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Ode to the NovaEnter the age of Youtube
Where playing a game became a revenue.
Commentary here, and a walk-through there
You could say these fuckers were everywhere.

But look, what's up ahead?
On a ground so oftenly tread.
Leading the fad on an white angel steed
The Nova charges steadfast indeed.

Tearing down knock-offs with a voice so sublime
Able to deviate and stand the test of time.
Neigh he stood not alone in the reign of power
His friends helped to keep his projects unsour.

The man of Spoons and the one claimed Immortal
Ride side by side him in formation.
The trio of wits; the regulars called they
A deadly force of elimination.

To this day, the No

Is there no end?Never ending nightmares in my sleep and in my wake,
Always living, never breathing,
A tortured soul's mistake.

Always believing saviors will come despite a lack of proof,
This hope will be the death of us,
Our assailants haunt our every move.

By day and by night I creep around,
I haunt him back, you see!
Little do I know, the one haunting me is me.

Morning CallThank you for the morning call
You said just what I have hoped
Did you hear me laughing softly
Through spring tears that gently flowed
Dove-grey sound of light rain
Whispering secrets in my ear
Under blanket happy dream
Of a smile that is so dear
I could stay in bed whole day
Feeling touch of it's caress
But in duty to my life
Lovely wish I must suppress
I will linger little longer
Quietly sit on futon edge
Watch the peaceful dreamy smile
Daily faith to it will pledge

Splitting SkullIntruding my thoughts controlling my brain,
What can you do or so to say?
Open my memories did you just?
Or say something unlocked in the dust?
All this flow running into me,
Why am i scared so desperately?
What did you do what did you find?
One day will you tell me in time?
Head spins whirls in a wind,
Reminder of someone i remember not,
Who are you in this thought?
So much is hidden what can i do?
You unlocked something what is assumed?
My throbbing head in and out,
Wondering where i am now.
What did i say what did i do?
Who am i just to assume?
What did i say what did i do?
Who am i just to presume?

The Copper GiantCount of years have I lost,
As I dwelled in my old cellar
I tried to build at any cost -
The device so spectacular!
I'll drag my country from the dust
And the ruins of past wars
Weapons will be laid to rust,
When I energize the copper corpse!
Oh, how marvelous was the day
When I introduced my engine to the world!
And nothing could bring me dismay
When my proud heart became unfurled!
Greater and stronger than any man,
The machine showed itself in full pride!
And when the exhibition finally began,
My felicity was impossible to hide
The audience was gathered before,
The engine was still in slumber
The excitement couldn't be kept ashore,
On that evening of November
Silence stepped in and the audience gazed,
When the engine was brought to life
Even I was tremendously amazed
That I've won my internal strife
The spinning of cogs made it walk,
Though the machine clattered too loud
But the copper giant ceased every talk
And the silence made me even more proud
But my work was doomed to tatters,

Oliver May and the ChupacabraThere was once a boy named Oliver May,
Deemed a coward and a little bit gay.
To rid of his gift or curse, he would pray
That he no longer sees cryptids all day.

Oliver grew up and his hair turned gray,
No longer scared of these monsters he'd slay.

Rumors abound of goats being sucked dry;
Curious Oliver would visit and pry.
At night, he saw a creature slim and sly.
"Look closely with an inquisitive eye,
A Chupacabra!" Oliver would cry.

Setting up a trap with a goat as bait,
Oliver would hide in the bush to wait.
Chupacabra walked in and sealed its fate.
Dawn came, its head delivered on a plate.

The townsfolks would sing, dance and celebrat

3 a.m. Rhyme TimeOnce grew a tree so high
Its wooden arms did reach to embrace the lovely, lonely sky
The sapphire maiden fell in love
Yet was powerless to help or touch from her perch so far above
So the goddess for three days and nights cried pure tears of loss and sorrow
And beneath her gray veil of loss, her lost love did soak up her tears and grow
Wider and wider his arms did embrace
Until he could lift the cloud veil and reveal his savior's lovely face
"What saddens you so, goddess of my heart?"
The voice did cause the sky-maiden to start
A charming blush spread along her azure cheeks
Her voice was barely that of a whispering breeze when she began to speak
Hiding her blush and averting her eyes, she confessed her love and desire
Her soft words made the tree pause in his journey to grow ever higher
Then, suddenly, with greatest effort, he began to pull up his roots one by one
Aghast, the maiden uttered not a sound, uncomprehending of what would happen until he was almost done
She cried,

Voicemail MessageJust called to say I'm on my way
For such long time I've been away
Can't wait to be in your embrace
I miss your voice, I miss your face
I tried to call you from the post
But couldn't reach you, signal lost
The journey took me to far land
Of which you'll hear from me firsthand

