Epic Poem #22

The things we find to occupy
Are seldom ever seen.
A bottle in a cabinet;
A paper in a stream.

We curl up with our TV wishes,
Can we ever find the time
To listen to ourselves and talk
Without the simple rhyme?

Would we ever know the happiness
Of just life, no tricks, no games?
Can we play the notes our mothers taught?
Will we learn to love again?
Can we sigh, unburdened by the thought
Of chemical restraint?

He who finds the heart for this
Is often deemed a saint.

Epic Poem #21

Bring me into your world of elusive reality,
Where fingernail moons are cut out
of the sky
and
descend
upon the plain
of my heart,

little
fleeting snowflakes
melting with
the setting of Sirius,
The ever-loyal, loving dog star of your heart.

Epic Poem #20

Sunshine calls to me, invading my thoughts.
I'm falling home,
Sitting right here.

Astral projection was never as fluid
As the touch of grass on my legs,

But sunsets like this don't last forever.
They are hard to come by,

Living in a river of steel.

Epic Poem #19

We are so
lucky as humans,
for our
time on
earth

water

*That's what I wrote; there is no verb there.  Very poetic, I'm sure.

Villanelle #1

I had a dream, a dream that I could fly.
It was the best dream I have ever had.
I reached out my arms to the sky.

 








That is what it must feel like when one dies.
But if I were to die, would you be sad?
Would you mourn me if I floated up high?

 













I start to think your love is just a lie
When I speak of my dreams and you get mad.
So now I feel that I must say goodbye.

 







Kiss me, my darling, and hold me to the sky.
I should like to think that you will be sad.
Don't blame me, it's not my fault, I tried.

 












And now I have to go, and I will cry
And your devotion, I never quite had.
So let me go to my star in the sky.

 















And darling, don't ask me the reason why.
Apologies can only be too sad.
In a minute, I'll be gone, don't be shy.
But tell me that you'll miss me, don't be mad.

Epic Poem #18

It's an all-night party
around here
We have
a good
time
Being with us.

Epic Poem #17

I wonder
does she know what it's like not to
feel familiarity
with
anyone
you've
ever
met.
Does she
know what it's
like
to
think
no one
will ever
truly
love her?

Epic Poem #16

Breathless
giggling

Little shooting stars
carbon dioxide

fizzes of
ecstasy
pings of euphoria
pinball showers
explode inside me.
I capture them in a jar

 


For this will not be
appropriate
at 35.

(HOLY SHIT SHE FORETOLD THE FUTURE) 

Bad Literature

*Facebook Status Update*

3 things before I finally go to sleep for realz: 

One, Elnett hairspray allows my hair to stay up in such a fashion that I'm legally required to be Syndrome from The Incredibles for Halloween. 

Two: If you do a Google Image Search for just "syndrome," be ready for some crazy shit. 

 And three: I have discovered my dream career, and that is to be a Professor of Terrible Literature. I would rock that shit so hard: teaching what separates good literature from bad, and basically doing what real professors do but for bad literature. The academic world NEEDS me!

  

Epic Poem #15

I will resist my urge
to braid my hair
If you refuse
To break my heart.

Epic Poem #14

How many girls must you dance with
Before you believe you
Don't need
Me?
I suppose keep counting,
I will never believe.
(Ha ha ha.)

Epic Poem #13

Her statue
is different
from the rest.

 








(Drawing dedicated to Stephen) 

*Don't Blink*

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Epic Poem #12

Cantilevered bridges

stretch from the corners of my mind,

Criss-crossing the strangest things,
like rainbows

and blood-bugs.

I don't know, and I suppose that you
wouldn't either.

Shh, now, time for bed, little one.

Epic Poem #11

O ugly nation

Of Prejudice

With purple waves of shame.

And scarlet faces angrily

Proclaiming words of hate!

America,

America,

God shed his grace on these.

But you take it and you use it

For hate, eternally.

Troll

*Facebook......umm....trolling*

This is an actual exchange, names and pictures are changed to protect the stupid.

Herpa Derp
Does anyone know how the fireworks is n Arnold? An if they r for sure doing it tomorrow????

Boston Whatfruit
Josh and my mom went one year. Ask them

Extra Special
My brother say it was awesome last year!
Its free to go in, its a fair, the only thing cost is rides and other stuff!

Bitch Please
This is the SoCo Exchange, not the Hillbilly News Network.
Take it to your own wall.

Herpa Derp
Hillbilly? To ask about fireworks..um fuck off
Thx Boston an Extra

Ya my post was approved by a member. N no offense was taken he/she is n idiot...firework are not hillbilly.

Oli Blivious 
the fireworks in Arnold is is USA's can get

god bless america happy 4th of July

Horses

*Facebook Status Update*

Made it out of PrideFest before the rain got going! Sweaty and tired, but I thought of a name for my third horse! (In case you forgot, the first two are going to be "Smell Factory" and "Bleeding Toenail.") The next one? "That Baby Got Raptured!"

oooooooooooohhhh America!

*Facebook Status Update*

I have to tell you guys what happened at Trivia Night tonight. I got there, and there was a sign on the door for it, informing me that David Myers of Y98 is the host. 

I shook my tiny fist because I have a 14-year-old grudge against that guy. 

On our final round answer sheet, I grabbed it before we turned it in and wrote on it this: "In 1999, when you were working at 101.1 The River, I called you every single day for a month and asked you to play 'America' by Bree Sharp. You refused every single day until finally you told me you would play it, if I sang part of it, WHICH I DID. 

 

AND THEN YOU PUT IT MY SINGING ON THE AIR. I'm still mad." 

Next thing I know, the between-rounds song comes on, and it is "America" by Bree Sharp. I damn near broke my neck making eye contact with him, and we both kind of laughed our asses off.

Story Time!

Due to a convoluted series of coincidences, I found myself reminiscing back to 1999/2000 tonight and thought, for the first time in probably over 10 years, of the time I applied to UCLA film school.

Oh yes I did.  And I told no one save for the people I cajoled into writing recommendation letters for me.

At the time, before easy digital desktop filmmaking, the film school at UCLA did not require any film experience, and would accept creative-writing samples as evidence of storytelling genius.  I don't know what the hell they want now.

You see where this is going, right?  I submitted some of these poems.  I don't remember which ones, but does it matter?  They all suck.  And here's where it gets weird...

Haha, no it doesn't.  It doesn't get weird at all.  I was rejected summarily, OF COURSE, because these poems are dogshit laid out on paper and obviously I would have been a spectacular trainwreck as a film student, which I know because I went ahead and took a filmmaking class at the community college and I saved my bacon in a finals-week Hail Mary scratch film.

I've got some news for you: Creative expression is a lot of work, and I suck at it; I would love to tell you that these poems come from a time in my life as a nascent artist, before I really "developed my craft" (barf), and that these days I'm an accomplished poet and author.  But that's just not me, and I'm about 93% OK with that.  If nothing else, this stuff is pretty damn funny, made doubly so by Christy's amazing illustrations (don't let her be too self-deprecating about them). 

-Sandy

Epic Poem #10

I'd like to come over tonight

And tell you of the prophet of doom.

Come stand by the warm firelight
In the otherwise cold dark room.

The prophet of doom lurks in the night,
And will take you by the hand.

To a place where commercialism reigns,
A not-so-distant land.

This is our fate, we've sealed ourselves,

A future to behold.

We're doomed to life in glass houses,

Where no one can throw stones.