Poem

Don’t Ask Me

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I do not like a long work day
I do not like it, even the pay

I do not like to get up early
For that, I’m afraid, makes me surly

I cannot stand an early alarm
They do no good, only harm

And I do not like to leave my bed
It makes me sad and hurts my head

The moral here, if I’m not crazy,
Is that I’m tired, worn, and lazy

But that’s okay, and I’m alright,
Because I get to sleep tonight!

Some people don’t
Some people can’t
Some people don’t even get the chance.

So I’ll stop complaining, ‘cause when it’s raining
I’m not worrying, stressing or straining.

I have a roof, and I have a bed
I have a job, no shortage of bread

I’m content, but should I be?
I’m not sure. Don’t ask me.

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“The Raven” like You’ve Never Heard it (Probably)

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So, I got a Mac a while back, and something I’ve always wanted to do was create a song in Garageband. I’ve never played any instruments other than the trumpet and trombone, and neither of those lend well to digital music.

Garageband has a huge library of loops. I started to play with different combinations, and I finally decided on the words I wanted to use. So, without any further ado, I give you The Raven (rap).

Yep. That’s that.

Please excuse the mis-pronunciation of “quaff” and “beak.” If I ever re-record it, I’ll fix my gaffs. 

The Melancholy Tail of Rawl Contryte

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There once was a dog, who lived near a bog, and wondered his life away.
Never he thought, of the good in this life, and often he went far astray.

One day he read, of a new kind of bread, that made one as happy as Ghandi.

He went to the store, and said “give me more!” and then bought a copy of Blondie.

Of course the comics, for this poem are, quite in a way, nugatory.

What really we’re worried, about is the dog, and the way he continues this story.
~
Bad puns aside, and for comments less snide, we’ll continue this poem forthright.

I’ll tell you right now, forgetting the how, of what happened to Rawl Contryte.

You see, my good friend, I won’t even pretend, to tell of the glory he found.

The wonders, sensations, and great expectations that met with that night, our hound.

For there in the package, he bought at the store, that marvelous bread of lore.
Was a quaint silver wrapper, and nice shiny foil: within, a fantastic score.
~
He wriggled his nose, and thought of great prose, (much better than is written here.)
What is it he found, in that wrapper so quaint? I’ll tell you, just lend me your ear.
For there in his paws, (and some in his craws), he reveled in strawberry wonder.
For a love he held, and glory he smelled, in that pop tart he had burst asunder.
So you see here my friend, you’ve just heard tell, of a canine that once was quite down.

But a magnificent treat, soon had he to eat, and all happiness therein he found.  

~ Xanthus Kidd