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Kite, a short story
Friday, December 25th, 2009Kite, Paul Wolborsky © 1998
This is a story about a Boy and his kite; a worm that wants to fly; a falcon that wants a tail, and an otter that wants a sail.
This story starts with a kite. It was a dazzling jade diamond with an orange dragon and a long, crimson tail. The kite flew high in the clear blue sky. It stalked the sun; it’s tail writing arabic stories in the clouds. The kite was tied to a knot, a knot tied to a string, a string tied to a little boy named Peter, who loved his kite so.
He loved his kite more then he loved anything else, and everyday, among the clouds, sky, and sun he stood still while his kite pranced, and the world spun, and it was a dance.
“It’s not a diamond, it’s a jade butterfly”, the worm thought, as it chewed the knot, slowly, patiently. The worm dreamed of flying, and now it was flying, but it wasn’t enough. For the worm wanted freedom, first from the Earth that has given him life, and now, from the tyranny of a little boy’s finger. As the world gyrated far below, the worm chewed the knot everyday, until one day-
A strong breeze grabbed hold of the kite, and the worm bit its last strand – freedom!
The kite flew away, and Peter was left holding the string, now the tail of nothing but empty sky.
The kite gambolled, cavorted, roustabouted, tumbled and rumbled in the wind away into the horizon. But fleet are the feet of a little boy chasing their kites, and Peter flew like the wind… towards a canyon deep and wide.
Freedom is fleeting, the Worm discovered as kite’s red dragon tail fell afoul of a power line. ”Oh my”, said the Worm.
“Oh my”, said the Boy, who stared in disbelief at his kite so far away. It fluttered in the wind, a diamond dangle across an unreachable space. Peter began to cry.
“Oh my”, said the Falcon to his friend and partner in crime, the Otter, from the bottom of the canyon by the icy cold river.
“Oh my, what?” asks the Otter to his friend with the eyes that witnessed the whole scene.
“I see a boy, and a kite out of reach. Such a beautiful tail,” said the Falcon, whose own tail was missing a feather.
“And such a lovely sail that kite would make for me,”.said the Otter who wanted to sail to the Sea, but couldn’t swim downstream himself.
“I could fly up there, and bring the kite back for the both of us”, said Falcon.
“I don’t trust you, you’ll take the kite and fly away”, said Otter.
“Then, we’ll go together.”
And Falcon grabbed Otter with his talons. But they discovered to their dismay that they couldn’t untie the knot. Only little boys can untie a knot. But not to fear, there was one just over there.
Falcon spoke. ”Hi little boy, why do you cry so?”
Peter cried some more, then spoke.. “Mr. Falcon, my kite broke free and now it’s hanging off a wire in midair. I can’t fly. I can’t walk on the wire. I’ll fall into the icy river and I can’t swim. It’s so close, but it’s gone forever” And he cried some more.
“Well, I have an idea”, said the Otter. ”My friend Falcon can fly us to the kite, you can untangle its tail. If we fall into the water, I can swim and take us to safety.”
Peter wasn’t born yesterday, not even last week. He asked, ‘Why would you help me?”
Falcon said, “We have one condition, but we won’t tell you until you have freed the kite.”
Peter thought, and looked at the kite he loved so, so out of reach yet becoming tentatively bridged by a desperate hope. Peter said, “Ok, Mr. Falcon, Mr. Otter, can you help me bring back my kite?”
So, Falcon swept out his mighty wings, grabbed Peter with his mighty talons, while Otter grabbed Peter’s feet. And so, awkwardly, they flew out across the gulf towards the beckoning Jade diamond dragon and tail that was Peter’s most fervent desire.
Falcon flapped his wings, heart hammering, as he hovered over the kite, and Peter put his hands on the tail…
“Don’t tear the tail”, the Falcon cried.
And Peter touched his kite, the dragon biting his finger.
“Don’t rip the kite”, the Otter cried.
And by the time Peter had loosened the tail and held in his hands his most precious prize, he realized what the Falcon and Otter’s price was. ”Give me your kite, or I will drop you!”, said Falcon. ”Give me your kite, or I will let you drown!”, said Otter.
And the boy Peter, who can’t fly and who can’t swim, realized that the only way he could keep his kite was to let it go, for better that his kite be what it was and fly, then to be torn apart.
So, tears in his eyes, Peter threw his kite with a mighty lunge. The worm that would be a butterfly jumped into Peter’s pocket – it had enough adventure for the day. Falcon let Peter loose to fly after the kite, but Peter grabbed hold of Falcon’s tail. And the kite flew away, free of everything but the beckoning sky..
