"Wonder-Worker"

Saint Peregine, I have for you a prayer
For a woman who's many years strong.
She needs your ever diligent care;
Her malady has thrived too long.
Please hear my plea, O Saint Peregine,
And help her through this hard, trying time.
I wish her body be washed clean
Of cancer's dirty, wretched grime.

O pray for her, good and blessed saint.
To the Lord, our God may your pray'r make haste!


--To my friend's mother; please know I love you and that you're in my prayers.

"Forget-Me-Not"

A faint brush of fingers
Soft and fleeting
And a rush of emotions
Cascading with valiant force
Over two who have only just met

Those flowers grow wild here
In bushels aplenty
By this old barn
Abandoned for ages
And for ages has gathered rust
And for ages has gathered dust

Why by this barn do they grow?
How do they thrive in these over-grown weeds?
 Can you hear what they whisper?

"...forget me not...forget me not..."

(Oh curious, new-met stranger, take hold my hand
Gaze into mine eyes and never let go.
Can you hear what my heart is saying?


"Forget me not...forget me not...")

"Nine Steps"

Nine steps are all it takes
    to usher in the End
One to slow time;
Another two to steal strength;
Three more to stay the heart;
Two that stray the focus;
One more to still breath;
Grand Thunderer crumples to the earth
And Mjolnir lies in the dust
Cries of the Trickster
    --anguished and mournful--
   wash over the sands of the earth
At Ragnarok's Close

"Hawkeyes"

What works for one works not for two
Idle hands, idle shoes
--there's a pair for me and a pair for you
Loose, loose are the soles of the boots,
mine
That are far more travelled than yours
Yours that tread gently over those who fell for you
Gave gave their lives for you
And you beat them black and blue
With the high heel of your shoe
And you made sure all their hearts broke in two
That won't do, won't do, won't do
Mad men don't see the verdant view
Mad men don't know the heart of the Ewe
And you don't either, do you

I can see through you
--you know that, too
And maybe I can help you improve
That broken heart that belongs to you
Because don't you know I love you
I do, I truly, truly do
How can you believe I don't when you know it's true!
How can you claim to be one way, but be two?
You're lying, aren't you?
Remember I can see you
Right through you
Like a bullet that pierces through
Or a knife that cleaves in two
Much like the way you used to
With words that smothered to me from you
And to others from you, too.

"When Chronos Drags His Feet, The Children Are Restless"

Again, we sit and fidget side by side,
Again, we hear nouveau fanfare,
       reminding us with whom our pennies lie
Feet tap and legs shake
Excitement roaring through our veins

(Bruder moves his hands over the keyboard,
       fingers nimble in their flight across the keys
A steady, rhythmic beat is born.

Mein bruderlein is no Debussy,
But today I prefer his song to the silence)

We sit and watch with baited breath
Will it be?
Won't it be?
How many days have gone by?
How many more hours must we wait?
And as Time drags his tired feet slowly through the sand
My bruderlein and I grow restless
(But I so most of all...

Mein Bruder teases me:
"See? I think you've found your soulmates, Shwester-mine"
"Watching it again? You're obsessed!"
"I think you've got a crush, Shwester-mine"
Again and again and again, again, again!
I would protest his heinous claims,
But I vowed never to prove Hamlet right
He is, after all, quite the boaster)

Could it be?
Doth mine eyes deceive me?

When the (seemingly) endless wait is through,
When Old Man Time has arrived and set aside his dusty shoes,
With eyes alight and fixed so steadily, we watch
And a symphony of another kind resounds through the night
And livens that which has lain dormant for far too long.

The players are brazen, but know their pieces well
They stumble a bit, but fail to miss a beat
None better could put on a show

Bruderlein guffaws like a hyena
Inky rivulets of tears wind down my cheeks and drip off my chin
And by the time our duet dies down,
        the duet we sat watching has long finished their show.

Bruder and I sit, still, side by side, stomachs aching and cheeks too sore
We cast miniscule glances at one another--we always know what the other wants
My hand reaches out slowly, steadily--a finger elongated with but a painted nail
        --and drags the mouse over only a weeee bit.....

....and lightly taps "Replay.


---Dedicated to the Game Grumps, who I have been watching religiously since my brother-friend first "innocently" left one of their videos upon my facebook wall. Never have I ever found a channel that has kept me so enraptured! When I watch, I almost feel like I'm right alongside them, watching them play the game (and politely pointing out that they should have "frickin' jumped, dammit! The hell?!" and the sweetly offering answers while they play Jeopardy like "Diana! It's frickin' Diana! Are you kidding me?? What's wrong with you!?).

The point I wanted to convey is that they are artists, perhaps not by the classical definition of art, but artists all the same. Artists want to bring about feeling and emotion in their audience. If you ask for my oh-so-humble opinion, comedy is an art-form and laughter is the most beautiful of music! (And screaming for only the most hardcore of art connoisseurs).

"Enigma"

White and small...
Weightless
Powerless against the wind upon which it rides
And dancing oh, so slowly
Until gently lowered to the ground
Soft stuff, what could you be?
Feathers from a sparrow
That shoots like a rocket through the sky
Or
Seedlings from thousands of dandelions
Grasping one another in fear
of landing in the unknown?
Or are you the down from angels' wings
Blessing the ground beneath our feet?