Sunday, October 25, 2009

Thoughts on "The Legend's in the Telling"

This is amazing.

The Legend's in the Telling

The Legend’s in the Telling

An I am Legend Rap by Timothy Beebe and Kevin Shay

(In the style of Will Smith)

(INTRO) Woo! Uh ha ha! Say what a say ha! Yeah! Woo! Say what what a say ha! Ha ha! (X2)

This ain’t the Willenium
It’s the Willpocalypse
And I was left behind
To fix and stop all a dis

With my faithful dog, Sam
Wading through the detritus
Of destruction and mayhem
Cause of a super wack virus

Get the low down
Don’t go out in the night
Or get yo’ ass underground
It’s also safe in the light

I know I’m just wishing
I had powers like Hancock
Lee Jones at my side
Or Hayek in her frock

And I don’t have the gadgets
Like I did in M-I-B
And Heston might be tough
But he ain’t got nothin’ on me

Most times in my lab
I just think and just sit
Nobody to hold
No one to get jiggy wit’

And I am a legend
But not like Bagger Vance
Doomed to walk alone
Not a paid gig, just freelance
And I may not be Hellsing
Or Summers or Blake
But I can take ‘em on
Without a cross or a stake

I’ve been upgraded prom prince
I’m like the king of this place
From Bel Air to New York
Y’all will remember this face

Now Bob is in the thick of it
Taming the East
Doctor Neville will triumph
Over these superfluous beasts

A scientist like Goldblum
And I’m reversing this race
Got to have independence
Y’all we need to save face

This president can’t be Paxton
Cause I don’t see no help
No one’s comin’ for me
I got to do this myself

In pursuit of some happiness
Wish Lawrence was with me
With two ragin’ bad boys
We would own up on this city

Yet my name’s not Muhammed
And I don’t gain to profit
I might have to burn it down
Gas and a spark lit


There’s no more Miami
In the summertime
But we will overcome
Believe just that one line

So if you hear me
From somewhere out there
I’m trying to help
Now please swallow that fear

Now that I’m a parent
I can understand
The need to fight the night
Draw a line in the sand

So to finally conclude
I, Doctor am just it
No cavalry of soldiers
A dog, gun and my own wit

As a sole survivor
Sure I’m in high demand
And not even Jazzy
Is here to lend a hand (echoes…)

Stay real, New York

Don’t worry

Daddy’s got you



Friday, October 23, 2009

Thoughts on "Brain"

Ugh. This is about my silly brain. Ugh.



A brain
A brain of almost unlimited capacity
Retention and reaction and rhyme
Of stunning realizations and hypotheses
It tries so hard to figure it all out
Wondering and dissecting
Pulling, tearing into what shouldn’t be
Holding back rarely
Probing into vast fields of pretty scary shit
Linking and tying the unrelated
Not even seeking the outside opinion

The rational mostly

Yet undecided and ridiculous
Not willing to attempt to bring itself
To the conclusion that is true and just
In constant miscommunication with the world outside



It’s should-be partner the heart

Oh how this muscle shakes its non-existent head
Feeling sorry for such wanton disregard
For feeling
For basic emotion and need
No thank you, says the heart
I prefer to let it into me
Instead of keeping it out
Silly gray matter

They cannot agree on their own
So they must be made to
Forcefully, but gently and lovingly
Heart, meet head
There needs to be a middle ground here
That area is me
When I speak or touch
I need both of you
The push and pull
Like the tides, but inside
Where an unbalance could cause
Too much damage
And has
And probably will again

So trust
Work together and never against
And you won’t kill me


Sunday, September 27, 2009

Thoughts on "Inside"

I don't know why I wrote this.



I look into my coffee
My cream
My sugar
And I want to be sick

I look into my bag
By books
My pencils
And I want to just quit

I look into my room
My dresser
My computer
And I want to leave

I look into my classes
My peers
My unpreparedness
And I do want to try harder

I look into my pockets
My cigarettes
My cell phone
And I want to receive a phone call

I look into my car
My iPod
My tire iron
And I want to go get ice cream

I look into my desk
My extra cords
My backup discs
And I want to go to sleep

I look into my mouth
My teeth
My tongue
And I want to sing!

I look into my notebook
My poetry
My journals
My prose!
My doodles!

