An Unclaimed Gift (poem)

Soap aloe and water were boiled

with tea tree, beard, and olive oil

the solution stirred with a fork

when settled: bottled, cased, and corked.

Catan-Ya (poem)

I read Catan-Ya on YouTube

Let’s sit down and enjoy another round
of…

CATAN-YA

Oh, wow! I rolled an 8! Sometimes luck just feels like fate…

(sigh) C’mon Blue, you need some sheep… lest you embargo ‘til defeat. Don’t be so suspicious White... lend help, it’ll be alright. Red, you won’t get my trades, no! See, she’s too powerful, and therefore our mutual foe.

A sheep for a wood, a sheep for a stone? Sheep for brick? Throw me a bone! Guys, I clearly see what drives you, I understand your woes, helping me won’t compromise you, let’s stay friends, not foes!  Come now, come all, let’s take longest road, provide me the wherewithal to have her slowed! We must work together against that threat, lest all three of us succomb to mutual regret! I’ll deprive Red of 2 since she’s got 9, my words are true. Oh! Red, don’t whine…

You won’t believe the benefits you’ll reap! These deals are hot, I have so much sheep.  We're sick of Red’s tricks, and I can defend this… I’ve only got 6, but at least Red won’t end this. Not just 1… but 2 sheep for a brick, and 2 sheep for your wheat, ah don’t be a dick! These trades are sweeet.

Alright ladies and gents, get ready to bleat… I can do it, monopoly on sheep!! Longest road as promised, and a then the sheep port for 1, a city on the desert, and why not… a dev card for fun.

Ah, redemption from sin, a chapel is the 11th of my 10 point win.

East Rock Ultimate Storm Wand Break (anecdote)

Ultimate ended. The turnstiles were impassible via car; we 4 parked before hiking toward the statue on East Rock. The thick tree-top canopy turned dusk to night. This is what Oz would have looked like if the wicked witch had won. 

I figured a disturbing joke might break the tension in this small party of Ultimate strangers. They didn't laugh, just became silent... Hoping for redemption, I recited Fall’s End. “...leaf departed,” I finished, their tension snipping complements eased the mood. Pleasant chit chat. Greg read The Cremation of Sam McGee from his wand. I cast light from my wand, and put my hand on his shoulder to guide his walking path while he read.

In less than 45 minutes, we summited in view of the spotlit statue. A couple noticed us, and we noticed them; they hastily rode away. Then we noticed ominous flashing clouds of an encroaching northwesterly. "Psssh, that's like forever away!" we mutually thought. And sat hypnotized by New Haven’s speckled horizon. Greg and Zach tag-teamed through their first reading of The Chaos for 15 minutes.

Sandra suggested a group photo for solidarity, I primed my wand for a 30-second delayed photograph spell; balancing it on a raised vegetable enclosure. Greg and I stood on the edges of the frame, both of us casting light on the party from different angles (I had to borrow Sandra's wand for this). The picture was sufficient, but the engineer (man) in me wanted better (more). Why not add a flash?

The reason not to use a flash was photon magic wobbled the thin metal off its perch. Instead of taking a group picture, my wand recorded a frame of the foreboding sky as it free fell. *Crunch*

The touchscreen, now like stained glass, still functioned. I conjured a 'music from nowhere' spell: Awesome Mix Vol. 1. We jogged in cadence, lightning brighter, and thunder louder. My phone didn't wet though because we were fast, and never saw the rain.

Rageaholic's Anonymous (fiction)

My name is Gayorg Reynolds, and I’m a rageaholic.

Growing up, I never fit in. Regular gloves, shirts, coats, and shoes never properly fit. As a kindergarten orphan shopping at the local Big and Tall Men's shop (only pants), my caretakers started to grimace at me. I wanted to, but was unable to sew clothing with my 3-fingered hands. They speculated that my mother was Shiva, who conceived me in hate... with no idea of the father. Loneliness and abandonment do not justify my actions as a child, nor my atrocities as an adult.