Labyrinths and PuzzlesMy life's mosaic made of puzzles
It is a labyrinth of codes
I learned to read between the lines
Of lyrics, names and lately words
I solve a puzzle when I'm packing
The groceries each day of week
To lift the backpack and two bags
Is not a matter for the weak
I've really mastered packing process
I'm quite efficient, must say
Not inch of space is lost or wasted
Like game of tetris in a way
Each day is labyrinth of time
In which to find the way I strife
To fit all that I want to do
With all the chores of daily life
I love to solve interior puzzles
When I'm inspired, all night in sweat
Moving around the pianos, bookshelves
Until apartment is reset
Traditional poetic game
Keeping the rhythm and finding rhyme
Without sacrificing thought
I'm now playing all the time
Deciphering the code of life
The roles coincidences play
The hidden meanings in the signs
That teach the mind to see true way
Life's labyrinth is work of art
Like architecture of Daedalus
When it is bui

Power of InspirationWhen I deciphered morning code
I had such feeling of elation
Like battery that's fully charged
With energy of inspiration
The poems flowed on page like speech
I moved on bike with speed of light
I have accomplished daily chores
All day I felt like bird in flight
In ballet class I beat my record
By doing thirty six fouettés
I gave off sparks as I have turned
(They were not perfect I confess)
I danced adagio with soul
I could have jumped over the moon
I could keep going on and on
But class has ended all too soon
Back at the school yard with the kids
I started writing words of ode
In praise of artists building mazes
Life is a labyrinth of code

Time Saving RecipeSome oregano for the stress
Relax tight nerves with it's caress
A cup of fresh brewed buckwheat tea
Spreads peace and leaves mind demon free
Fresh piece of mango like gold sun
A snack that's healthy, sweet and fun
While at the sunset you'll be looking
Let kids experiment with cooking
Let someone else wash dirty dishes
In meantime you fulfill your wishes
Play piano or jot down few words
Decipher hieroglyphic codes
Let all your hidden selves come out
Perhaps a scientist will sprout
And when you've saved a little time
Just sit and dream or write a rhyme

Searching for Lost TimeI am searching for lost time
Life's a mess in disarray
So much clutter in my place
Have to clean it up one day
I have found half an hour
Lying on the kitchen floor
Minutes under pile of shoes
Scattered by the entrance door
Some time hidden in the laundry
Really hope it did not shrink
Quarter hour under piano
Some fell into kitchen sink
In dark corner under book shelf
Half an hour in flakes of dust
Under bed rolled whole round hour
With the stains of mould and rust
In twilight before the sunrise
Torn between the maze and rhyme
Racing with the morning rush
Hope for both to find the time

...Words are up to their old trick
Playing game of hide-and-seek
Turning meaning upside down
Jumping madly all around
Bubbling in the steaming kettle
I will wait for them to settle

Saeva DiseaseWith sinuses blocked,
And skin paling white,
Her face all painted with sweat.
Her legs in place locked,
With blurred and slurred sight,
The sheets beneath her were wet.
Her hair bedraggled and growing thin,
And fingers fragile and frail,
She lay in her death bed.
The crazy voices insider her head would sing,
And through the waters of her mind boats would sail,
And she couldn't manage to lift her head.
She longed for someone to knock on the door,
To be freed from this insanity,
But no one came.
Her feet felt so far away from the floor,
The people outside were taken up by their vanity,
She wasn't she if anyone was the same.
Wh

IagoThat Michael Cassio filched my place.
He is the second of the general;
I will see him out of Othello's grace.

I am more worthy, though I be commonplace;
he won the berth because of his station,
that Michael Cassio filched my place.

His éclat I will presently deface,
Slight Iago? He will lament the day!
I will see him out of Othello's grace.

He postulates that I, he will efface.
That toady will sweeten up Othello.
That Michael Cassio filched my place.

He is kindly to Desdemoa's face,
but swears his regard for the woman pure.
I will see him out of Othello's grace.

With sinister lies, I am in disgrace,
but no more. I will be avenged

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More from ~pereubuisjesus

Ladybugmiss ladybug
crawls my
yellow shoe
like her version
of an antimatter powered
spacecraft from
nod or oz or nether

the bird kingdom
is an absolute
coffee grinder of
tweets today
white rock lake's
doing jumping jacks
and I'm eating a
psychic spoon on
the chocolate painted
tables

trying not to lose
sight of the rainbow
dots tentatively
wavering on the edge
of my eye

I fancy an eye
gander at the sky
and the clouds are
looking deformed
aliendinosaurish

could clouds be
the skeletons of
spirits?

are we not made
of cloudstuff;
99% H20?

