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Through substantial feedback and superlative wisdoms given at the Poetry-Free-For-All at everypoet.org, I have turned my previous poem into my best work yet.
Careless footsteps pass, lasting
in circles sneering rich,
to swat the homeless, selfish
statues with no design or end,
defenseless to their fault.
The perishing parkbench in morning dust
waits for our forgiveness, for naked
coins through dry-gray rust, the wishing
fountain beating daylight water,
between the mindless chatter of coming,
doing, going, leaving.
When stone, by far your closest friend,
stands you more than the human flock
of walking, talking pigeons, you can
hear their feathers clipped, all by themselves,
pecking pennies on the ground.
Around, around, they cannot open wide,
they cannot open
Careless footsteps pass,
Pass in circles, last.
You are still, in welcome ears
First alone in arms.
Spread free! Aloft a parkbench
Behold! The dusty morn'.
Cloudy reds on dry-gray coins
The fountain wishes to bleed,
Between the mindless chatter
Of goers, doers, leave.
It, by far your closest friend,
Knows that you are stone,
Amidst the human flock
Of walking, talking pigeons.
Feathers clipped all by themselves,
Pecking bread crumbs
Stray. They cannot open wide around
Around their fingers frayed,
So they point at you! oh, paper-thin box
Why behold? the nameless.
Yet, themselves, the box of iron hands
Cuffs the life they think is home
With ev'ry careful step.
See mirkwood on pavement
The lifeblood spills
You remember your greedy eyes
Your body of heaven, better than he
Safe in the car of steel
Rushing by the fallen tree
The juice of natural birth
The bitter sin and sympathy
Tasting bark on black cement
The roots are off the side
We are killers of nature's game, we say
As nature lies in the mud
It clings to you, you stubborn seed
You gnarled branch
You feed
And the phone call you receive is far more important
Than the eulogy of leaf and stump
The song you need is dead, of course
A speech from a robot's love
Life is but only selfless me
I am beyond the forsaken tree
Look, there it is, behind my face
It snaps like a twig
You see
I watch it almost religiously - not because of Adam Sessler, maybe for Morgan Webb (go figure) - but I think it's vibrantly entertaining. Yum.
I would understand hatred of homosexualism if it was evil, and unfortunately, many religions and social culture deem it evil, or at least unnatural and therefore evil. What escapes most is that homosexuals are human beings and should be viewed with humanity. Hating homosexualism is the same as hating blacks, Asians, whites, Indians, the obese, the poor, the rich, the intelligent, the dumb, and if homosexualism is truly a preference, than hating homosexualism is the equivalent to hating someone that likes pistachio ice cream. Many hate pistachio ice cream but that doesn't mean that you should hate people that like pistachio ice cream. Unforunately, the "pistachio ice cream" isn't evil at all. In fact, it's harmless. Homosexuality, in turn, doesn't harm anyone. So to hate homosexuality is a
"Settlers of Catan" is a multiplayer board game where players must collect resources and build settlements to colonize the island of Catan. This is an MDA-analysis of the game, examining the Mechanics, Dynamics, and Aesthetic models of the game.
1
Mechanics: Long Setup – While I played the online version of Settles of Catan, I understand that the setup for the board game is quite elaborate. You have to arrange the land tile hexes, the island tiles around them, the numbers within the hexes, the robber, the ports, the appropriate resources and buildings to the respective players, and the exhaustive goes on and on…
If this expression could hold
Upon the waves, upon the frames of dusk
I would keep myself upon the shore
And know the tide upon my toes
If this expression drowned
Upon the sunken ships
I would never soar beneath the waters
And know the depth of our burn
To the driest sun
And if you could find me in blue
Dressed in charcoal seashells
Will I follow your expression
That light upon the fringe
Escaping my dire lips
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