Here are a few recently unearthed poems that were written in the span of a couple hours while I was waiting for somebody...
Pour Me Into a Cup
I am mostly water, yes,
But water I am not:
Pour water into a cup
And it will take the shape of a cup;
Pour water into a bowl
And it will take the shape of a bowl;
Pour me into a cup
And I may break my neck,
But I will maintain the
Shape of a man.
Who and What
Tonight, I am a compost heap
As with any other night
But not usually in my mind
The blue shadow-reflection of my cup
Feels like magic
But my studies would say otherwise
Sometimes I think
(hope)
I feel love
Most times I know it is myth
I want to believe
The clock’s chisel maddens me
I know it isn’t real
Time is the creation
Of a Blackberried fool
I acknowledge neither creation nor creator
Tonight
I am an organic stroke of luck
When I Tell the Papers
I would like, someday,
To tell the papers:
--I never dreamed; I only did--
For, by then,
I would be a picture of confidence,
My brilliance having been evident
Since nary I was a teen.
And people of my caliber
Do not dream, no no!
They simply do.
For what they do is a sure thing.
It is the starvers who dream.
They dabble in their studio apartments,
Awaiting the Prince of Opportunity
To apply the slipper which will show
That, yes, the dreamer is worthy.
But the Prince seems to often come
When the dreamer is out
Drinking his failure away.
I write this now to forewarn you:
When I tell the papers:
--I never dreamed; I only did--
I will be lying through my face.
All I do is dream
And stay sober enough to hear the door
When the Prince comes to it.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Dear Sky...
Oh Great Sky, how you giveth and how you taketh!
And how you so recently have givethed it so hard and so long and so savagely! And how we hath takethed it right in the ass! How you giveth new meaning to "right where the sun don't shine."
Sky, the gauntlet has been thrown. On behalf of my sullen people, I am taking to the streets, sign in one hand reading "We may be mostly water, but we have limits!" and megaphone in the other, through which I will lead cheers of "Rain rain go away, come again some other day!" I am protesting you, Sky.
And I call on all of you to join me. Embargo that oppressive thing. Don't even look at it. It feeds off of your begging, your cries of "Whyyyy?! Why won't you just stop it?!" Don't give it any more strength. Treat it like childish bastard it is.
According to this summary of June weather in southern New England, The whole last month sucked. Here are the first couple lines from it to give you the gist:
...JUNE 2009 WAS UNUSUALLY COOL...CLOUDY AND FREQUENTLY WET ACROSS MUCH OF SOUTHERN NEW ENGLAND...
THANKS TO A PERSISTENT TROUGH ACROSS SOUTHERN NEW ENGLAND...JUNE 2009 FEATURED PREDOMINANTLY COOL AND MOIST CONDITIONS.
Trough indeed, as if the Sky has been pushing our collective face into a trough of piss.
We can not work under these unsanitary conditions. We can not be expected to take this lying down anymore. Something must be done to protect our rights as human beings, because this treatment is downright inhumane. Sky, you have violated our dignity for the last time. We demand concessions. We demand guidelines.
First off, we demand no more killing. You struck a shellfisher in Orleans the other day with your electrical wrath, and we are not going to accept that kind of maliscious behavior.
Next, we demand you make your daily intentions clear and stick to them. Sun in the morning should not entail the darkness of Hades in the afternoon. If you want a gloomy day, fine. Have your gloomy day. Just make up your mind.
Finally, we cry for limits. June featured 16 days with measurable precipitation. Yes, that means that on more than half of June's days, something fell from the Sky into which you can stick a ruler. If you insist, Sky, on such an overbearing load being dumped on your meek people, we demand overtime! We call for the best July on record. We want a San Diego quality month, one where each day the meteoroligists get to come into work, look at their data, make a cheap graphic of the week with "Sunny, High of 75" maybe with a sunglass-weilding cartoon sun, and kick back and enjoy their coffee coolatas until air-time.
If you do not comply, sun, there will consequences. No more will we ponder what your puffy clouds look like. No more will we make out under your sunsets. No more will we lie in our fields and stare up in awe of your stars. Your eclipses will go unnoticed.
If you continue to abuse us, Sky, we will--I swear to God, we will-- send a nuke up to the International Space Station, and blow you to sunders. Sunders!
You have thirty days to comply. The ball is in your court, Sky.
Sincerely,
Jason D. Silva
And how you so recently have givethed it so hard and so long and so savagely! And how we hath takethed it right in the ass! How you giveth new meaning to "right where the sun don't shine."
Sky, the gauntlet has been thrown. On behalf of my sullen people, I am taking to the streets, sign in one hand reading "We may be mostly water, but we have limits!" and megaphone in the other, through which I will lead cheers of "Rain rain go away, come again some other day!" I am protesting you, Sky.
And I call on all of you to join me. Embargo that oppressive thing. Don't even look at it. It feeds off of your begging, your cries of "Whyyyy?! Why won't you just stop it?!" Don't give it any more strength. Treat it like childish bastard it is.
According to this summary of June weather in southern New England, The whole last month sucked. Here are the first couple lines from it to give you the gist:
...JUNE 2009 WAS UNUSUALLY COOL...CLOUDY AND FREQUENTLY WET ACROSS MUCH OF SOUTHERN NEW ENGLAND...
THANKS TO A PERSISTENT TROUGH ACROSS SOUTHERN NEW ENGLAND...JUNE 2009 FEATURED PREDOMINANTLY COOL AND MOIST CONDITIONS.
Trough indeed, as if the Sky has been pushing our collective face into a trough of piss.
We can not work under these unsanitary conditions. We can not be expected to take this lying down anymore. Something must be done to protect our rights as human beings, because this treatment is downright inhumane. Sky, you have violated our dignity for the last time. We demand concessions. We demand guidelines.
First off, we demand no more killing. You struck a shellfisher in Orleans the other day with your electrical wrath, and we are not going to accept that kind of maliscious behavior.
Next, we demand you make your daily intentions clear and stick to them. Sun in the morning should not entail the darkness of Hades in the afternoon. If you want a gloomy day, fine. Have your gloomy day. Just make up your mind.
Finally, we cry for limits. June featured 16 days with measurable precipitation. Yes, that means that on more than half of June's days, something fell from the Sky into which you can stick a ruler. If you insist, Sky, on such an overbearing load being dumped on your meek people, we demand overtime! We call for the best July on record. We want a San Diego quality month, one where each day the meteoroligists get to come into work, look at their data, make a cheap graphic of the week with "Sunny, High of 75" maybe with a sunglass-weilding cartoon sun, and kick back and enjoy their coffee coolatas until air-time.
If you do not comply, sun, there will consequences. No more will we ponder what your puffy clouds look like. No more will we make out under your sunsets. No more will we lie in our fields and stare up in awe of your stars. Your eclipses will go unnoticed.
If you continue to abuse us, Sky, we will--I swear to God, we will-- send a nuke up to the International Space Station, and blow you to sunders. Sunders!
You have thirty days to comply. The ball is in your court, Sky.
Sincerely,
Jason D. Silva
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