Today's TLA is TAP
Telephone Apple Pie
Okay a while back Bean Moriarty aka Gil or Gilberto, or El Engreido, or El Mujeriego, and Katie "Thugs" Chaidez and I decided that inorder to keep our sanity or perhaps to increase our insanity to email each other poems from 2 completely random places/things/events. Yesterday I came up with Telephone and an Apple Pie. And here is what my mad brain came up with.
Telephone Apple Pie
The telephone rings in the dark, cold, lonely, monotnous night.
She bakes in a bewildered scorn of anger in the air.
Her children laughing, fighting, talking back, and have fear from fright.
Her husband's addiction to sports is all his care.
But oh her sweet apple pie makes it all better.
Its for her survival in this tortuous middle american state.
She has but one hope in her life and it is from her lover's letter.
Oh how she wonders and dreams about her fate.
The telephone rings is this her ticket out?
She answers in excitement, glee, and rejoice.
Her lover's soft warm voice speaks without a doubt.
Her thoughts race to hear his voice.
The warm apple pie is uneaten, still sweet, but cold
Sadly enough her children look in utter terror
Her husband speaks in shock, "How bold!"
She leaves her family without a thought of error
Anyways, I was looking back on other such poems and I created a haiku called
McDonald's and a Fiddle.
Mc Donalds french fries...
Salt, oil, grease on my fingers...
Fiddle playing hard...
How about this haiku called Ice Chest and Church.
Ice Chest and Church
A handy Ice Chest...
Man's burning questions of life...
Sunday Church party...
Check out Katie's poem called Moto-pope... I asked her to write a poem about Motorcycles and the Pope, Santo Papa, its probably heretic rhetoric, but I had my kicks from the poem.
Moto-Pope
by Katie Chaidez
Within the ancient revered stone walls
Silently guarded by ancient saints
Relics, treasures unbound
Sits His Holiness, The Pope
What do you see from your chamber window?
People
Pigeons
Ice Cream Cones
Bicycles and Motorcars
All glancing upwards to your marble tower
You looking down
Upon the world and all its wonders
Like Rapunzel, but
Without all that messy hair
Tell me, true
What is the cost of your solitude?
The microphones and cameras can be a real rush
Sure, as is issuing the newest edicts
Do's and Don'ts
Hand-picking the Holy Leaders
Raising up and bringing down
the Saint-of-theYear
Wih a simple wave of your hand
God's right-hand man
Eyes, ears, mouth
Mary's go-to guy
Adorned in gold & silver
Wearing robes has benefits too
Discreetly hiding last night's pork chops
And mashed potatoes
Do you ever get tired, Mr. Pope?
Does that long white robe of yours ever get dirty?
Does the gold that binds around you ever get heavy?
Do you ever think "Gosh, I wish I'd have asked Susie to the prom?"
Or "Gee, I wonder what wine un-united with Christ's blood tastes like?"
Or maybe just, "Gosh. Jeans really do look comfy".
O Pope! Escape!
Now's your chance
Remove your heavy, dusty cloaks
And ride off to Tuscany
Leave this ancient crumbling world behind
Just you and a Harley
And a girl named Francesca
A bottle of chianti
And the latest copy of People Magazine
In the back pocket of your Levi's
Anyways, yeah random thoughts, random poems, random ideas, random number generators? Are they really random?
Enjoy,
Jonathan
Telephone Apple Pie
Okay a while back Bean Moriarty aka Gil or Gilberto, or El Engreido, or El Mujeriego, and Katie "Thugs" Chaidez and I decided that inorder to keep our sanity or perhaps to increase our insanity to email each other poems from 2 completely random places/things/events. Yesterday I came up with Telephone and an Apple Pie. And here is what my mad brain came up with.
Telephone Apple Pie
The telephone rings in the dark, cold, lonely, monotnous night.
She bakes in a bewildered scorn of anger in the air.
Her children laughing, fighting, talking back, and have fear from fright.
Her husband's addiction to sports is all his care.
But oh her sweet apple pie makes it all better.
Its for her survival in this tortuous middle american state.
She has but one hope in her life and it is from her lover's letter.
Oh how she wonders and dreams about her fate.
The telephone rings is this her ticket out?
She answers in excitement, glee, and rejoice.
Her lover's soft warm voice speaks without a doubt.
Her thoughts race to hear his voice.
The warm apple pie is uneaten, still sweet, but cold
Sadly enough her children look in utter terror
Her husband speaks in shock, "How bold!"
She leaves her family without a thought of error
Anyways, I was looking back on other such poems and I created a haiku called
McDonald's and a Fiddle.
Mc Donalds french fries...
Salt, oil, grease on my fingers...
Fiddle playing hard...
How about this haiku called Ice Chest and Church.
Ice Chest and Church
A handy Ice Chest...
Man's burning questions of life...
Sunday Church party...
Check out Katie's poem called Moto-pope... I asked her to write a poem about Motorcycles and the Pope, Santo Papa, its probably heretic rhetoric, but I had my kicks from the poem.
Moto-Pope
by Katie Chaidez
Within the ancient revered stone walls
Silently guarded by ancient saints
Relics, treasures unbound
Sits His Holiness, The Pope
What do you see from your chamber window?
People
Pigeons
Ice Cream Cones
Bicycles and Motorcars
All glancing upwards to your marble tower
You looking down
Upon the world and all its wonders
Like Rapunzel, but
Without all that messy hair
Tell me, true
What is the cost of your solitude?
The microphones and cameras can be a real rush
Sure, as is issuing the newest edicts
Do's and Don'ts
Hand-picking the Holy Leaders
Raising up and bringing down
the Saint-of-theYear
Wih a simple wave of your hand
God's right-hand man
Eyes, ears, mouth
Mary's go-to guy
Adorned in gold & silver
Wearing robes has benefits too
Discreetly hiding last night's pork chops
And mashed potatoes
Do you ever get tired, Mr. Pope?
Does that long white robe of yours ever get dirty?
Does the gold that binds around you ever get heavy?
Do you ever think "Gosh, I wish I'd have asked Susie to the prom?"
Or "Gee, I wonder what wine un-united with Christ's blood tastes like?"
Or maybe just, "Gosh. Jeans really do look comfy".
O Pope! Escape!
Now's your chance
Remove your heavy, dusty cloaks
And ride off to Tuscany
Leave this ancient crumbling world behind
Just you and a Harley
And a girl named Francesca
A bottle of chianti
And the latest copy of People Magazine
In the back pocket of your Levi's
Anyways, yeah random thoughts, random poems, random ideas, random number generators? Are they really random?
Enjoy,
Jonathan
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