15 June 2010

The poem I once wrote about purple

Purple's a color with no rhyming word,
Oh what a shame for this rhythmless turd,
For no one I know to this day has heard,
A rhyme with a line that ends with purple.

A good friend of purple is orange it's said,
For orange and purple stand in the same stead;
And just as with purple nobody has read,
A poem that ends with the word orange.

And now for something compleatly different

What does it look like if you stand on the inside of a spherical mirror?

Perhaps one of the most asked questions that people have is; "Whats so funny about a chicken crossing a road?". The metaphysical argument transcends explanation. The only remaining discussion can be based on "why isn't it funny?". Which is of course, in it's self, laughable.

I had two separate dreams about eating McDonalds this week. I love it when my dreams and aspirations are so deeply and repeatedly satisfied for $4.50 a time. Oh yes. In every other dirty meaning as well. And your mom.

I designed a kit that converts a pig into a remote control helicopter. Press crtl+alt+delete to Pre-order now!

If you feed seagulls bi-carb they explode-- Its true.

Wait... there's one more...

but i lost it...

Maybe if you stay long enough it will turn up?

It was ever so good...

oh well...

07 June 2010

Winding path

I take you down a winding path,
Of bright-lit buildings 'neath night sky,
Where celebrations cast their joy,
To show you things you'd never spy.

The velvet sky that glitters,
As I lie back in the canoe,
One hand with chips and fritters,
The other arm for you.

A gust of cool, a gush of warm,
The flutter of the ropes and basket,
Beneath the curvey crimson bulge,
We sway above the world.

With wings of steel and lungs of fire,
We plunge towards the clouds,
And as butterflies take flight within,
We rise toward the ground.

... Run out of rhyme juice ...