At 7 years old, all my forearms were chained and bound in solitary confinement at a high-security prison, I never knew the name of the place. It was there that the bribery of Shao Kahn enlisted me as a contestant for his death game.

He encouraged the rage I felt, and awarded senseless murder by my stage name: Goro. He’d slap my right hands with a high-ten after a “fatality.” On making decisions he’d have me take a spectator, hold his arms and legs stiff, then chest bump the poor bastard.  If his torso landed face up, “heads,” face down, “tails.” He called it: “flipping a quartered.”

I’m a changed individual now, my first defeat provided reckoning. Earth realm’s Manhattan provided rageaholic's anonymous. I went to a costume party in Brooklyn, where I felt so accepted. I’m even OK with myself to get outside and exercise with the new bike system. Never does a day go by where I don’t recall my atrocities, but I am able to forgive myself a little more each day. I also give free hugs.

A video of me in happier times

CDG, born July 11th 1985: (poem, anecdote)

I read CDG, born July 11th 1985:

Charles Danforth Guthrie, born July 11th, 1985:
was no longer womb cradled,
time stopped! A legend emerged,
see... his deeds would be fabled,
stars aligned; fate's plan had splurged.

Gentlemanly and scholastic,
was (humbly stated) never enough,
A musician whose athletic,
is physically and mentally buff.

Professionally translating the enigmatic,
using methods that remain a mystery,
he philanthropically educates by demographic,
Each step he takes is a mark on history.

Black Gem (poem)

The black so black,
the white so bright.
Two thin eyes silently, solemnly staring.
The scars deepen year after year,
are bloodless
 and painless.

A long slit of hair forever escaping, enchanting,
entrusting someday to live out the dark black of life.

There in sight, a nose, cut with no hope for
smell of sweet slim sides of flowers.

It's sad mouth licking, looking,
but not finding a morsel to swallow.

Turned around to see it bright, beautiful white within.

Something left long ago, but forgotten
only to see an ugly, fearful face.

The Eternal Shore (poem)

There I was upon the shore.

Ever walking in silent bore.
I continued walking, never stopping,
even when my legs got sore.
There I was at midnight glance,
and knew I had little chance,
but kept on walking toward the light.

Life has left and death has risen,
hope to escape a following prison.
I have always cried in this sad defeat,
and yelled and screamed because of my sorrow,
never hoping for a bright tomorrow.

I have long forgotten the date,
all I want now is a reasonable fate.
It may be slow and last forever,
but I will always go, I will always go.

Laser Tag (poem)

I read Laser Tag on YouTube

Laser lenses clean,
fog is creeping near,
two platoons convene,
misting scents of fear.

Blue and Red to battle,
there is much at stake,
echoing cries shall rattle,
the very earth will shake!

Photograph this picture:
the scene surely mucky,
a lone man quoting scripture,
I’m so very lucky...

Most excited/scared… I’m stoic.
Proud Red! An honor... Heroic!

Riddle Me Christmas (poem)

I read Riddle Me Christmas on YouTube

Discover 15 items at your leisure,
specifically those for your pleasure.
Be my guest, try your guess!
You can get rewarded 3 times tonight.
So here they are from left to right:

This drink is one to savor,
energizing effects inert...
Enjoy the roasted flavor,
without being overly alert.

On branches breezed,
cited in ancient Greece,
A drupe when squeezed
creates this flavored grease.

Circular sweets
are dolloped with fluff.
These sugary treats
are crisp, but not tough.

Its voice pulses with care,
like your dentist said,
“When it shows signs of wear,
get a replacement head.”

A basin full of holes,
is clasped on a rubber disc.
It rests in sink’s holes,
making overflow a risk!

A blade consistently dices,
when clapped upon the top.
It extends, rotates, and slices,
reverbs a bashing pa-POP!

Similar ones clutter your cabinet,
because they lack conformation.
A stacked modular set
doesn’t require reformation.

This jumps after its fall,
rebounding damped potential.
Impulsive more when user’s tall,
kinetically consequential.

