One Hundred Poems, Volume II
Page 5
#GamerGate is against harassment,
And that is the final relevant statement.
(It is really about ethics in games journalism)
Sidetracked
Oh how I hiss,
I do not like this,
My obvious remiss,
I know what went amiss...
Oh well, tomorrow is a new day.
I hope to not repeat these words,
But I might just as well bark at birds,
Or chase on foot after an enraged herd,
No hope for change in other word.
The tendency to get sidetracked.
Well, not really.
But still...
The bitch waits in the shower
Go wash the dog,
It is your turn in the log,
Won't hear your monologue,
As this is no time for dialogue.
Not what you expected, I hope.
A Person of Colour
What it once was for me:
A person of colour is someone whose presence alone,
Is a blast so overbearingly colourful we groan,
Whose ideas are as wild as overblown.
The kind who we all know to be trouble on first sight,
The kind who change the nature of things trite,
The kind who are like lit dynamite.
We are talking about chances less than one in a million,
A human example of all things vaudevillian,
A canvas painted in vermilion.
And how it is used today;
No different from the word coloured of previous occasion.
A term to refer those not deemed sufficiently Caucasian,
Blanket that covers even those who lack in persuasion.
A phrase I have grown to loath like no other,
A statement so asinine there is no other,
A banner of racism like no other.
“Redneck Avengers: Tulsa Nights” — A Bad Lip Reading
I have never wanted to see a dubbed movie so bad,
A while since my cheeks have hurt so bad.
I'd pay money to see that in a theatre,
And how it would make me teeter.
Something that will never be,
A wonder I shall not see.
With no way to appeal,
It is a shame for real.
Hundred online straws
Oh the humanity; the ship sank,
Into the depths of ocean dank,
Yet look how they still cling,
To straws as thin as string,
Straws that barely float,
Yet it is their life boat.
What remains of hope,
When they reject the rope,
When the ego outweighs facts,
When they are set on their tracks?
Well, just another comment section,
Intolerant towards dissection.
And I hear those snaps.
Headaches of mine
Oh how these headaches of mine,
Seem to follow the curvature of sine,
How my means to combat remain supine,
Simply a part of me just like my spine,
Result of only incompetent design,
Brain swapped with a porcupine,
And so I seem to ever whine,
For pain that remains mine.
The Green Elephant
Have you ever seen a green elephant?
I assure the question is not irrelevant,
But rather crucial in our day and age,
As the beast has escaped from its cage,
And now runs on a rampage most rampant,
And so with our city nearly abandoned,
We must all strive to catch it right now,
Even if none of us truly knows how.
Sandwich with ham
Ham,
She wants ham,
A sandwich greens and ham,
Cheese, tomato, lettuce and ham,
Never dare to forget the ham,
Or she will say damn,
For she loves ham,
Slices of ham,
Ham.
And now she wants salmon
Another food wish to bestow,
But I would rather forgo,
Hide it under snow,
Leave it for crow,
To avoid tableau.
Sidekick Max: Furiosa's Road
Cars, explosions, and desert,
Plain fun in grandiose concert,
Yet something feels very wrong,
Something simply does not belong,
I do not think it is the African sands,
Nor the roles that have changed hands,
Only how Mad Max became the sidekick,
The one to aid Furiosa as his primary trick.
Mad Max: The Wasteland Wandering Sidekick...
But don't get me wrong,
Or your panties twisted to a thong,
The film is great and gets things right consistently,
Yet it faults lie within the setting's inherent inconsistency,
How every new film is simply an iteration of its own,
Sold to the audience on brand recognition alone.
So if there is something to take,
Beyond the sidekick take,
Is how the missing arm,
Was treated without smarm.
So see it if you want,
It'll be a jaunt.
To Be A Delicate Flower
Oh look at the delicate little flower,
A being without an ounce of power,
Only knowing how to cry and cower,
Hidden from the world in a tall tower,
Protected from anything slightly sour,
As even the slightest challenge dour,
Is but a foul beast waiting to devour,
A delicate flower at any given hour.
Look at the flower in a glass jar,
Is that truly what you are,
Bound from going far,
Of hopes and dreams afar?
The world does bruise and mar,
But these events define who we are,
What drives us ever onwards to the stars,
And life is never experienced under a glass jar.
So I wonder if you really wish to be delicate flower,
Or were these words enough of a cold shower?
A Green Car
My ride sparkles like a dark emerald,
As I cruise the roads like a mad herald,
Speed under the glare of a scorching sun,
Fingers caress the wheel and blend into one,
Toes tickle within shoes pressed on the pedals,
How each new mile raises my grin to my freckles,
I am all alone as the beat echoes from the radio,
Just me while horizon flies from the window,
I feel each bump on the the asphalt road,
I hear the wind howl in harrowing ode,
I have fallen for this green car,
My ride to sunset so afar.
Hello my love
> Hello my love,
> My honey dove.
The one I think of,
My blue sky above.
My calm wind under sun,
My desire to frolic and run.
I know for certain that you are the one,
As without you my heart weights a tonne.
> Hello my love,
> My honey dove.
My heart you have won,
When you batted home run.
Oh how my day has not begun,
Without first seeing my loved one.
> Hello my love,
> My honey dove.
A day without you is not fun,
I know not what you have done.
> Hello my love,
> My honey dove.
Some Two Hundred Poems
Reached one fifth of the goal,
I still have not sold my soul.
This has been a political stroll,
A chase through a rabbit hole,
I wonder what became my toll.
What is the result of this dice roll?
###
My thoughts after publishing this thing?
Well, at least I hope I hope I cannot dig a hole any deeper.
There are 70,000 words in that fantasy novel, and I've had some breaks while writing it.
Nevertheless, my goal is to push it out on the beginning of September. It is just missing the two last chapters, before I start reading through it and adding final touches.
I've started working on the cover, and the preliminary work looks neat. I hope I do not screw it with a terrible font or something.
The next work after that should be a relatively brief jaunt in science fiction. Perhaps something along the lines of military themed Science Fiction.
Also the Space Monkey poems are a sign that I am thinking of continuation for 'Heart of Ceres.' But before I get to that; I got another Science Fiction trilogy bubbling under the lid of my mind. Two-Three works.
And as before, the next volume of poetry should be out roughly after 100 days. This one was bit early. Saw the end line nearing, and so I rushed.
Then to the elephant:
There are two reasons behind this decision:
1) Taxation. It just simplifies it for me, and I want to pay taxes.
2) I got a somewhat nasty case of a protestant work ethic. No work, no pay. Etc. It is terrible.
If you want to follow me on Twitter, the handle is at the moment of writing
@OddlyDinosaur
Not an active user, but sometimes a poem might find its away there, if you are curious.