Haikuing While Under the Influence of Rain

Seeing as how I fancy myself a poet I figured I would document the rains of epic proportions we have been experiencing the past 24723847 days through Haiku. Enjoy

What is misery
Rainstorms are miserable
Rain is misery

Rain, rain go away
Come again another day
On second thought, don't

It will rain today
It will rain again Friday
Rain is relentless

Raindrops on my head
My head below my shoulders
My neck really hurts

Foot in a puddle
Clothing soaked all the way through
Fuck Mother Nature

From The Archive: The Gloucester Man and The Sea

I was going through old documents again the other day in a quest to organize them (that's not going to happen) and I cam across yet another poem. I'm starting to think I may need to switch professions. Well here it is, for what it's worth.

There lived a man in Gloucester
A happy man was he
Happy as a clam was the man
With a love for the sea

His love for the sea was so strong
He worked with all his strength
To make a house out of a boat
One wide and of great length

Then one day came a wicked storm
With high seas and heavy rain
The old man knelt and prayed
But all his prayers were in vain

After a night of heavy high seas
The old man washed ashore
Finding himself pleading to God
“No more kind sir, no more”

So with his sea days behind him
He moved to the mountain
Where atop the highest of peaks
He built a great cabin

There the old man lives his days
Minding his many trees
He stays far from the vast oceans
For God keeps him from the sea

A Very Scata Christmas

Sorry for the delay but here is Christmas as I have seen it.

Before I present to you my latest piece of work I would like to say that I told you so. As the poet (yes, yes I am) I chose a slightly unorthodox style of rhyming occasionally, and poorly at that.

Oh Sweet Christmas.

Oh Sweet Jesus!

What have we here?

Is it good cheer?

Or just too much beer?

But it can not be!

Drink she does not.

But she is getting quite hot!

The words are flying.

And look here at Jess crying!

And all because of some lying.

Boom!

And there goes an F shaped bomb!

And another!

The peanut gallery chimes in!

And with that Judy joins the fray.

More shouting

More pouting

Chairs overturn.

Doors slam.

Arguments splinter into more arguments.

Fighting between people who have no quarrel.

Opinions galore.

Oh what a bore.

I mean really it's her life,

Her strife.

She doesn't listen.

Why not just leave it.

Doors open.

Hushed talking.

Glaring.

Laughing?

What?

Sniffling.

Playful goading.

Smiling.

And it's just another Scata Christmas.

My favorite part of the whole day (that and my father shouting commentary on the whole thing from the living room) is when I was trying to entertain my little cousin while this was all going on and he suddenly looks right at me and says, "You know you don't have to play with me, you can go in the other room." As if he read my mind.

Attached are two goofy pictures of my cousins for your pleasure.

Good clean Coke loving fun!

From The Archive: Happy Families are all Alike

The holidays are all about family, undoubtedly because of all the time spent amongst them. Families come from all over the country to see each other, eat food, give thanks, exchange gifts and inevitably bicker. some Uncle says something to some cousin who cries about it to their mom who happens to be the sister in law of said uncle. Things always get messy and that's why they only do it a couple times a year. The following poem, written in High School is a tribute to dysfunctional families and how they are in fact functional in a way "happy families" never could be. Anyway here is the poem, I have no clue as to what I wrote it for, the former title of the file gave me no clues. All we have is the result. Enjoy. Merry Christmas!

Happy families are all alike;
Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
But are the happy families truly happy?
They put on smiles, and sing and dance;
Making it seem that way.
But no quarrels or qualms they grow tired.
They begin to ask, “What is wrong?”
They start to second guess the love their family,
And wonder if it all just an act.
Is it a fake love or is it true love,
One can not love when smiles are all that can be found.
Because arguments have to happen,
Or something must be wrong.
That is why happy families are all alike.
They all do not know what makes them so “happy.”
Now an unhappy family is not unhappy all the time.
When they are happy they know it.
They take that moment, however small,
And cherish it until the next happy moment comes.
Happy moments they notice, unlike their “happy” counterparts.

From The Archives: ?

This is some kind of poem that I had to write in my Writing For Publication class in High School. I think it has to do with writing down a series of events that pertain to a keyword and then cutting up all the lines and then placing them into specific places. Pretty cool, but weird. I pass it on to you unedited.

Scary driving, high speed,
Ten seconds sweating.
Bracing of the body,
Breakdown the aftermath.

That smell,
I can’t have it!
Clean white, pure white.
Shocks back expected behavior.

Tune out parents fighting.
Background,
Stomping feet,
Slamming doors, convey the sentiment.

That button, let’s push it!
Pop back, let’s investigate!
Cylinder, not button.
It burns!

Loved;
Red, blue, black, yellow.
Slight click, scratchy touch, smooth sides.

Everyone,
Old young and middle aged.
Devoted fans,
Drunk fans,
Lucky fans.
The best one to see.