The bristles of a badger,
will make you surely dapper.
Your mug will showcase swagger,
when painting on the lather.

Nasal ways breath cool
with follicles diminished.
This manscaper’s tool
makes congestion finished!

Cleaning devices spin,
like the vacuum: Rumba,
were it auto-roving skin,
would be called the Groomba.

Doctors author many books,
on ailments and addictions.
This physically fits your looks,
curing a medley of afflictions.

Interlaced rings wrap in the middle,
one loops the answer key.
Solutions pictured to every riddle,
illuminated by fire and LED!

Guthries' 2 Mystic (poem, anecdote)

Growing up at 2 Mystic Lane led to imagination, creation, and elation. The tales and tails of what grew here persisted, and will persist past passing. Fun, drama, strife, adventure, and dreams... flying turtles to pod-racers and trampolines!

They broke their boundaries, bones, and even each other! Always getting the best of one another, rambunctiousness quelled by a vigilant mother, with a unique flavor for every brother.
Got boys? We got three!

When mother’s away, the brothers did play.

The disc skipped wallpaper, an invisible scuff…
I’d ripped it toward Charlie, he’d see I’m tough!
His catch was amazing, and he ripped it right back.
My Legos' shelf defenseless from such an attack!
After a dodge, I spun right ‘round.
My collection exploded, and littered the ground.

How many rubber-bands could we tie in day?
We interwove a centi-band, looped like they were laces.
We paced Mystic Lane, until 60 yards away.
When the long piece of rubber snapped in our faces!

Sometimes I got home early, so it was fun to lock him out.
I'd look out the door just to watch him pout. Only to become fearful the more he would shout, “I’m keeping track Andrew! Your punishment’s growing, for each minute I’ll punch you!” Uh oh, what pain was I sowing?! I’d let him in, just to take my beating, some of my actions were so self-defeating!

Our oldest would swing me by the ankles as Charlie fled. I’d attack in circles with flayed arms spread. He couldn’t escape, no matter how much he sped! Together we always won, thanks so much Ned!

Boys will be boys, we wrestled for fun. Often I’d get hurt... shortly we’d be done. Typewriters and rib crunches always escalated to hyped fighters with rib punches! I’d lunge with vigor, and aim for destruction. But revenge to deliver, was lost in eruption….

Our home is beautiful. I invented toys and planned others.

The minji-jet 3000 has not come to fruition, yet, but parachutes, bow n’ arrows, a dammed river? You bet! Our brook was a path, that mom and I took, in galoshes we’d trample, while the neighbors just looked. Our outside was landscaped by my mom the cook, her artistry portrayed like a Narnia book. A barn, my father’s tree house, a vegetable enclosure, walkways, benches and a trellis for viny exposure. The maple trees were spaced so nicely around us. Earth bound acorns and airborne seeds always surround us. On the trampoline, we’d jump and they’d cluster our eyes. The first flip I did, took at least 20 tries, and soaping the surface… was probably not wise.

In winter time we’d have a fire in the den, with hot chocolate we viewed the cold snowmen. Calvin and Hobbes inspired our creations, although such sculptures could be construed as mutilations. Ketchup personified the snow, and Freckles licked each imagined blow. Imagination unnecessary with creations on roads, there we'd wait out the fate of what snowmen forebode.... Eventually the truck arrived at the top of Mystic Lane, it's plow appropriately known as Frosty's Bane. It's approach consistent as always, scuffing him on the right, we'd imagine his fear and unheard plight. In less than a minute, the scooping bane did something unforeseen, which we later named the "sideways reverse guillotine." His body exploded into a cloudy poof, rocketing his head to clip the truck cabin's roof. If that doesn't convince you that little boys cause dread, know also that Jimmy, Charlie, and I cheered while we stomped on the head.

