Marcy Houses

Good Ol' Men

Smoke risin' from the fire
That good ol' men sit about.
Jet black sky
Hangin' over their heads
Shouting "Destiny! Destiny! Destiny!"
Trees huddled closely around the men,
Standing straight backed
And blank faced.
The trees like viewers of Shakespearian theatre
Encircled around a grand stage,
Chatter sotto voce
And wave leaves as a matter of course.
All the ancestors are with them
In the dirt between their fingernails.
Is the gleam in their eyes
Borrowed from the external glow of the flame?
I do not believe so.
I believe that gleam is eternalized, immortalized, and preserved
By the cycle of aspirations that flow
From one generation to the next and so forth.

You should probably make it so I can leave comments on your blog.

I'm so good at busting out snippets of wisdom.

Today is a day free of judgment;
Tomorrow will be a day of increased understanding.

Maybe this sunny day
Is Victor's way
Of telling us he's okay.

Desert Rose

Let the desert rain water you,
Rose.
Let it nurture you
From Seedling, to sapling, into blossoming maturity.
Your entrepreneurship will lead to a thriving and succulent
Oasis between the granulated seas of sand.
Beautiful leader.
Youthful and stoic.
Impermanent.

Syntax

Wish not for the grace of fortune,
But for the muse and the vigor,
For it is only the vigorous who accomplish success.

I Hate Onions.

Appreciation

I struggle with surreality
To retain memory.
Focus.
Feel,
Not insensation.
I am winning.
Analyze the entire picture,
Predict and prepare.
I should probably start painting pictures with words. I'm just putting words to my own unique thoughts and their context is unsharable.

Let Us Toss The Ol' Pigskin

You must create that persona
You must create your persona
Or else
It's death.
Ego, confidence, pride, I,
Persona.
Outward fluctuations of
Conceived personality and purpose;
Inward attention.
A fad,
Subject to change and
Evolution.
A yellow cord
To obtain self-satisfaction
And justification for your continued actions.
Family, friends, needs, desires,
All compensations
For the ultimate lack.
Titles and ancestry,
History and future,
All contained within the everlasting present.
Beauty!
The most arbitrary beauty.
All on one small, tiny, infinitesimal
Planet and no where else.

Somavision

The Universe is driven by the low and abiding utterance,
The sound sound of undecay,
The vital impermanence.
It is driven by the mammoth vocal chords of a Supercluster Dragon,
With wings of time,
And scales of dimension.
We make Him,
Along with his black ethereal consanguinity,
And ambiguliar coloration.
Aloft,
In unfleeting glide, for nothing flies,
With a cohort of many like entities.
Cannibals.

Druggity Muggity Buggity Spider Miter Jug

I'm a spider on a drug
And drugs are on spiders
Spiders all over drugs
And bugs all over spiders
Druggity drug drug
Spider spider spider
All drugs are on spiders
Cause spiders are all on drugs
Druggity buggity spider spider spider
Spiders on drugs are just bugs on spiders
Buggity muggity juggity
Spider spider spider
Jugs are all over spiders
And my miters are all over jugs
But don't get cud on my pug
Cause I'll kill you.

I haven't written anything good in forever. Literally, I've never written anything good.

Benedictine Arnold

Astrology and Cosmetology

For which I go to university.