tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22458785595511388422024-02-07T18:31:38.301-08:00a passin' birdpoetries and stuff by trey doanTreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-35407985918212645022012-09-13T10:57:00.002-07:002012-09-13T10:57:42.632-07:00Wherein I wrote a poem for a class that isn't a writing classOn a Modern Maiden Most Fair<br />
<br />
With pants so tight I don't know<br />
how blood gets from top to bottom<br />
and back again. I mean it,<br />
I really don't see how your<br />
sultry knees bend more than two degrees.<br />
I'm near one-hundred percent certain<br />
you stood behind a curtain<br />
and pranced in a tub of India Ink,<br />
or doused yourself in latex-free paint.<br />
And your shoes! My god your shoes.<br />
You took the term 'stiletto' and ran<br />
off with it. Those heels haven't seen<br />
the light of day since renaissance Italy,<br />
since literal cloak and dagger play.<br />
Blacker than the night when all the stars have died,<br />
with imitation rhinestones to remind us<br />
how those heavenly bodies used to twinkle.<br />
And you jingle! With every stabbing step<br />
you take across the floor, distracting me<br />
from wondering how your feet don't sink.<br />
You've got more fake gold than a Ralex vendor,<br />
more fake gems than a bedazzler gone wild.<br />
It's amazing you can even lift those<br />
arm-like sticks hanging from your shoulders.<br />
And the only thing sharper<br />
than your weaponized footwear has to be<br />
the embarrassed-red nails on the end of your skeletal fingers.<br />
How you got in here armed to the teeth is,<br />
to put it simply, far beyond me.<br />
Your hair is a hayfield<br />
in the middle of a monsoon, a wind-blown<br />
strand damn near obliterated my eye from across the room.<br />
What a black and tangled mess nests<br />
above your head, I bet<br />
even Medusa would fill with dread.<br />
I'm not sure what else to say,<br />
other than it must be uncomfortable, having<br />
an octopus orgy raging above your brow.<br />
Looking at you I now understand why<br />
Picasso stopped his brush.<br />
You stole all of his paints and threw them<br />
on your face in a way so haphazard<br />
a haz-mat team is on their way.<br />
Your eyes are bluer than<br />
that clue-seeking dog. And your lips,<br />
oh those lips, are two Hindenbergs in bloom. Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-68771250038128261702012-03-27T11:58:00.002-07:002012-03-27T11:58:24.022-07:00wherein i did not win a poetry contestwhich honestly isn't a big deal! it cost me nothing, literally zero things, to enter it so it's not a big loss at all. the good news is now that the contest is over, i think i can post my submission! like i said in the last post, it's a revision of an older poem of mine, so it might seem familiar to the two readers i have. without further ado, here it is!
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">Thoughts While Flying Home<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">One<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">steamboat’s weight worth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">of cicadas’ droning<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">drowning out whatever <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">my cousin twice removed is saying. It’s not important<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">that the sun hangs low or<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">that the air is closer to a stew,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">thick and bubbling with the scent
of heat. I’m numb to it,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">the vibrations of countless
crystalline<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">wings blocking it all out<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">everything<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">block out the sun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">two<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">times this week I sat legs
crossed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">head back laughing while grilling
meat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">told a tale, full of sizzle with
a spiced up plot,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">our mouths drip dripping
with lust,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">and our tiny plastic pitchforks
hungry in the air<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">three<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">nights straight we sat while artificial<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">stars on our vine hidden porch
blinked in time with<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">their highborn stellar kin. And all I <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">could do was sit and watch,
bourbon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">in one hand and cigar in the
other<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">four<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">kids in a tree,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">no fears, no cares<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">responsibilities unheard of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">sap the only worry, once it
sticks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">to hair or skin the only way out
