Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog. Show all posts

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Descriptive as MEOW!

Sitting lazily on my bed-side table he looks at me with a calm sense of humor, and sleepiness, as I turn around,almost as if he knew this was about him. He flicks his brown-black striped ears, and tries to lick the white cross of fur on his face, which extends down his neck and throughout his belly (which i might add is quite big. He is one fat cat)  and surrounding his legs and arms. He slides down the side of the couch, meow-yawns, and walks unto my bed and lies down as if he owned the place.

Most of the time he is sleeping in the middle of a walkway, laying  on your typing hand,outside begging neighbors for food, or begging the giant monsters to feed him or give him his favorite treat.. the milk. (notice the "the" in front of milk, he takes this quite seriously you know), if he manages to look pitiful enough or annoy the sh*t out of anyone near the kitchen, that is. His day consists of:

1. Sleeping
2. Eating
4. Begging to go outside
5. Begging to go inside
6. Begging to outside again
7. Begging to inside again
8. Begging to outside AGAIN
9. Begging to inside AGAIN
10. Eating
11. Pleading for milk
12. Drinking (milk of course)
13. Drinking from my bathroom facet
14. Annoying me while I write this...


He loves to be picked up, since he is so heavy and can hardly climb trees anymore, but not in public or in front of his cat-friends.When picked up he will proceed to do, two, things. Kick and squirm until you understand that no matter what you do, you will not win. Or. Slump into your embrace and start purring. The great rumbling had to have been a miniature rocket launch, its so loud! He will only let you picking him up after you play a game of tag or hid'n'go seek with him, but he will always wander into a room filled with guests looking nonchalant and unworried. Then, he attracts all the attention the room has to offer, order a milk-to-go and strut away.

His mother, Stinky (named after her farts and the tendency to roll in dirt), will scold him with a stoke of her paw. She is pure white with yellow eyes that he inherited. Ohhhh! he just walked on my laptop. I almost forgot to tell you his name: John Frederick Shilling III or "jon jon" or "baby jon" for short.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

THOUGHTS

REALLY?

I sit dainty they say
Pondering...
With a bow upon my chest
Rumbling

Ooohh the rumbles
They love the rumbles
But...
Should I?

They patter round an' round
Mocking me
Since they know their fear is gone
And so are my swords

My spotted Armour shields me
From the daggers of the cold
But also betrays me
To the eyes of man

I could kill them...
Play perhaps?
Yesssss
Only a bit

They taunt me
My helmet's horns
THEY PLAY WITH THEM!
They think i'm a toy....

                                                                                                                       Artist: Anna Vought



THE GAME

A train wreck of nerves
Stumbles in
Pat Pat Pat
The wolf king
He left
His now destroyed home

Alone
Last of six
Or so he thought...

Wet and hungry
He offers a link
2 links
In fact

Both broken
By a lion
And his arrows
He thought he was the last
5 remain
                                                                      Photo courtesy of: andrew.perucho


HAD COLLIN

I rummage
In my chest of Legos
For the smallest fragments

Numerous
I snatch
In both hands

And collide them
My hands,
And the fragments
In less than an instant
New bricks for foundation
Are discovered

Though quickly the are gone

Scrambling
I search and investigate
The rug?

No...
Under the bed?
Neither...

Where'd they go?

...
Humpf!
I'll just ask daddy Hadron for more...

                                                        Photo courtesy of: Sharon Drummond

These poems have no designated purpose but to be there and not suck. the first poem might seem so obvious until you see the picture. the art is a gateway for you guys to understand if you hadn't already. the title for that poem, I got from the look cats give you, when you start bothering them. right before the low grumble. The second poem is an Allusion the the book series game of thrones, book 3. it is understood extremely well if you have read the series recently. also, I might have forgotten to add some verses referencing the host of the marriage. The last poem is a personification of the Hadron Collider and the difficulty to discovering the Higgs Boson. It also, sort of brings me back to my early childhood.