I'ma gandering down
a funny throat...did
you hear that
miss ladybug?
wus wus wu

Burnin Like a Witch On a Stickyou're burning like a witch on a stick
they know what you are about to say
they have heard you say it before
they have heard you say " I am
and have been burning like a
witch on a stick" the flowers
have heard it, man and woman, the
brown leaves, the green leaves,
the ceiling, the floor, the walls
they have all heard, many times,
that you are burning like a witch
on a stick you have brought the
gospel of Harry McNabb burning
like a witch on a stick to every
alley, cranny, drain, airplane,
mother, child, hill and temple
confessional, pulpit, pew and party
you have been an effective messenger
every news network has a camera
t

Love, Patient Claws RelaxedLove, her patient claws relaxed resides between
the brambly trees and sky her contour
laying smooth along a barely slotted line
brewing hotcolored molten dreams flooding all edges
of her space, a lava a-leaking and waxing
incessantly

Love, not only content in endless repose but ecstatically
static, all previous monkeys on back made decimal dust
in grinders below was not always in as happy a flow as she is nigh
between the brambly trees and sky

For years, she campaigned in trench and
had parts go darkpurple and fall-off, throbbed with
inner space and was as ugly as almost a hate
but saw she did the sky, the trees and ma

Love Goeslove goes
racing across yer scalp
off t
he
c
liff
of
your
nose

to a swamp of ice
misted frictionless

occasionally love
shoots out

most of the time not
most of the time yer
sniffin the ice
which makes you sick
and yer nose red and yellow

and to get along
you have to not

Fishink on a penhead's side
winks like a fish eye

lots of fish are swimming
through my room tonight
making me feel less lonely

Happy HumpToday I have been
tethering my stream
of grace to a
high hump by happenstance
placed in my
stream of step's
ground

It is warm there
on the peak
for my stream
of grace it is
less dank and
easier to float

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Lifecycle of a Drone

by ~pereubuisjesus, Feb 22, 2009, 11:20:33 AM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

10 years
on a green street
paved with virgin
concrete. Sheaves
of golden headed
mothers sway in the
wind to the lyrical
drone of a sony walkman.
Chirping too!  Jingling toots
of a film about
dogs.  But there’s
something else there
as well…There’s
a frat-divorce
glint and a
a soft pink
scratch.  There’s
a sense of shifting
like a mangled tape:
Dr. Jekyll…Mr. Hyde…Dr. Jekyll…Mr. Hyde
But there’s more Dr. Jekyll;
the concrete’s still a virgin

10 years
under a bully bridge surrounded
by ash and crystallized semen,
listening to CDs formatted to
fit the brain.  Sly grinners
move in circles like wolves.
Wolves kill rabbits,
Help out other, weaker wolves.
Reasonable, yet so unreasonable
tones of voice, flutter like
fireflies at 11:00.  Clay begins
to settle in dysfunctional
phantasmagoric
shapes
red
raw
but scabby

10 years
melting in a hedonistic
aurora (watercycle etc.)
flashing cameras squirting
frat-weddings 2-3 times.
Blissfully oblivious
basking gaily in the Olympian
light of space age culture
entertainment walls.
Corkscrewing through
purple hangovers and
silver watches
ignoring the void,
while still a blooming
photosynthetic flower.
Subject says:
“Lying before me in a moat of risotto
The meat as soft as the leg of an angel”

10 years
clinging like
a grub to a pillow top
bed.  A drooling
Semi-conscious ear,
ingesting 5 O Clock
static and flies.
crying to Jesus
but rousing Zeus.
Don’t worry,
Papa loves his little
kitty cats.
He’ll give you a
job.

10 years
in an esteamed sauna
with friendly stretch
marks and cradling
cholesterol.
Zeus build decks and
televisions and prescription
glasses, that make everything
Seem satisfactory for the
Subject who lives
down the green street.
The old drone listens
to classical music
on vinyl using one of
those new record players;
the kind that hook
into one’s computer.

Lifecycle of a Droneby ~pereubuisjesus

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

Well, I once told evryrosehasitsthorns that I wanted to do something really long...here it is.

This is basically about rich white people in all phases...

The quote at the end of the third stanza is from the Billy Collins poem, "Osso Buco".

I am actually not entirely happy with this...it feels like someone elses style and not mine.

Please tell me what you think!

!BlueSilverUU Aug 30, 2009

Here's my constructive criticism: I noticed that the rythem was... hard to follow, and then I noticed in your comment that you weren't (or felt like you weren't) writing with your own natural flow. My advice is to re-write this with a flow that feels more natural to YOU, and then it will be read more naturally by others. I'm not a professional or anything, just my opinion. That aside, kinda cool!

~pereubuisjesus Aug 31, 2009

Wow thanks a bunch for the critique. To be honest I may scrap the whole thing because it doesn't fit in with the rest of my gallery.

!BlueSilverUU Aug 31, 2009

I know how that is. Keep writing!

~pereubuisjesus Aug 31, 2009

~Sho-Ku-Ten Aug 27, 2009 Student Writer

Beautiful piece. You have great imagery and a unique mixture of words that flow well together.

~pereubuisjesus Aug 27, 2009

Thank you

~bd5000 Aug 21, 2009

Yes, that's good . Well written and very mature. Definately made me think.

I recently read a book of Billy Collins poems. The man is a genius.

After I read it, I wrote two faverites of mine.

Insperation comes from all places.

Nice work on this piece!

~pereubuisjesus Aug 22, 2009

Wow thanks a lot! glad you like it.

~bd5000 Aug 23, 2009

Hello, no problem! Nice piece!

~jesusroxgirl Aug 19, 2009 Hobbyist General Artist

haha wow xD i love the lines about calling on Jesus but rousing Zeus. that's genius!

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