The Falcon, tiring, could no longer fly. Flapping his mighty wings slower, slower, slower, they all sank into the water. And Otter dragged them all safely to the shore.
Falcon shook the water from his feathers, bemoaning the loss of a second feather. Otter shook the water from his eyes, bemoaning the loss of the sea so far away. And Peter?
Peter looked up in the sky, at his kite, now flying free towards the sun, it’s red tail like fire. It was no longer his kite, it flew for itself.
And worm? Tired from its adventures, it slept in Peter’s pocket, dreaming of becoming a Butterfly.
Kite, Paul Wolborsky © 1998
This is a story about a Boy and his kite; a worm that wants to fly; a falcon that wants a tail, and an otter that wants a sail.
This story starts with a kite. It was a dazzling jade diamond with an orange dragon and a long, crimson tail. The kite flew high in the clear blue sky. It stalked the sun; it’s tail writing arabic stories in the clouds. The kite was tied to a knot, a knot tied to a string, a string tied to a little boy named Peter, who loved his kite so.
He loved his kite more then he loved anything else, and everyday, among the clouds, sky, and sun he stood still while his kite pranced, and the world spun, and it was a dance.
“It’s not a diamond, it’s a jade butterfly”, the worm thought, as it chewed the knot, slowly, patiently. The worm dreamed of flying, and now it was flying, but it wasn’t enough. For the worm wanted freedom, first from the Earth that has given him life, and now, from the tyranny of a little boy’s finger. As the world gyrated far below, the worm chewed the knot everyday, until one day-
A strong breeze grabbed hold of the kite, and the worm bit its last strand – freedom!
The kite flew away, and Peter was left holding the string, now the tail of nothing but empty sky.
The kite gambolled, cavorted, roustabouted, tumbled and rumbled in the wind away into the horizon. But fleet are the feet of a little boy chasing their kites, and Peter flew like the wind… towards a canyon deep and wide.
Freedom is fleeting, the Worm discovered as kite’s red dragon tail fell afoul of a power line. ”Oh my”, said the Worm.
“Oh my”, said the Boy, who stared in disbelief at his kite so far away. It fluttered in the wind, a diamond dangle across an unreachable space. Peter began to cry.
“Oh my”, said the Falcon to his friend and partner in crime, the Otter, from the bottom of the canyon by the icy cold river.
“Oh my, what?” asks the Otter to his friend with the eyes that witnessed the whole scene.
“I see a boy, and a kite out of reach. Such a beautiful tail,” said the Falcon, whose own tail was missing a feather.
“And such a lovely sail that kite would make for me,”.said the Otter who wanted to sail to the Sea, but couldn’t swim downstream himself.
“I could fly up there, and bring the kite back for the both of us”, said Falcon.
“I don’t trust you, you’ll take the kite and fly away”, said Otter.
“Then, we’ll go together.”
And Falcon grabbed Otter with his talons. But they discovered to their dismay that they couldn’t untie the knot. Only little boys can untie a knot. But not to fear, there was one just over there.
Falcon spoke. ”Hi little boy, why do you cry so?”
Peter cried some more, then spoke.. “Mr. Falcon, my kite broke free and now it’s hanging off a wire in midair. I can’t fly. I can’t walk on the wire. I’ll fall into the icy river and I can’t swim. It’s so close, but it’s gone forever” And he cried some more.
“Well, I have an idea”, said the Otter. ”My friend Falcon can fly us to the kite, you can untangle its tail. If we fall into the water, I can swim and take us to safety.”
Peter wasn’t born yesterday, not even last week. He asked, ‘Why would you help me?”
Falcon said, “We have one condition, but we won’t tell you until you have freed the kite.”
Peter thought, and looked at the kite he loved so, so out of reach yet becoming tentatively bridged by a desperate hope. Peter said, “Ok, Mr. Falcon, Mr. Otter, can you help me bring back my kite?”
So, Falcon swept out his mighty wings, grabbed Peter with his mighty talons, while Otter grabbed Peter’s feet. And so, awkwardly, they flew out across the gulf towards the beckoning Jade diamond dragon and tail that was Peter’s most fervent desire.
Falcon flapped his wings, heart hammering, as he hovered over the kite, and Peter put his hands on the tail…
“Don’t tear the tail”, the Falcon cried.
And Peter touched his kite, the dragon biting his finger.
“Don’t rip the kite”, the Otter cried.
