Dear friends and ones I love so well. This week marks the official 3 month anniversary of Papa's Poem Corner. It also marks my last week of work before I go up to Provo to live for the next phase of my life. On a sadder note, it also marks the end of Papa'a Poem Corner. No one is sadder about this than me. I have grown to love these weekly visits with you all, and these chances to express myself, and share this special part of me with you. We live in uncertain, perilous times. Who knows what the future will hold for us? Cody's dog Brutus does. He's prophetic. Other than him, no one. So I make this plea to you Brutus. I know that you don't check your e-mails anymore, because you can now access them telepathically.
Show Us Thy Light Dear Brutus
Hence forth and forevermore
the blackness of night sits lingering in its oblique sphere.
Put on thy thinking pants, and tell me of what's to come.
Brutus of Ages. Pierce my ear with thy warm words of wisdom.
My plea to thee is that of a girdled man,
Eyes shut tight against the blinding Fangorn forest of Dave's chest.
Unseen memories and living dreams roll forth from thy bowels.
Smooth as my freshly shaven toes.
On a camping trip, in a plane, or laying in bed,
Use me as the Travel-John!
Our only hope of survival lies deep within thy silky stomach lining,
and thy beauteous belching of forbidden knowledge.
A rainbow! A rainbow trailed by a pot of gold.
Let's hop in and bathe in its colorfully golden glow.
We'll trade recipes and birth joy in our happy cauldron.
Brutus be brave, but betrothe both brothers before Billy buys black beef.
Now let us fly! Back down to thy resting nest!
The Carmex will hold in the escaping moisture from thy llama lips.
No man is an island, but a lot of us are pretty portish. Like man-docks.
Mandocks with no customs expert to harass us.
I dedicate my life to thee, like a yearbook being dedicated by a large
French woman.
Signed, "I've taken a restraining order out on you." KIT. BYOB.
DATPIISLIMBTG.
That is my plea to Brutus. He's a great man... dog... I have full faith in him to foretell all as that one Nostrildamus guy would have done if he had been a real future-seerer guy.
The Goodbye Song - as sung by John Cory.
There is no tomorrow.
We'll never see each other again.
There's no hope for the future.
Today's our last day as friends.
Let's not waste it fighting.
Instead let's fingerpaint.
My last day alive, and all I want to do,
is spend the end with you.
No one here but you and me,
and we're painting with our feet.
Let the Giant-Robot army take us.
Torture us, and chain us to the walls.
As long as you're beside me,
I won't feel the pain at all.
We could use our last hours to organize a counter-offensive.
But I'd rather fingerpaint.
My last day alive, and all I want to do,
is spend the end with you.
No one here but you and me,
and we're painting with our feet.
Don't stop my love, you must paint away your fears.
Purple puppies, little blue bunnies, and superbly happy deer.
We'll destroy the Giant-Robot army with art!
They can never destroy that which we fingerpaint from our hearts!
My last day alive, and all I want to do,
is spend the end with you.
No one here but you and me,
and we're painting with our feet.
Well. That's it guys. I love you all very much. Thanks for your love and support, and for all of the death threats. Those were so cute. Anyway, I hope to see each and every one of you again soon. Except for you Burgess. I'll be dreaming about you tonight. Yes I will.
Love,
Papa
No comments:
Post a Comment