4-year-old me knew gender-normatives rather than physical facts. Boy pets were dogs, the girls were cats. One day while playing, Carly asked to go inside to pee. Silly girl didn't know to... "Go behind a tree." I explained matter-of-factly. She stated, "I can't." As if it required substantial dexterity... I held confident in her growing ability... "C'mon Carly, just follow after me." I pulled down my sweatpants, underpants after, routed the plumbing, and clapped with laughter. Thirty seconds later "Aaaah, that was easy!" And pulled my pants up (was rather breezy). She acknowledged the puddle, but what she said left me befuddled "I can't." So I mentally judged... didn't placate, and started to nudge. My instructions asserted, "Take off your pants...underwear too..." Then I got a glance, and gained my first clue. I felt surprise and offered concern, "How do you pee?" My high pitched voice: serious and stern. She explained, "Sitting down..." So I helped her squat and pee on the ground.

Not all memories are so clear to me. Here's one that my brother's class remembers when I was 3. Charlie took the bus stop on his first day of school, I was sad he was gone... no one else I knew was so cool. Every school morning, I'd say goodbye. "Let me go alone!" I'd audibly cry. And shortly allowed to do just that: on the stipulation I wear my boots and my hat. Waving my whole body at the bus, that's all I wore.

This place is so gorgeous, with a swing in the front, and brook in the rear, when we sell it though, I won’t shed a tear. I won’t even be sad! But happy to see a new family glad. Soon they’ll experience its joys and its mystery… They too might add some boys to its history!

Fall’s End (poem)

I read Fall's end on YouTube

Wandering Wind whispers, “loose leaves leave...”
Green’s agreeable, Yellow worries, Red’s resolute.
Branches bend breeze’s braided weave
graciously guide Green’s circular route.

Yellow considers Red with consternation,
stout, strong, standing stably;
glimpses Green with contemplation,
gorgeous, gliding, flying ably…

Detached friends invigorate Red’s ardor,
Yellow/Green’s feeble stems broken.
Gusting Winds now blowing harder,
cracking, creaking, careening oaken.

Red’s last solace is determination.
Whistling Wind wails, “loose leaves leave!”
Regality held proud ‘til termination,
fallen friends provide no reprieve…

Fierce strength gripped Red,
now frail, dry, chipped and brown.
Held on until Wind whipped dead,
is now descending to the ground.

On a crisp carpet,  finished what started,
a parachuting peace, Fall’s final leaf departed.

Phoenix Spawn (poem)

I read Phoenix Spawn on YouTube

Exhaled through a kiss,
sprayed an oily mist,
then sparked upon wand,
the fire bird spawned:

ascension from gasses,

its swooping form passes,
resurrection in fire,
inherent wherein dire…
fated visage rescinds,
disappears within winds.

Meaningless (poem)

I Read Meaningless on YouTube

The mean is so average, so simple, so clear.
So what meaningfully brings so much fear?

Socratic questioning unravels riddles wholly?
Experiment for meaning! Lest we learn too slowly!

This thirst for knowledge will be diminished,
as will you, myself and this verse be finished.

Radiant (poem)

I read Radiant on YouTube

Candles burn as a flaming tear, and are the portals to wax’s ascension. The oil’s progression to carbon dioxide and water is beautiful up close... and from afar. Vaporization and a calm blaze emit: red, yellow, and blue reacting consistently. What is it that you brought us Prometheus? How much power are we actually wielding? This warmth and light can conflagrate to inferno! It’s so beautiful, this life of wax, it’s so gorgeous, I can’t look away. Time is a burning candle...

Oil’s combustion always looks the same.
It’s radiant beams are broadcast sublime!
The droplet reaction is colored with flame.
Optics always spread with speed of time.

Friends From The New Haven (poem, anecdote)

Games 'er done,
most 'ad left.
Two men joined,
Deedlies deft.

Eric 'n Cody
ah aever sa nice.
Skills n' strength sow-led.
Dominate dem dice!

Tiphani played mar gam'n.
raced us three non-stop.
I naer won kart'n.
Laugh'n 'n Scott's shop!
--

Silly silicon nerdy;
let's ah...'gree, I ae-em one.
Antics made me bellow.
da'Apatment ahso fun!