And by the time Peter had loosened the tail and held in his hands his most precious prize, he realized what the Falcon and Otter’s price was. ”Give me your kite, or I will drop you!”, said Falcon. ”Give me your kite, or I will let you drown!”, said Otter.
And the boy Peter, who can’t fly and who can’t swim, realized that the only way he could keep his kite was to let it go, for better that his kite be what it was and fly, then to be torn apart.
So, tears in his eyes, Peter threw his kite with a mighty lunge. The worm that would be a butterfly jumped into Peter’s pocket – it had enough adventure for the day. Falcon let Peter loose to fly after the kite, but Peter grabbed hold of Falcon’s tail. And the kite flew away, free of everything but the beckoning sky..
The Falcon, tiring, could no longer fly. Flapping his mighty wings slower, slower, slower, they all sank into the water. And Otter dragged them all safely to the shore.
Falcon shook the water from his feathers, bemoaning the loss of a second feather. Otter shook the water from his eyes, bemoaning the loss of the sea so far away. And Peter?
Peter looked up in the sky, at his kite, now flying free towards the sun, it’s red tail like fire. It was no longer his kite, it flew for itself.
And worm? Tired from its adventures, it slept in Peter’s pocket, dreaming of becoming a Butterfly.
Thing, a short story
Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009“The Thing”, by Paul Wolborsky
This is a story of a thing without a name. That made Thing very sad, because Thing had nothing to call itself. Everybody called it ‘Thing’, even the thing itself.
But Thing knew it was more than a thing. It could feel, it could see, if it only had a mouth, why, it would talk too, or sing. Just imagine, it could be the thing that sings. But what songs it could sing it could only sing to itself. Thing had a body – red, neither soft nor hard, six inches long, six inches wide, six inches high except on one side. It was filled with empty, but never filled completely.
Thing had a job. Thing had many jobs, but it had never held a job for long. Currently, Thing was the base of table-leg four, holding up the table. Thing’s supervisor was Eg, who used to be Leg until a year before when little big Junior, a boy six years old and six feet tall found a rusty jigsaw and cut him in two.
Eg was a nice eg. Thing and Eg creaked and rubbed pleasantly enough during the day, and slept through the night. Eg used to be a strong leg, one with the others. Then Eg was a half-leg, and the whole table turned on their crippled brother. Poor Eg had the burden of the entire table on its aching, shuddering frame. At night, Eg made a creakly, popply sound. But Thing didn’t mind, because he hadn’t a friend in the world except Eg, and what’s a little night noise among friends?
So Thing held up Eg who held up the table. They were both alone in the world except for each other. The other legs at the table wouldn’t talk to Thing either, because Thing was so clumsy. Often, Thing would let Eg, the other legs, and the whole table down. When Junior bumped into him, off he’d wobble, and the whole table would come down. The scary Old Man would curse Thing for his dereliction, for his clumsiness. The scary Old Man would yell at Thing, and put Thing down once again under Eg.
“Sorry Eg”, Thing would think tearfully. Eg always creaked sympathetically. ”Sorry other legs”, Thing would think. They never answered back.
Thing would think on its many failures as a thing. The short career as a door-stop, a pillow, a footrest, a glitterlight, a flag, a chair. Or the disastrous day at the Grocery store as the base of a mound of canned peas. Thing have been without a home many times, Thing have slept in garbage-cans on many rainy nights. Thing have never been hugged, or held with joy. Thing have been kicked many times.
But Thing held on. It had a single prayer, and it prayed every night. It was not a request, for Thing held a battered pride. It was a promise. ”Somewhere, there is a place for me.”
Thing had a vague memory of birth. It was a scary memory, so scary, Thing tried to forget it. Pillows, footrests, bed and trashcan memories covered the disconcerting memories of metal mom.
Metal mom was a cold metal thing. A big clanking, noisy, steam-driven thing. Of hissing bellows and pounding presses and black oil and hot and cold. Hands grabbed it off a conveyor belt and threw it in a big bin with the others. Thing remembered the others, all of them together in a nursery. There were so many of them, in different colors and different sizes. But Thing was different. He had a short-side. And it wasn’t long before a pair of hands grabbed it, taking it away from all the rainbow-colored brothers and sisters.
The clankings of metal mom fell behind. Cold, rough, calloused hands rubbed his skin, and he was tossed into a garbage can. And it was the beginning of a long, lonesome journey leading to his current job helping Eg hold up the table.
Then, one day, the worst happened.
Junior, who had only bumped into Thing on occasion, finally noticed Thing.
