Mondays

Mondays
Isn't it obvious that I wrote this on a Monday (duh)? Try listening to the song "I Don't Like Mondays" by the Boomtown Rats after you're done reading this. It'll really rub it in further! :-P

Monday ...
What if it were moved to the middle of the week?
Then we would have two days after weekend to prepare for it . . .
But the day after Sunday would still be like Monday
It best to legislate --
No heavy work after Sunday
And the day thereafter.
Then when the mind and body is ready
Just let it all go on Wednesday
Which is our pseudo-Monday
Or should I say ersatz Monday!

Reverie

The poem below is a collaboration between my good friend Cyndi and I. She once sent me a freestyle poem and to amuse her, I decided to put some rhyme into the work by inserting my own lines. The first line of the poem, and alternately, are hers. We hope you like the overall effect . . .
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Pitter patter . . . pitter patter,
Pearly drops make senseless chatter.
The rain gently taps the windows
With countless beads only God knows.
The whir of the overhead buzzing in the background
Propagates the ennui all around.

Synthetic warmth flowing through the vents
Bearing down on me in stiffling torrents.
Blank stares . . . bored glances
Heavy eyelids perform languid dances
Focused on the presentation ahead
Gravity rules, down goes the head.

Mind wandering . . . drifting . . . floating
Amid subliminal seas, swimming, sailing
The words of the lecture come in yet aren't processed
They sit idly on my mental doorstep - dispossessed.
Out the window the trees sway to and fro
Captivating my senses though my eyes say "no".

This way . . . now that
Arboreal hypnosis in two seconds flat!
Lulling me to another dimension
Hyperspace, neverland, mental fields elysian
Sleep caresses my eyes, leaning onto my hand
Drool escapes my lips as thoughts pour out of my mind.

Words still buzzing but not making sense
Subconsciously I say "yes" in agreeable pretense
Forgotten or maybe unleashed dreams
Amusing my senses to coquettish extremes.
. . . play over and over in my mind
. . . till I hear nary a sound . . .

How I long for the touch of the sun upon my face
To dispel the coldness, give amazing grace
Yet the dream of you holding me close feels even better
In my reverie we drift to heights even higher.

Pitter patter . . . pitter patter
Pearly drops make senseless chatter
The rain gently taps on the windows
In countless beads only God knows
The whir of the overhead buzzing in the background
My mentor calls me but I'm not around!

The Quadratic Equation of Love

A desperate attempt to quantify love. It runs along a theme that I once chanced upon. One of my friends noted the similarity but believe me . . . this is my original work!

Given a general emotional equation of the second degree,
'Tis required the roots of the love - to be or not to be.
Assume the equation ax^2+bx+c=0,
Where x is the unknown - a "yes" or a "no".

The problem seems to be the constants a,b, and c,
For they directly affect x's determinacy.
In any case, though, the results may be generalized,
To 3 possible roots which can be quickly summarized:

If x is positive, then let love be -
The numeric integer being love's intensity.
If x is negative, obviously love cannot be,
The numeric integer corresponding to the repellancy!

Should the root contain a term imaginary,
It's all in the mind, no need to worry.
For love is in the heart to be nurtured tenderly,
Not in the brain where it is treated academically!

Thus, is love's quadratic equation,
A quick way to asses a romantic decision.
Now if the values for a, b, and c,
Could only be defined with great accuracy . . . !

The Phoenix

After my earlier poem "The Hurt" this next work seems quite fitting to describe my renewed feelings about love. Eeeeewww . . . doesn't that suck?

Adrift amid clouds of despair,
From my aerie of exile I seek to repair
My heart in emotional suspension
Now arises from its hibernation.
As would a Phoenix from its ashes resurrect
So does my heart from limbo now elect -
In all its majesty and renewed vigor
Sing to the heavens in joyous splendour.

A million colors scintillate
And glow with a warmth they generate
A love denied now comes to rise
Partake of a romantic exercise . . .

Your presence and laughter in me ignite
Joys forgotten, lost in the night
You flood my senses with delight
Celebrate life in a whole new light!

And as love now inundates
My heart afire in frenzied waves
I pray the gods make me less sedate,
And drunk with this joyous Fate!

Fastfood ... To Go

Here's a really kewl poem that gives me visions of NuYowk 42nd St. Read along and you'll understand what I mean! :-)

From a tree in total concentration,
An arachnid deftly checks the tension -
Silken network of grand construction,
That subtly masks an eerie intention.

Comes a fly a-buzzin' and hip-hoppin'
The world to him's one big trash of eatin'.
Circles merrily the busy spider,
Sez to himself, "'Tis a good day to jive with her!"

"Hey, big mama, wuz happ'nin'?"
Queried fly to suspended denizen.
"Sun's a-shinin' and I'm a-waitin'
But yo'z jez mopin', we should be jazzin'!"

"Shake those eight legs, show me those thighs,
Move yer big butt now, and exercise!"
But big black mama just looked at him,
With an eyeful so compoundly grim!

"Mama, yo'z cold, I'd better split,
Somewhere down there is a sure hit . . ."
But the fly just got a bit too careless,
Snagged himself on web's stickiness!

Big mama comes down hip-hoppin'
With utensils in tow ready for feastin'.
Gobbled the fly and swallowed him whole,
Smacked, burped and just said, " . . . Cool!"

The Hurt

Well . . . the title says it all. I wrote this while inebriated. The words seem to be etched in my heart too deeply that I sometimes find myself reciting some of the lines even while I'm busy at something else. . .

Amber sun upon the horizon,
Escorting the day to its conclusion.
With it a dream, a love, an illusion,
Capture a memory, hold in suspension . . .

A love so bright it didn't seem,
No force on earth could make it dim.
Till moment came, she did intend,
To say our love had then to end.

A spate of rage I did let go,
Vision dimmed, dazed vertigo.
The truth seeped in my shattered heart,
Tearing my world and soul apart.

Drown now the pain in alcohol,
And every liquid that had ethanol.
The hurt's too deep, things chemical,
Won't ease an ache not physical.

In droves, my friends did sympathize,
To ease the pain, rationalize,
But mutually we had to realize,
I still had to pay the price.

O heart, past limits of relief,
Fold unto itself like a withered leaf.
Cold granite walls now fortify,
Castle of passion once on the fly.

In solitude I meditate,
My troubled heart did I placate.
Should shattered love now seal my fate,
To care no more - stay celibate?

Is mortal love so delicate,
To warrant an end immediate?
And pray to gods, ingratiate
Bless a love to perpetuate.

Within my heart now cold and callused,
In limbo forlorn but not quite lost,
A spark of hope for heart to rise,
Amid despair, revitalize.

I trod upon my virtual graveyard,
Where broken love lies buried and unheard.
A flower tossed, I bid adieu,
The sun will rise, start life anew . . .

The Missing Link

For all the kewl dudez and doodetz that I have met so far on the cyberplane . . . I offer this work!

Friend untouched, unheard, unseen-
Senses denied joys that presence fills in.
Is virtual friendship as genuine?
When emotions that well from within,
Get filtered thru the cyberscreen-
Past a silicon chip, a wire and a login?

Friend unseen, untouched, unheard-
I daresay we belong to the same herd.
Frazzled dreams on a flightless bird,
Broken trusts that now we dare not fjord.
Our aches scream on our cold keyboard
Relay our thoughts that we passionately hoard.

Friend unheard, unseen, untouched-
On our screens our despairs are etched,
Cold reassurances exchanged and matched
In faceless virtuality our souls are patched.
May that we, though hands never touched,
Find comfort in the friendship we have hatched.