| Current mood: |  contemplative |
| Current music: | Dvorak - New World Symphony, mvt 2 |
nothing to talk about cept IM conversations
NYYankee15: i havent found anything worth writing about
chocaholic214: you can always talk about me :-)
sure i could talk about jen, but right now im at such a point where every single word has been squeezed out of me like a ... see what i mean? I can't even come up with a silly metaphor to put in here.
Anyhow, actually i have a poem, that i wrote, inspired by the love of my life (not really, he jsut grabs at my balls when we play bball cuz he doesnt know how far to reach in to make a steal. theres a line between good defense and violating personal privacy, and he has a problem wiht that.)
anyhow, an extended metaphor on airplanes
Airplanes
‘Tis said,
once upon a long time,
nay, not quite fivescore or three hundred
‘Tis said that a relationship was indeed like an airplane in flight
What beauty, and majesty
And grace, and power, and even just the simple joy
Of soaring on wings.
Airplanes need pilots, and usually a copilot,
although a plane can indeed fly with a pilot and
a passenger,
a plane with two passengers and no pilot
crashes
and burns very well.
Sometimes there is just man and his machine
Sometimes there are 3 men
Sometimes there is a man and dog
But beware, for never ever
Never never never never
Shall a plane fly unmanned,
Planes aren’t planes without people piloting them
I know a man
Who could have his choice of planes
And yet stays in the hangar
Conversing and chatting
But not ready to commit to a flight
I know a man
Who stays in the cocktail lounge, far away from action
Far away from life.
Far away from himself
I know a man
Whose plane has three eject buttons on it
None for the copilot or passenger.
I know two men who once rode with the same pilot
(at different times, of course)
They needed parachutes.
There are also the men who buy insurance for planes
That they never ride
Or the men (quite a few men are bad with planes)
That bail ship between takeoff and touchdown,
Or maybe right before takeoff.
Or the fighter pilots with their missiles, flying solo
Shooting down planes
Shooting down dreams.
And I?
A plane that flies
And tries
To find
Life
Or some world like it.
bad poetry, i know. Oh well, i'll live. This is fictional. I actually am not as oddball as i might sound, for those of you who read this without knowing who i am.
should i cut my hair for prom?
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