Stray Dog
A Quest for Scraps
A Poetry Collection
by
Mitchell L. Willie
Copyright © 2011 Mitchell L. Willie
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ISBN: 978-1-4658-9111-2
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To My Family, for encouraging this "writing" nonsense for two decades.
To My Friends, for their part in keeping my pen on the page.
To All the Girls I've Loved Before, without whom this collection would not be possible.
This is a story.
This is a story about a relationship.
I Am Geek
I am Geek. Hear me roar.
What? You don't think I fit the bill? I don't look the part? I'm too chic to be geek?
Of course I don't. I can't afford to. The fate of the species rests on my shoulder. I'm
the next phase in Geek evolution. I've traded in my suspenders for a suit, my pocket
protector for a palm pilot. Gone are the days of thick glasses and stuttered words;
this is the era of colored contacts and a smooth tongue.
Geekdom couldn't survive any longer in it's "classic" nerd shell; it needed a new spin
to thrive in a changing ecosystem. Like brak'lul, the Klingon body's system of organ
redundancy, we gained certain advantages over our competition. We were forced to
adapt to the changing climate of a new millennium.
Yes, I speak Klingon, but I also spout Shakespeare. In 4 languages, might I add.
Women love that sort of thing. I can just as easily dance at a party as do calculus,
I can sing and dance and rap and play. I dress more like a GQ model than the poster
child for the Battlestar Galactica fan club. There's more ice in my wardrobe than Hoth,
and even Ferengi cringe when they see what I paid for my Armani. It's okay, though, it
gives me +15 Charisma to match my natural INT bonus. I boldly go where no nerd has
gone before. Between my latinum tongue, my well-developed social skills, and my
pimpin' threads, all the ladies love me. I'm a cosmic casanova, and that's really the
bottom line.
In prehistoric times, when life was hard, the physically strong ensured the survival of
humanity by scoring all the chicks. Times have changed, though. The world is no longer
ruled by thunder lizards, or great mammoths; instead, it's presided over by banking firms
and software companies, gadget-makers and tinkerers, programmers and beta-testers.
Isn't it only natural that in this Information Age that it is we, the geeks, who are most desired by Darwinist females?
Sippin' Starbucks doesn't make me any less nerdy; I can still recite the periodic table, I still understand physics jokes, and I still have discussions of who's better: Kirk or Picard (although I personally prefer Martok). I stand in line for hours for autographs at small sci-fi conventions, but I also stand in line for Stones tickets. I roll dice; both behind my character sheet and on a table in Reno. I play poker and Magic, and I can name 150 things wrong with "remastered Star Wars". HAN SHOT FIRST, DAMMIT!
We've had to heavily adapt, and light our own path in this social darkness. It's wise to follow us, it's pitch black out, and you're likely to be eaten by a grue. You can worry all you want about the "revenge of the nerds", but you can't escape it. Buckeroo's right; wherever you go, there you are. So all you football stars and governor's kids better watch out. We're everywhere, and we've got our cloaking devices active. We're on the street with you, in the subway with you, at the cleaner's with you, even in the club with you. Our phasers are set for "stun" on the dance floor, and our photon torpedoes are locked onto your date. Ooohh, direct hit! Red Alert! Red Alert!
Aw, buck up Billy. Girls always go for the guy with the biggest...brain. Laugh while you can at our expense, but remember: All your base are belong to us.
Stray Dog
Showers of affection,
nourish like the rains in spring,
such rare blossoms bloom in
unstable hearts.
Unpredictable
Off again
On again
Off again
On again
One wonders
if it's enough.
Keep crawling back,
hands and knees,
begging for scraps
of love
in the street
like an animal.
Take me home,
I'm yours.
to guard, to keep, to hold,
to watch, to learn, to listen,
to sleep, to pray, to adore.
Or pet me and move on.
Just like the rest of them.
A promise given and snatched away,
A glimmer of hope amid the streetlights.
Jazz Man
Pushing together tables,
Pulling up chairs,
Ordering a pair of doubles--
Did you want something too?
Giggles and chuckles insulate
us from the other patrons,
keep our most intimate thoughts from
our salads,
let us whisper into our soups about
your beauty, or the shining stars
fallen into your eyes.
The trumpeter trumpets,
The band plays us a sweet melody,
And the waiter serenades, begging us to dance,
holding each other close,
diamonds glittering less in the light
than the love in your eyes,
hands on satin, hands on skin,
drawing you near
the breath of life in your ear.
this moment will last forever,
even if it hasn't happened yet.
The Princess
In the courtyard, meandering through the alleyways,
pushing my way through the crowd,
watching the guards,
looking for an opening,
just a glimpse..
lifted high, a canopy of feathers,
purple and turquoise eyes covering her own,
her face shielded from the eyes of the skies
and those of the public,
defying the wind and the sun and
unappreciative glares and gawks and stares
of those ignorant of true beauty.
She spies me before her guardians,
a wink of a bejeweled eye,
her veil falls from before her,
purple silk floats to the ground.
Her myrmidons bark, she silences them.
They move, she stills them.
She waves the peacock train from her eyes,
and the look on her own tells me
she knows
I'd sink the sun if it fell upon her too harshly,
I'd drown the sands if they whipped about her cheeks,
and the winds themselves would be her veil.
She's coming this way...
Arched Parchment
Perfect elegance
beneath me giggles sweetly
brush caresses skin
eyes opened eyes
eyes
closed, on a friday morning,
surprised at the warmth in my bed
words swimming in my head,
thoughts forming pictures forming thoughts, escaping through
mouths
opened, full of life and speech and love-turned-lust-turned-love-again,
emptying themselves of feelings held in the mind,
rounding in syllables evocative, oh's and ah's and smiles abound