Thank Heaven for my Onion!

I was running through the city,
with wings tightly on my back,

I was oh, in such a hurry,

Thinking'bout what I lacked.

A stone passed by, just below,

my perfectly sound sole;

but I sped on, having drawn,

the longer stick or pole.

I stopped myself, barely then,

and looked down at my feet.

among the mud and grime of life,

the brown and greenish peat.

I knelt in air above what was,

a possible demise,
and realized then how close it was

I had nearly passed it by.

the tugging at my wrist was one,

my heart almost the same

Thank heaven for my Onion,

And thank heaven for my Shame.

I know this one is kind of strange, but I drew a picture to maybe further your understanding. I realized how many times in life I take diety for granted. I often realize close calls but how often do I just attribute it to luck, mere chance, or even worse...my own talent. It is this poem that illustrates my gratitude for all of the tiny things in life that I often don't realize. The man in this poem has a full set of wings, but it is for his little floating onion that has saved him from disaster, that he is Grateful. Another thing that I have realized that I am extremely grateful for in the last little while is my guilt or shame. What kind of person would I be if I never had the motivation or drive to do something better or feel bad when I had genuinely done something wrong?

I Am What I Am.

Far away in the valley of Callor Ma Lou,
Dwelt the little Belleeches, a most interesting crew.
On the most Beautiful Beach bathed the Belleeches of Red,
They wore a sock on one fin and had stars on their heads.

Much upsore by the forst live Belleeches of Green,
they thought they were best, for their fur's elegant sheen.
Only Belleeches who looked most pristine and precise,
could dwell at the treeline for not even a price.

Then of course in the water swam belleeches of blue.
They enjoyed being wet and everyone knew.
For they had not a hair on their aqua tanned hides,
and more often than not their heads tilt to one side.

Then last of their kind were the beleeches of Brown.
Known only to all by their snarls and frowns.
They had no resemblance in color or view,
But they hated belleeches, themselves included...it's true.

Each and every belleech belonged to a crew,
Each and every belleech had a similar view.
They thought they were one and the only right sect,
save one little belleech, a red one called Bect.

One day as he lay in the sun with this friend,
he stood up and did grimace as his skin wrinkled and bent.
Bect tapped his best friend who let loose with a gasp.
"Don't you know that I'm sunburned?" he complained with a rasp.

"Well that's just my point," Bect sheepishly said,
"We hate the fact that we're sun burnt and red.
why don't we go rest in the shade for a bit,
or go to the shore and in the water just sit?"

His friend chuckled a bit before laughing out loud.
"You want to go sit with the greens? They're so proud.
Feel free to go try but disappointment is sure;
Besides, look at them, I just know they're impure."

Ignoring his friend, Bect went up to the trees,
and sat in the shade, enjoying the breeze.
It wasn't too long till a small green belleech
Sat down with poor Bect and gave him a leaf.

Bect looked quite confused as he accepted the gift,
"It will help with the burn, and by the way, my name's shift."
"Oh thank you, I'm Bect. You must love it up here,
in the shade fo the trees theres no sun that you fear."

"But the sun would be nice on occasion I think,
it would get rid of this green stuff, besides it does stink."
"But why do you use it if you hat it so much?"
"It keeps my fur shiny, its pretty cool stuff."

They sat and they talked about both of their homes,
while adults in both places shook their heads and did moan.
They were playing in water, something both knew was wrong.
But within the hour they met a blue on named Tom.

The days passed them by and they did all the things,
that were best for them all they were healthy and clean.
They swam in the ocean that made them most fit,
and they took care of their hair with some help from small shift.

It wasn't too long before Bect's former best friend,
still red from the sun, and at the day's end,
approaced little Bect with a grimace in place,
and said look at you friend, you're no longer our race.

Bect looked down at himself for the very first time,
and saw that his skin had turned gold and did shine.
He looked very much like his friends Tommy and shift,
and it seemed in the groups they had caused quite a rift.

Bect looked at his friend and sank just a little inside.
He remembered the way, he remembered their pride.
He thought for a bit of how he could say it,
then he stood up real straight, and tried to convey it.

"There's things I believe and there's things that I do,
I don't care if we're different, I still care about you.
The things that I do and the things that I say,
They make me quite hapapy, they make me this way.

I'm sorry I'm different, I don't follow the crowd,
But I am what I am, and of that I am proud."
Then he left his friend there, feeling colder than ice,
and for him, the cool shade, now sounded quite nice.

Well, maybe I should explain a little. I created four groups of people that I see. First are the belleeches of red: The belleeches of red are the people that I see that are doing stupid things. Things that they hate and things that everyone else hates but they do it just because it is who they are and it identifies them as someone.
Belleeches of Green: Pretty obvious. They are the people that have to look good for other people. There is the one exception, Shift, because there are some people who just like to look good because it feels nice. But at the same time there are people who dress up because it identifies them with a group.
Belleeches of Blue: Okay, I confess, I put a group of swimmers in there. How could I not? They of course don't have hair and they tilt their head to one side...swimmers ear/ear infection. Not a pleasant experience but we do it because we love it.
Belleeches of Brown: There are some people who are just flat out mean and angry people, and if you notice, nobody want to be anywhere close to them. That is why they never befriended a Belleech of Brown because they were only known by their snarls and frowns. I pity the person that has to be miserable to fit into a certain group.

