College
We may lay down our heads in green pastures,
But never again in the same one, the shepherd has set us free.
Will I be like my puppy, howling for my family, feeling like stab wounds from a million burrs,
But soon to forget, to embrace new, to leave the old?
Am I that bold? Am I that cold? Is my soul sold
To college? Is my heart gold? Or will it fold,
Demurely, like a tablecloth, for a container to hold?
Do I fit into a mold?
Or am I the exception, an insurrection?
Upon further introspection,
it is too soon to know the answer to this question,
That will be discovered at the upcoming point of inflection.
I hope that I remain true to my crew,
I hope that my line will never skew,
I hope that I remain one of the few,
the proud,
the class of 2011.
The government lied.
The piper has pied.
Whoa! A pig is levitating into the sky!
Those other-wordly witches will boil us in the cauldron. Fie!
We know they exist, so are they benign?
Or shall we be put into a firing line?
Let’s be honest, the aliens aren’t stupid.
They aren’t cute like some heavenly cupid.
It won’t be like War of the Worlds, at least in a sense.
They will corral us inside a fence.
But they won’t be unprepared for something as ridiculous as germs.
They might as well be defeated by grannies with perms.
While that would make for good comedy, this is real.
Mart (martian) the impaler thinks you look good on steel.
Time to use their trademark, “highological warfare”,
as humans are used to it, we’ll just stop and stare,
then explain it away even when some elements of our revelation are the same,
then the high will spontaneously erupt into flame.
Is this evolution, the weeding out of the weak?
An act of God about which we dare not act or speak?
I agree, this “God” works in mysterious ways,
as we do not understand the workings of death rays.
Or… is this just the raving of the paranoid?
Should we desire to enter the celestial void?
Will some find the hundred virgins they seek?
Will we drink from the immortal’s creek?
To choose Occam’s razor, or not to go with his razor…
to end this debate and use the razor…
Occam’s razor is simpler, but requires less imagination…
Perhaps with imagination comes elation…
We just don’t know, but I prophesy the debate
will result, ridiculously, in hate.
There are supposed to be spaces at every eight lines and I can’t space them out right now for some reason…
Behold his brilliance, and beware.
Newton, compared to anyone of us, would make us a fool.
Thank him for being kind enough to share.
Thank him for being the scientific stepping stool.
He has achieved immortality,
Achilles’ immortality is less than his.
Achilles could only fight and destroy,
While Newton had the power of his mentality,
Newton was the almighty wiz.
He broke down the mighty gates of Troy.
We are free to enjoy the spoils of his war.
Oddly, in his life he focused more on religious themes.
The almost unbelievable inclination to explore
Made him responsible for the contents of our dreams.
Imagine a theologian and a scientist and a mathematician,
The epitome of brilliance in all these fields.
Renaissance Man 2.0
He might as well have been a magician.
The intellectual hammer of Thor he did wield.
The world was his dough.
Making the Principia, for him about as simple as making diarrhea.
Calculus, psh, easy as pi.
He might as well have been best friends with Gaea.
Eureka! A light appears from heaven. Time to apply his all seeing-eye!
Lo and behold! Optics is born.
People thought he was somewhere over the rainbow.
But he proved it with prisms.
While physics makes me forlorn, it was his candy corn.
He had no social skills though.
Brilliant with everything except for people, it’s quite a schism.
Thank you, Newton, for giving me the most difficult classes I’ve ever taken.
You’re too brilliant for me, my good sir.
I need my brain to rise from the intellectual chasm and awaken.
If only he could give me his gift, like the wise man with his myrrh.
God shouldn’t have let him die, we need him here.
We need the sun among stars to give us his heat.
God, raise him up like Lazarus.
Bring this puppet back onto the stage, O Puppeteer.
We don’t care if you have to cheat.
God, don’t make me cuss.
The Future in the ’s House
Staring at the man genetically my father,
Appalled at the wreck.
Looking up towards the entity supposedly my God,
Wondering where he is.
Pondering- his condition will incessantly become worse,
Even with modern tech.
Remembering the amazing individual who was my old man,
Faded like soda’s fizz.
Thinking about his jokes and goofy intellect,
Carried on through mine.
Gazing at the conglomeration of pills,
Slowing its rampage.
Raging at this prolonged death,
Pretending to be fine.
Preparing for the future,
Terrified to age.
I came out of that basement after 50 years,
And decided the occasion called for a few beers.
I had thought that I had been gone for twenty-fo’,
And that my hair had gone white due to incessant worrying about my kill death ratio.
I looked like a vampire, or perhaps even worse,
But I will never claim that for my addiction I feel remorse.
Apparently I had missed out on all the “important” things in life,
Things like a house, kids, and a wife.
But who cares about that when you have a game like COD:MW2?
A life with nothing but that is just too good to be true.
I feel proud of attaining the top spot in all the world,
There will be a parade in my honor and the flag will be unfurled.
I will be the next JFK, Neil Armstrong, or FDR,
For such an accomplishment I will be an eternal international star.
All of those women who I haven’t seen since… I can’t remember when,
Will all want me to come in and show them some 67 year old skin.
I could have gone to MIT,
But instead on xbox live I decided to become mighty.
Like Julius Caesar, I came, I saw, I powned.
Those defeated nations moaned and moaned.
They asked me over the communicator to please teach their kids,
It was a matter of pride to have the one who dominated the vids.
