Archive for June 20, 1987

Godzilla Part II

Posted: June 20, 1987 in Poetry
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From out of the depths
The gargantuan comes
Stomping skyscrapers
As big as his thumbs.
He’s going for Tokyo
Acting sublime
For Godzilla alone
It’s his 58th time.
He chews on a pine tree,
Picking his teeth.
Godzilla ate all the army
He says “where’s the beef”?
But wait! It’s Bruce Li!
Hey, what a guy!
No problem for Godzilla;
He swats him like a fly.
Lining up and aiming
He grins and yells “fore”!
Using tail as a nine iron
A hole in one is his score.
Godzilla is just nuclear
This is not a test.
Look out all you surfers
San Diego might be next!

Untitled Poem #8

Posted: June 20, 1987 in Poetry



Posted: June 20, 1987 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

As I sit here by a stream
I contemplate halfway in a dream
Of things and places and sunless seas
Of gigantic beanstalks and philosophies.
From the profound statements of the D’nofrio
To the mellow flavor of a Michelob,
From decisions made by our head of state
To these lines on which I contemplate.
Subconscious turmoil brings up fantastic stuff
Predominant phrases like “hey, life’s rough”.
Wearing a smile and a stupid stare
I look for ideas of which I can share.
These poems contained within my mind
Are many in number, and some unkind.
Yes I’m sorry to those I’ve offended
Let those faults be well amended.
But it’s true that they were meant to provoke;
Hey, I’m wandering again – this poem’s a joke.
I’m sitting amongst a bunch of rocks
By a small brook whose babbling talks.
With a little creativity it seems to say
Just be patient, let come what may.
So I watch and think and revel in nature
While my mind is really on nomenclature.
Twirling away, I write in prose
Where I am now, nobody knows.
Wait! Focus! I recognize this land;
Billowing waves joust with stoic sand.
The mind pans up like a movie shot
Alas, a Steven Spielberg I am not.
Sky fades to stars as day fades to night
And the horizon is bathed in incandescent light.
Speeding past planets in the universe
I find images of people who have been cursed.
Wailing and screaming, yet making no sound
I’m really glad that I am not sticking around.
Suddenly I’m alone in my bright green chair
With the ink of this pen it’s color it does share.
My feet on my stool, my notebook in my lap
Someone has written on the cover: CRAP.
Yet I still believe, and although I have paused
I take up my pen and I correct my flaws.
It takes ingenuity to live in this place.
Some go insane; they can’t handle what they face.
Just take a look at me for a terrible instance
Sometimes I can’t handle my very own existence.
I can be too foolish to swallow my pride
And I have even considered the aspect of suicide.
Many days in my life I would have missed
If it wasn’t for my stabilizing catalysts.
I owe it all to my security blanket
And now that I have kindly thanked it
One more thing I suppose I should write
Before I bid you all good night:
It’s fun to ramble on into infinity
When you are surrounded with such serenity.

Untitled Poem #7

Posted: June 20, 1987 in Poetry
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When I start to write my poetry
A blank sheet of paper stares back at me.
So I let my mind run through many ideas
Like a daydreaming trance; you know how it feels.
And I’ll start to write on the spur of the moment
Not worrying about the meter, rhyme, or content.
But there are certain things I can’t describe
Too beautiful for speech; believe me, I’ve tried.
These couple of subjects, they are but few
But one of them has always been you.