is a bath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">back to the tree one day and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">all we found </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">was a stump</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">five<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">redneck hick prick bastards<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">hollering that the South will
rise again,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">too full of cheap rotgut whiskey
to realize<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">the South they want, She’s not
ever coming back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">She never really fell in the
first place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">No, she just changed, she just
grew<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">into something a little less ugly,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">a child after a tantrum<o:p></o:p></span></div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-63081817805297530792012-03-25T22:13:00.002-07:002012-03-25T22:13:47.092-07:00hi there i am alive still<br />
<br />
i entered a poetry contest. the poem i submitted was a revision of "thoughts I had while flying home". i'll post it up here sometime next month, whether i win or not. i was proud of it, there weren't huge changes, but still. also i am totally going to make more of an effort to post on this thing more than once every few months, i promise.<br />
<br />
pinkie swearTreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-58761850056591777692011-12-13T00:38:00.000-08:002011-12-13T00:38:28.202-08:00wherein i write a poem for someoneso, as some of you may or may not know i practice a martial art called arnis. i've been involved with it since i started college way back in 2006. now, i have learned a lot of things; how to hit dudes with sticks, how to not get hit by sticks, things like that. i've been able to help teach the class, been able to pass along some of my own knowledge. it's been an absolutely wonderful experience that i would highly recommend to anyone who has even the slightest interest. it helped me a lot with self-confidence among other things. all in all, it was an excellent decision.<br />
<br />
and as a kind of 'thank you' to our instructor for teaching us and passing along all kinds of knowledge, every year our club gets him a christmas present. one year we got him some nice tea, along with a nice tea set. another year we got him some nice training weapons. this year we gave him a nice set of kendo armor and some associated gear. but this year i wanted to do something else, something a little more personal. now granted, i'm not skilled at making things, and i don't have a lot of money to spend on lavish gifts, so i wrote him a poem. it's about things i've learned through the years, not techniques or drills, but more philosophical things i guess, more along the lines of life lessons. <br />
<br />
lesson plan<br />
<br />
face your life head on, straight<br />
backed, controlled, and proud.<br />
only raise fist in defense,<br />
never hate nor rage.<br />
<br />
remember that fear does not mean weak,<br />
running in the face of it does.<br />
courage and bravery are both decisions<br />
and it's up to you to choose.<br />
<br />
step not from your holy ground<br />
let no foe profane<br />
and when you finally leave this world,<br />
leave behind good name.<br />
<br />
<br />Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-37181675232382249292011-11-30T20:49:00.001-08:002011-11-30T21:01:51.822-08:00wherein caolan and the author imagineer a burgeralright fans here we go.<br />
<br />
my roommate caolan and i have imagineered another amazing burger. let me break this down for you<br />
<br />
one half-pound patty<br />
half pound of bacon<br />
table spoon of butter (not just any butter mind you, but a highly specialized butter made by caolan and i. it was butter mixed with pure bacon grease. and garlic salt because we're out of regular salt)<br />
bun made out of four regular buns.<br />
<br />
i have dubbed it the Triple B, which might be the only thing i have ever capitalized on this blog. the Triple B of course stands for (bacon)buttery bacon burger. caolan further specialized his by creating a bacon frisco sauce. how he did this i will never know, his sorcerer ways are too far beyond my mortal understanding. <br />
<br />
the patties themselves were cooked in the oven at 350 degrees for somewhere around 15 minutes i think. i lost track of the time because i was busy looking up bacon grease butter recipes, of which i found exactly zero. i have created bacon grease butter, this is my legacy. this is what i will be known for in history.<br />
<br />
the main concern i had for this creation was whether or not the buns would hold up. after all we basically took a four bun <i>thing</i> and cut it in half to create the bun for the Triple B. it held up reasonably well, until i started dipping the Triple B into ketchup. i think the stress caused by picking it up and turning it over and doing the tango with it and all sorts of other dance moves/sports plays. it was then that the move called the Triple B division was created. the Triple B division is done by flipping the burger in half, and then in half again, creating a monstrosity known as the Triple B tower. caolan, using the unholy power that flows through his veins, was the first to master this technique. my attempt only brought shame to my family. i fully expect to be disowned for my transgressions.<br />