Junior looked at the table, heaping high with books and papers with which the scary old man kept his business. And with an evil grin, bumped into Thing and ran away to hide around the corner. The table fell over.
The Old man shouted “Wahhh??”. And yelling, stamping, muttering, gathered his books and papers, righted the table, and cursing, placed Thing back under Eg.
Junior did it again. And ran, and hid around the corner.
The Old man shouted “Waaaahhh??” And yelling louder, stamping harder, cursing and groaning evil curses and damnations at Thing, righted the table again.
Junior did it again. Hard. And ran away laughing. This time, however, poor Eg hit the floor very badly, and with a mighty crack, splintered yet again.
The old Man shoulted with a mighty roar, “Aaaaaggggghhhh”. Frightened, Junior ran out the door, his entire part in this mishap unknown. The Old Man grabbed the entire table, and threw it on the garbage heap. The Old Man grabbed Eg, silently bearing its greatest pain, and threw him over the roof of the house across the street. And yet saved his wrath at the last for Thing.
The Old man kicked thing so hard Thing squeaked. IT Squeaked! Then, Thing slammed against the wall, and bounced. IT bounced! And it bounced back at the Old Man’s head, knocking him on the ground. And it flew out the window. IT flew!!
Thing wasn’t hurt at all, to its surprise. Its skin, neither soft nor hard, bounced it around as naturally as the sunshine. And it flew out the window, bounced down the road.
The bouncing Thing scared a horse carrying a cart full of apples. The apples fell off the wagon, and rolled all over the road in front of a Fireman’s review drilling for a parade. Fireman’s band and Firemen all fell on the ground, much to the laughter of the little girls on the sidewalk. The little girls laughed so hard, they all dropped their ice-cream on their dresses. One little girl dropped an ice cream cone on a little boy’s foot, and years later, they were married. Another girl dropped an ice cream cone on the Parson’s foot, and got a lecture on Jezebel and Armageddon. One little girl ran home in tears, and while the maid cleaned her dress, she put on a ballerina’s tutu for the first time, and thus became the greatest dancer in the town.
All the cats, smelling cream, ran to lick the ice cream, and the dogs, smelling the cats, ran after the cats. The cats ran into the trees. Dogs licked the faces of the fallen firemen. And became their faithful friend while the firemen rescued the cats from the trees, getting nothing but teeth and fang for their troubles.
And Thing bounced away.
Down the road.
The road turned.
Thing bounced down the road.
The road crossed over a bridge, the bridge crossed over an icy cold river.
Thing bounced across the bridge.
In a vacant lot, Junior found another use for his evil energy. Junior had pushed little Tommy peg-leg onto the ground. And with his hacksaw, he hacked away at Tommy peg-leg’s peg-leg. Tommy was crying.
Thing saw what evil Junior was doing, and saw Junior’s evil. Thing learned anger. Thing hated Junior with all its will. Thing saw a mound of large Oil-barrels behind Junior. Thing learned how to fight. Thing bounced its last few bounces, mightily, with its diminishing motion… and rolled to the pile of Oil-barrels, which fell on Junior.
Bawling, Junior ran away. But it was too late. In his hands he held a prize, Tommy’s severed peg-leg. Alerted by the noise, Papa ran to the vacant lot, and found Tommy. Tommy cried on papa’s tendering shoulder, but a little boy can pay little attention to anything for long, and soon noticed Eg, laying in the dirt. Eg was splintered, but just about the right size for his peg-leg, so Papa grabbed Eg. Tommy then noticed Thing, sitting tired, elated, and short on two sides.
“Look Papa. A ball. A pretty red ball. May I keep it?”
“Let’s go home my dear boy. I’ll fix you a new peg leg with this noble fragment.”
“But Papa, can I keep the ball too?”
“I don’t know my son, it sure looks dented.”
Ball, Thing cried. My name is BALL!
It had a name. Now it understood what it was. But a dented ball could never have a friend.
Thing said goodbye to Eg. It knew Eg will find a happy home. Oh well, looks like another garbage can for me, it thought.
“Please PAPA?”
“Okay Tommy, it just needs more air. I’ll pump it up when we get home.” Then, Papa grabbed Ball too.
And Papa, Tommy, little Eg peg-leg, and Ball went home.
Thing, by Paul Wolborsky (c) 2001
This is a story of a thing without a name. This made Thing very sad, because Thing had nothing to call itself. Everybody called it Thing, even the thing itself.
