Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Three Minute Poem

This is the three minute poem
of my life:

The Attack

Isn't it strange how emotions attack?
They attack our very soul
When we least want them there
Go away!
Leave me be!
I don't want to cry any more.

Funny Funny Fears

Isn't it funny how we can have fears,
Irrational fears.
Like the fear of dark.
Or fear of public speaking.
But the fear of being known... is never irrational.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

13 Haiku's: A Shorter Study in Servitude

Note: Each Haiku was inspired by one of the thirteen pieces in Howard Barker's "13 Objects: Studies in Servitude." The title of the poem is bold within the poem itself.

Digging and digging
With a lonely spade dig I
Making my own grave.

Both bitter and sweet
Are the cards life has dealt me
Cruel cup, kind saucer.

No beauty in war
So why a shiny medal?
For bravery: Tin.

I watch you sitting
Making love to Navy Blue
Please! Look at me instead?

The talk of a toy
Rings much more sufficiently
Than the spoken word.

When life is empty
Take this advice from my lips
Look through a cracked lens.

Contemplation of
The investor's chronicle
Rage destroys value.

More than just a game
A ring binding me to you
Not to escape now.

Ready to travel
But unsure of where to go
South of that place near?

A door sits unlocked
Waiting to be discovered
We find poet ash.

You dare to decline
Glasses from a murderer?
It's blind prejudice!

Next to a bucket
Of clean water, The hermit's
War with God
is lost?

The sound of a drum
Is impossible to kill
Listen. I'll beat you.

The Shoes of Distraction

Note: This poem was inspired by "Navy Blue," one of the 13 pieces in Howard Barker's "13 Objects: Studies in Servitude."

Sex! For my very first time sex!
Full of innocent nervousness,
The one I love wants me!
Tension fills the air - we run, we laugh.
Must calm the butterflies somehow.
A distraction might work - look a shoe!
It worked too well. Stop! Look at me!
Don't you want me anymore?

Death of a Sun

I saw a world with no light.
The sun had died,
And with it, hope.
And with the death of hope,
So died innovation.
And with it, technology,
And the will to live.


Squiggles on a page,
Meaningless squiggles, right?
But life must have meaning.
Or so says the artist,
Critiquing the squiggles of boredom.

Unlived Love

Sitting in silence
Always waiting patiently
He will never come.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Triplet

To explain, the three haiku's stand on their own. First, read each individually (first column, second column and third column). Then, go back and read again: Left to right so that the pattern of syllables is 5,5,5-7,7,7-5,5,5 (My apologies for the formatting not looking cleaner. But sometimes the effort is not worth the small adjustments needed)

45 Minutes

Well in truth, 55.

But who's counting?

Are you counting?

How dare you count my life!

It is a job for me.

Only me.

A job just for me.

Your resume doesn't fit.

You were not hired.

Your experience isn't great enough.

Not to count me.

I will always be employed.

In counting me, my place is assured.


Unless they build a computer whose resume is greater than mine.

That would show true intelligence.

But then, I am afraid that counting me will be unimportant.

The computer would lose interest.

Who would count me then?


Lost in plain sight.

You could see me.

You would say that I am there.

But if I'm no counted, am I really there?

48 now.

Still not down to the title.

Why is Time so important?

We cherish it.

No, we worship it.

We are subjected to its rules.

Time is our king, our god.

We must break Time.

We refuse to be subjugated!

Why, when so many men have tried, should Time be the ruler of the world?

But without Time, chaos ensues.

Oh, chaotic life!

Never knowing when to meet.

Or how to pay those who make seven bucks an hour?

Without Time, there is no way.

We would all be poor, without education.

Could we even live?

Perhaps not.

Therefore, better to sustain Time.

Then, we can gain its trust.

With Time's trust, we can learn to manipulate it.

Controlling that which rules the world is the same as being that ruler.

Is it not?

27 minutes now.

45 slipped by.

How cruel life's distractions are!

Distractions can destroy a man.

But can they destroy a woman?

Not as often.

But they're destructive all the same.

Music plays somewhere.

A favorite song chimes.

I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me.

The lyrics lend to thoughts of worms.

They're a good source of protein, or so I'm told.

Men eat protein.

Women get the salads.


If for the love of taste, I approve.

If for the love of looks, of vanity, of conforming to society...


Why conform when you can be you?

An individual, free from societies constraints.

I want to be free.

Free from everything...

Well, except Time.

The number now?


That number is clever.

Like 100 it can be at times forced outside of number-dom to be a face.

Does 20 want to be a face?

Did anyone bother to ask?

20 and 100 are also alike in that they represent the goal:


Whether in vision or percentages there is always perfection.

But then, confusion abounds.

People push for 110 and then soon enough a trillion percent!

So then, perfection is again out of reach.

Not fair to move the finish line.

Down to 14.

Otherwise known as seven times two.

One more than a baker's dozen.

Two more than a REAL dozen.

Who decides?

Which phrases become common...

Who decides that?

That, I can't say.

Though, I do wonder which will become the common:

Flash drive?

Memory stick?

Thumb drive?

Who will decide that?

Have they already decided?


Almost to zero.

Then I will stop.

When the alarm sounds, I will cease writing.

I will stand.

I will leave.

Though this writing is enjoyable, it is dictated that I must leave.

At zero, this is finished.


Therefore, fulfilled.

One day we too will be.

Fulfillment will arrive at a different time for each.

Can one die without fulfillment?


They are the ghosts.

They too will be fulfilled...


Less than 1 minute.

Living in anticipation for the alarm.



It sounds and...