A Poem
Could it have been two months (TWO MONTHS?!) entire
Since last my fingers graced these blackened keys
To share my wisdom and adventures with
The joy-starved crowds? Have two whole moons eclipsed
Since I enplaned against the sun encroached?
Though you, O audience, counting down the days
To my return, each nightly phase recall
With almanacked precision, I myself
Could neither wax nor wane discern; could not
The seasons recollect; could not the weeks'
Commanded sanctity remember as
In vain for rare hilarities I searched.
The moon hath twice its oscillating eye
Opened and shut above the spinning Earth,
Although mine own have not the fortune had
To gaze upon the tales that you with mirth
Would read. Though laughter yet hath filled my days,
'Tis but in spurts, and not continued feats
That must a joyous update then require.
Though I have ridden bus and train and plane,
Embarked two sep'rate times along this coast
Atlantic, not a time did I remain
Behind for want of sleep or as, engross'd
Within a TenderGrill (no mayonnaise),
I ate in hasteless bliss, despite my prayers
It would occur; for all my trav'ling days
I rose on time, and - though my blog despairs -
Ne'er locked was I inside a dim-lit cell
And questioned for a terrorist confused,
Nor did I leave my luggage at the gate
Although I pleaded it to fare me well,
As Fate for Comedy was not enthused,
And neither was my suff'ring blog for Fate.
But O! the squandered opportunities,
Material that might have epics made
If decorated with amenities
And properly developed: I'd lain splayed
Upon the floor of Teedz, a victim of
The Coke machine's discharge, for Heaven's sake,
But quickly stood and gained applause and love
By bowing nonchalantly to retake
My pride and thus forsake my blog; I've dressed
In whitened clothes aboard a boat and fell
Not 'twixt the banks Potomac, though repairs
Could fix the jacket - not this blog distressed,
Who river-water begs from droughted Hell
And undeserved my consequences bears.
The moon hath twice its rounded course fulfilled,
An ululating she-wolf hath released
A score of panting howls*, and I have spilled
Upon a countless page a million words unceased,
Though not a single one upon this blog
Was writ, and not a single one has graced
Thine starving eyes as through the morning fog
The sicklied moon my finished works embraced;
And though these nights I have for want of sleep
Procrastinated with a song or book
Or television schoolwork to repel,
Those eyes I have not fed, nor did I keep
Them tearless dry, but ev'ry one forsook:
Maintaining hunger, thirsting to dispel.
I must apologize sincerely, then,
To you, anticipating reader, who
Refreshed the interwebs again, again,
Again, and found each time no musings new,
No tales heroic, patience left without
Deserved reward; through cold November days
And long December nights you paced about
In frantic fear to ease uncured malaise,
And though you walked, you never reached reprieve,
Encountered but another sleepless night,
Another wintry day with laughter none,
Until this springtime post did winter leave
Behind, and freshly to your lives a light
It brought to find relief, a guiding Sun.
*This picture might help this line make more sense:
EPIC. FUCKING EPIC.
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