But Thing knew it was more than a thing. It could feel, it could see, if it only had a voice, it could sing! Just imagine, it could be the thing that sings. But what songs it could sing it could only sing to itself. Thing had a body – red, neither soft nor hard, six inches long, six inches wide, six inches high except on one side. It was filled with empty, but never filled completely.
Thing had a job. Thing had many jobs, but it had never held a job for long. Currently, Thing was the base of table-leg four, holding up the table. Thing’s supervisor was Eg, who used to be Leg until a year before when little big Junior, a boy six years old and six feet tall found a rusty jigsaw and cut him in two.
Eg was a nice eg. Thing and Eg creaked and rubbed pleasantly enough during the day, and slept through the night. Eg used to be a strong leg, one with the others. Then Eg was a half-leg, and the whole table turned on their crippled brother. Poor Eg had the burden of the entire table on its aching, shuddering frame. At night, Eg made a creakly, popply sound. But Thing didn’t mind, because he hadn’t a friend in the world except Eg, and what’s a little night noise among friends?
So Thing held up Eg who held up the table. They were both alone in the world except for each other. The other legs at the table wouldn’t talk to Thing either, because Thing was so clumsy. Often, Thing would let Eg, the other legs, and the whole table down. When Junior bumped into him, off he’d wobble, and the whole table would come down. The scary Old Man would curse Thing for his dereliction, for his clumsiness. The scary Old Man would yell at Thing, and put Thing down once again under Eg.
“Sorry Eg”, Thing would think tearfully. Eg always creaked sympathetically. ”Sorry other legs”, Thing would think. They never answered back.
Thing would think on its many failures as a thing. The short career as a door-stop, a pillow, a footrest, a Xmas ornament, a flag, a chair. Or the disastrous day at the Grocery store as the base of a mound of canned peas. Thing have been without a home many times, Thing have slept in garbage-cans on many rainy nights. Thing have never been hugged, or held with joy. But Thing had been kicked many times.
Thing endured. It had a single prayer, and it prayed every night. It was not a request, for Thing held a battered pride. It was a promise. ”Somewhere, there is a place for me.”
Thing had a vague memory of birth. It was a scary memory, so scary, Thing tried to forget it. Pillows, footrests, bed and trashcan memories covered the disconcerting memories of metal mom.
Metal mom was a cold metal thing. A big clanking, noisy, steam-driven thing. Of hissing bellows and pounding presses and black oil and hot and cold. Hands grabbed it off a conveyor belt and threw it in a big bin with the others. Thing remembered the others, all of them together in a nursery. There were so many of them, in different colors and different sizes. But Thing was different. He had a short-side. And it wasn’t long before a pair of hands grabbed it, taking it away from all the rainbow-colored brothers and sisters.
The clankings of metal mom fell behind. Cold, rough, calloused hands rubbed his skin, and he was tossed into a garbage can. And it was the beginning of a long, lonesome journey leading to his current job helping Eg hold up the table.
Then, one day, the unthinkable happened.
Junior, who had only bumped into Thing on occasion, finally noticed Thing.
Junior looked at the table, heaping with books and papers with which the scary old man kept his business. And with an evil grin, bumped into Thing and ran away to hide around the corner. The table fell over.
The Old man shouted “Wahhh??”. And yelling, stamping, muttering, gathered his books and papers, righted the table, and cursing, placed Thing back under Eg.
Junior did it again. And ran, and hid around the corner.
The Old man shouted “Waaaahhh??” And yelling louder, stamping harder, cursing and groaning evil curses and damnations at Thing, righted the table again.
Junior did it again. Hard. And ran away laughing. This time, however, poor Eg hit the floor very badly, and with a mighty crack, splintered yet again.
The old Man shoulted with a mighty roar, “Aaaaaggggghhhh”. Frightened, Junior ran out the door, his entire part in this mishap unknown. The Old Man grabbed the entire table, and threw it on the garbage heap. The Old Man grabbed Eg, silently bearing its greatest pain, and threw him over the roof of the house across the street. And yet saved his greatest wrath at the last for Thing.
The Old man kicked thing so hard Thing squeaked. IT Squeaked! Then, Thing slammed against the wall, and bounced. IT bounced! And it bounced back at the Old Man’s head, knocking him on the ground. And it flew out the window. IT flew!!
Thing wasn’t hurt at all, to its surprise. Its skin, neither soft nor hard, bounced it around as naturally as the sunshine. And it flew out the window, and proceeded to bounce down the road.