…And I want to find a bonfire

I look into your eyes
My lust
My rage
And I want to sob uncontrollably

I look into your hands
My warmth
My stinging face
And I want to buy a puppy

I look into your home
My table
My mistakes
And I want to have a cigarette

I look into you
My fuel
My lightning
And I want to BE inside you

I look…

I look into my own heart
My desire
My hope
And I want to scream

I look into my own mind
My thoughts
My fucking thoughts
And I’m bored

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Thoughts on "A Morning"

I wrote this up in the Big Horns. I was with amazing people, having an amazing time, but this dark story came out. I love it so far. I don't really know where it's going, but I'm excited to see where it will take itself and me! I love the characters. Danny is really instantly defined for me, but not so much Morgan. He will be, though. Enjoy!

A Morning (Working Title)

A Morning (Working Title)

Morgan took a slow sip of his heavy-cream-two-sugars coffee. His eyes were wide and staring, as they had been ever since he had awoken 45 minutes earlier. A small amount of his coffee dribbled down onto the short stubble on his chin. He set down his “#1 Dad” mug, and wiped the light brown liquid from his face. A tiny stream had wound its way down his neck. He decided to leave it.
Danny strolled into the kitchen, not even glancing at Morgan, and heading straight for the coffee pot. He poured a liberal amount into his own cup, a dark blue one acquired from The Dam Store outside Estes Park, and took a long drink from it. He sighed deeply and refilled. Danny then turned and took a seat across from Morgan at the table. Morgan’s eyes remained unfocused and far away. Danny glanced over his own right shoulder, as if he was trying to see what Morgan was looking at. He looked back at the other man, grinning at his own joke, wanting a smile back.
Morgan just kept staring straight ahead, not in pain or discomfort, simply staring and taking sips from his coffee.
Danny finally spoke, “You okay?”
Morgan blinked, and dragged his eyes towards Danny’s as slowly as a boot is pulled from deep mud. He licked his lips, “Hmm?”
Danny’s brow creased in the beginnings of serious concern. “I asked if you were okay, which obviously you’re not.”
Morgan looked embarrassed, as if he had been caught in a mild lie. “I’ve been thinking—well, not thinking. Um…trying not to think about it.” His voice sounded far away, like Danny was 20 years back hearing Morgan through a tin can on a string.
“Think about what?” Danny’s eyebrows, mouth, and jaw were now in full worry mode. Morgan was never like this. The handsome face Danny loved so much was so dark and hurt. When Morgan’s divorce was going on, he was always optimistic, and seemingly cheerful. When his ex-wife gained full custody of their son, Thomas—because the courts didn’t approve of Morgan’s lifestyle—he still would not be broken.
Danny knew Morgan better than anyone, and that was how it always had been. They had been friends for a little more than 20 years, and now their two year anniversary as a couple was only a week away, yet this was new for Danny. It was as if full despair had settled on his best friend. His face was flushed, eyes red a bagged, shoulders drooped. Danny tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Morgan. I love you, man. But you look like shit. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Morgan’s eyes shut, his face scrunched the way Danny hated, the way it did after Morgan took a shot. His eyes creaked open, and there were tears brimming in them. Sunlight coming through the east-facing kitchen window caught his eyes and they shone. Danny felt his breath catch, and felt the onset of tears himself. “Please, baby. Please. What’s wrong?”
Morgan’s quivering voice broke past his chapped lips, “It’s stupid, but it really got to me. It shouldn’t, but…well, I had a nightmare.”
Danny sat back and let out a long breath. “Okay. That’s not stupid. Tell me about it.”
Morgan rose, and went to the coffee maker. He filled his cup to the top, and turned around, leaning on the counter. “It started with me, you, Drake, and Bill standing over this…this tiny grave. We were all crying. I looked down at the grave, and it said ‘Thomas Clarke’ on it.” Morgan brought the cup to his lips, hesitated, and then lowered it without taking a drink. “Huh. My son. My son’s grave. I mean, what the fuck is that?”
Danny didn’t answer, but rose to go stand next to Morgan. He took the shorter man’s right hand with his left, squeezed it, and held on tight.
“So in the dream, I bend down and touch the headstone. Then there’s this flash or something, and I see our house. This house, well the outside. The front yard. I see him just as I saw him during my visit last weekend. 4, small for his age, and his dark hair is sticking up in the back like it does, and he’s got that missing tooth. He was so proud when he showed me. I can’t believe his mom only gave him a fucking dime.”
“Morgan…” Danny warned, wanting Morgan to stay on track.
“Right. Okay. So Thomas, you, and I are in the front yard. Thomas is playing in the grass with his toys. You’re cooking something on the grill, and I’m reading in a lawn chair. Then this car, this driver comes around the corner way too fast. He hits the curb, and hops onto the sidewalk, coming straight for our house. Before either of us can do anything, the car just swerves, and smashes down the fence. Then the car hits Thomas. As soon as it hits him, and I heard the little yelp and crunch, I woke up. I was in a cold sweat, and crying, and…and…” Morgan dropped his coffee mug, and sank down to the floor. Danny set his cup on the counter and crouched down, taking the shuddering and shaking man in his arms. Morgan dissolved into sobs, almost choking, instantly soaking Danny’s shoulder.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Thoughts on Waiting

