An Auction...Melancholy melancholy, who wants it? Who's got it? Melancholy it's poet's folly if you never have any, melancholy is what makes us us and makes them fuss about the poetry that infuses lives, melancholy oh-so-holy roly poly sadness leads to madness and makes relationship rifts, poets don't play well with others neither does the melancholy that you see before your eyes tonight!
To the woman on the left, yes you in the black dress, rather frumpy
Frumpy! Frumpy, frumpy who wants it? Who wants to be in the frump? Out of the frump
Phamtasms of frump await if you'll bid though I can't see how it would help you write but if it did here's a second chance, a second glance you shirtsleeves to short but the last-resort laundry day clothes have a way in their own tawdry place with green's leaves on the front and pants that are covered in duckponds, none of which show any vestige of womanly curves
Womanly curves, a humanly scourge who wants the life of lies and prestige, to be without a
Geek SecretsCorrie felt something under her foot once she entered Sam's room. It was hard and round, and dug into the arch of her foot in an astonishingly uncomfortable way. "Argh! You really should clean your room more Sam-" digging it out from under her foot, she found it to be roundish, but with 20 flat sides. It was grey with green speckles. "Sam! You promised! What freaky hobby have you taken up now?!"
She was used to finding such strange things in Sam's room; it was usually messy, with pieces from various games flung haphazardly on the floor for quick retrieval whenever one of his friends suggested playing it. An Axes and Allies board lay on top of a Gamecube controller, and various anime DVD cases littered what parts of the carpet were not otherwise covered with clothes, electronics, or various power cables. Corrie had known that Sam enjoyed video games when she started dating him; but she had had no idea that it was to such an extent. She had entered a world of comput
A morning metamorphosis
I grip my container
with its magical elixir,
the only thing keeping me connected with
this new world
I gather my supplies,
I check everything over.
I check it twice, not sure if I'm ready to go there yet
my face in the mirror
is foreign and exhausted, but I go on
the place outside seems foreboding, I hear distant noises and clatter
I hear excited chatter, the crunching of two strange substances together.
It's leaking into where I am, but I refuse to go there yet.
Smoke rises, the sky is clouded
Will I be able to breathe in this new place?
I squeeze through the portal, it feels a little to small
my backpack catches
on my car door, and my calculator
falls in the snow of the parking lot.
Off to a bad start today, I hope I'll make it back to my machine.
Tim Horton's, 9.30 am
seething at the dawn
battlescars from stovepipes
digging into the sky
while Daily Life goes marching on
echoes of the goosestepping of progress
assaulting electronic ears
echoes of tag games from behind a chain-link fence
walking on a boulevard
moderating on the median
invisible forces on one side, eye contact on the other
while we make plans to face the fight
without hearing each others' voices
we gather our armour of averted looks
and assorted accessories issued
to distract us from real action
stoplights taking us to brighter places,
neon lights and drunken faces
walking down the sidewalk
to the heart
of a beast
I keep one eye out for you
but we're all shut in, I'm cut off
I don't need more wires,
I don't need wireless
I don't want electronic signals
when I have a dictionary for body language
ringtones and friendly reminders
cannot save me now
in a city of electronic triage
I need more
if I want
My Canadian PrideAll countries have the need for an anthem – a song deemed by the government to be one that will unify its people, and help them remember the important values and attributes of their culture. A country's anthem is its source of pride, and should deserve the utmost respect from its people.
My attitude toward Canada has very little to do with our anthem. If I were in another country and heard our anthem, I know I would feel a certain amount of pride. When I sing the anthem I feel proud that I am a citizen of this country, and that I can sing our anthem. But on a daily scale, my pride in my country has little to do with a song. My pride is not based on notes; my pride comes from the soul of my country.
Don't misunderstand; I respect our anthem. When the Canadian anthem plays, I stand and put my hand on my heart and sing along, and I feel very offended when I see the lack of respect others have for our anthem. It is an important part of our country and of our people.
However, my Canadian pr
t'y'earsI live through a box of spiral bound notebooks The cedar sides Emotionless walls to protect Me The lines on their pages Rule my life I'm monitored daily They make sure that I remember so I read them (By my own decree I tear them out Rip up parts of me That people shouldn't know And I hide them) Under my bed with slanted ink eyes Before I sleep (Before I wake) Calling my name in a Rustling of Pages of Outpouring ink flows of t(y)ears Ago and t(y)ears away I hear their voices Call Read messages left to myself I wish I wasn't sentenced Wish no one knew I would want To read another But I re(ad)Write rules every night I go to Sleep with a new creed to(morrow) Follow.