A literal technique ‘opposite’ to prose (e.g. everyday speech).
My holy ‘Babel’ has misled.
The sheep people seek what is read.
The dead god of the Elohim-
My holy ‘Babel’ is alive instead.
Wrath of god cannot be contained.
Mere words cannot be explained.
God father provides dog fodder.
Wrath of god can be retrained.
Two poems of four stanzas with eight syllables each in AABA pattern.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
I am not like the others.
I feel weird.
I hate the way I look to the world.
My latest interest is weird stuff over the internet.
Reading articles from various sources make my brain hurt.
Thinking too much keeps me from being dull minded.
I wore itchy, stiff dresses when I was younger.
I hide behind ugly cloths like jeans and rubber shoes.
High neck clothing, especially my favorite cotton, keeps me warm.
I prefer cold climates.
My system loves to bundle up under cotton bed sheets.
Hot climates make me irritable.
I do not feel comfortable around crowds.
I hate people and smelly things.
A noisy environment is not always tolerable.
I love parakeets and cuteness.
Nature, compared to people, makes beautiful sounds.
Nature is not mean to me either.
Strangers have told me I am different.
I remember that dark guy with a left lazy eye.
He was ugly.
We met at a department.
He said I sat differently.
I had my right leg tucked under my left leg.
I do walk differently but with an athletic stride.
Other co-workers tell me the same.
I know they talk about me.
I read of angels in training.
I am here to find myself and other like myself.
I have no real friends.
I believe my friends are here with me somewhere.
My closest friends seem to be my current parental units.
I live with my parents, by the way.
My ‘Onion’ is close by but has a new life.
He seldom visits us in our old age.
I wish to move far away from these people.
People misunderstand me.
Perhaps, they treat me like a young person.
My behavior is quite immature.
I feel old yet look quite young.
I feel comfortable around older folks.
And I learn tolerance from my environment.
I cannot hear well too.
My expressionless face means I did not understand speech well.
Therefore, my listening ability is limited.
Speaking through my blowhole is also my limitation.
The words get stuck in mid-thought.
I loose my voice after a few minutes.
My eyesight is poor.
I wear eyeglasses since elementary school.
Contact lenses are too drying while working in front of the computer.
I have allergies, mostly dry skin related.
Moisture from skin products and water helps though.
I have food allergies but take whatever makes me happy.
My teeth and bones are hurting.
I sleep more often.
I dream in colors too.
My strength is written communication via this blog account.
I suppose my purpose is to teach and share of my uniqueness.
I do have artistic and musical talents.
I am always bored.
I distrust people overall.
I love you all, though.
Second attempt at a long-head, soliloquy (completed around 01:30AM on 04/12/2007).
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
‘I will survive!’ beat
Dancing Jesus neat
Sandals and large feet
Pavement of concrete
Grooving to the beat
Life is a sweet treat.
Walking down a street
A happy van greet
Full impact defeat
Bloody mass of meat
A poem based on an upbeat video showing an actor dancing to the tune of Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’ song and dressed up like a Jesus, who in the end encounters a realistic hit and run.
Addendum: Here is a YouTube.com video entitled Jesus Will Survive – Jesus Christ! The Musical | Uploaded by javierprato on Apr 14, 2007.
Author’s note: I shared the video link via an email to Brat
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
A male cousin ‘ball’
Investor’s referral crawl
Desperation pall
Via a long distance call
Converse in a drunken drawl
Ten percent too small
Monthly payments to install
Two-hundred fifty cash haul
In trust funds and fargo’s wall
Run far away! Lawyers stall
Two more samples of tanka in monorhyme.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
River of sleep in mushroom fields
Forever more in shame or sham.
He sleeps.
First attempt at synchronicity poem.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
There are others like me.
Yet I am unique.
How is this possible?
I am possible.
All is well.
Surely, there is not the time to assume.
I hate you all!
Oh well…
Bastards!
Okay! So you all can hear my thoughts and read my blogs.
I no longer post my blogs.
I do not journalize my thoughts.
My thoughts are many.
My answers are nothing.
My words are nothing.
My voice is nothing.
I am nothing.
Yet nothing has something.
The nothingness has purpose.
What is my purpose?
Why do you seek through me?
I seek through you.
I feel your thoughts.
My energy may not be compatible with yours.
My vibration is not compatible with yours.
Your presence causes me discomfort.
I sense you acknowledge my thoughts.