The bouncing Thing scared a horse carrying a cart full of apples. The apples fell off the wagon, and rolled all over the road in front of a Fireman’s review drilling for a parade. Fireman’s band and Firemen all fell on the ground, much to the laughter of the little girls on the sidewalk. The little girls laughed so hard, they all dropped ice-cream cones on their dresses. One little girl dropped an ice cream cone on a little boy’s foot, and years later, they were married. Another girl dropped an ice cream cone on the Parson’s foot, and got a lecture on Jezebel and Armageddon. One little girl ran home in tears, and while the maid cleaned her dress, she put on a ballerina’s tutu for the first time, and later became the greatest dancer in the town.
All the cats, smelling cream, ran to lick the ice cream, and the dogs, smelling the cats, ran after the cats. The cats ran into the trees. Dogs licked the faces of the fallen firemen. And became their faithful friend while the firemen rescued the cats from the trees, getting nothing but teeth and fang for their troubles.
And Thing bounced away.
Down the road.
The road turned.
Thing bounced down the road.
The road crossed over a bridge crossing an icy cold river.
Thing bounced across the bridge.
In a vacant lot, Junior found another use for his evil energy. Junior had pushed little Tommy peg-leg onto the ground. And with his hacksaw, he hacked away at Tommy peg-leg’s peg-leg. Tommy was crying.
Thing saw what evil Junior was doing, and saw Junior’s evil. Thing learned anger. Thing hated Junior with all its will. Thing saw a mound of large Oil-barrels behind Junior. Thing learned how to fight. Thing bounced its last few bounces, mightily, with its diminishing motion… and rolled to the pile of Oil-barrels, which fell, covering Junior with crude oil.
Bawling, Junior ran away. But it was too late. In his hands he held a prize, Tommy’s severed peg-leg. Alerted by the noise, Papa ran to the vacant lot, and found Tommy. Tommy cried on papa’s tendering shoulder, but a little boy can pay little attention to one thing for long, and soon noticed Eg, laying in the dirt. Eg was splintered, but just about the right size for his peg-leg, so Papa grabbed Eg. Tommy then noticed Thing, sitting tired, elated, and short on two sides.
“Look Papa. A ball. A pretty red ball. May I keep it?”
“Let’s go home my dear boy. I’ll fix you a new peg leg with this noble fragment.”
“But Papa, can I keep the ball too?”
“I don’t know my son, it sure looks dented.”
Ball, Thing cried. My name is BALL!
It had a name. Now it understood what it was. But a dented ball could never have a home.
Thing said goodbye to Eg. It knew Eg will find a happy home. Oh well, looks like another garbage can for me, it thought.
“Please PAPA?”
“Okay Tommy. We’ll pump it up when we get home.” Then, Papa grabbed Ball too.
And Papa, Tommy, little Eg peg-leg, and Ball went home.
Sun God is a Chinese Linguini
Wednesday, November 25th, 2009The Sun god is a chinese linguini, by Paul Wolborsky rev 2
The sun set in a sea dark like wine,
and in Alexandria it was dinnertime,
Caesar rendered unto Cleopatra
and Cleopatra made linguinis
which made Caesar very fatra.
Said Caesar, I conquer the land of the pharaohs
and now I look like Dom Deluise,
and she said oh oh spaghetti-ohs
and added extra cheese.
And Caesar started to make a joke,
like most Romeros, he was a joker,
but before he reached the punchline,
he choked on his wine…
-the grapes of the San Giobisi
is no cure for obesity-
and in the ruckus
Cleopatra asked ‘Was that a cutis interruptus-’
he called her a pain in the asp
in a voice full of rasp
and she said ‘don’t cleopatronize me!
I’m not just a little girl I’m a Ptolemy
in fact I’m not just any Ptolemy
nor just another pretty Ptolemy
I’m the epitome of a Ptolemy!’
and Caesar said, you just tole me
you’re 4 times a Ptolemy with a P and a T,
Cleopatra said, 4 times make a fork,
and now it’s time to eat.
Caesar asked, I don’t want to seem a fooldle
but what exactly is a noodle?
And Cleopatra said, “Well, we have a god named Ra-”
“Ra?”
“Sis boom bah, the god of the sun…”
“Ra, Sun, honey-bun?”
“Ra is the top god, and we say-”
“Amen-”
“hotep we pray and when
“we pray, we pray
“to the top Ra, Amen!”
“Since I am the top Roman,
Can I hold a candle to the top Raman?”
“Baby,” she growled, “you got an empire
that sets my heart on fire”
so Cleopatra and Caesar knew the noodle
and the sun set on an empire
and Ptolemy gave birth to ptitaly
now known as Italy
and whenever you shall roam
have some Ravioli,
or any other noodle,
while in Rome, do as the Ramen doodle.
