Conversing in a phony fashion,
I saunter to the ring's periphery,
my mouth muffled by a blooming caption.
The fonted words kerned funnily,
overhearers tilt their stiffened shoulders
and arch their eyebrows cunningly.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Poems and Prose #33 - Granular
Erased to a splotch,
He half-smirks/half-winces
as the light around him
ebbs to black.
Time crawls like
a tired snail,
and numbness
flutters overhead
before it descends,
making him realize
its innate frivolity.
He smugly crumples
into the crust,
watching tons
of earth fall upon him,
knowing finally
that he's succeeded.
He half-smirks/half-winces
as the light around him
ebbs to black.
Time crawls like
a tired snail,
and numbness
flutters overhead
before it descends,
making him realize
its innate frivolity.
He smugly crumples
into the crust,
watching tons
of earth fall upon him,
knowing finally
that he's succeeded.
Friday, April 12, 2013
WordLeaping
Todd is putting the finishing touches on the upcoming WordLeap game from T³ Software. I've gotten most of the game graphics finished, but he wanted me to cook up some artwork for the soundtrack. Here are a couple of versions that I've been working on.
 |
| The protagonist stands atop the mountain... |
 | ||
| Similar to the one above, but without the trees |
 |
| Rockin' the 'phones |
Poems and Prose #32 - Saboteur
Gremlins made me
crash my plane,
and the weather really
ruined my day.
My damn dog made
these ugly stains,
and unseen plotters
just won't go away.
Faultless, here,
I crumple and wane,
and my voice's echos
drift and decay.
crash my plane,
and the weather really
ruined my day.
My damn dog made
these ugly stains,
and unseen plotters
just won't go away.
Faultless, here,
I crumple and wane,
and my voice's echos
drift and decay.
Poems and Prose #31 - Eaves
Strangers talking,
their words barbed
and gruff
and full of
the wisdoms
they feel
they've accrued.
I lie on the floor
and listen through
the wall,
wondering if
the platitudes I spew
are equally
annoying to
eavesdroppers.
their words barbed
and gruff
and full of
the wisdoms
they feel
they've accrued.
I lie on the floor
and listen through
the wall,
wondering if
the platitudes I spew
are equally
annoying to
eavesdroppers.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Poems and Prose #30: Stagecraft
The curtain slowly recedes;
the actor stands alone and breathes.
Now he spreads his hates and glees,
his boyish charms, his worn atrophies.
The spotlights cut the dusty breeze,
ensuring his face is the one everyone sees,
while drowning the outlines
of the hoists and the beams,
the spectators and the backdrop
and every last thing in between.
the actor stands alone and breathes.
Now he spreads his hates and glees,
his boyish charms, his worn atrophies.
The spotlights cut the dusty breeze,
ensuring his face is the one everyone sees,
while drowning the outlines
of the hoists and the beams,
the spectators and the backdrop
and every last thing in between.
Poems and Prose #29: Recession
I shrink myself into a ball,
until I stand six inches small.
Now minimized, I can't recall
what made me want to be so tall,
my eye's shiny, like a doll's,
as I seek ways to further fall.
until I stand six inches small.
Now minimized, I can't recall
what made me want to be so tall,
my eye's shiny, like a doll's,
as I seek ways to further fall.
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