Posts Tagged "poetry" from 2021

Oh! I have spurned the surly SEC,
And pierced the skies with rocket booster flames;
Sunward I've turned, to harvest energy;
Nutted to Mars -- and played a hundred games
You have not dreamed of -- founded, bought, and sold;
Ran Paypal, blasted Dogecoin to the moon,
Built companies from visions into gold,
And granted seven children silver spoons.

Up, up the endless void of frozen black
My dankest starship speeds with burning grace.
I've seen the future, and I won't look back:
They'll say I left my mark upon the times.
For I have sent my Roadster into space --
Put out my hand, and touched the face of Grimes.

There came a schollar from Viking country,
Well verst in ludonarrativity.
When that Aprill with his shoures thick
Hied off, he watched ye childe play hoop and stick
To ponder changing stick for lethern balle,
And wryte upon the meninge of it alle.
Of anti-gamer scorn, no hede took he,
Aware that men live in society,
While those of lerninge to him wolde adjure
For hy discourse on English literature.
Full gladly teched he on such things culturall,
And left each lecture-hall with maydens plurall.
Exotic assets allways filled his pipe:
He was a verry parfit gaming type.

Forth from the unicorn issued a groaning,
A sound low and awful, as never is heard in the fields that we know.
Then there was naught but the wonderful carcass,
The deep growls and roaring of hounds as they wallowed in fabulous blood.

Curséd be unicorns, all of their ways,
And everything else in the world that be magic.

Curst be their horn and the place where they dwell
And the lilies they feed on. Curst be their speed,

And their hide in white sleekness, their beauty --
And all things enchanted that wander by magical streams.

The Elf King, chaunting rhythmic, unknown words,
An age-old incantation, ordered Elfland
To drift away from Earth, the mortal realm.

As in a moment no one can determine
When sunset layers turn from gold to pink,
From glowing pink to listless unlit colors,
All Elfland left the edges of the fields
Which all men know, and hied where men know not.

Motionless fronds of dream-gripped trees lay calm.
Petals of myriad roses stilled their trembling.
Sharing the King's content, Elfland reposed.

So strong enchantment lay o'er all that land,
It seemed there was an understanding there
That reached from men to trees, from trees to men.

More beautiful than aught our wonder guesses,
More than our hearts have hoped, the dewdrop lights
Hint of the seaweeds draping cliffside rocks.

Eternal beauty dreams in honied air
Where nothing ever stirs or fades or dies,
Nor seeks its happiness in changing things.

For breakfast, man made sausage, so I sausage,
And squint askew as Ra holds high his disk.
With no time for poetic inspiration,
He casts aside the slinking clouds of mist.

The seagulls, noisy poopers, have come inland.
With stupid orange mouths agape, they wheel,
Ungainly flap, and float, til they spy refuse,
Then land to fight amongst themselves and squeal.

On high, in blue, airliners cut a contrast,
Speed straight where birds must fart around like clods. 
Do seagulls ever wonder what a plane is?
Do they believe in jets, as we do gods?