Gamed inspiration.

I have wings of hope upon which to fly.
Not all poetry must needs to make readers cry.
I am but one in a sea of these people,
yet I stand firm on my platform- determined not to be shown feeble.
I have failed in the past, made my mistakes-
crawled from the depths of real passion and faked.
I am not disillusioned, but I will not despair.
I have a Savior, as John C. Cooper declared.
My Lord gives me purpose, a song which to sing.
Whether whispered or shouted, his Name to be praised.
I am destined for more than this frail world of pain,
with pockets of beauty, of hope, of new days.
I am a child, matured through His love.
I will strive to be faithful, to raise others above.
Whether I be trampled, stripped, or defamed.
I rest on His mercy, guided by His grace.
I may falter, I may fail, but never remain defeated,
for my destination was bought through His nails.
Through His suffering, I have received clothes of white-
through his crimson blood, my soul has gained flight.


That is what comes of staying up late, posting threads to an iTouch game forum wall of desperate poetry. The bulk of what was considered poetry was "Woe is me, profound sorrow, and pain."
Poetry can be beautiful, can be lovely, can be inspirational. Mine is not particularly exemplery, but I have my moments.

Commitment, or is it?

I talk too much at times. But I need some discipline in my life, thus I will post something that comes to mind every other day for a week. This shall be fun and challenging. The pictures on my page don't change for a reason - they rest in limbo as they suit the character of my page. I really have been listening to She & Him:Vol. 2 and love its sound immensely. As for Hood? It was a birthday present a couple of years ago. I read it voraciously upon its arrival. Alas, the sequels in the trilogy were long in coming, and by then I lost the thread. The same phenomenon has occured with del Toro's The Strain Trilogy - I am reading the Fall on my breaks @ my library job. Ironically, my revival of its undead contents is succeeding. (I think, at least. I still don't necessarily recall just who Gus is!).

Also, I am rediscovering albums from my childhood. While driving my Avalon, I listen to MP3's of Phillips, Craig, and Dean's early 90's work, and the ever relevant Michael Card. My new favorite Card classic is called Why?, but perennially dear to me are God's Own Fool and Final Word. I am also attempting to read Kaleb Nation's Bran Hambric: Farfield Curse book in my free moments. I finished John Green's zombie apocalypse novella Zombicorns, which he insisted was not his best work.

Premise of Zombicorns? A strain of corn causes its consumers to fall in love with the plant. The "Z'ed up" devotees dedicate their lives to the protection and propagation of the corn. They will eat anything but the sacred corn, which the "Z'ed up" plant willy-nilly in the ruins of Chicago. The protagonist is a girl named Mia whose family was overcome by the corn's mind control. She had to "complete" her parents with an AR-15 to avoid eating the corn and subsequently becoming the plant's slave. Mia lives with her dog, Mr. President, in an underground bunker. She survives on canned tuna and bottles of wine. The plot thickens when she meets a fellow survivor who wields dual M-16's in a mission to kill as many of the Z's as possible.

The novella is not very long - 60 pages at most, but for a John Green follower, it satiates a fix for a little while. Thankfully, there is very little swearing, as there are very few characters for which to swear in the tale.

More forthcoming soon.
Good night, Good Fortune, Godspeed.
Journeys have purpose.

An Overdue Poem (two reviews)

Oh, how I love being up late!
It has been consistent for a while (if I must be straight)
It is the power of the Mountain Dew, I have slurped it as a slushie and ice-laden brew
But, 'tis my readers who should be the tone of my verse - I am an amateur writer (and my voice is not terse).
My readers are patient, as my keyboard flings couplets true.
I am not a William Shakespeare, but I have gifted this to you.
I hope you enjoy, my words and my thoughts.
Although I have been sporadic at best, I wish I were not.
The longer I stall, the less I will write.
(I never quite finished the Carol Burnett entry that night!)
I read P.G. Wodehouse's "Code of the Woosters."
My review would be insufficient and Jeeves needs no booster.
I find myself saying "Yes, Sir," as a symptom of that character's style.
Though explaining the book's humor would take a good while -
Wodehouse's laughs are intricate in scope, linking to other stories he wrote.
The situations are invariably over the top, Bertie digs his own graves, then blindly flops.
Jeeves rescues his Master, though I can't figure why -
The butler is so brilliant, "What ties him to Bertie's side?"
The stakes are so high, Bertie Wooster is always on the brink of disaster.
Jeeves always comes through with a last minute plaster.
Augustus Fink-Nottle is my favorite part, a newty nerd who is feckless and has a good heart.
Madeline is a dreamer, all up in the clouds. She spouts poetry (which creeps Wooster out).
Former Regional Justice, Mr. Bassett suspects that Wooster is a criminal
(among other defects). Aunt Agatha is sharp, with her hunting horn yell.
But is now relegated to writing a ladies paper, which sells rather well.
Uncle Tom is paranoid and craves silver of old.
Bertie adores them, if only for Anatole.
That cook is an artist, beyond all compare.
To eat at Anatole's table is a delight akin to heavenly stairs.
When exiled from Agatha's estate and the food served there,
Bertie is flummoxed, and feels like a man without air.
Enough about Wodehouse! Though I hope you enjoyed this.
My readers, so dear, to have your attention is pure bliss!
I am reading the bio to Alison Arngrim. She played Nellie, the Little House villain...
Her childhood was maimed by distracted Mom and Dad.
Her older brother abused her, in a manner quite sad.
That brother was a teen idol, a heartthrob of 15 minutes in the sun.
But also a druggie, a sadist, who brooded like a melancholy hun.
Alison got her break in the Little House on the Prairie run.
She befriended Melissa Gilbert, or "Laura." "Mary" on set was the diva-ous one.
The book is told very tongue-in-cheek, "Nellie" gave Alison a role in life to defend.
Her character taught Alison how to stand strong, her brother no longer could deal her wrong.
The show itself was a story behind the scenes - heaviest dresses when the sun came down in molten beams. When winter arrived on set, however, the costumes were not designed for the weather! To shoot ahead of time, Michael Landon would plan - seasons in advance.
(He was a hardworking man.)
The makeup and hairstylists were rulers of backstage - no fighting or frowns allowed in the territory, or glares of rage.
Alison befriended these workers and was awed - these were the best in the business, their workmanship without flaws. Some did Marilyn Monroe's makeup and Bette Davis' hair!
Alison's famous curls cost a pretty dime - the most expensive hairpiece in TV at the time.
(With the faux hair came excruciating pain, each time Alison moved, the pins dug into her natural mane).
That is all that I've read, all that I gleaned.
Hopefully, my readers, my next post has better sheen.

One last piece of verse
As it is my tradition
Hope you enjoyed this!