Poem- "Wisdom of Equipment"

Wisdom of Equipment

A southpaw in fallen weakness grabs the vampire’s pig with rare blood in thespian moves,

Then his well made beast trips the light while raking fire with some pugnacious romance in grooves.

*A “southpaw” is someone who uses a left arm for integrity instead of the right arm.  The “vampire’s pig” can be a dinosaur or literally a pig.  “Thespian” is a word out there used to describe performers.  Basically, there’s awkward love between the southpaw and the pig.  You can even say it’s tough love, a naughty list of habits, or art that’s something of a fictional presentation of vampire animals.  This is mature content, but I like the literary colors of my selection.  When I say “trips the light”, do I mean something breathing fire or a creature who upholds its surroundings?  My mom doesn’t like violence, but she likes this poem and says it’s mature content.  My dad, on the other hand, is quite a brute himself over politics for his Byzantine Military Blog and says this poem doesn’t have mature content at all.  Personally, this poem is among my influences of videogames.  How rare blood can be is up to a risk-taker who travels.  Enjoy this poem with caution: we don’t know that pig or why it’s loving the guy who grabbed it in quite a mess.

Poem- "Rays above Waves"

Rays above Waves The Naga King tastes his rough chili with smooth fruit at maturity, While dried fish of their red sea hunt those neap tides in God’s prosperity. *I wrote this poem after studying websites about ghost peppers. One day I just got to thinking about what a Naga King would look like. It’s an abstract poem, like an abstract painting. There’s mystery in the words here, but I have a good picture of it. It has something to do with a king’s meal and dried fish in the ocean. When I talked about “maturity”, did I mean the fruit’s ripeness or the king’s experienced age? All imagination is optional. http://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Rays-above-Waves-648076823

Poem- "Twin Edges"

Twin Edges Legal guardians of a hot castle, Passengers through water activity in its cold frame;
Quite fair to middling band on rassle, Upon orbital wind as crowned souls lead black art to tame. *The narrator of this poem is a bad guy who witnesses too much magic. There are guardians, passengers, and crowned heads in what is to me a poem with mysterious meter and new organization of thoughts. I decide to mix in modern language with old language, thus arriving at new language. At first I thought of rhyming “castle” with “scuttle”, but the t-sound of “scuttle” sticks out like a sore thumb against the characters’ royal activities. So I rhyme “castle” with “rassle”, which is chiefly part of some British dialects for “wrestle” rather than a ribbon or something of that taste. “Cold frame” can be a garden, the castle, or some weather. Because the kings are taming black art, it’s possible that they’re controlling animals. There are numerous pictures that can fit the poem, but sometimes I get into fantasy rather than reality. Some feelings don’t even have pictures for them and this concept needs to be understood if anybody wants to get into poetry. Good luck and keep dreaming on the haze of life. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twin-edges/

Café Review, Starbucks 300 S. Tucker Road Tehachapi, CA 93561

Café Review, Starbucks 
300 S. Tucker Road  Tehachapi, CA  93561

I came in before turkey day to have coffee with my name on it.  It had my breath all over it.  I also dined inside Starbucks for nuts with weird pepper, enjoying the oil of the kernels with mild gusto.  Did I mention that my hot drink with a straw?  Not while I was keeping a table safe with papers from the United States, nor during my moments of bliss with the mugs.  I got a mug that was way out!  It had a picture of a fox bathing in the snow; the creature had wrapping on for the holidays.  That’s the mug; it was alluring with shades of the afternoon on that social call upon the green café.  The Drive-Thru was the boss of traffic.  My mom’s experience at the window was tasteful; it was like having pastries in the moonlight all over again, and Starbucks sells treats that are good fortunes to the rush.  Believe in my truth as if it’s an opinion that is so faint as a comment on the business’s compromise of amusements; in fact, Starbucks is more than the sum of its parts because of their alluring sales of delights and Joes.  It’s nearly Christmas time for more design.  I had blue moves while I was lingering in expectations of the crew, yet my surprise was happening.  My doctor once told me that I had big eyes for coffee, so I’ve been craving his demand.  I had plenty of visits at this Starbucks with an itch for the mobility of hunger.  I paid for neat mugs that relate to their own colors.  Starbucks gave me these intense cups because they had the power to create strange dreams in my mind.  To tell you the truth, Starbucks has ideas that are vague and rich to the tune of the café’s jazz which hangs in the air with their realization.  The roof just seemed more close to me as I relished mocha with ideal theories, reading page after page of a newspaper that supposed.  You can study familiar news to understand coffee more.  It was a day before Thanksgiving with entertainment in the greetings before I woke up to the rural comforts of my spirit at last.  Think of the odd cashews as food for thought, energy for philosophy.  Some of the shadows in the café were clear with my transitions between awe and concentration.  The beverages in my history of visits were pretty with their appealing contents until my heart ached before sleeping.  Don’t you hear the holy echoes of pure advertisement?  Starbucks is a face that’s constantly in rest with the beauty of skills.  A rude worker is hardly an occasion.  Gentlemen entered with computers as the ladies sensed their thoughts, and I’d joined them with nothing flat in our understanding.  There was a tick to the music roaring with perfection of some kind as I tasted the exotic zest of deep ambiance inside a profound location that can be described as a coffee shop with gifts from many countries.  It’s a pit stop of wonder, a bar of gratitude.  It’s a restaurant for a bite to like for emotions that increase in ambitious feelings since Starbucks provides something beyond home cooking: good taste is supported by their virtues of customer service.  I tucked a few cashews in my jacket and put myself in the large assembly of thirsty customers who are in happy modes in the name of libations; my name was on my cup, on my refreshment of cool satisfaction.  My coffee was the brine of cream on a high note.  Right now, Starbucks has coffee that can give you good breath.  I could take a bowl and call it the soup of caffeine while my words were dry for the sakes of resounding conversation.  Just a spoonful of sugar will cause more intelligence than depression.  Starbucks is the dance of magnitude to their radio’s thrilling songs.  Differences can be so romantic!  I give in a natural word for Starbucks as a nice buddy.  Go there and have a cup of java that rings to your ears with temperature and flavors.