<br />
pictures of the Triple B summoning process will be up tomorrow probably, i promise.Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-41731547986366252882011-11-30T08:27:00.000-08:002011-11-30T08:39:10.868-08:00also alsoTREY FACT OF THE DAY: whenever i talk to my grandmom or granddad my southern accent comes out like a guy on broadway (did you get the joke)<div><br /></div><div>that wasn't the main point of making this blog post believe it or not. a little while ago i gave a friend some ideas for his comic and he decided to use one sort of! hurray for me! here's a link:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.asandiford.com/2011/09/a-tragic-end-not-easily-avoided/">http://www.asandiford.com/2011/09/a-tragic-end-not-easily-avoided/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>now granted i know you are all going to check that out to support me in my endeavors, because that's what a cavalcade of crazed fans is for. HOWEVER it would be awesome if you checked out the rest of his comics too, which are pretty neat even though his canadian i think</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-46093738645937769722011-11-29T17:48:00.000-08:002011-11-29T18:13:29.935-08:00wherein i reveal a secret of my writing process<div>TREY FACT OF THE DAY(read: POST [read: MONTH OR SO]) i have been drinking hot chocolate like it was going out of style (if it goes out of style i will simply cease to exist).</div><div><br /></div>okay so i guess something worth mentioning is i have a specific process for revising poetries. i do it as i go along, so really by the time i've finished writing a poem it's already been revised a bunch. granted it's mostly things like word choice and line breaks that get revised but i mean, that counts right? i do occasionally go back and add more to certain poetries, but for the most part nah. does that make me a bad writer? yeah probably. do i care? yeah a little. so i guess what you can take from this is that any poetries that show up on here are still definitely works in progress and i totally reserve the right to say they suck and take them down if they suck so bad i have to take them down.<div><br /></div><div>that being said here is a poetries! it's about a sandwich i made one time</div><div><br /></div><div>(untitled for now)</div><div><br /></div><div>a loss of sight and sound means i have an excuse</div><div>to ignore the clicking clacking vorpal fangs that are said to lurk</div><div>always three feet nearby. Or an excuse to ignore</div><div>the high pitched whining nagging banshee scream that i get</div><div>from my smoke alarm when I go Dr. Frankenstein with the eggs</div><div>and the bacon that I exhume from the fridge. I call my frying pan Igor.</div><div>I slice and dice and splice together an abomination and grin wildly </div><div>when the grease pops bomb my bare flesh, melting the skin ever so slightly.</div><div>The Bacon Tomb is what this monster will be called when it terrorizes the villages</div><div>of my arteries. Six strips,</div><div>two eggs fried in bacon-born grease,</div><div>and untold amounts of peanut butter dripping through the cracks</div><div>and holes of buttered bread. The satisfying crunch echoes</div><div>in my mouth's cavern while the grease rises in revolt</div><div>and the bacon takes to arms </div><div>and the eggs boil tar and strip feathers</div><div>But I am too in love with my creature to notice my tower burning down.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-10532490716426194342011-11-29T17:21:00.000-08:002011-11-29T17:37:42.942-08:00dudes take some time out of your "busy" schedulesand look at this<div><br /></div><div><a href="http://maquettemouse.tumblr.com/">http://maquettemouse.tumblr.com/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>it has cool things on it</div><div><br /></div><div>also it has boobs sometimes so maybe not the safest site to browse at work or in a church where god can see you always</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-88390215567183276812011-10-15T17:09:00.001-07:002011-10-15T17:11:32.453-07:00So I haven't made a post since like last week or whenever, but that's not my problem. However here I am with a new post that will surely blow your minds! That's right, it's a couple of pictures of what my immediate surroundings look like when I sit down to write something. I figured you are just dying to see this, so here's what's up!<br /><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOhEFhAfQ5vwkp5rhsEUBUnj0ZHgdXYQxcwHxe_g4ivgCMd01POhA-mTQkD79whXSm9851BPNKSjQ9wff2hpLjlZaajEJ49CG4tIvIvVzGBo2J6U6UH028Rb4TJsOODndi6wEO_vlpwo5/s1600/IMG_0193r.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOhEFhAfQ5vwkp5rhsEUBUnj0ZHgdXYQxcwHxe_g4ivgCMd01POhA-mTQkD79whXSm9851BPNKSjQ9wff2hpLjlZaajEJ49CG4tIvIvVzGBo2J6U6UH028Rb4TJsOODndi6wEO_vlpwo5/s320/IMG_0193r.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663875691083336114" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>As you can see here, I am hard at work at a draft of a new thing. You can tell I am hard at work because there is a large beer within reach.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJ0mPZg-MejcPd7equWAoQMAhq9wqXmxg0EN-UUjZOuvk1a9LqSGAoTAmWar9IMRL0io1V9fLyOMLaCpBsfZRiNoifNsoP-Zl8_gkhzWCZOX1aCo6-vKwCqaWIOWdeUOSRMtY28lHXok7/s1600/IMG_0194r.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJ0mPZg-MejcPd7equWAoQMAhq9wqXmxg0EN-UUjZOuvk1a9LqSGAoTAmWar9IMRL0io1V9fLyOMLaCpBsfZRiNoifNsoP-Zl8_gkhzWCZOX1aCo6-vKwCqaWIOWdeUOSRMtY28lHXok7/s320/IMG_0194r.