Jallop the Clown.

It was deep in the night, in a most gloomy town,
when out from his lean-to came Jallop the clown.
He checked both directions of the most lifeless street,
then he pulled on one curl then stamped twice his feet.

Licking one finger, he smoothed each eyebrow,
then he wound up the key of his favorite toy cow.
with a skip and a hop, Jallop followed his friend,
till time after time, it unwound to the end.

Jallop looked down, at his friend not surprised,
and he pulled the same curl, and batted one eye.
Pulling off his glass slipper, he wound his cow tight,
with the toes of his left foot, and then with his right.

The cow sped ahead with a fake little "moo",
and Jallop skipped forward, after dawning his shoe.
The process continued year after year,
Jallop the clown, and his plastic toy: Leer.

It wasn't until, somewhere round about May,
that Jallop sat down, and started to say:
"I've been quite a while, in this circle of two.
I've been skipping in circles, its been just me and you.

I've learned many things, such as what one can do,
if you have shoes on your feet, and a smile of glue.
But what lies beyond, this little ghost town?
What could I find, skipping all the world around?

But I haven't the money, and glass shoes are no fun,
if you're going so far, or you're going to run."
Just then water hit him, a drip on the nose.
Two more followed her on his fingers and toes.

For once in his life, he wasn't so scared,
he had Leer in his pocket, and no one else cared.
As his makeup ran off him, and dripped into the dirt,
he saw his real face, for what is was worth.

He took one foot out, of those expensive glass shoes,
and pulled on one curl, like he once used to do.
He sat down in the mud, not too sad for his pants,
because Leer was still dry, and that wasn't by chance.

The rain didn't last long, but it worked just enough,
to show him beneath, was the permanent stuff.
Jallop zipped shut, his muddy pocket with glee,
for on this road now, its just King Leer and me.

I felt like I needed to something with the new year; and though I am late, I did it anyways. This poem kind of describes my life so far. I used a lot of symbolism so try to keep up.

Jallop: Jallop of course, represents me. Think of a clown. They essentially do the same thing over and over for a very similar crowd for the crowd's own enjoyment and his ultimate embarrassment. Up to this point in my life, I have been going about the same useless routine, gaining knowledge that is useful, but not necessarily applicable. I have on my glass slippers, not like Cinderella's, much cooler in fact. This symbolizes my desire for something to come and find me, essentially doing the work for me. My glued in smile is not because I am not happy but because I feel like it is necessary for the world (which seems to have abandoned me anyways). There are little things that make it obvious it is me, such as the pulling on curls (I used to do that when nervous but don't any more) and the rain cleansing me. (I love the rain)

Leer: My pet cow, King Leer has some very great relevance. Though you don't hear to much of Leer, he in fact, is the thing that prompts every useful thing that I do. Leer is essentially my Father in Heaven. He is always behind the scenes and I don't often acknowledge him for the many good things that he makes me do. At the beginning of my story, I follow close behind him but I stop to wind him just long enough, knowing that he will stop and I can take a break. He is called leer because that is how I see him, looking at me with a crooked sideways glance, possibly critical of me. When the rain begins, I protect Leer because he is the only one that has stayed for me through all of these years. I hold him close to me in the end and I make sure that he stays in my pocket to keep dry from the rain. I finally zip closed my pocket and realize that Leer has been leading me in circles for my own good. It wasn't until I could change that I could get anywhere. By the end of the story, I recognize what leer is, and instead of following him, I move constantly forward with him zipped tight in my pocket as my king.

I now urge you to go back and read it, and see if you can pick out some of the other things I didn't directly explain.

The Christmas Spirit

Oh the tree was alight with the warm Christmas cheer,
The Eggnog was thick, just like it was every year.

But the houses lay silent as all the world slept,
Save one little boy who uncontrollably wept.

Sinterklaas was about (for he's Danish you see)
with a branch in his bag to keep children in key.

With a swish and a flick (for he's magic as well)
He beats little kids till their hind quarters swell.

He entered the scene with this boy who did leak
and asked "why the sobbing?" young boy we'll call pete.

"I have not a present," he choked out with a sob.
Then Sinter let loose till his heiny did throb.

So what do we learn from this present-less boy?
You don't deserve presents, not even a toy.

-hows that for Christmas spirit?-

Ode to Randi

Well to open up my messages I thought of something sweet,
an ode to dearest Randi whom I seek not to compete.
But you must realize dearest friends,and all who read this blog
Twas' Randi first who made the poems and thought of them to blog.

So I know this is a short one, to start the poeming off
but there's one that shortly follows at which I hope you Laugh (said with an English Accent)
So that's the introduction, to my blog of poems by Ed
and I hope you follow closely, where culture will be bred.