Archive for the Poetry Category

Haiku: Indecisive

Posted in Haiku a day, Poetry on 6 July 2008 by jason

Ohio: It rains.
Oh! The sun is out again!
Damn! Now it’s raining.

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Haiku: Kitsunegari

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing on 2 July 2008 by jason

For reparations
Let the foxes hunt humans.
Tally ho, fuckers!

Haiku: The Writer

Posted in Poetry, Writing on 2 July 2008 by jason

If words are power,
And I’ve an English Degree,
Why am I so weak?

The Line Between Winter

Posted in Poetry on 19 September 2007 by jason

When the chrysalis opened, it stretched its wings:
Not a butterfly, but a moth.

The line between winter and spring is marked
In space, on a calender, but not in the weather.

They say each generation is taller than the last
but my grandfather is a half-foot taller than I.

When I was young, we had three channels. Now
we have 60. I watch TV much less.

Scientists know the difference, but it looks the same to me.
Is it a butterfly, or a moth?

Earnest Goes to My Head

Posted in Poetry, Writing on 3 September 2007 by jason

It seems that he’s on every channel:
Earnest Angley at all hours.
Whether I like it or not
(which I don’t) he’s there,
wishing me a “happy, happy Jesus
(whatever the hell that means).

I remeber clearly: I’m watching that cartoon
with the annoying Red Riding Hood and the Wolf
and Earnest comes on, smiling and rubbing his hands
just like the aforementioned wolf
and I can’t take it. I cghange the station.
The news. Except that the anchorman wants me to have
a happy, happy Jesus. Next channel:
Talk show. Earnest’s voice from Jerry’s mouth.
Change. No matter where I go, Earnest follows.
I wake up.

Was this an Epiphany? Gods, I hope not.
I don’t have the time ot the energy for
another one of those. I look up.
Earnest and his choir are on the TV.
So it wasn’t a sign, it was all in my head.

Two days later, I buy a Talking Heads CD.
In the liner notes, it says,
“David hits himself on the head (like Earnest Angley).”

The Path to Here

Posted in Poetry, Writing on 29 August 2007 by jason

First, nothing. Then a blast of gas and rock.
They say this was the beginning of it all.

The first thing I remember was hitting my head: age two.
The last thing was writing this line.

Time moves quickly when I want it to slow,
but it stops in all the right places.

The path to here was easy to follow.
But still, the journey was long.

In the mirror, I am as I was years past.
It seems I have a long way to go.

Et Tu, Brute

Posted in Poetry, Writing on 19 August 2007 by jason

I came into this world to do great deeds,
to put Alexander to shame.
I saw the Roman Empire reach
to the corners of the world.
I conquered the Gauls and their gods with my sword,
the Egyptians and their Queen with my deeds,
and the Romans and their senators with my words.

Now, as I prepare to address the senate,
a silence hangs, heavy as marble.
I rise, the weight of destiny and dismissed advice
tugging at my robes.
I turn to face my friends, my countrymen,
but see only traitors.
And the millions of corpses,
the lengths of the Empire,
the words of my orations
are reduced to just four syllables.