Poem- "After Jesus Returns"

After Jesus Returns

                                    More rabbits have candy as they need some holidays,

                                    The man on the moon has a stuffed crown in pretty ways.

*I guess you can call this a free verse of couplets since the meter varies between the lines.  In my mind, if a couple of humans can be so different from each other in marriage, then a couple of lines of poetry can be so different from each other in a poem.

**This is about my perception of Easter and Astronomy.  With a certain outlook on life, some things change into sweetness.

***The man on the moon can either be Armstrong or Aiken Drum.  Either way, his head looks pretty, doesn't it?

Poem- "Fictional Cookbook"

Fictional Cookbook

                                    I can say a president’s name like drawn butter,

                                    My ball in sports has the sap of its kilometer.

* Sold as is!  I'm talking politics here.  What's the point of freedom if there's no passion?  I watch tennis and Trump and come up with this... good luck.

**The couplet has two different meters and my dialect is like popcorn.

Poem- "Couch Dining"

Couch Dining

Kind of sober, sweetly to cut the cheese off above heaven;

To soak these seeds with kind faces, around 24/7,

Thus chewing Spitz, when returns for markets change quite eleven.

Run across sunflowers, borrowing dust while matching great hue;

Toss in funny turns for good show, by kitchen smoke rendezvous,

So growing blood, I fly through soft hints to calm mind over you.

Wisdom teeth to seasoned shells, I watch bait delicious enough;

Eyes to flash, in going reverse on passion hitting zenith,

Under God, to chain that pug after Tiffany Lamp towards moth.

Just might to smooth laze, game venture to correct balanced heat;

Push to shove, entertainment before leaving faces on one cheat,

Let’s toast sunflower seeds, to boast recurring aid on rock’s beat.

* This is a story about how I sit on a couch and eat sunflower seeds.  I go through abstractions in this blues poem; in fact, it can be said there are many blues poems here.  It's my consciousness speaking; I've been a seer of too much.  What's interesting here is that I rhyme "enough" with "zenith", thus providing "soft hints" of my American dialect.

Poem- "Orphan Breed"

Orphan Breed Orbit pops in Earth all, To brightest wildern call, Dalmatians cottontail, Stars breakfast to inhale, For infernal snackies, Puppers like one Loki’s. * "Orphan Breed" relates to my dad's stories of dog shelters. "Snackies" can either refer to the food or the animals, who likely are Dalmatians who become pets like Loki's friends. "Wildern" has actually been a name for certain schools and I felt like using it as a good word to describe Earth's role for the dogs. "Puppers" is something my mom would say while she'd be relaxing and unserious. The poem acts as my own sestet to dad's desires for a human's best friend.

The painting is by Justus "Sustermans" and the intellectual property is not mine. My Galaxy S7 doesn't allow me to say certain words without my using quotation marks. I think it's a crime against humanity for my cell phone to not allow me to say "Loki"!

The Wimps of Zelda

These videogame journalists say that Zelda is too ambitious.

No, I'm not kidding.

Apparently, Nintendo has had so much ambition that it bothers the poor journalists.
I'll bet you, if anything, that they think Trump, Napoleon, Caesar, and Aristotle are too ambitious.