My being exists too.
I exist.
I recognize your energy signature.
Yet I do not know who you are now.
I only sense your request.
I do not understand your request.
I transmit my intentions.
I do not understand my own intentions.
I do not understand why you seek my intentions or my progress.
I have failed to progress.
I am stuck.
I feel stuck.
Yet I am aware of more possibilities.
Where are these possibilities?
I learn of thoughts creating reality.
I try to make my reality.
I am not certain of the effects from my thoughts.
Why are you asking me all these questions?
I seek your Truth.
I am your Truth.
Am I your God?
I am God.
God loves.
This is Truth.
Great! I am repeating Truth.
The Truth has been read over the internet from this small world of mine.
This unit is called [removed] or Flynn.
I am female.
I do have a soul somewhere but is not known to be anywhere.
The concept of me and my soul is here.
Could you please stop?
Okay.
Now you know how I feel about people.
These are especially strangers who are trespassing against me.
This is in the ‘Lord’s’ prayer.
I must for-give you for trespassing against my being.
Perhaps, I, and like so many others, will never know.
Some are unified in certain ways and with certain people.
How could you all possibly understand eternity, let alone infinity?
Try. Good Bye!
Another attempt at a long-head soliloquy (completed around 08:56PM.)
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Monday March 12, 2007 – 09:37pm (PDT) Edit | Delete | Permanent Link | 0 Comments
Originally modified on Saturday, January 13, 2007, 8:56:38 PM.
Eggs are meant to be eaten as one whole.
Not only egg whites or yolks in the bowl
Cannot avoid the bad cholesterol
Whole eggs is like chicken soup for the soul
Honor the chicken — unborn to a hen
Raised to a rooster to wake sleeping men
Don’t waste your money! Eat whole eggs again!
A quartet followed by a triplet in monorhyme.
Author’s note: Revised from original email sent to Brat.
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
What’s wiener? What’s wiener?
Oh! Long is the hotdog.
Boiled hot to wrinkly red!
No more ‘teeny, weenie,
Teeny, shriveled, short’ Frank!
Bring on the wienerwurst,
Sausage from Vienna,
Frankfurter or kielbasa!
An octet poem with six syllables in no end rhymes.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Be a hero at point zero: to be nothing.
Or be divine to form a line: to be something.
Split two more pair to form a square: a 2-D plane.
Fold like a tube with space in cube: a 3-D strain.
Time upon time- hypercube climb: a 4-D line.
Split many paths of unending math: a 5-D sign.
Jump to a time; commit no crime: a 6-D choice.
Infinity in Trinity as a small voice!
Split us apart; a change of heart: a black pool ball.
Combine as one and then it’s done: a fifth kind call.
Become a point. Don’t disappoint. Begin anew.
A heavily revised poem from last year of two internal and end rhymes with eight (with optional four) syllables for each stanza.
Author’s note: This poem describes ten dimensions.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
The tortured minds explain.
They claim to be insane
and exist within pain
or with the ball and chain
by dark makeup in vain.
The curious complain.
They can’t deny their brain
and the unrelenting strain
of bloody colored rain
poured on daily mundane.
The lonely entertain.
They utilize champagne
the Mary Jane, cocaine,
the arcane through the vein
and aboard the soul train.
A poem about EMO people of three stanzas with six syllables in monorhyme pattern.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Thanks for visiting us tonight,
joining us for dinner and
sharing some photos and conversation
from our small world.
We appreciate your time and effort and
enjoyed the peach pie
you both brought along as well.
Our little white candles
will continue to burn softly
by the window
as we [in our old age] peep
from behind the drapes,
curtains and blinds and
look outside
through the double-paned,
white-colored acrylic glass and
into the empty, gray-colored streets
of flickering yellow-orange streetlights
in the hopes of seeing
you coming around
whenever you both have the chance.
Modified as a poem in free-verse — originally sent as a letter via email to Brat on Fri, 5 Jan 2007 22:08:23 -0800 (PST).
Copyright © FVDF. All rights reserved.
Fellow warriors please follow my trails.
I left many tracks. Some step on sharp nails.
My poetic words are thoughts sent by sails.
That Fiji sunset shows some small details.
If one searched by the video’s last name
news articles show a related shame.
The powers that be are the ones to blame
for using unity as a grand frame.
A poem of two, four-lined stanzas with eight syllables in aabb pattern.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.