Golden Eye
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
Lunch
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
McAccident
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
z∑rø gr∆√ity
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
The ballad of the three
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
Alone at a party
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
The secrets of Quip Chaddick
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.
Ballad of the confused
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