But suddenly, Infinity Ward turned the servers off,
To them, 50 years seemed like more than enough,
I cried and cried and cried some more,
Why would they do this just to make more money in some store?
I called them and asked them why they had committed this heinous act.
They told me that instead of millions playing it like previously, only thousands did now, which was fact.
I asked them to have a heart,
To do the right thing, even if it wasn’t smart.
But alas, Call of Duty was no more,
And this wounded me to the very core.
In that game, I was like the dark reaper with a scythe,
Don’t ya’ll understand? This is my life!
Awkward anteaters ambling along through annoying arthropods,
Bumbling businessmen babbling on about buying bonds.
Cheering crowds crying out contemptuously about crappy calls,
Darling Dorothy dreaming about the deceiving Oz.
Energetic evangelists extolling empty edifices,
Forces fighting for freedom, for fools.
Gentlemen gambling and gaining golden goddesses,
Hell hungrily hold hordes of humanity and never cools.
Impish iguanas irritate innumerous items of potential indigestion,
Joyous jackals jabber jealous jabberwocky about a jaguar’s jubilation.
Kind kings keep koalas for Kindergarteners,
Loose ladies lie down with lucky lovers.
Maniacal monkeys mourn the migration of Mowgli,
Navies nervously navigate near notoriously ninja-like natives.
Omnipotent orcas occupy the oceans of the octopi,
Protons and Pooh Bear are particularly positive.
Quadrants quarantine quailing queens,
Riflemen routing rowdy rebels.
Shocked spacemen spook Saturnians searching surreptitiously,
Trained turkeys truncate themselves thankfully for Thanksgiving.
Utilitarian utopias upbraid unhappiness from the upstanding,
Vikings vouch for the validity of the violence in Vinland.
Wary wolves watch while the moon is waning,
Xenoliths of xenon from Xanthia x-ray xylan.
Yelling Yemenites yabber about yachts like yahoos,
Zany Zachary zaps zealots of zen with zeal.
Try saying THAT five times fast!
The mystical power that is available only to the lucky,
For reasons that are quite murky.
Wooden wands and staves are the channel,
Colorful robes that are occasionally flannel,
The favorite game (at least in Harry Potter) is quiditch,
It’s loved by every wizard and witch.
They unleash their power with spells,
And they are often associated with black cats’ wails.
Now, these familiars come in every shape and form,
from a mighty eagle to a sniveling worm.
They are like little robots which do your bidding,
You can tell them to jump over a cliff and when they do say, “I was just kidding…”
And then you can just tell the familiar to appear by your side,
Because of course magic does not abide
By the rules of physics and math and reason,
And if it does it is just for a season.
For example, if one of your spells was “branial osmosisain”,
Then knowledge from a book would instantly flow into your brain.
All that was done was convert those words into a biological code,
Which could be downloaded into your mind like a calculator in link mode.
And magic occasionally causes terrible, horrible wrongs,
Such as when a little kid is whining so you imagine it and he turns into tongs,
And the steam just pours out of the little holes,
But you think that he is dead and the churchbell tolls.
And you mourn and mourn and bury the utensil,
And yet the kid is still alive underneath the soil,
Not rusting away, with nothing to do, with nothing to learn,
The only thing to see is occasionally soil burn.
Until eventually mommy realizes her mistake and digs you up,
And the kid looks like an abused pup.
So as you can see magic is amazing, wonderful, and beneficial,
But as Lord Voldemort and his horcruxes would attest, potentially quite evil and terrible.
I had a dream
Where I was sitting by a stream
Eating berries and cream
And out of my hot chocolate poured steam.
Suddenly a great monster emerged from the ground,
The hellhound made a horrendous sound.
Hades had had this Cerberus crowned
With Rumpelstiltskin’s hair wound
Into a tiara which encircled every ear.
Well, at this point I decided I had a new career.
I would be the hero of the year;
The world would reward me with a Ferrari to steer.
I would be hell’s bane;
I would make those evil charlatans feel the pain.
I would descend into the abyss and emerge in the subterranean plain„
And destroy this spawn of Cain.
In my dream I turned myself into a being with supernatural powers,
I could have reveled in these powers for hours;
I had every power that ever existed that could make a villain cower.
From thin air I could pull out a flower
(which would be a very valuable ability later on),
I had the strength to lift a ton;
I could become the size of a leviathan,
With mind control I could make anyone my pawn.
I had control over time and space,
Out of my arm I could sprout wings or a mace.
I could make a person incessantly run in place;
I could instantly change my face.
I decided that before I went to hell I would go back in time and meet Helen of Troy,
And all I can say is “Oh boy!”
And thanks to my gorgeous face she was soon my toy,
Lets just say when I was around she was NOT coy.
But eventually I went on my way;
I time-traveled back to my day
Because I knew I had some monsters to slay.
I knew now was the time to pray.
Entering the abyss that night,
Knowing that I faced one helluva fight,
Scared of all the terrible sights,
But I also knew I was in the right.
The first thing I saw was the red tinge of fire,
It smelled like a burning tire,
I proceeded farther into the pyre,
To kill once and for all that terrible liar.
I killed all of the monsters inhabiting that terrible land,
They ranged from zombie-like babies to a satanic band.
Eventually, I got bored of killing them and sentenced them to eternally stand.
For people as evil as them, death seemed too bland.
Finally, I reached Satan himself,
First, I turned him into a miniscule elf,
Then I used the Midas touch and put him on my book shelf,
And felt quite proud of myself.
Then I woke up.
