Words of wisdom

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit but the highest form of intelligence.” -Oscar Wilde


“Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.”
 — Holden Caulfield


Mmmm cheese
I am thinking about cheese now
This poem isn’t supposed to be cheesy
But it’s about cheese
Poke that tooth pick
Into that piece of squeaky cheese you are sampling
Then wash it down
With a small cup
Of banana flavored milk
Its as smooth as silk.
I will stop trying to rhyme now.

Grandpa, Come Back

A brown jacket
Weathered hands
Hair faded
Friendly glasses
We walk
He talks
On a hike
In the woods.
His arm around my back
Familiar leaves
Ground that I know
We walk up the trail,
He has a new place to show.
My problems dissolve
In those soft eyes
As he gives me advice.
The picture fades
Then all turns to black
I open my eyes
Grandpa, come back.


Every day
my gatorade bottle
was assualted
by Geoffy’s lips
No words were exchanged
in this transaction
I was only compensated
by a steely knuckle bump
as geoffy wiped the lid off
on his greasy shirt.

Geoffy is funny
Atleast the class thinks so
Geoffy is tired.
Geoffy steals my backpack.
Geoffy uses my backpack
as a pillow

Laying on the floor
a glutenous walrus,
Mr. Bumpyknuckle himself.
Snuggled up with my backpack
in the back of the classroom

Geoffy is talking about the kool aid man now
who knows who the kool aid man is

your mind is a playground, use it.

I while ago I read an article on the internet. It was about this study carried out at i think Michigan State University? I would look it up again but I’m too lazy.  Anyway a group of scientists carried out this study on college students. They gave them a choice of either a)receiving an electric shock, or b) sitting by themselves to think in a room for 15 minutes.Now I don’t remember all the little details of this study, but it was quite startling to me at the time. Something like 60% of college students viewed being alone with their thoughts as a negative experience.

Now I’m not sure on the validity of this study, like how much the “electric shock” actually hurt, how many people were studied, gender, age, demographic, etc. For all I know the study is complete bull crap. But it did open my mind up a bit, and it made me think, it made me curious. Can people really not spend 15 minutes alone and just think?

So I want to encourage you if you are reading this to take a moment to think. Think about your future, things you want to do, think about whatever you want. Use your imagination. Remember being a little kid when you could be entertained by the smallest of things? Be creative. Come up with ideas.

We are living in an era full of technology, full of distractions. We have an endless supply of entertainment at our fingertips. And I think sometimes we forget to think, to really think, to let our minds wander, to be alone with our thoughts. There seems to always be something present to occupy us. So take a moment.

bannanas and nutella

I am an animal. I am a pirate. I am rummaging for treasure in the treasure box. Starved am I as my stomach reaffirms my condition with an unsettling growl. Too little have I ingested in the midst of my plunderings. A hint of gold catches my eye. A banana. I plunge my filthy fingers around its skin as I separate it from its identical twins. I decapitate the poor thing. Then pulling from the cupboard my shaking hands have unearthed the real treasure. Silky brown goodness bottled up together in a plastic jar. I imagine millions of hazelnuts being condensed into that lovely jar. But mostly chocolate. Because it mostly tastes like chocolate. And I frankly don’t care for hazelnuts. Even though two hazelnut trees sit outside of my house. I assume they add a few hazelnuts so that they can call it hazelnut spread which sounds much more healthy thus propelling more people to purchase the delicacy. But anyway my fingers pry the top off the hazelnutted heroin. I plunge my prey into the sea of brown. I then bite off the head of the poor thing as it fills the pleading monster inside me.

the art of storytelling

My grandpa was a great storyteller.

we sat on the couch
like pigeons on telophone wire
he sculpted the words with his mouth
as our imaginations painted the picture
and patient
we sat
absorbed by the tale.

We could have sat for hours
as he held our attention
we could have sat for hours