“A man’s wealth is but
a measure of more the things
he can leave alone”
Category: Uncategorized
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Para-Henry David Thoreau OR Pass on Some Things to Gain Truth in Others
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Para-Walt Whitman OR Take Hold of Life In and Out of Knowledge
“Morning glory at
my window: more than meta
taphysics of a book”
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Garrett Johnson, Amy Dunlap, Haze and Summertime
Ath(Porch sitting)ens
Ger(Makes me miss friends)many
Col(Girlfriend)umbusYour(Look)head, raining sweet things
Mov(Trepidation)ing——>
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Mix It Up
I am the particular mood in which time slows just enough to become almost unbearable. Moods like moths, unwanted and only bothersome because of their unpredictability and JERKIness. Not as in jerk like the noun, but more like jerk like the verb. Recently, I was told in an email that I was “dicking” like the verb.
There are patience everywhere. Yes I know that is spelled “wrong”. I wish I were impossibly, grammatically perfect so that everyone could assume that I was hilarious. Patients, a virtue.
I live in a house with often one and sometimes two additional males AND often and occasionally, one or two females. Roommates are strange like whispering cats. I think maybe that only happens in my head.
I feel tired like walking in jell-o tubs and very sleepy children hitting my “core” with wooden mallets, sort of softly but sustaining. Also, hangover, no headache.
Bright and the ideal are sometimes lost on those who steer. Also stir. Like toss and turn stir, not like mix these chocolate chips into this dough stir.
My friends are good people. I wish I could keep them. I am however, very aware that friendship, at least thus far in my time, is a relative, geographical, proximity-related endeavor. Time tested as they may be, distance has made bland even the most fiery of my relationships. Fiery? Really? Is there fear of confusion?
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“I Am Merely a Vessel” and Other Spew to Spout
Wreaking havoc with
“the way things work” and thinking
you know best: bad.The assumption that
we should all give more than our
share of respect: best.Using “dick” as a
verb to describe anything
in an emailto someone you want
something from is without tact.
Professionalism’s hard.Yousuckyousuckyousuckyou
Suckyousuckyousuckyousuck.
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GUEST SUBMISSION #9 – “Shoulds and Woulds”
by Ian Parsons
of days long past we
harken intermittently
“shoulds” and “woulds” arisethe time line though is
not reality but it’s
just like this–
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Blues on Worthlessness
IaminastateofdenialandIboastofmyun-livelihood.
Shame,beingashamed,andthedistancebetweenthethoughts,realities.
Itisuselesstohopeforbetterthings.Mustnow
GETOFFASS.GO.DO.
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Pacing Yourself is Imperative, Difficult
Some things are drawn out:
death and likely other ends.
Trying to slow down.
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Give Me Love; I Am Easy to Please
ALSO, please haiku
on my “Guest Submissions” page
I will like you more.
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BRING ME A SANDWICH AND A COFFEE or iloveyouandi’msorryi’majerk
Working on papers
and avoiding lunch, others.
PROcrastination.Also, hate writing papers
hate feeling need to write more
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UPDATE and CAFFEEEEEIIIIINNNNEEE
Realizing that I
haven’t updated in a
moon. Lots of things arehappening, so I
haven’t had the thought. A piece,
written by me, isis going to be
performed on my recital.
Piece: based on haiku,also by me. I
hear that Aaron Quinn composed
a piece based myhaiku, but I have
yet to hear it. Bombard his
page, both to ask fora listen, but to
also look at his things, like
THIS and THIS and THIS.
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Corny Catchphrase Maintenance AND Plural Connection is Connections
Friends near and far feel
like webs connecting me to
more and more. #facebook?#WORLDbook.
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More ≠ Better ↔ Brainpain
Mindlessly blasting
one’s body with caffeine has
shown adverse effects.A vessel for destruction.
A river of discontent.
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Bated Breath
There is a man on
a hill in a suit with an
envelope for you.When you wish and pray,
its not to anyone, but
very well may be.The envelope is
worn and yellowed and has holes;
not enough to see.Undisclosed, both the
letter and the prayer. Clear:
scene before unfolds.And the shortness of
your breath matches the nighttime.
Though, its midday still.Crossing life and time
the man on the hill in the
suit comes closer. Though,he is not moving.
Nor are you. The space between
is shrinking. Life shrinks.Reaching for the note,
nighttime breaths return. Broken
and the ideaof past and future
collide and become neither.
And we still wait: still.
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“I’m Sorry Your Life is in a Million Pieces”
I’m here and you: there
Brought me in a box: broken
Put me together
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My Life Garbage, I am a Disposal for
production, I need
successful, to feel somewhat
self-destruction, without:
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Monday Rainday AND Provisional Supplies For the Ramp-Up
Hard-work-weekends, and
relaxing weekdays: strange but
contented in strange.Like thunderstorms in
March, or snow in April (soon…).
Life is surprising
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“Sometimes too much to drink is barely enough”
Drinking used to be
an event; something I would
look forward to. Now:its something I do, to look
forward to something. Salud…(This tanka [variation on haiku, 57577] brought to you BECAUSE of Ayako Kigoshi)
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Apparently, “Genghis Kahn Was Very Tolerant of Other Religions”
To Genghis Kahn, kids
are equal to everyone.
Murder-tunity.
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Hotel Rooms
Distance: a pressing
matter; does funny things to
the brain, heart. Mind-fu(n)[c]k.Trees and billowing
blows my thought like dust or snow.
Recent historybringing its mostly
crazydeliberate change to my
attention. Andthe thinking I do
is cold and warm, warning me
not to allow theirrational words
of my fear or yours bother
the lovely stasis.
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Steps Forward Are Often Frightening and Blindly Traveled
Thought moving forward
and self-doubt holding; fear is
and I am subject
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Fury Prevention
Breath. Breakfast. Breath. Walk.
Breath. School. Breath. Rehearsal. Breath.
Dinner. Breath. Work. Breath…breath.
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Despite the Sickness Found by One of Our Compatriots, the Night Was Found With Arms Raised High In Stupored Joy As Well As Filled Spaces
Foods and drinks and friends
and musics and dances and
more foods. Love: birthdays.
burgoynealexburgoyne 