The Sun god is a chinese linguini, by Paul Wolborsky
The sun set in a sea dark like wine,
and in Alexandria it was dinnertime,
Caesar rendered unto Cleopatra
and Cleopatra made linguinis
which made Caesar very fatra.
Said Caesar, I conquer the land of the pharaohs
and now I look like Dom Deluise,
and she said oh oh spaghetti-ohs
and added extra cheese.
And Caesar started to make a joke,
like most Romeros, he was a joker,
but before he reached the punchline,
he choked on his wine…
-the grapes of the San Giobisi
is no cure for obesity-
and in the ruckus
Cleopatra asked ‘Was that a cutis interruptus-’
he called her a pain in the asp
in a voice full of rasp
and she said don’t cleopatronize me!
I’m not just a little girl I’m a Ptolemy
in fact I’m not just any Ptolemy
nor just another pretty Ptolemy
I’m the epitome of a Ptolemy
and Caesar said, you just tole me
you’re 4 times a Ptolemy with a P and a T,
Cleopatra said, 4 times make a fork,
and now it’s time to eat.
Caesar asked, I don’t want to seem a fooldle
but what exactly is a noodle?
And Cleopatra said, “Well, we have a god named Ra-”
“Ra?”
“Sis boom bah, the god of the sun…”
“Ra, Sun, honey-bun?”
“Ra is the top god, and we say-”
“Amen-”
“hotep we pray and when
“we pray, we pray
“to the top Ra, Amen!”
“Since I am the top Roman,
Can I hold a candle to the top Raman?”
“Baby,” she growled, “you got an empire
that sets my heart on fire”
so Cleopatra and Caesar knew the noodle
and the sun set on an empire
and Ptolemy gave birth to ptitaly
now known as Italy
and whenever you shall roam
have some Ravioli,
or any noodle,
because while in Rome, do as the Ramen doodle.
“Kopi Luwak”
Kopi Luwak is a cup of joe
to put to shame Edgar Allen Poe
it comes from the straits of java
the Came-latte of coffee lavas
in jungles most excrutable
is a curious creature most inscrutable
is it a he, is it a she
is it a bird or is it a bee
is it a cat or a monkey
or an elephant or a donkey?
when it goes, nobody really knows,
if it runs by toes or nose,
but when nothing else we can claim,
we can still give it a name.
It’s name is paradoxunis hermaphroditus
and when it doesn’t want to bite us
it thinks coffee beans are neatable
and we prefer its excretables
and with our perilious grounds
we find outselves homeward bound
and in coffeehouse and jailhouse civilized
we bring you the coffee most prized
by the pound or by the grain
you’ll gladly pay for our pains
there is no coffee more keen,
than the bean,
from the scat,
of a monkey-cat.
Paul Wolborsky © 2002
~~~~~~~~~~
this is a stream of consciousness, this is an ice cream of consciousness. I am conscious, therefore I stream,
I am conscience therefore I scream. I am he, the world
revolves around me. You are you, the world revolves around you.
The world can’t revolve around each of us at the same time. I say
this is my world. You’re revolving around me. Me? I just happen
to be spinning. Ha! I spin because I want to. Like a bottle rocket,
I never miss. I point at you and I get a kiss.
I am he,
the world revolves around me.
You are you,
does it revolve around you too?
no you’re lyin’, this world is mine!
It can’t revolve round the both of us at the same time!
You’re revolving around me, true?
You say I’m spinning,
so you must be revolving,
such an accusation is revolting,
I’m spinning
because I want to.
do you think life is a mystery
bordering on hystery?
the universe
is even worse.
The big bang grew and grew
yet it’s the same size
black holes glow in the dark
but not in the night sky
entropy is the zen trophy
heat sinking, beats thinking
In matters aeronautical
I’m rather ignorimical
but when it comes to psychology
I’m an expert at analogy
as my plane descended into Florida
I walked a narrow corrida
and sat in the lavatory
and feeling chilly air beneath me
for a brief moment of glory
I mooned Miami
Stephen Foster and Al Jolson on the road to Calcutta
Bombay ladies sing this song,
calcootah calcootah
Bombay racetrack five samris long
cha garoo di vey
all through the night
cha garoo di vey
bet my dinaris on a bobtailed cow
and lost my sarong
I’ve been riding on the railroad
cha garoo di vey
I’ve dreamed of a d’jinni
with a light brahmin hair
I’m a swami
in love with my mammy
so cook me a banana
and send me back to Savannah
where finally you deliver
me to the Swanee river
Ode to a modern woman
Will Shakespeare for food, by Paul Wolborsky (c)2001
They say the road to riches
await all who hold their own britches
fancy cars, houses by the Long Island Sound
fly by jet, the world is your playground
fame and notoriety galore
toasted shrimp-brains in Bangalor
champagne by Moet
all those await not a poet!
