip knows that mermaids do not have such a luxury, because they don't even know what it's like to have pockets. They are quite sorrowful creatures, really. Cast to an eternity in the sea, lamenting their lack of pockets. Now Anne Cleves' pockets don't seem so interesting, do they? Now you want to know about mermaids, and why they've been cast to suck an ill-fortuned, pocketless fate. Well, the answer lies in the fact that Harry Potter is a terrible person. It was a wet and dreary morning when Harry showed up to the sea, dressed in an old oilskin and nicknamed Mr. Tarpaulin Man, by an old fisherman also wearing a tarpaulin. With a graceful wave of his wand, Harry cast a spell and the mermaids came. At first it seemed so beautiful, like lyrics to the song and enchanted harp things. But Harry had revenge on his mind, and it was the mermaids that he blamed for an especially harsh flu season in Chappaquiddick. Harry was drunk at the time, and had gone through all but the last pint of beer on the planet, and his claim had no evidence or reason behind it. Still, he stumbled on, right into the horde of mermaids that he'd summoned. With another wave of his wand, much less graceful this time, the mermaids were damned to an eternity without pockets.

But fear not. The mermaids can be saved. With Harry's dreadful curse, there came a prophecy. Similar to Hercules himself, the chosen one must successfully complete a list of impossible tasks, and then, and only then, will the mermaids live with pockets once more.

First, this unnamed hero must be able to send out a survey of dust bunnies in Vladivostok in the form of a formal sexy letter. When done correctly, someone will respond. That someone is the one who knows the pocket contents of Mary Chase. Such contents must be purchased anew, and then used by the mystery champion in the next task: following a "perching a tent for beginners" guide while combating the violent mood swings of grassy hills. Once the tent is completed, its builder will go inside. If done correctly, the tent will trigger a vision. Most people believe this vision to be a meeting with the five people you meet when you are dead and in Quatar. That is all the information that the prophecy will provide, the rest is up to you, chosen one.

Fattening or flattening?

How can one really say

Eyes dazzled and dizzied

The same story every day

Fattening or flattening?

Or both at the same time

A squabble among gods and men

An illusion truly sublime

Fattening or flattening?

Queries my pinstriped foe

Settling into the wall as I quarrel

Where on earth did they go?

Fattening or flattening?

The pattern laughs in my face

How I wish they'd let me out

And free me of this place