Tag Archives: poem

Freedom.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

Sometimes I want to travel through the trees,
Flying free like so many bees.
All through the forest,
And over the seven seas.

Apparently according to who you ask there are anywhere from like 9 to 104 seas. Yahoo Answers is terrible and I’m not sure why I’m sitting here looking that up on this typical Tuesday evening of enjoying whatever time I can get on the computer in between waves of attacking foster parents.

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Just because I’m merely working my girlfriend’s table at a convention this weekend doesn’t mean I can’t sneak my stuff there, ha!

The life I dream of.‏

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

I sit in this chair,
Thinking about how life isn’t fair.
If only I could drop everything,
And travel without a dare.

To simply travel with the flow,
How I would love to make it so.
I’m envious of the people,
Who can just drop everything and go.

. . . Ugh, I can’t write anymore of this garbage. I’ve read this story too many times to count. If you’re stuck in a rut take up a hobby or something. And before you say it’s a waste of time clearly it can’t be any less of a time-waster than what you’re doing now or else you wouldn’t be complaining about being in a rut to begin with.

Let’s talk about music for a moment.

My favourite album from the past month is easily ‘Vichada’ by Kashka. But then again I’m arguably in love with the lead singer, Forest City Lovers (Kat’s former project) is my favourite band, I’ve recently gotten into synth pop in the last year and I’m generally easily persuaded by any woman who can belt out a decent tune so I’m pretty bias on the matter. Have a listen anyway: http://kashka.bandcamp.com/

I bought the cassette and just got it the other day along with this postcard. Whenever anybofy asks me why I’m a fan of Kat Burns at any point in the future I’ll just point them to this:

I love music. I love having a 5500+ song collection that’s 99.9 percent legally owned. I don’t have the patience to create any of my own however. I generally pick up an instrument, learn how to play something that’s like 20 notes long and drop it after spending a total of an hour or so, never to touch it again.

I don’t believe I’m really going anywhere with this. So here’s a .swf of Colin Mochrie dancing and a picture of a bee on the beach: http://internet.thoughtdump.net/DancingColin.swf

Poetry Slam!

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

I was posting posters on a post,
To share my love of toast.
I even snuck them onto poles of light,
Just before I quickly took flight.

But from behind I was caught!
I struggled and I fought.
I turned and saw my assailant was a cop.
Needless to say he came out on top.

I came up with a solution,
It was the only logical conclusion.
The only way he will let me go,
Is if I impress him with my mad flow.

“I’m going to get this off my chest,
And tell you why you’re being a pest.
I have the right to advertise,
And I don’t need any of your jazzercise.

My main commodity is knowledge,
I got more than a college.
I be bringing these mad rhymes,
All of the . . . Times?”

My freestyle rap failed to provide thrills,
He was not impressed with my skills.
Instead of simply letting me go,
He stomped on my left big toe.

Then he told me to stop with the postering,
Or a court date would be a’fostering.
He told me to have a nice day,
Before skipping along on his merry way.

It’s just a wisp of a thing!‏

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

As I sat at my cubicle a tiny rock caught my eye. Barely large enough to see without straining. Must’ve gotten stuck in my shoe or something.

Picking it up I pondered what kind of journey must’ve led it here. Was this rock always native to Nova Scotia? Perhaps it was stuck to the shoe of a visitor. A distant visitor? More than likely a visitor from within the province, but what if it was from an international tourist?

What if this rock had somehow managed to travel here from another country? Oh, there are so many to choose from. What climates has this rock been exposed to? Was this a piece of a rock that had drifted to show from the frigid waters of the north? Or perhaps it was a rock that was at the very center of the equator. Maybe this rock was from the very center of the earth and was carried out by a volcano!

*Gasp* Could it be that this rock is a piece of a meteorite!? That would be so cool! If this rock could tell its tale maybe it would tell me a story of the wonders of space. Is there life in space that can live without air? This could . . .

. . . Aww damn, I dropped it. Now I can’t find it . . . Oh hey, that pencil is unusually shiny! I wonder what kind of journey must’ve led it here . . .

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