Sugar Plum Fairy, Sugar Plum Fairy

Picture by Katy Kobzeff

Out the door
Grab the paper
Down the steps
Pause
Turn right up the street
Massachusetts Avenue
Turn right
Windy
Remove newspaper from bag
Throw away bag
Avoid Berkee students
Cough
Pause at intersection
Watch Traffic
Jog across street
Cop with a machine gun
Enter station
"Do you have any change?"
Head down
Down flight of stairs.
Remove wallet
Scan
Through gate
Right
Down a flight
Left
Down two flights
Walk 10 paces
Pause
"Sally was a 15 year old girl from Nebraska!"
Open newspaper
Battle Unfolds in a Poor Land For the Riches Beneath the Soil
Lights
Board train
Walk to the back
Sit on steps
"Next Stop Copley"
Wet floor
Niger
"Entering Copley"
The Railroad Disability Board That Couldn't Say No
"Copley, the destination of this train is, Government Center"
Long Island Rail Road
Chicago
Check watch
9:37
"Entering Arlington"
President Dodges Shoes in Iraq
Chuckle
Blury passengers
"Boylston, the destination of this train is, Government Center"
Sneeze
Wrestle newspaper
A Buddy Ballot System
Nebraska
Maine
Doors open
Stand up
Disembark train
"Park Street, the destina.........."
Right
Walk up platform
Train arriving
Hustle down stairs
Disregard every other step
Jog to second car
Enter first door
Walk to back of car
Do Not Lean Against Door
Lean against door
Think better of it
Lean against other door
"Downtown Crossing, the destination of this train is, Braintree"
Sounds like Godfrey
Exit car
Move to third car
Cut a lady off
Embarrassed
Enter car
Find seat
"Officer gets me naturalized!"
The 17th Floor, Where Wealth Went to Vanish in a Manhattan Tower
$50 billion
New York Mets
Florida Retirees
"Entering South Station"
Stand up
Move to first door
Stop
Exit train
Right
Up escalator
Walk up left side
SL2 BMIP
Board bus
Singles seats full
Sit down
"Not A Crime!"
As the Economy Falters, Obama's Goodwill Grows
Don't hit the man in front of you with the paper
7 of 10 Americans support Obama
Knee is uncomfortable
"Courthouse Station"
Need to buy lunch today
Girl
Sunglasses
Subway
Stupid
"World Trade Center Station"
William Kristol
Light
Check watch
9:52 AM
Starbucks
"..my wedding was about to start!"
"Silver Line Way"
Wrestle newspaper
Fold
Girl has three bags
Bewilderment
"Please be considerate and yield seats to elderly and disabled"
Harpoon
I like UFO
"Stop requested"
Check belongings
Stand up
"Tide Street"
Walk to door
Pause
Exit
Check watch
9:59 AM
Walk across grass
Open door
Remove Wallet
Scan
Replace Wallet
Climb 2 flights of stairs
Retard
Every time
Remove Wallet
Scan
Replace Wallet
Enter office.



That's my commute.

From The Archives: A Letter to Gary Bettman from the Canadian People

So you know how something like an hour ago I posted a poem about hockey and the lock out? And how I said if I found any more poems about hockey I would send them your way? Well yes, I found one, one in which I am Ghost writing as the Canadian people (I always wanted to be the Canadian) who are putting the hurt to Mr. Gary Bettman (nice guy). Sadly since I posted this if Gary Bettman is ever found entombed in a sheet of ice I may be suspected of having the keys to the Zamboni. Here you are poetry piece #2!

Letter to Gary Bettman from the Canadian People

Your most honorable fool: We the Canadian people
would like to know what it is you want
with our great game we call hockey.
At first you took our teams
from Quebec and Winnipeg,
but now you have taken your purge one step further.
You have destroyed our game.
Not by taking our game from every Canadian city,
but by taking it from all of North America.
You have forced our players to all corners of the globe.
Yet you laugh, you smile, like the fool you are.
You make your claims, you make your assertions,
but you know nothing of our game.
You are a businessman, not a hockey player,
and even at that you are not good.
We wish you no ill,
We are of course a peaceful people
But as for your job
we care not to let you have it.
So pack up your things,
turn in your keys,
because if it were not for you,
we would have some hockey.

Going to be found in poetry classes for years to come.

From The Archives: Hockey Has Gone Away

I was going through things I wrote while taking a class called Writing for Publication taught by one of my favorite teachers Dr. Konaxis (she has since been let go from her post because of certain sexual advances and relationships she had with former students, I was not one of them). Anyway as I was going through these pieces (of which many will be undoubtedly posted here) I found this little tidbit I wrote during the NHL lockout a few years ago. I am awful at poetry, a subject that has always and will continue to perplex me, so do forgive me for the quality and instead pay attention to the raw emotion that resonates within the piece, the hatred, the sadness, the longing and of course like and badly written poem, the bullshit. Here you are the poem that Gary Bettman has suppressed for years: Hockey Has Gone Away.

Oh, hockey, where did you go?
Why are you on the lamb?
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

Was it because your popularity is low?
Or was it Gary Bettman?
Oh, hockey, where did you go?

I have not once seen Jumbo Joe,
Barreling down the ice like a big old Ram.
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

All the players and the owners say “No!”
For the truly do not give a damn.
Oh, hockey, where did you go?

I have not once heard “Go Bruins, Go!”
But a fan still I am.
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!

I just want the NHL to know
That I do give a damn!
Oh, hockey, where did you go?
Oh, hockey, how I love you so!


Not to bad eh? I must have been truly depressed if the lockout moved me to start writing poetry....... I date myself with the Jumbo Joe reference me thinks, the beta version of what was to become Milan Lucic. Regardless if I come across anymore hockey inspired poetry, I promise to post it here, for you the reader! Until then you shall have to make do with this timeless piece.

Oh and I attached a picture of Bobby Orr for no other reason than that he is the best defenseman who ever played the game.