RIP Anna Nicole Smith

So Anna Nicole Smith has passed away. I'm not broken up over this or anything, but something did come to mind. If she thought TrimSpa was great for losing weight, wait until she sees what decomposition does for her figure.

A not-so-new poem

Here's another one that very few people have seen before. I edited it slightly tonight; it's the first I've touched it since around May 2006. Thoughts welcome, as always.

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Cogitate on a Plane

In this aerodynamic time machine
The spectrum stretches across the firmament
And I glide from day to darkness –
Two hours forward –
Yet not once do I feel like I’m wasting time.

Time to play the game:
The chess board miles below is vacant, but I can imagine
Your pawns falling to mine,
And willingly I sacrifice a knight and rook
Because the Queen is who I want.

Soaring into the future
And though it all turns black,
(The game below me called on account of darkness)
Up here there is no rain
Since I’m above that sort of thing.

And you should be, too,
Because I can always forgive
No matter how many times
You take advantage because I have no umbrella
When you know I hate being wet.

With light slipping off the end of the earth,
I surge into the sable sky
Ready to plunge into the embers
Of this Midwest metropolis
To check for you in the heart of the night.

A new poem

I've been working on this one for a week or so. I'm not quite sure it's finished yet, but I like how it's looking for the moment. Is that ending really cool or really awful?

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The Magic

I see the lovers drift among the debris.
They evade the drones’ debauchery,
guided by the melody –
These polar opposites, strikingly similar –
gravitate to the center where
their eyes engage
they focus their meander.

And in a swirl I circle,
Gently caressing the lovers
With an invasion of sensibilities
And an infusion of emotion.
With one hand extended, I push towards
the shove of the other hand.

I strip them of their surroundings;
they stand, frozen, until time
permits with the bellow of the hollow gong
not once, or twice,
but twelve times
in the beginning of the day,
the middle of the night,
the end of their pursuit.

Bounded by the darkness,
persistent flashes of green
Purple
Blue
Red
galvanize the motion of the lovers,
I turn them, as one,
into something they never expected,
into something that, even at this cursed hour,
Can not be corrupted by the wills of the damned.

My fleeting charm subsides with the
Emergence of the morning illumination.
The bodies gradually spin to a stop,
she extracts her head from the valley
of the neck and shoulder of her paramour.
Those eyes, once molded into a single vision,
surrender to the dawn
with my chemistry gone
they float away towards the rest of their lives.

Complaint about people

I complain a lot, I know, but it seriously bugs me that people don't appreciate things.

I'm much, much nicer than I could be. Or ought to be, it seems. I guess things are gonna have to change.