Tag Archives: poem

Sleeping Beauty (a silly poem of love and illusion)

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Sleeping Beauty

 

In the dark and in the light

In candle flame and purple night

The beauty sleeps and fails to heed

The young man’s life of lust and need

What happens next is often sad

The want, the hope, the love so bad

And fluttering faery wings of light

Carry life and love and fuel the sight

With never a thought to what could be

If only love would call to thee

And wake the sleeper from her dream

To make the two but one to seem.

 

Love poetry is basically nonsense.  Fueled by hormones and lust, dreams and assumptions, it is never real.  It is only a vision, an apparition, and fools you into believing what could never be real.  So why write it?  Because it is in our nature, in our stars, to love.  Just because something is foolish, or impossible to pin down, there is no reason to give up on it.  That’s what the Paffooney faeries are for.  They cast faery light on what you should never believe, but always, always do. 

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Little Red-Haired Girl (A Poem and Paffooney)

Little Red-Haired Girl

You never told her that you loved her, Charlie Brown

That little red-haired girl, so cute, so nice

You only looked and looked from afar

You never told her that you loved her, Charlie Brown

You could’ve held her hand

You could’ve walked her home from school

You never told her that you loved her, Charlie Brown

She never got your Valentine

At least, you forgot to sign your name

You never told her that you loved her, Charlie Brown

No hope of marriage now, nor children for old age

Happily ever after has now long gone

You never told her that you loved her, Charlie Brown

Now every love poem is a sad poem

And the world is blue and down

You never told her that you loved her…

You never told her that you loved her…

You never told her that you loved her, Charlie Brown

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The Fire Fighter (A Poem)

In the near past I have had a few occasions to face the choice of self-sacrifice or self-preservation.  As hard as that decision is, the more it becomes apparent you must face it, the more you must be ready to step between the people throwing punches, the more you must call the attention of an enraged attacker to yourself over their intended target, and the more you must ignore what it is you have to lose.  Thus, in this short poem, I imagine myself facing the flames of conflict.  I, after all, am Mickey too.

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The Fire Fighter

 

The man in the red hat…

Sometimes he stood there…

Looking at the fire…

Measuring the fire…

Then he picked up the hose,

And marched into the fire…

Knowing he would burn…

To save a home…

Save a building…

Save a life…

Because it was the right thing to do.

 

Now I am standing…

Looking into the fire…

Measuring the fire…

It is hot and horrid…

It will burn and kill…

And I have to pick up the hose,

And march into the fire…

Knowing I will burn…

To save the future…

To save hope…

To save a life…

Because it is the right thing to do…

And there is no other choice.

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The Creative Process

Step one… perform some random act.  (choose a random illustration from Spiegelman & Mouly’s Classic Children’s Comics)

Step two… redraw in the Mickian style  (stupidly recast images in garishly wrong colors and cutsie goofishness)

Step three… realize you don’t have any idea what you are doing this for (What am I doing this for?)

Step four… yield to despair and get depressed (let me think about this too much and end up moping)

Step five… do other things and try not to think about it (What was that movie I wanted to see?)

Step six… give it time to percolate or get forgotten  (Say what?)

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Step seven… come back to it eventually (maybe later this week… or in 22 years)

 

How’s that for a Pointless Paffooney Prose Poem?

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Icarus

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This is a re-post of an old poem with a new Paffooney.

 

Icarus

 

“You never believe in me,

You only hear the lie,

You never believe in me,

You never even try,

 

You never see the good in me,

You only fear I’ll die,

You never hear the words I say,

You never tell me why,

 

You never care how I plan,

Or why I touch the sky,

You’ll never lift me up,

You never let me fly,”

 

That’s how it always was,

Between my father and I,

Until the day I reached the sun,

And burned my hands on high,

 

And so it is he’ll never know,

How much his son was worth,

Because he couldn’t understand,

The day

I fell

To Earth.

 

My teenage son and I have been through some rough times.  One time, though, we sat down and talked about him wanting to be a music composer.  I realized then that the things I have been through as a writer, being discouraged by other, more sensible people, having to defend my art, and not even being believed in by my own family, were the very things that he was talking about.  So I wrote a poem about it.  The central metaphor is Icarus from classical mythology.  I even suggested he use it as lyrics and turn it into a song.  Of course he told me how stupid that idea was.  So let me put the poem here and see what you think.

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Icarus

My teenage son and I have been through some rough times.  One time, though, we sat down and talked about him wanting to be a music composer.  I realized then that the things I have been through as a writer, being discouraged by other, more sensible people, having to defend my art, and not even being believed in by my own family, were the very things that he was talking about.  So I wrote a poem about it.  The central metaphor is Icarus from classical mythology.  I even suggested he use it as lyrics and turn it into a song.  Of course he told me how stupid that idea was.  So let me put the poem here and see what you think.

Icarus

“You never once believe in me,

You only hear the lie,

You never once believe in me,

You never even try,

You never see the good in me,

You only fear I’ll die,

You never hear words I say,

You never tell me why,

You never care how well I plan,

Or why I touch the sky,

You’ll never even lift me up,

You never let me fly,”

That is how it always was,

Between my dad and I,

Until the day I reached the sun,

And burned my hands on high,

And so it is he’ll never know,

How much his son was worth,

Because he couldn’t understand,

The day

I fell

To Earth.Imagehttp://www.bits-quark.org

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March 27, 2013 · 6:32 pm