Huzzah!

So the other day I found a veritable treasure trove of notes for a story I am writing. It makes some ideas I had before make sense, as well as remind me of other ideas. I also had an idea for another (much much much much darker) one. Looks like my cup spillith over with creative fodder. I haven't done much poetry recently, I suspect its because I'm less of a bump on a log recently. Just the same, here's some poem fodder. I have not decided what I'm going to do with it yet:

Gold dust, filtering through the glass
Glowing face lies down to sleep
It's smile fades, and melancholy,
The mistress of dreams, takes hold.
She spreads her wings, and takes
Dominion of the heavens
And tosses sparkling diamonds all around


You never liked my silly poems
You never ever did
You smile and laugh, your deadeye grin
Your eyes are there, of course
But no twinkling therein.
And behind those walls
The gavel falls
And I can’t seem to win.

Some day, sometime, I might exist
Some day, sometime, I might live
Some day, sometime I might die
And return to oblivion
As a sleeper rudely awoken returns
To his warm well-used bed,
So short is our tenure
So close is our bed.

The more the merrier!

Here's a short little one I crapped out a half an hour ago:

Socrates the humble

Socrates the wise

Those who boast do tumble

Under your questioning eyes

So why is there no book of yours,

Nothing, save that of Plato?

You must have been a firm believer

That you should write what you know!

And another, darker one:

Write a story, make a play

Give purpose to your waning day

Wouldn’t want your life to be a waste

Find a woman, make her yours

Pull out chairs, open doors

Wouldn’t want your life to be too chaste

Earn a penny, earn a buck

Even if you don’t give a fuck

Wouldn’t want to end with fewer toys

Swing the bat, lift the weight

Make sure that you’re looking straight

Wouldn’t want to be fag to all the boys

Look around for meaning

Make up what your want

As long as what you want is the norm

Man up for the Ladies

Beef up for the boys

Men know the only thing in life is form.

Good Morning Itaewon

More poetry? Don't mind if I do!

Good Morning, Itaewon

Headlight, break light

Late night, lame night

Drizzle rain, wet the skull

Keeping beat, makes me dull

Tequila repetition, stacks of glass

Belly full and burning

Noxious, burning, tastes like ass

Belly dark and churning

Fire spreads out to my arms

Robs my brain of thought

Fire goads me with its charms

And I forget my lot

Crooked smile, silly grin

Makes me smile, makes me swim

Floorboards toss, ceilings swirl

Mindless swinging in the whirl