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663875690057696962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>In this second picture we can tell I've made a good amount of progress from the first</div><div>picture. I not only opened the large bottle of beer, <i>I also poured it into a glass. </i>Also at some point I managed to capture a few wild hamburgers in the wild, one was eaten before I took this picture.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, they were all very delicious.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaTgFDnLIFm8xaFca3K7QEtNQb6oaN2yPdLewNFLDomZznQ82Fj4psPzwhP6CgN_QmfKajga27ZUvSapCwihmhh1hiwhu82ea29lRqi1vuAtc1lL4gKi0Uq6qCcGEVg0tH4sPthjeH_Eq/s1600/IMG_0195r.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaTgFDnLIFm8xaFca3K7QEtNQb6oaN2yPdLewNFLDomZznQ82Fj4psPzwhP6CgN_QmfKajga27ZUvSapCwihmhh1hiwhu82ea29lRqi1vuAtc1lL4gKi0Uq6qCcGEVg0tH4sPthjeH_Eq/s320/IMG_0195r.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663875694472988322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Here, I have almost reached the end of my writing for today. I know this, because the beer is almost gone. There's a direct correlation there possibly. Also, note how the pen has not changed position. That's because I am so good at writing that I never need to actually write. It's true</div><div><br /></div></div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-10121678381122187822011-10-05T17:54:00.000-07:002011-10-05T18:08:19.513-07:00Okay so there I was, needing to work on homework but of course that's just no fun, so I sat at my table flipping through twitter. I have a twitter, in case you didn't know. Anyway, I was flipping through twitter, when I noticed a trend. Not a trending topic, I never pay attention to those.<div><br /></div><div>The trend is that my arty farty friends like to live stream things. And for those of you who are too cool for internet stuff, live streaming is where you stream a video of you doing a thing, live. Clever how they got that name right? Right. So I got to thinking, I've never watched one of these live streams. That thought of course led to another thought, a genius thought, a million dollar thought.</div><div><br /></div><div>What if I live streamed me writing a poem?!</div><div><br /></div><div>I know right? Genius idea, like I said. Then I took a look at myself and what I was doing and thought about how that would look to someone watching online. For the record, the picture was this: notebook open, one line jotted down, whiskey and coke next to the computer, poet leaning back flipping through twitter on his phone when the kitchen timer goes off, letting him know his Kroger brand macaroni and cheese is done. He then gets super excited and squeals like a teenage girl at a Backstreet Boys concert (don't tell me this reference is old I don't need to feel old). So I was thinking about this image, picturing myself eating Kroger mac and cheese right out of the pot with a bottle of cheap coke and cheaper whiskey next to me I realized my mistake. This wasn't a million dollar idea, <i>it was a billion dollar idea. </i>It could possibly change everything about literature, screw the trochee's heave or whatever, this is it. This, right here and right now. Finally the world could see how literature and poetry is written.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then I thought about it again and realized how boring and depressing it would be. For both the writer and the person watching. Really, who would want to see that?</div><div><br /></div><div>(my twitter is @troubadourtofu if you want to know. it might be offensive sometimes so uh)</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-20704479077819178502011-09-27T20:37:00.000-07:002011-09-27T20:39:15.337-07:00here are a few lines of a poetry that i am trying to work on, there isn't a lot so i don't know if you can get anything from it really, but deal with it<div><br /></div><div>Every hello is a goodbye in disguise.</div><div>And when I say "I love you", it really means</div><div>that I'm sorry, because I will promise you the stars,</div><div>but only give you a grain of sand.</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-34730383550639764482011-09-16T22:34:00.000-07:002011-09-16T22:41:45.030-07:00so that last post was pretty personal and serious and deep and that is not what i like being so here is a recent poem that is kind of lighthearted!<div><br /></div><div>SWM seeking Muse</div><div><br /></div><div>single white male looking for whiskey soaked rhymes</div><div>and a heart full of blues lines. I need that</div><div>Delta sound filling me up inside.</div><div>So your flowery sonnets with their flowery</div><div>words need not apply.</div><div>If the meaning is lost in pretentiousness</div><div>it's a mess.</div><div>And I don't feel like cleaning it up.</div><div>If a poem needs translation</div><div>from English to english then</div><div>it's worth none of my time.</div><div>So let me repeat:</div><div><br /></div><div>I need that Southern heat, that tea so sweet</div><div>it curls your toes</div><div>I need vine covered walls and portrait plastered walls.</div><div>I need lines that make you feel,</div><div>not make you think</div><div>so hard you get an anuerysm.</div><div>I need the passion, the pleasure of a Southern belle in bloom,</div><div>the sound of cicadas</div><div>and the company of good</div><div>food.