A humane tourist destination

There are rumors circulating that this started as a your mamma joke. There is a chance that the rumors might not be false.

 

An eating disorder was what she had,

It didn’t make her distressed or mad.

She would eat and eat, and combined with

A rare gene defect, thought to be a myth,

She would grow and grow, never to stop,

Until she was the town’s permanent backdrop.

The tourism board started thinking,

Par for the course, while heavily drinking.

She was declared a tourist destination,

The tourists ferried all the way from the bus station

To marvel at the world’s newly largest mammal.

Some even offered to buy her a pet camel.

She now has a steady stream of visitors and food,

The former of which only rarely rude.

All in all, things are okay,

Life goes on, as they say.

Dooming a Dutchman

You doomed a Dutchman to fail the tulip season

In Holland that is equivalent to treason.

The bulbs of the Dutchman will never sprout

He’s in jail and he might get out

When Holland is no more under the threat

Of masses of water, cunning and wet.

To be fair, in your defense,

It doesn’t make that much, or at all, sense

That you shouldn’t wash them thoroughly before

You store them in a cupboard for a year or more.

Now, instead of bulbs, he only found mold,

Which might be worth a tiny bit less than gold.

Tiger bone waterfall

In the hills in Southeast Asia, there is a waterfall

It is not gigantic, nor especially tall,

But it has beauty, like no other

Given by the bones of an old tiger mother.

Bones in the plunge pool, buried long ago

By monks in robes, careful and slow.

Bones of a goddess, colossal and fierce,

Beautiful, strong, with eyes that pierce.

God that died in a war of gods

Struck down by the god of war’s bamboo rods.

What little magic is left in the bones

Gives the waterfall and its smoothed-out stones

A verdant green glow, vivid and alive,

The plants all around cannot but thrive.

Sawdust in the air

I was sawing some planks into pieces today, and this started playing in my head to the tune of Walking in the air, composed by Howard Blake.

 

Sawdust in the air

Floating in the clear, blue sky

My lungs are full of it, as well as are my eyes

 

I already lost my sight

And it burns like hell, it’s true

The sky, it now looks brown, for me not perfect blue

 

The fungi and the mold

Have found their brand new home in me

Took over everything, from forehead to my knee

 

I cough blood in the night and I scratch my eyes

My throat is dry, my sheets are red, a wonderful surprise

 

Sawdust in the air

My head feels so very light

The noises far away, the lamps always so bright

 

The doctors say, it’s too late, what happens now, we know

I don’t believe, this is real, it can’t be my time yet to go

 

Sawdust in the air

Floating in the clear, blue sky

Like the sawdust did for me, the clouds are passing by

The best in life

You know when you laugh so hard you can’t stop?

So hard that your lungs feel like they’re gonna pop,

Tears stream down your wobbling cheeks,

Down to your jaw in two wet streaks.

That feeling right there is what it’s about,

The reason why I live, there is no doubt.

Afterward it hurts and I’m gasping for air

I don’t even care that I fell off of my chair.

When the giggles die down and I settle down,

My mind is clear and my brow has a frown,

As I try not to think about what made me laugh,

Fail, and fall down like a newborn calf.

Rinse and repeat or half an hour or so,

The world is pure as with fresh, white snow.

 

This was caused by a YouTube video where a man reads out loud misspellings of the word pregnant for two minutes. The video title is “how is pragent formed”, if someone wants to cackle like a hyena.

 

Selective complaining

Take a bullet in the face and walk away fine,

Saving and loading when playing offline,

NPC’s standing in their shops all day,

Heroes that never have anything to say.

“I don’t see a thing to complain on this list,

When I play, these things don’t make me pissed,

But sound in space and I’m outraged!

The hero’s too old, she should be teenaged!

That’s totally not how afterburners work!

The detail’s all wrong, it’s a dagger, not a dirk!

Game devs are dumb, dumb or just asses

They should take some physics and history classes!”

Fans discussing games is often like this,

Selective complaining, a communal hiss.

I don’t find it fun, but I hope they do

Otherwise it’s a useless indignation stew.

Memories of my death

I can remember that I was held under

Long enough for my lungs to tear themselves asunder.

I can remember trying to fight back,

Without any breath, my body just a sack.

I can remember that I screamed and screamed,

Screamed so long I thought I dreamed

The time without screaming, the drowning and pain,

Screamed until I broke, I was no longer sane.

Then, if I’m right, I think I died,

I… I think I actually died.

If I died… Then am I a ghost?

Doomed to wander this bleak coast.

I remember my death. What now?

I can’t stay, I must move on? But how?