Author Archives: The Writer

Bamboo View

Seagull, dread beach fowl
Wings like a wet towel
Seal flippers on a dove
Swim the sky high above

Milky Way Sonnet

Picture, to know how huge our universe
A constellation catalogue of our galaxy
With every penny in Uncle Sam’s purse
We could buy them all for five and twenty
We each would own eight hundred stars
Spanning planets spinning, radiating heat
To patrol these stars in our own space cars
Five and sixty years, all to work one beat
Thirty days a star, systems gone come June
Time flies eight hundred months in space
Earth’s visit but a selfie from the honeymoon
A bright blueberry pie beside your face
In a catalogue some dusty prop for photoshop
Precious Milky Way for sale, twenty five a pop

The Future Has A Price

Out the window
Above, airplanes
Tailor-made for speed

So fast the people move
The blue sky seems
Turned white

Out with Windows
Install Macs
Typing

Cut, copy, paste
Your quick keys bend
My thumb

Fridge Magnet March

Within the sea of mist
A dream plays
A thousand times

Shadows
Raw & luscious as
Forest

Of her swimming
Beauty there

I sing deliriously
In whisper
Cool and sweet

The Prince of Eternia

For outside of Grayskull castle walls
Like a mouth the drawbridge hangs
Undead cavalry bent on darkest deed
Advance in nightfall amid the ghouls

With bang of shield and lance atop a
Steed so very limber rides the dread
Form of Skeletor his cross campaign
So foul to shake the boards of timber

Above the omen Blood moon wails
As horse and soldier clack the nails
Inside steadfast Adam unbowed sees
Pause of charge as governor leans he

Stoops to moat that circles tower to
Wash like shower clean his hands for
All to see then horde abandoned off
He flees as legion footfall storms yet

Unshook Eternal prince transforms
Before a rider reach his lonely tower
So swift he rises tall he roars by the
Power of Grayskull I have the power.

A Date With Molly Ringwald

At first she resists my urge to be herself. I don’t
Know who you think I am those are just pictures
They’re not really me not me now y’know? Yeah
I say although I know they  wrote the parts for 

Her how those moments that I know are her a
Long time ago sure we were all different some
Of us changed maybe a little more I’m glad my
Own youth wasn’t captured on film. This place

Is so busy, she shifts in the chair set up beside
Crowded tables, the barista clacks a mug and
Gives somebody wifi. Now her eyes are out the
Window for a pause I breathe then she sees in

Marker my name on a hot chocolate whip cream
Lids off the cups, on hers colored lipstick and the
Words Sixteen Candles, she sees me look to look
Away only to look back, smile, stare, blink, grin

She takes a sip, it’s an excuse to think how she’s
Not sixteen anymore. She sips to look at me, her
Lips, her nose crinkles, her eyes twinkle amber
Energy at the thought I know that look it looks 

At first like disapproval I know she’s coy that’s
The appeal not that at however old she is now she
Reminds me of looking pretty in pink it’s that she
Was first of all the girls to look so pretty in pink

So grown up, all the girls before her knew she
Was a woman. She looks up, laughs it’s so weird
For a second there I felt nervous like I was in
High school like you wanted me to be a teenage

Version of me and I realized it’s just me that
Thinks that and she smiles, we each take a real
Sip now the talk is real and what I want is all in
Reach like we’re both sixteen, invincible, like

A soundtrack cues to tell you we are different
Now, no longer i
nvisible
And we’re too wise to care I smile, stare look
Away, let the moment sink, look back, blink.

The Hacker

(After Poe’s ‘The Raven’)

Once upon a midnight dreary,  browsing websites weak and weary,
Over many a meme I’d seen before,
While I nodded, sleep-eye wiping, suddenly there came a typing,
As of some old friend skyping, skyping at my monitor.
`’Tis some spam,’ I muttered, `skyping at my monitor –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each facebook member posts their food and sporting score.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From the internet a cease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.

And the lilting loop of each user’s sign in
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some spammer entreating entrance at my monitor –
Some spambot entreating entrance at my monitor; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ typed I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is my eyes were drooping, and so gently was the booping,
And so faintly you came typing, skyping at my monitor,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I brightened my monitor; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But silence began to sink, and the darkness gave no link,
And the only word there typed was the italic word, `Lenore!’
This I cut and pasted, and text pinged back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back to the browser turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a typing somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window software;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis some spam and nothing more!’

Open here I clicked the link, when, with many a drag and scroll,
Up there popped a chat avatar like emoticons of years before.
Not the least ‘sup’ or ‘lol’ made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with manner of spam or hacker, froze upon my monitor –
Overlapped my Pallas wallpaper on my monitor –
Overlapped, and froze, and nothing more.

Then this ebony box beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the textbox it wore,
`Though thy looks be much like spam, thou,’ I said, `art sure no scam.
Ghastly grim and ancient hacker wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is in the Matrix core!’
Typeth the hacker, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this anonymous chat to read discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing text upon his monitor –
Spam or bot above the statue wallpaper upon his monitor,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the chat, sitting lonely atop the wallpaper, showed only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he typed – not a character then he skyped –
Till I scarcely more than griped `Other friends have spammed before –
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have shown before.’
Then the chat said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly keyed in,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some shady database whom unmerciful lowercase
Pinged fast and loaded faster till his code one burden bore –
Till the software of his system that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the hacker still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of chat and wallpaper and monitor;
Then, upon the leather sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous avatar of yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous avatar of yore
Meant in typing `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fiend whose blinking cursor now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s leather lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose leather stitched lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, I heard a grinding, system slower, lagging from a muted iTune
Sung by U2 whose drum-beat silenced on the muted stereo.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy Programmer hath lent thee – by these dial-tones sent thee
Sprites – Sprite and Gin from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind tonic, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Typeth the hacker, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if spambot or devil! –
Whether troller sent, or whether mailing list tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
Is there – is there ointment in your drawer? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Typeth the hacker, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if spambot or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
Tell this soul with heavy heart if, within the distant bonus level,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Typeth the hacker, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of logging off, spambot or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
`Get thee back into the matrix and the Ethernet’s core!
Leave no hard drive wiped as a token of that lie thy soul hath typed!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the chat window upon my monitor!
Take thy cursor from out my heart, and take thy form from off my monitor!’
Typeth the hacker, `Nevermore.’

And the hacker, cursor never sinking, still is blinking, still is blinking
On the wallpaper gif of Pallas that decorates my monitor;
And his blinks have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the backlight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the monitor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!