The videogame journalism comes from a group called "The Know".
How do they think they know?  Well, it'd be good to classify the rumors.
It's a group in vanity who make stuff up.

I've also heard plenty of other haters.
Sometimes a smile isn't a gate, but rather a barrier.
Arrogance isn't always coarse.

Still, there's the question of a programmer's ambition when it comes to the videogame industry.
Is it wise for Nintendo to be so ambitious that it takes them a long time to release any game?
Well, it seems to me that Nintendo rushed the Wii.

I've been playing with my Atari 5200 Super System.
It's old, but Pac-Man ages like fine wine.

But there's time versus passion when it comes to new ideas.
Personally, videogame companies have not used enough new language.
What happens when a person avoids creating new ideas is that art becomes a medium of capitalism.

A person can be a new idea.

If money is tight, you won't stay loose.
AMP is a troublesome critic over the Playstation Virtual Reality.
I've seen AMP as a blogger for my Galaxy S7, but dad's Windows 7 can't pick them up.
Although the internet is a variable source, stability of data is requisite to comprehension.
I feel like telling AMP, "Look here jerkwad, your sympathy is showy with a vengeance."

I Drink This AMP!

Just getting to the point of my videogame thesis, that's all.

Nintendo's ambitions serve well until they die of starvation.

A programmer can be an artist with too much thirst.

When a gamer dies, his or her creativity goes with that angel to space.

 

http://www.northcastle.co.uk/guild/art/sarah/sarah.html

This drawing is by Sarah Meadows.
I believe it's from her.
Try to tell this artist that Zelda is too ambitious!

Random Video

Poem- "Stressor" Afternoon is waning with other slopes to pass, Even during cheeseburgers with nothing to mass; Settled dust craves over these hills as one, Thus to equate worn plants on Dirty Mon, I likely grant red coffee above real Padres none, To perceive smacked gloves around big baseball bends they’ve won. My diet confession for bubbles makes this tummy clear and ripe, That health on dispute remains to be sane under star onto stripe; So Alex Talk burns me to shivers like July Christmas, Quenching ice on tongue before I reach mom’s salad fungus. *It's been said that with my schizophrenia, I can taste things others can't. 'Salad fungus' is a phrase my dad uses to describe bleu cheese dressing, 'July Christmas' is a celebration of Jesus in the summer, and 'Big Baseball Bends' refers to baseball stadiums. This poem is verse with variable sounds, and there's enough random language here to create my schizophrenic allusions. I think one of the jobs of poets is for them to create new language. In other words, I dare to break some rules of grammar by simply following grammar rules with odd vocabulary. Oddness and humor are among my talents, so the poem's enigmas to me are quite pleasant if not mystifying.

Random Videos- Atari, Fans, and Poetry

The Atari 5200 Super System, the Super Nintendo Entertainment System... I prefer full names of video game consoles, so I kind of explore avenues of thought with prestige and immersion.  Innovation is a word that refers to a kind of militant way of gaming on videogames.  To tell you the truth, I was truly impressed with the Atari 5200 controllers, but I'm a hardcore gamer and accept the variables when it comes to intermediate challenges.

As for my poetry, I've actually written hundreds of poems by now.  I try to have dozens of sounds in a few lines of text.  An enigma that's in my poetry serves as a signal.  As I go through the sounds, I can play the music in my imagination.

Ceiling fans are inspirations of my poetry, and so are other obstacles and intrinsic endeavors.  I have a tall order for boldness.  I think a clean word can be a big word if there's violence attached.

I suggest that the reader look at my YouTube videos!

You may find my descriptions of the mystical controllers from Atari.  

Poem- "Stressor"

Stressor

Afternoon is waning with other slopes to pass,

Even during cheeseburgers with nothing to mass;

Settled dust craves over these hills as one,

Thus to equate worn plants on Dirty Mon,

I likely grant red coffee above real Padres none,

To perceive smacked gloves around big baseball bends they’ve won.

My diet confession for bubbles makes this tummy clear and ripe,

That health on dispute remains to be sane under star onto stripe;

So Alex Talk burns me to shivers like July Christmas,

Quenching ice on tongue before I reach mom’s salad fungus.

*It's been said that with my schizophrenia, I can taste things others can't. 'Salad fungus' is a phrase my dad uses to describe bleu cheese dressing, 'July Christmas' is a celebration of Jesus in the summer, and 'Big Baseball Bends' refers to baseball stadiums. This poem is verse with variable sounds, and there's enough random language here to create my schizophrenic allusions. I think one of the jobs of poets is for them to create new language. In other words, I dare to break some rules of grammar by simply following grammar rules with odd vocabulary. Oddness and humor are among my talents, so the poem's enigmas to me are quite pleasant if not mystifying.