Cereal Experimentation

November 11, 2007

Rabbit in your Headlights

Filed under: Poetry, music, religion, society and culture — mrlaine @ 6:14 pm

Just a rabbit in your headlights
A memory as you pass on by
Just a sad person to pity
Broken humanity ravaged by time
But somewhere a saviour awaits awakening.

November 1, 2007

Just Groovin to the Halloween Thing

Filed under: Poetry, bad poetry, society and culture — mrlaine @ 12:52 pm

October Ends, as a New day begins,
With people dressed in fanciful, funky, and often frightening new personas.
Deep below the surface, the self seeks to say, “I am that which you now see,
And yet, of course, it is not me.”
Masks, and costumes, and uniforms of all types
Seek affirmation of the self’s greatest fear,
And also its greatest need
To be loved, not for who you are, but for who others see it to be?

Perhaps, on this day of death and fright and sugary surprises,
We remember those who have come and gone, and then come again,
Perhaps not as themselves, in any fleshly form,
But as the vapoury substance of memory,
For ill and for good and for regret and for delight
Inflicted and forced upon you by the sudden and terrifying actions
Of the human “being” human in his natural state of indifferent obsession,

It comes, suddenly, and always without exception,
Always wearing masks of smiles, or frowns, or even occasionally,
Skimpy skin tight nurse outfits.
Remember that they fear not the ghosts and ghouls of Halloween night,
But the always awkward realization that no one is whom he says to be,
The worst of these, should anyone ever find out,
Is me.

Someone Else’s Poetry

Filed under: Poetry, What If — mrlaine @ 12:18 am

Today is gonna be the day
That they’re gonna throw it back to you
By now you should’ve somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don’t believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

Oasis — Wonderwall

October 30, 2007

Grammatical Impossibility

Filed under: Poetry, bad poetry, humour — mrlaine @ 4:01 pm

thEre IS noThiNg more poSSible
THAN imaginINg that whIch hAs NEver been doNe.

pigs thAt FLY oR bacOn that …walks…
all these thIngS OcCupy MetAphySical space Of the derAnGed mind…
(yours truly, hE hopEs, is nOt cOUNted among theSe!)

REally bAD poetry, by neCesSity,
uses Words thAt aRE Far tOo long,
and hoPes the reAder dOesn’t nOtice
the periOdically delusiOnal and ofTeN meGliOmaNic
naTTerings Of the mAdmAn (…ooOOOO)

October 15, 2007

Post Modern Key-Mashing

Filed under: Poetry, bad poetry — mrlaine @ 3:35 pm

-03ildsfsldkjlk-0

sd;lm;lew;l-032-032

;wldkf;wem  =-032 pwe-3223212e;flk

wlkew-032kmqwdkmmcr;gtkhth;lk

jgfjgllfjlffjldjagpeorieporoerpperitk

943-9345-34953-953-953408753497

October 13, 2007

Sullen as a Sasquatch

Filed under: Poetry, Sasquatch, bad poetry — mrlaine @ 12:53 pm

I saw Sasquatch sitting on a street corner Sunday.
Sullen and demuire, he looked as if he’d just lost his very best friend.
Sasquatches it turns out, needs friends just as much as anyone else.

“Sasquatch,” I asked, “Why so sad?”
Slumping his shoulders, the  Sasquatch gave me a sideways glance,
“I have been sitting here selling signed photographs and Star Maps since September.
And yet, no one seems to trust the salesmanship of a Sasquatch.”

I spat.
“Sasquatch,” I replied, as sternly as I could, “Salty tears won’t sell star maps and signed photographs.
“It is indeed sad to see such Discrimination against such a sweet Sasasquatch as yourself.
“Have you tried wearing a Squid Suit?”

September 30, 2007

Filed under: Poetry, bad poetry, religion — mrlaine @ 2:53 pm

I knew this religious guy once, though I was never quite sure what religion it was he followed
All I knew was that he was not allowed to touch anything made of gold.
Gold, he believed, would corrupt the soul even after the briefest and most cursory of encounter.

But, to be honest, he wasn’t very good at following the dictates of his religious doctrine.
While it is true that he never did own or even ever touch anything made of gold,

He would often spend hours peering through the windows of jewelery stores,

Delightfully gazing at golden watches, rings and anything else with that particularly beautiful shine.

One day, though, the strangest thing happened.
As he was walking home , a beautiful sparkle
From the side of the road caught his eye.
With eager anticipation my friend scurried over to catch a glance of this oh-so-shiny thing.
And lying on the ground below was the most beautiful pair of golden earrings he’d ever seen.

They obviously belonged to someone, and someone would soon be missing them.
My friend stared at the earrings for quite some time, unsure of what he should do.
To touch them would violate all that he’d believed
All that he had lived for.

And yet, he could not just leave them there.

Either someone to whom they did not belong would stumble across the valuable objects
And take them to be their own.
Or, perhaps, the owner of the earrings would come back and find them
And place them on her ears, smile, be happy and yet, perhaps, never know what a life without them was like
Both  outcomes, my friend realized, would lead to him never again setting sights on such beauty.

He could not just walk away and forget what he’d seen.
More easily could he forget his own name.

So what happened in the end?
Well, to be honest, I don’t really know.
Did he stay true to what he professed to believe, living a life forever knowing what he’d lost?
Or did he in that moment, decide that belief, that religion, that life itself could not be more meaningful
Than even the briefest of momentary encounters with beauty.

September 10, 2007

Mayonnaise Crayze

Filed under: Poetry — mrlaine @ 3:31 pm

Avoid the Mayonnaise Craze,
Things are well, but not spectacular.
There are eyes beyond skies,
That seek, no, not your demise,
But not that which is best for you.

Be afraid, be happy,
Sing, dance, twirl, hop.
Seek them out
But look for nothing

September 9, 2007

Milk in a Bag

Filed under: Poetry, bad poetry — mrlaine @ 8:54 pm

genuine authenticity
of careless intellectuals

frequently leads to insomnia and the
disquieting certainty
of unequivocal platitudes

This message approved by the committee that approves this kind of thing.

August 9, 2007

I dont believe in Sudanese Refugees

Filed under: Poetry — mrlaine @ 4:34 pm

I dont believe in the right thing
Or doing things the right way
I dont believe in greenhouse gases
Or fuel exhaust

I dont believe in middle of the night sobs
Of brokenhearts
I dont believe in the twist the funky chicken
Or a late night slightly drunken moderately twisted game of Twister

I dont believe in Sudanese Refugees
Or civil wars fought over diamonds
I dont believe in peace
Or feuding families

I dont believe in single parents
Or panic stricken theme park attendees
I dont believe in all the gruesome details
Or corked wine

I dont believe in rainy days
With a rainbow reminder glistening over the freeway
I dont believe in pots of gold
Or the economy

I dont believe in little green men
Or Mars
I dont believe in immigration
Or frenetic alt pop

I dont believe in the Blogosphere
Or Web 2.Ooooohhh wow thats so freaking cool
I dont believe in atheism or theism or deism or youism or goddammititlistentomeism
I dont be.

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