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I've been getting on Gaia pretty often lately-never for long segments of time, but two or three times a day. Just checking, y'know? With all my attentiveness, I can't help but notice the popularity of freeform poetry. I mean, most of the stuff is crap ("Look in your heart. You know it to be true."-Darth Vader) written by those too lazy to rhyme, but still! I guess I might as well try some, eh?
The room is quiet-I sit alone
on a little chair, the perfect size
eating the remains of cake past its prime
as of a century ago.
A dowel rod, corner store bargain,
flaky pine, quite cheap said the banner
flapping in the breeze above the greying heads
of the small, muddled faces below.
The rod painted black with poster paint.
Cheaper yet, so I hear, than the rod
I bought on a whim to dress it all in black
with a paintbrush from the closet
I watch paint dry and search it for signs
of a higher order that leaves knots
and whorls as its sign of its power and might
but find nothing of importance.
Paint dries quite slowly when you watch it,
It crawls along the length and the width
of the wooden cylinder, splintered and cheap
bought from a store out of business.
Wow, I really suck at poetry! xd I'm definitely keeping it for the lolz. Now, I can deflate my ego whenever I need to, without even leaving the comfort of my wooden chair!
And yes, I really am watching paint dry sweatdrop . Isn't life a thrill?
 Ora the Owlish · Mon Feb 01, 2010 @ 05:48pm · 0 Comments |
