Damn, I've been tagged!

So PartyPascha tagged me...or at least I think so did... Maybe, possibly? Ah to hell with it, I'll do it anyway.

Choose five of the professions and finish the sentence...

If I could be a scientist... If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician... If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter... If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary... If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect... If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist... If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete... If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper... If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer... If I could be a backup dancer...
If I could be a llama-rider... If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a midget stripper... If I could be a proctologist...
If I could be a TV-Chat Show host... If I could be an actor...
If I could be a judge... If I could be a Jedi...
If I could be a mob boss... If I could be a backup singer...
If I could be a CEO... If I could be a movie reviewer...

Choose five people to pass it onto when you are finished.


If I could be a farmer, I would only grow freakish hybrid creations that looked horribly terrifying, yet tasted oh so scrum-diddily-umpsious and all the world would love me just as long...as long as I was a shooting star...I mean a farmer.

If I could be a doctor, I would caiter to all in company of the freakers' ball and they would all get the prescriptions that they "needed" and would be so happy that they would proclaim me king of the "high"er order.

If I could be linguist, I would specialize in the foulest of all languages just so I might be fortunate enough to teach all of the unpleasentries to willing shmucks that would pay an arm and a leg just to learn the potty mouth...AH THE FOOLS!

If I could be an architect, I would change my name to Art VanDaliegh and move to New York, or Old York...hell all this york talk is giving me a craving for a cool minty blast of a York Pepperment Patty, go build your own damned condo.

If I could be a Jedi, I would wipe out the force of the dark side so that I might have some time freed up to...I don't know, lift up womens' skirts with the force or something. (Oh man, I don't think that one was a lady, The Cheat. Stupid Scotish, I don't knows.)


Well, I'd tag somebody, but if you're reading this, you'll probably be the only one, because NOBODY reads my blog, therefore, There is nobody to tag other that the four people that very seldomly read my posts, which have already been tagged. So I'll just laeve it at that.

Good day to you!

And another.

This is probably my favorite so far.

The "He" in me

I met him again today.
A man unrelenting,
Not backing down,
In the throws of adversity.
So assertive yet timid.
He is my bodyguard.
My guardian in times
Of challenge and hardship.
He was not here yesterday,
Nor the day before.
Will he be here on the morrow?
Or the day after that?
Where does he go?
I wonder.
His defense is bold & brazen.
My hero,
My advesary,
My inner-self,
My demon.
Everything that I am not.
Thankful for the existance,
Yet loathful all the same.
How I envy,
The he inside of me.

Written Tuesday April 26, 2005

Yup, I really have nothing better to do with my time.

I really hope that you all enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed writing them.


Who's Forgotten?

The pointless years,
Of wasted time,
Worth the pain,
Of what I ask.
Four years I've served.
Given selflessly to
An unrelenting people.
Appreciation? Respect?
I see the plastic sincerity
Of the monsters who
Wear their souls
On their sleeves.
You will not be forgotten?
No they will not.
but only by
Their brothers on service.
The men & women
They fought beside.
Drop your facades,
Band-wagon junkies.
They will not
Be forgotten, be sure.
But certainly, you shall be.

Been a while, but I'm back with more.

So I realized that I was just having a bad day when last I posted. I've written more and hope you enjoy. The first is fairly shotty, but not all can be good, right?


UNTITLED

When all for not,
We come to share,
The burdon of those,
who come to bare,
Their souls as if,
We owe them this.
To lift their spirits.
To feel the bliss.
This is not,
What's meant for me.
Guilt for none.
Please hear my plea.
So break my bones,
And soul aswell,
So break it all,
And watch me dwell.

Written Monday, April 25, 2005