The Invisible Boy
Well, I resolved myself to produce something worthwhile tonight, so I rubbed my meat-palms together and got to work. Hopefully I'll have something new produced tonight, but I also decided to finish the poem that I started a few weeks ago before I started anything new. It sure is hard work being as goddam awesome as I am. I mean, really!
Gonna give y'all my normal disclaimer, which I'm sure yer all gettin' used to by now. . .The sentiments of the poem reflect my sentiments at the date of conception, and all that jolly rot. Anyway, whatevah. I'm tired and I have a sonovabitch of a work week coming up (although at least I have a job, still!! Yay!!) No strike means money in my pocket, which means more stuff for me. I like stuff. It also means more stuff for my meat-friends, what wit' the jolly fuckin' holidays comin', and all. Yes, there is a general aura of stuffiness (the good kinda stuffiness) surrounding me at this particular moment. However, It's my muddahfaquin' job, so I can complain as much as I want about actually having to do it. If I could just find some way to get them to pay me for not working. I ramble, on and on and on and on. That's what I'm good at. Brbububububub! *rubs face briskly*
here ya go. umm. . .blagh. . .whatevah. . .no more ramblin', I promise.
The Invisible Boy - 11/11/02 - 11/25/02
One fine summer day, I saw with dismay,
that my toes and my fingers were fading away.
I watched them with horror as I sat on the swing,
Kicking with legs that were fast disappearing.
I was filled with dread; I ran, but instead,
Each step became shorter as I fled.
I ran for help from my kindergarten teacher,
But it seemed sure that I’d never reach ‘er.
I lay on the ground, made nary a sound,
as my lips and my nose could not be found.
My body slowly left the sawdust where it lay,
But I remained, invisible, watching the kids play.
The teacher led them in, for class was to begin,
But no one noticed that I was not therein.
Class went on without me, no one worried,
No one wondered where I had scurried.
The school day passed, the bell gave its blast,
and the students filed out, crying, “Free at last.”
I lay in the sawdust as I saw my mother appear.
She looked around; I watched her come near.
“I’m here, Mom,” cried I, to the unfeeling sky.
Mom never tarried, she just walked on by.
She walked back to her car, and drove away.
It was then that I knew what I’d learned on that day.
I saw my family over the years, full of smiles, not tears.
My dad was teaching his new son to fix his bike’s gears.
I knew from that day that I would be forgotten.
I knew then that all I thought I knew was rotten.
I awoke from my dream, wondering what did it mean, this unconscious fable.
Well, when the gloves are off, it just goes to show. . .that I am replaceable.
Gonna give y'all my normal disclaimer, which I'm sure yer all gettin' used to by now. . .The sentiments of the poem reflect my sentiments at the date of conception, and all that jolly rot. Anyway, whatevah. I'm tired and I have a sonovabitch of a work week coming up (although at least I have a job, still!! Yay!!) No strike means money in my pocket, which means more stuff for me. I like stuff. It also means more stuff for my meat-friends, what wit' the jolly fuckin' holidays comin', and all. Yes, there is a general aura of stuffiness (the good kinda stuffiness) surrounding me at this particular moment. However, It's my muddahfaquin' job, so I can complain as much as I want about actually having to do it. If I could just find some way to get them to pay me for not working. I ramble, on and on and on and on. That's what I'm good at. Brbububububub! *rubs face briskly*
here ya go. umm. . .blagh. . .whatevah. . .no more ramblin', I promise.
The Invisible Boy - 11/11/02 - 11/25/02
One fine summer day, I saw with dismay,
that my toes and my fingers were fading away.
I watched them with horror as I sat on the swing,
Kicking with legs that were fast disappearing.
I was filled with dread; I ran, but instead,
Each step became shorter as I fled.
I ran for help from my kindergarten teacher,
But it seemed sure that I’d never reach ‘er.
I lay on the ground, made nary a sound,
as my lips and my nose could not be found.
My body slowly left the sawdust where it lay,
But I remained, invisible, watching the kids play.
The teacher led them in, for class was to begin,
But no one noticed that I was not therein.
Class went on without me, no one worried,
No one wondered where I had scurried.
The school day passed, the bell gave its blast,
and the students filed out, crying, “Free at last.”
I lay in the sawdust as I saw my mother appear.
She looked around; I watched her come near.
“I’m here, Mom,” cried I, to the unfeeling sky.
Mom never tarried, she just walked on by.
She walked back to her car, and drove away.
It was then that I knew what I’d learned on that day.
I saw my family over the years, full of smiles, not tears.
My dad was teaching his new son to fix his bike’s gears.
I knew from that day that I would be forgotten.
I knew then that all I thought I knew was rotten.
I awoke from my dream, wondering what did it mean, this unconscious fable.
Well, when the gloves are off, it just goes to show. . .that I am replaceable.