</div><div><br /></div><div>So save your high brow speech for some other forlorn poet</div><div>Because I need you</div><div>to speak to me</div><div>Like a memory filled summer on a porch,</div><div>my blood thinned by whiskey and the air so humid</div><div>it leaves you</div><div>breathless</div><div>panting</div><div>yearning</div><div>longing</div><div>for more</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-52606613661544551662011-09-16T22:20:00.000-07:002011-09-16T22:26:00.659-07:00so something i've never felt comfortable with is confessional poetry. i hate writing about myself, i absolutely abhor it. it's too personal, it's too close. i want to be able to say, "no, that speaker isn't me. no, that poem is about a made up story, it's completely fictional." i don't want to write about my life, because i feel like my life isn't worth writing about (yet?!). i don't want to write about my emotions because i know that i cannot do them justice. i don't want to write about major events because they deserve more than words that i haphazardly throw together and sentences that i break up arbitrarily.<div><br /></div><div>is it something i'll get over?</div><div><br /></div><div>i'm sure it is. i've noticed that if i just start writing, what usually ends up on paper is more personal than if i had sat down and developed an idea. i have written down things that i would never picture myself writing about, i have written about ideas that i thought were long gone. it is both a good thing and a bad thing, a blessing and a curse. i feel that as a writer and poet i should be able to write about the personal as well as the distant, i should be able to write about whatever my hands feel like putting on paper. i am starting to get there. i am starting to write more than just stories i make up in my head, i am starting to write about stories i make up with my life. life is all one big story after all, and the best way to live forever is for people to tell stories about you.</div><div><br /></div><div>whiskey was involved in this blog post.</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-66364110537585797792011-09-09T09:19:00.001-07:002011-09-09T09:25:20.966-07:00i am still alivehere is a poetries i quickly jotted down to practice on rhythm. i think it turned out okay. also rhythm is a weird word to spell<div><br /></div><div>untitled (rhythm exercise)</div><div><br /></div><div>in this frame of my life i'm the boy you never knew</div><div>fresh to the world not five feet tall </div><div>brown headed boy on the hood of a car</div><div>blue honda's hood meeting blue denim jeans</div><div>leaning over eyes closed kissing mom on the cheek</div><div>saying goodbye or saying hello, does it even matter?</div><div>no no no. know that this little kid</div><div>with the sunshine hair and the carefree air</div><div>always all smiles and laughing all the while</div><div>went extinct not too long ago</div><div>but a dinosaur fish off the coast of Brazil</div><div>came back from the past</div><div>so this little kid surely will</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-35048552952871501652011-04-19T18:04:00.000-07:002011-04-19T18:13:22.953-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span"><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></span><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span"><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>hi guys it has been a long time please do not hate on me. i have written a bunch of poetries but this one is my favorite so far. this is the second draft, there is another revision in the works but i actually really like it where it's at right now. so without further ado here it is, i hope you enjoy it.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></div><blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Thoughts I Had While Flying Home</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">One<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">steamboat’s weight worth<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">of cicadas’ droning<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">drowning out whatever <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">my relative says. It’s not important<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">that the sun hangs low or<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">that the air is closer to a stew,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">thick and bubbling with the scent of heat. I’m numb to it,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">the vibrations of countless crystalline<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">wings blocking it all out<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">everything<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">block out the sun<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">two<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">times this week I sat legs crossed<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">head back laughing while the grilling meat<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">told a sizzling tale, a<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">spiced up story begging to be<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">devoured by us eager meat eating listeners<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">three<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">days ago we sat while the artificial<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">stars on our vine hidden porch blinked in time with<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">their highborn brothers and sisters. And all I <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">could