Ah, well then. It's Monday. AGAIN. I am neck-deep in the new time tracking system here at work, which means that after about 5 minutes of trying to figure it out I abandoned it and came here instead, to the cozy bosom of the internet to write about something utterly unrelated to work.
It's my way of prioritizing. YOU, sweet intelligent internet buddies, come first, always. I miss you when we don't talk, I long for your company, I reach out to you in words and occasionally verse and once even in song.
Today, it's verse, because I just decided it would be.
There's nothing quite like
The slice of drywall knife
through yielding pumpkin flesh
They ooze ochre gore
Glops of innards heaved up
through a fist-sized hole
Impertinent stabs form the start of eyes
The blade saws ragged holes
Chunks fall in the shape of screams
Toothpicks jammed into wobbly bits
Hold the Jack o'lanterns down
Candles burn their guts for hours
Pumpkin-scented smoke wafts through eyeholes
Earholes, noseholes, mouths
Hot air blows like defeat through its orifi
The tortured orange gourds stare unblinking
Beaming welcome to the candy-starved,
dripping juice from rent flesh.
One night a year the pumpkins scream
howling silent shafts of heat and light
all for candy and pretend.
Heh. That started out WAY different in my head. It was going to be such a happy little peom too! But, there you go. No telling what's goign to come out once the stopper is removed from the ol' cranial vault.
Now, to cleanse your palate, here a picture of a Viking in my kitchen. Enjoy.
(Cute, ain't he? All I had to do was tell him what was in my wallet and he offered to cook dinner! Not gonna say no to THAT!!)