We'd bluffed 'n peeked dicies.
each shot mad meh dumba...
Rundio ruled alll ni-oght.
Made me dronk deh rum ah!

Lads let me rest at thar 'ome.
drunk, supped, and 'tained.
awoke an met suh Blazi.
'Aow many pals Ih gained!

Agian 'ad moh merrament
The eve a Blazi's birthday.
Eric lent 'is bed.
Theh couch? Ween neither stayed.

Sun rose alang th' shair.
Footprins o'er layed sayend.
land dropped ane disappeared.
Th' marning o' brokeback island.

Tweaked Pranx

Subway Solicitation

A disheveled, stumbling homeless man enters a somewhat crowded MTA car. He materializes an old school boombox, puts it next to one of the doors, hits the play button (an actual tactile button). The song starts to play, "I need a dollar, dollar, dollar is what I need." The man's body language is sullen as his raspy voice attempts to hold the notes. He shuffles around asking for a dollar. A shy Tanner, looks at him, and in totally un-tanner-esk pity, hands him a dollar. The homeless man starts to straighten up as the boombox unexpectedly switches to All-Star. I shed my poncho to be wearing an excellent suit, and sing a small duration of All-Star before handing him a $100 bill for being a great person!

Horny Justice

We walk through some busy area of NYC, when some car honks gratuitously, we go toward their windshield carrying what appears to be a spray bottle and paper towels. Then we blast the fog horns.

Sing at Women, Get Respect

Tanner is walking down quad, he stops in his tracks at the drop dead gorgeous girl. They make eye contact. Tanner starts to sing, "Oh there she was just walking down the street." At this point several brothers join in the melody, "Doo a day a duh duh dum di di dum" And then you complete a minute worth of the song. (lyrics here: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/moffatts/dowahdiddydiddy.html) If she's all like "Oh, who are you?" Tanner (or some other brother capable of singing with a girlfriend ) says, "I'm just another balanced man of SigEp."

Farting in Public

Start going up an escalator backwards, then fart. Make eye contact.

Scooter at the Gas Station (anecdote)

Setting: at the gas station convenience store. I’m about to purchase a comically large bag of sour patch kids for a boardgame party. There are two early twenty-something aged cashiers, one man and one woman.

Woman: Ok, $6.53

(I’m putting my credit card away by flipping my wallet open)

Man: Why are you holding a scooter?

(His eyes are locked on the red Razor in my left hand, when I tilt toward him, his eyes swivel.)

Me: Because I ride it

Him: Did you ride it here?

Me: In the parking lot

Him: That’s so cool!

Me: Want me to assemble it?

Him: Will you ride it in the store?

Me: I figured I would get in trouble, but sure!

(I squeeze the latch lock to drop the ride platform and loose the handlebars' collar compression fixture.)

Me: Actually, would you like to ride it instead?

(His swiveling head reaches its goal in under three seconds, I hand him the scooter. He rides past the beverage aisle.)

Him: So smooth…

Me: One of the best tag sale purchases I’ve ever made: $5

(He hands in back to me.)

Him: Thanks

Me: You’re welcome

(I mount, then shove out the push door.)

Me: Bye!

Shaving with my Razor

Tweak's Sneaky Revelations

Sleepy's slogan is a pun, not just a super creepy death reference.(Sometime in 2008, from a Sleepy's ad)

"Open Sesame" in expanded to "open says me"(Sometime in 2010, watching a movie)

The reason we say, "You're welcome" after giving thanks is because it is a shortened version of offering more help in the future, "You're welcome to my service."(July 2014, listening to The Grapes of Wrath)


The trademarked name "Honest Tea" sounds just like honesty.(August 2014, drinking iced tea on a beach)

The reason vertical photographs are called portrait, and horizontal ones called landscape is because They look better in those situations.(September 2014, getting photographed next to a landscape)

The reason it's called "jailbreaking" is because it breaks your iPhone out of 'Apple jail' and allows for a diversity of personalization.