do was sit and watch, bourbon<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">in one hand, cigar in the other<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">four<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">redneck hick prick bastards<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">hollering that the South will rise again,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">too full of cheap rotgut whiskey to realize<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">the South they want, She’s not ever coming back<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">She never really fell in the first place<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">No, she just changed, she just grew<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">into something a little less ugly</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p></div></blockquote></blockquote><div><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></p></div><div><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p></div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-26894718509019373962010-12-20T16:51:00.000-08:002010-12-20T16:54:43.491-08:00<b>thunk</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Two eyes met like birds</div><div>slamming into a window. The shock</div><div>of everything coming to a sudden stop</div><div>left the gaze hanging in the air,</div><div>a feather after the collision.</div><div>And in that short look, before he blinked away</div><div>he knew he had a chance, at fun</div><div>at happiness, maybe</div><div>even life itself.</div><div>It was clear as windows stopping</div><div>birds all over the world, </div><div>all he had to do was speak!</div><div>Fortune favors the bold</div><div>but he never claimed to be.</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-22941024560749806702010-12-13T11:58:00.000-08:002010-12-13T12:05:18.364-08:00finals week<span><span>i just turned in my poetry portfolio that was full of revisions to poems i have turned in this semester here is one of the revisions thank you for your time<br /><br /></span></span><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>Haunted<br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>I</span></span><div><span><span>Wanderin’ around some dark wood </span></span></div><div><span><span>long past the dead of night. </span></span></div><div><span><span>I came across an older man, </span></span></div><div><span><span>singing songs at his lone campsite. </span></span></div><div><span><span>His eyes were sharp, his hair </span></span></div><div><span><span>the strings of a harp. I knew right then </span></span></div><div><span><span>I’d have to be careful of him, </span></span></div><div><span><span>him with a smile like the Devil’s, </span></span></div><div><span><span>and the scent of hellish brim </span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span> II </span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>I turned around, turned from that grin </span></span></div><div><span><span>and ran through them woods. I tripped </span></span></div><div><span><span>and fell and picked myself up, to be greeted by </span></span></div><div><span><span>two death-hollowed eyes. </span></span></div><div><span><span>I scampered back and cried </span></span></div><div><span><span>to our lord God on high </span></span></div><div><span><span>as I tried escape once more, </span></span></div><div><span><span>one more futile try. </span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>III </span></span></div><div><span><span>But try as I might I kept coming back, </span></span></div><div><span><span>kept coming back to that man in black. </span></span></div><div><span><span>No matter where I ran, no matter where I turned </span></span></div><div><span><span>there he was a-waitin’, waitin’ for my poor soul. </span></span></div><div><span><span>With a voice like sulfur he spoke to me as if a friend,</span></span></div><div><span><span>“Run all you want, but you can’t run from sin.” </span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span> IV </span></span></div><div><span><span>He cackled high, and he cackled loud, </span></span></div><div><span><span>my vision went to black. Next thing I know </span></span></div><div><span><span>I’m wakin’ up in the middle of them cursed woods. </span></span></div><div><span><span>A dream you ask? Well hell, maybe, but listen here </span></span></div><div><span><span>and listen close. That man? well he still hauntin’ me </span></span></div><div><span><span>and will ‘til I sleep for good.</span></span><div><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p></o:p></span></p></div></div></div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-31252421757063301822010-12-10T00:34:00.000-08:002010-12-10T00:36:48.608-08:00First Ever Passin' Bird Poetry Reading!<div>I thought I'd go ahead and try something new with this poem. It's made the rounds a few times so I don't know if you've read it or not. Chances are you have, so feel free to skip it. It's pretty important to me, very personal so it would mean a lot if you'd spare some time to check it out if you have the chance.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j53AEcIwwMk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j53AEcIwwMk</a>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-8926736882779629452010-12-06T14:33:00.000-08:002010-12-06T14:42:28.076-08:00here is a new poetries. i don't quite know what to call it so i'm just going to use the first line as the title because i have seen that done before.