Saturday, February 14, 2009

Conceptual Concrete

October 28, 1994


They say I'm depressing, maybe I'm having fun.
Don't send me to the store just to be left alone.
I go where I want, saying things full of meaning
but no one hears. They just let me be. Don't
try to understand, just let it fill in. You too will
have fun in the cerebral cortex of Juan Valdez.

Everything is going as planned. Nothing could
be better.What more can you ask for? Perfect
in every way. I did an excellent job.

Wing around grabbing for answers Can't do anything.
You're a screw up! Nobody likes you. The way you walk,
talk, breathe, sleep, eat.
There is no answer for you. Just be as
inconspicous as you possibly can.


Nothing you do is original! You feed off others
like a hyena on a zebra. Mixed together with a
smorgusboard of ideas in which contradict
each other. You make me sick.

I stand at the end of the hall,
like a little child waiting for the
time I could make it down, and see
what no one else understands. They
call for me, stand and make fun
not knowing I think they're all dumb.
I look in the mirror and see myself
as if I am normal. No one understands,
Mom says she loves me, but cries herself
to sleep. While dad stays silent never
reading to me. I do everything as
normal as society wants, but still
no one will accept me completley without
thinking that I can't do it.

The dog is so nice, never barks or bites.
They all run around, pull the tail,
nothing happens right.
Owners praised for such a good dog,
sits and stays.
Never begs for food, even after
having none for days.
Cutest little dog ever known,
Little girl Lisa goes to play with it.
She is nice to the dog
he plays along, until she touches his ear.
Then he bites into the carotid artery
and she is lying on the ground

Think and strain, looking for happiness
find only pain. Try and try again
for a way to bring a smile. I see the
light at the end of the long dark tunnel
I've been traveling. The feeling of hurt
and fright leave at the wondrous
sight. People laughing and dancing for joy,
jubilant songs fill the land. I'm free! I'm free!
From the demons that filled my head
we sit and tell stories, then go to bed.
A Happy Poem

Does one exist? If so, who shall
perceive if it is or not? Some people
seek pleasure in things other think
are ghastly, others not. Do people
write to please? If so, they please not
themselves and manipulate the minds
of others. Others bask themselves
in the glory on another. While the
idol goes and puts a bullet in
his head. Is this a happy poem?
Possibly not, except to the one who
thinks and takes this to heart.
Poor sap.

If the yellow dog becomes brave, it is probably due to rabies.

It comes without warning,
I sit and have other ideas.
But the overwhelming urge
comes as the pungent odor
off the Puget Sound. People
criticize, but are really
jealous of the talent owned
by Orville Redenbacher.


Steven M. Adami said...

Well...I'm not a big fan of the prose, but I support your efforts. That'll be $7.50.

willow said...

Orville Redenbacher?

Your new format is fine, but I sure did like your classy mask.

Eskimo Bob said...

Steve, I know that you're waiting to be released from your life-debt. There's just one more thing. . .

Eskimo Bob said...


Wouldn't life be simpler if we all had the talent of Mr. Redenbacher?

I too really enjoyed the mask and am working on bringing it back, but needed to lighten the page up a bit. So I put in the kids alone in the frozen vastness, uplifting no?

Steven M. Adami said...

The tribe told me that the life debt was for the rest of my life...hence the term. Are you saying I can get out of this?

Eskimo Bob said...

Steve - this has to be kept on the QT;{Looks from side to side} when the term "life debt" was given in Tribal Court. . . did you hear that? . . . when the term "life debt" was given in tribal cou. . . [thud]