Ramblings...

The Story of Fathers III




Your words fall like pine cones
on a tin roof in the dead of winter.

My ears are wet tissue
being broken by your tears.

I feel the ghost caressing my shoulder
exposing and shuddering

thundering

cumbersome fear, a vile
stench that you detest more than any.

W. K. Medlen

Ramblings...

The Story of Fathers II



I'm worried about forgetting

your childhood-Roy Rogers-
you came into this world
       guns a blazin'
and thats how you want to leave this world.

What to do with this information?
       Something about your liver-
       and Birmingham-
       and the future.

I can't forget

You said you were proud of me
and I believe you.


THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN
preparationpreparation

        mowing the grass
     tending the garden-

they don't mean that much anymore.

Epistle to David Bazan

Pedro the Lion,
     the cute untame

-beautiful-

                  Mr. Bazan,
why so melancholy?
Do Bands With Managers upset you?
                         Is it our undying
love
for American Flags?



you were no Cowardly Lion
who found
              a heart-

You were a fierce King
who relinquished
        his shield-

for Fewer Moving Parts.

Your unsmiling face is all we see
         slowly shaping the American youth

We can't see the pen and pad,
the Cold Beer and Cigarettes,
the Christmas Whiskey-

the God you don't see unshaping you
             more
                    and
                            more

W. K. Medlen

Ramblings

Its been a while. Im working on a longer piece which i will blog sooner or later. until then here is what i wrote while avoiding homework and listeneing to music, and considering my life



The music fills my lungs
and my eyes jump
“the minor fall and the major lift,”
the music knows how to chastise
and to enliven;
to bring down and reinforce;
it makes me think
realize
epiphanize

write.
When the music brings me down
while I think about economy
and capitalism (Lusus Naturæ)
it lifts me up when I consider
I can do anything

dammit

Ode to an Orange

This goes in conjunction to one of my fiancees blog posts.

Ode to an Orange

Little Orange! But big with Bright;

Let us taste Your juicy Light.

Round and Smooth, exact with care;

Quarter'd, or Halv'd, equally Fare

Ev'n Juic'd! A Taste refin'd and pleas'd;

Upon your sight, Taste Buds seize

With a sour and sweet, beautifully met,

As if, directly to my Soul, or Appetite, you have Whet.

Althought colors of Auburn, or Tennessee,

Your Nectar is a Truth-filled Treaty,

An unchoosing, blindfolded Light,

Encapsulated by your Rhine;

Orange, and Bright

W. K. Medlen

This has to do with poetry

This has to do with poetry. Thought it was interesting.

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20091225041850AApxALK

Exquisite Corpse

Last night myself along with good friends Alex Wright, Corrine Keil, Lee Ellenburg, and Fiancee Meghan Brown went to the Kaffee Klatch to watch a fantastic band called the steel wheels play. During one of the intermissions we created two "Exquisite Corpses." They are as follows:




I


In a smoky filled room, there are awkward ladies dancing
They seduce us with thier dancing and black lingerie
Oh God why have you forsaken me
you doo doo.
and never wipe enough
of baby's bottoms: the feces of the future
Will future moms even need diapers when the problem of gravity is solved
Are we not men?
Or are we the mice of men?
That ran away from the carving knife.


II


Hey why don't you just go ahead and keep criticizing?
my barefeet and culinary abilities
Neil Diamond, you hold my heart
in your hands. I wish you were in my reach
so that I could pick your nose,
hopefully finding empty, not full of vain boogers
or flintstones or whatever you kids are calling it these days
All I know is that I can make your bed rock.
Call me Mr. Flinstone, girl
cause my feet are dirty from this long ride home!