<div><br /></div><div><b>With comet-like fingers</b></div><div><br /></div><div>With comet-like fingers</div><div>she streaked constellations across my back.</div><div>Holding each other close, as planets</div><div>do to their moons, we whispered meteors</div><div>eroding the earth surrounding our cores.</div><div><br /></div><div>If I were to continue</div><div>this metaphor of this starry night,</div><div>what more could I compare?</div><div>This feeling, brighter than stars,</div><div>the two galaxies in her skull.</div><div>These thoughts piercing my mind's nebulae,</div><div>asteroids cratering my heart's crust</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I guess it would compare most</div><div>with the heat death of our universe;</div><div>destroying all I've known</div><div>to replace it </div><div>with something new.</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-51755766878502580402010-11-26T14:38:00.000-08:002010-11-26T14:41:41.240-08:00PerseveranceLil white rabbit hoppin' through them woods,<div>red fox saw her and he bit her good.</div><div>Lil white rabbit got up again,</div><div>limpin' away she gon' reach the end.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lil white rabbit limpin' through them woods,</div><div>black cat saw her and he clawed her good.</div><div>Lil white rabbit got up again,</div><div>bleedin' away she gon' reach the end.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lil white rabbit bleedin' through them woods,</div><div>brown bear saw her, ended her life for good.</div><div>Lil white rabbit never reached the end</div><div>but in another life she gon' try again.</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-70334279172717052752010-11-21T12:46:00.000-08:002010-11-21T13:02:55.732-08:00poem!this is a little something i threw together because it seemed like fun. i don't quite know what i can do to make it better but here it is anyway!<div><br /></div><div>Robert Frost Had it Wrong</div><div><br /></div><div>Two path diverged in a yellow wood</div><div>and sorry that I saw just two.</div><div>One path more traveled</div><div>one much less so</div><div>but still, only two.</div><div><br /></div><div>One foot in front of the other</div><div>tramping brush and fern underfoot</div><div>soul and soles gliding over</div><div>roots and trickles of water, puddles</div><div>of dewy tears from the trees'</div><div>leaves, eaves overhead.</div><div><br /></div><div>With no idea of where I was going,</div><div>which is an advantage of making</div><div>your own trail through the woods,</div><div>I tried in vain to remember all</div><div>the twists and turns my legs took</div><div>with a power all their own.</div><div><br /></div><div>Traveling with no destination in mind,</div><div>going where no other had been,</div><div>made the sights all the more gorgeous.</div><div>Such a shame that travelers before me</div><div>seemed to think that only</div><div>Two path diverged in a yellow wood.</div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-16797342111888420152010-11-21T12:41:00.000-08:002010-11-21T12:46:04.954-08:00i am going to try to push myself to make a poetries like two or three times a week for this thing. don't hold me to that, i reserve every right to be lazy and slack off!Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-62422707415843395862010-11-19T05:58:00.000-08:002010-11-19T06:05:24.703-08:00<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p></o:p></span></p><span><span>Dealin’ With Old Nick </span></span><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>Well one hot day I was wanderin’, just wanderin’, </span></span></div><div><span><span>tryin’ to see just what to do. </span></span></div><div><span><span>Guitar on my back and cheap whiskey in my gut, </span></span></div><div><span><span>Lord I just wanna play some soul filled blues. </span></span></div><div><span><span>But everytime I ask, barman just says that same damn thing, </span></span></div><div><span><span>“Get ‘long now Mr. Johnson, ain’t no one here, </span></span></div><div><span><span>ain’t one damn soul what likes your sound.” </span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>Now you know a man gets tired,</span></span></div><div><span><span> ‘is soul gets broke, wastin’ his time,</span></span></div><div><span><span> just wastin’ all his time all footin’ around </span></span></div><div><span><span>tryin’ to find a place to play his tunes. </span></span></div><div><span><span>But all this aside, you know I just got one thing, </span></span></div><div><span><span>only that one thing weighin’ on my mind; </span></span></div><div><span><span>Gonna be the only one, only one ‘round</span></span></div><div><span><span>makes a guitar sing worthy of that Delta sound. </span></span></div><div><span><span>And now ya’ll now I been tryin’ </span></span></div><div><span><span>frettin’ my fingers all up and down that neck. </span></span></div><div><span><span>two black widows wrappin’ up they prey </span></span></div><div><span><span>Ain’t nothin’ happenin’, can’t get that sound I need. </span></span></div><div><span><span>Reckon I just gotta, reckon I gotta sell my soul, </span></span></div><div><span><span>Sell it right to the hands of that mean bastard Ol’ Nick. </span></span></div><div><span><span>Gonna tell him my price, gotta be the best with a pick. </span></span></div><div><span><span>Oh and I know the story gonna be heard,</span></span></div><div><span><span>gonna be heard far and