Genocide

I decided I don’t like it.

Stagnant

So ummm….I notice that nobody is visiting this blog anymore. Hey everyone, where’d you go? Hey. Hey!

Now for a delightful treat…the lyrics to the hit song “Du Hast” by Rammstein!

 

Du
du hast
du hast mich
du hast mich gefragt
du hast mich gefragt, und ich hab nichts gesagt

Willst du bis der Tod euch scheidet
treu ihr sein für alle Tage

Nein!

Willst du bis zum Tod, der scheide
sie lieben auch in schlechten Tagen

Nein!

Grammy-award winning band Rammstein

Surprises

I discovered this place, and made friends with the ducks.

Crumbs

Scattered here and there,
by the thousands

They are the final remnants,
falling from the master’s table.

Some get licked up.
Some get swept up.
Some get stepped on.

And yet, some, falling through floor cracks,
are never touched again.

Guy With a Gun

It's three O'clock one afternoon
and I'm polishing some boots.
A Czech walks by and asks me
if I'll buy some roasted newts.

"No way!" I say. "I'm allergic
to the gluten in those newts!"

He takes this well, at least I think.
He begins to walk away.

And then, what gives, he brandishes
a gun that he named...Jay?

That crazy Czech! He's done it again!
Does he really think he'll win?

"He's GOT A GUN!!!" shouts security.
as everybody hits the floor.

And screams are heard, cries of distress,
I think some guy just swore.

It's all my fault, according to Vladimir Putin
I shouldn't have insulted his gluten.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost (1923)

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

(Coming tomorrow: “Guy With a Gun” by Holden Green)

(IF ANYBODY SAYS THIS POEM IS ABOUT SUICIDE, THEY’RE WRONG! DEAD WRONG! GOSH!)