I wrote this poem whilst sitting at Holiday Park lake in Cheyenne. Something about the landscape and air of Cheyenne really gets to me. Obviously. Enjoy!


The air seems cleaner here
As if it's easier to breathe
More oxygen-rich and shining
All the better for seeing
Clouds stand out sharp
Against stark cerulean
Like they have been etched there
Swimming placid in sky's lake
People even seem to almost wade
Strolling content and quiet
Soft and fun

The kids playing, shush each other
After a yelp, cry, or scream
Like the world has finally shut up
So you can listen
Listen to words and wings
Wind and everything else
The sparse cars and trucks
White noise here
Easily ignored

Everyone here is waiting
Patient and calm
For something to happen
A miracle
Bright sudden burst
Small happening
Or just a fun time
They are waiting
With so much
And nothing to do

And so, it appears, am I
For a shift
A change, nudge, bump
Over and into who-knows-what
Hopefully something amazing
A time fabulous and green
Quaking and shuddering
Pure unadulterated excitement
Like a fucking explosion
Moments pure and without worry
Laughter plus dancing
Twirling and spinning
Never ill
Never wanting or wasting
Never alone

I am waiting...

Monday, June 22, 2009

Thoughts on poems.

My thoughts on these poems aren't many, and I'll probably just tell you what's behind them. I find no greater inspiration for poetry than that which I get from nature. Even if the poem is about a relationship, needing freedom, or something else. I always feel nature as the main or sort of co-main topic/focus in each of my poem. So yeah. Draw your own conclusions! Enjoy!

The second poem!

To Wake, To Want

My eyes
Soft, weak globules that they are
Might not be altogether incapable
Of processing
The endless
The amaranthine
The half-staggering splendor
That is the sky.
It is why I love it
For I can’t understand
Can’t comprehend it
At sunset
How shockingly rose and royal
Cling like shipwrecked survivors
To the bottoms of boat-shaped clouds
How tangerine and titian
Dance, crash, tumble and spin
Swirling, a buttercup medley cascading out
How birds find their perfect backdrop
Their scenery so well established
Natural, yet ephemeral, changing
I am jealous of them
To be so close
To absorb into soft
Marshmallowy pillows
Or grumpy thunderheads
Glaring menace
Long feathery and faint, wisps
The sky must be a happy home
Hearth and armchair provided
A warm duplex shared with only oneself
To drink in
To delight in
To bask and be so snug
The sun a friend
Keeping watch and never tiring
Wanting only your safety and health
So far, so touchable
It’s where we’ll have our fun
Swooping between, like lush fields of silver
Buoyant and forever
Oh, to live in the sky

The first posted poem!

Beneath the beautiful sky

There’s a constant swirl
Cascading down as waterfalls may
Churning and frothing
Birds that look like leaves
Take flight suddenly, startling
Leaving the trees bare
A camera pans
I sit beneath this oak or beech
It doesn’t really matter which
Only momentarily disturbed by their flight
I stretch
The sun now fully warming
But blinding
Bright and scorching
Too hot and too close
I don’t burn
Burning needs skin
And I’ve become part of the tree now
Coalesced, commingled, and blended
That swirl from before
Do you remember
I hope so, love
Since you left me here
Beneath the beautiful sky
The cottony boisterous clouds
Shining their false lining
The perm grass, satin and deep
Birds lighting again, returning
As if they protect me
From the pull
The pull of the future
The endless turquoise blank
A canvas, more cerulean now
Dashed pink
An array of roses and oranges
Pushing back, letting go of dusk
Night makes a quick dissolve
The screen of day changing
The world cools
More welcoming, less harsh glare
But I don’t pull myself from the roots
I remain, but it’s still not right
I’m not at home here either
Since you left me
Beneath the beautiful sky

Sunday, June 21, 2009


I am just making sure this beast is up and running! Here are two lame poems! YAY!!!