wide, </span></span></div><div><span><span>‘bout what I got to do </span></span></div><div><span><span>Hell, let ‘em hear, let ‘em talk, ‘cause anything worth doin’</span></span></div><div><span><span>well, it’s worth doin’ through and through. </span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span>Tonight I’ll be found walkin’ </span></span></div><div><span><span>Walkin’ down to them crossroads in the fadin’ light. </span></span></div><div><span><span>‘Cause you know when that sun goes down </span></span></div><div><span><span>and the stars all shinin’ on them creatures of the night, </span></span></div><div><span><span>Devil starts makin’ deals, makin’ them left and right. </span></span></div><div><span><span>After that price gets paid, and them hands been shaked, </span></span></div><div><span><span>all them folk what shunned me before, they all gonna ask </span></span></div><div><span><span>“Oh my, Mr. Johnson, how’d you get so good? </span></span></div><div><span><span>How’d you get so mean with them six strings?</span></span></div><div><span><span>I’m gonna tell ‘em face to face, tell ‘em eye to eye </span></span></div><div><span><span>“Devil made an offer, waved my soul goodbye.” </span></span></div><div><span><span>Oh and I know they gonna ask me, </span></span></div><div><span><span>Know they gonna ask me time and time again, </span></span></div><div><span><span>“Was it worth it Mr. Johnson, what you had to lose?” </span></span></div><div><span><span>And I’m gonna laugh and howl, look ‘em in the eye and smile </span></span></div><div><span><span>“Course it was, I’m the King of the Delta Blues.”</span></span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><span><span></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-47228701717404136002010-11-18T22:21:00.000-08:002010-11-18T22:26:20.516-08:00here is a poetries<p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Bluesman and the Lovebirds</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The bluesman swayed and crooned a tune,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">a tale of two lovers in a world of hate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Two, too different lovers, where they just didn’t belong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Like young lovebirds they flew as one,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">flew as one right out of that place, looking to find a new, unknown fate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And all the while they flew, with each flap of the wings<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They whispered their sing-song sonnets, so only<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the other could hear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The bluesman sang on, of the man<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and all his troubles.<span> </span>Of how the townsmen,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">how all those jealous townsmen wanted to have that love, <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Of how their jealousy led soon to hate<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Of how they beat him<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">How they broke him<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">How they sliced up his face<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They carved Chelsea’s permanent smile deep within his cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That night he ran, and like two lovebirds<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He and she fled as one, leaving late that night<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Before the rising sun<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Their flight was long and hard <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Slowly took its toll<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As they grew in age<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Their feathers turned back to hair<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Their lovesongs faded voices oh so fair.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Till all but a whisper was heard<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then came a day when a bird didn’t wake<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And like a pair of lovebirds would<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Soon both lay beneath the earth<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The bluesman stood up, his story all done<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He put away his guitar, as the last lonely cloud<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Made its way across the gray canvas of sky<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The bluesman’s voice hung in the air and<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Slowly he walked away from the gravestone<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height:normal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Of two lovers who died too young</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12pt; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></p></span><p></p>Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2245878559551138842.post-77162279969175414032010-11-18T22:15:00.001-08:002010-11-18T22:15:32.534-08:00postin' the poetriesi am going to post some poetries here and maybe you will like them?!Treyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16788187154808440431noreply@blogger.com2