(November 2014, upon jailbreaking my 4th iphone)

I used to call 'seat check!' When I didn't want one of my friends to take my seat after I got up. Today, a conductor told me to bring my 'seat check' to another seat, indicating the slip of paper they always use. Now it makes sense.

The Power of Hunger (anecdote)

I experienced a revelation this morning because I woke up hungry i.e. low blood sugar. The world was slow. Thinking was tough; it didn’t occur to me that I needed to eat. The situation was reminiscent of waking depressed. 45 minutes lying. With concerted effort, I pushed my body away from the bed, but only succeeded in draping my legs to the floor. Slumped prostrate. 5 more minutes. An eerie question in my conscience began to resonate, “What is happening?” In what felt like moving through vaseline, I carefully slowly drove to CVS. A pharmacist informed me that my blood pressure was low. Pre-shelled pistachios and Gatorade are delicious lifesavers.

What was the revelation?

My body’s caloric deficiency resulted from a very active lifestyle and not consuming enough to keep up with it (I had an amazing weekend, and should have eaten additional meals). This was a rare hunger of wealth, it wasn't terrible, but the memory opened my eyes. If you can’t imagine the thought process of impoverished people, then its likely you haven’t been hungry.

PRIDE! (poem)

I felt pretty! Witty! And Gay!

But shortly thereafter:

sullen, hidden, and sad.

“Where do the worthless maggots lie?”

I evaded these questions stooped with fear.

“Why don’t all these f _ _ _ _ _ s die?”

And wondered: why couldn't I not be q _ _ _ r?

Mixed muddled thoughts grew with me.

Bigotry.

Cruelty.

Ignorance.

Everywhere, always.

My life on the surface: my fable.

I couldn’t risk detection.

I couldn’t take that label.

And sacrificed happiness... for deception.

In a series of unfortunate events, my desires unveiled.

But, that enlightenment was not in vain.

Reprieved from the filtered glass, cruelty struck.

And then a cradle of kindness healed me. Held me.

My mind unwound when the lock clicked free.

My heart opened!

“Let love find me!”

I’m no longer correcting, because I’m accepting.

Where are you darling?

Even though society tried…

They won’t stop our love!

And they can’t stop our PRIDE!

Check it! The Chess Song. (poem)

Check it! The Chess Song

Dexter or sinister, which way will he reach?

Two different colors in hands cupped tandem…

“I’ll shuffle our fate, one pawn in each”.

“I’ll take your left, the choice is random.”

My, My, I’m White, begin the war,

Make the first dent… the first impression

The timed fight starts, “Pawn to D4.”

This side allows, even entitles aggression.

The eye of this killer is ever so pensive

Trespassing through... He’s full of tricks!

My best defense is a counter-offensive,

“Foe! Stop in your tracks, Knight to C6”

My, oh my, the black knight approaches,

Galloping attacking, but not killing for free…

I’ll bait him in while my madam encroaches,

Get ready my darling, “Queen to G3.”

Threaten my knight? A selfish play…

Strike now! “Knight takes Rook at A8!”

Is it finally clear? You see it my way?

“Queen to A6, good game, checkmate.”

This battle of wits played in precision,

Not just a game, but kingly decision,

My focus is victory; he’ll be less able,

Our kingdoms decided on this chess table.

He’s playing black… I’m first again?

So be it. I’ll destroy him faster.

He’ll surely regret this, let’s begin.

Fear my raging white storm of disaster!

I’ll play slow and evasive, his calm has wilted.

Over-confident victory has him riled.

In bloodlust-full glory his focus has tilted.

His once calm consideration removed, beguiled.

He’s surrounded by my tactical forces.

My position greater, he’ll soon be done.

My strike’s prepared with stealthy sources.

Like a knife in his side, “Rook takes Queen at H1.”

He’s up points from foolish killing sprees.

Exploiting gives victory guarantee,

“Pawn to B1, Queen me please.”

“I concede, how 'bout game 3?”

This battle of the wits played in precision,

Not just a game, but kingly decision,

My focus is victory; he’ll be less able,

Our kingdoms decided on the chess table.