A lucky poet can scrape up a dime
with each rhyme
and score a fancy meter
without robbing Peter.
Especially a short-order Poet’s verse,
which is particularly, fiscally averse,
the objective of his art is the curse,
for terse verse perverse unfills the purse,
Brevity is the soul of wit
unless you’re paid by the word.
If you’re a poet, you owe it,
you live by the word, you die by the word
and only when buried in a pauper’s grave
do your words finally get rave
then take comfort though ye be a gonah
your verse will be pursed in the lips of Madonna.
The Sun god is a chinese linguini
The sun set in a sea dark like wine,
and in Alexandria it was dinnertime,
Caesar rendered unto Cleopatra
and Cleopatra made linguinis
which made Caesar very fatra.
Said Caesar, I conquer the Land of the Pharaohs
and now I look like Dom Deluise,
and she said oh oh spaghetti-ohs
and added extra cheese.
And Caesar started to make a joke,
like most Romeros, he was a joker,
but before he reached the punchline,
he choked on his wine…
-the grapes of the San Giobisi
is no cure for obesity-
and in the ruckus
Cleopatra asked ‘Was that a cutis interruptus-’
he called her a pain in the asp
in a voice full of rasp
and she said ‘don’t cleopatronize me!
I’m not just a little girl I’m a Ptolemy
in fact I’m not just any Ptolemy
nor just another pretty Ptolemy
I’m the epitome of a Ptolemy!’
and Caesar said, you just tole me
you’re 4 times a Ptolemy with a P and a T,
Cleopatra said, 4 times make a fork,
and now it’s time to eat.
Caesar asked, I don’t want to seem a fooldle
but what exactly is a noodle?
And Cleopatra said, “Well, we have a god named Ra-”
“Ra?”
“Sis boom bah, the god of the sun…”
“Ra, Sun, honey-bun?”
“Ra is the top god, and we say-”
“Amen-”
“hotep we pray and when
“we pray, we pray
“to the top Ra, Amen!”
“Since I am the top Roman,
Can I hold a candle to the top Raman?”
“Baby,” she growled, “you got an empire
that sets my heart on fire”
so Cleopatra and Caesar knew the noodle
and the sun set on an empire
and Ptolemy gave birth to ptitaly
now known as Italy
and whenever you shall roam
have some Ravioli,
or any other noodle,
while in Rome, do as the Ramen doodle.
Google adds Climate-change tours to Google Earth
Thursday, October 1st, 2009Google Earth is a profound 3-d snapshot of the Earth. You can travel the world on your computer. Go home. Go to Paris. Go to Rome. Go to Hawaii Volcano National Park. You can even go to the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kasakhstan (just enter name into search box). You can put placemarks, view places from different angles and times, see interesting places, photos, illustrated buildings, change the weather, even fly or swim in certain locations.
Go0gle created the first global climate tour, and from there can go to anywhere. What would be great is to have forms you can fill in to play with the numbers and see an apocalyptic Earth. That’s probably coming in the future.
And now, Global Warming? Google is adding tours to show the effects of global warming on the planet using data from climate research computer models.
Google is on to something. A visual way people can relate to Global warming, and also be reminded that the entire globe is interconnected. Which is why fighting Global warming will require people in many different nations to do the same things, diligently, for decades to come. Lots of people use this, but the big question is, do lawmakers and leaders? Do the proponents of clean coal use this? Or Oil company CEOs? And if they do, are they cackling ‘kill the fish! kill the frogs! chop them trees! Woohoo!’.
Pluses – visual, emotional connection to globe, wow factor, display complex data in ways anyone can understand. Google Earth is a social network. Impact on scientists uncertain, but could have profound impact on global policy-makers. Unsticky – using this will not have significant impact on environment – some, but not significant.
Minuses – need a computer, need Google Earth, need to know about the Global Climate tool. Only small number will stumble into it, the rest would be using it because they’re already involved in Global Warming.
Thanks to:
http://www.greenlivingideas.com
http://ow.ly/15Shec
http://www.twitter.com/twilightearth
Web developer based in Santa Clara, CA