The Guthrie Namesake (poem, ancestral pride)

May my shield defend me, this coat of arms. My namesake defends thee: from liars, their harms. I might be abrasive, and even uncouth. Sto Pro Veritate, I stand for the truth.

Founders (poem)

A portrait of a curly blonde man stood framed by a glass door. He stared me down, my condition was poor. I was too late on that ebbing Fall day… so perhaps it was pity that made him turn ‘round to say, “Elias, you got one more in you today?” A moment of eye contact can tell you much, the dark haired barber saw desperation as such. I needed to look good for the woman I sought. He turned the chair toward me, “Sure, why not?” I shook my hand with his, then introduced myself to Garrett. Our eyes and hands held firm, stern, locked with merit.
My first cut was pleasant, as every one would be. To him I explained my work as opposed to what my job should be. And openly dreamt of what my endeavors could be…
Our conversation changed in our second visit, my outlook became comparatively exquisite. Online dating started to spark… yet every opportunity seemed but a shot in the dark. He furthered my fashion with considered precision: every cut, clip, and buzz were a careful decision. Our chitter chatter relaxed toward weary dating woes: like paying the first check. Who fucking knows?
Third, and fourth, the fifth: my first shave. Hot towels, oils, and cream on a blade. Afterward: cool water and witch hazel. Smooth: premium grade.
We talked of ambition, dreams and possibility. Shortly, my confidence would pursue my ability. Women were still troubling, as heard by still grumpy conversations… every scenario made for somehow bumpy relations. This strife and pain, which all men may face, was comfortably conversed in the sanctity of this place. The banter escalated, the joking increased, and lest my face get cut, laughter had to be forcibly ceased.

At the first bourbon tasting I got to join in, I met artists: Jeremy, Mark, and Zach Snacks Popadin, alcohol distributors, and of course the beard of Handsome Mike: ”the carried contributor.” Cigars, conversation, and whiskey were enjoyed by men who care: they who don’t peacock, but clad classy wear.
--
The work done here is a stylish therapy, I no longer do things self-despairingly. I gained a sense of prestige, felt like a new man, and wholesome. Eventually ready to impress at the #HartfordHandsome. Suddenly (after several months) impossibilities were easy: The time I got to model at Magzy's drink and draw, 20 clocked minutes with Arielle's eyes you saw, and Handsome's blink heckle that flinched me: haha!

At long last, I quit my job to work harder than ever: pursuing dreams of a worthy endeavor!

This place is potent, with poetry on the walls, see? Wherever I go, it continues to call me. Once founded in a nineteen-year-old’s intuition, Founders can boost your ambition to fruition. Their pomade is their crowning achievement, try it sometime, and consent your agreement.
My story continues on with one ‘win-woman’, and three ‘win-men.’ Because, listen closely gentlemen, I’m now. Totally comfortable. Around women.

Isn’t that right Danielle? #NoProblem

A Boast (poem)

I am Andrew Hopkins Guthrie. To my namesake: Sto Pro Veritate.

All that follows is true. Believe me? Up to you.


hurt with glee, tackled by two,

subdued by 3, skin melting glue,

scar on my knee, knife at my throat,

mind ground open, cut by a boat,

stabbed with a pen, punched in the face

a punctured lip, a permanent stain,

teeth snapped ripped, inescapable pain,

beast barked bit: domination

choker’s eye’s elated: invigoration

Seniors, sadists, and slicers, all sicken me.

I enlightened myself a moral epiphany.

I’ve traveled the maze of insanity,

hung 'till the brink of death,

head rush relinquished humanity,

willed vomit abate my breath,

rode with waves of salty oceans,

curled shores to frothy land,

seaweed stunk beside emotions,

apathy dried caked in sand,

cleaned by steaming frigid rain,

in a thrashing flashing wonder:

pulled up with groaning pain,

in white illuminating lightning,

descended claps of thunder.

I. Am. Frightening.

From the hole of depression: I climbed the pits of despair. In tortured ascension knew: Life. Is. Not. Fair.

I've sung to strangers, and danced for hundreds watching in the crowd, no embarrassment dangers, for I am proud.

Tweak’s adaptive. Your attack affective as your conviction. If chinked, my armor’s reactive, do you purpose an affliction...?

Listen for captured wind, and see the phoenix there. Feel the heat of dragon’s breath, and smell the burning air.

Then you’ll know my power: taste your fear.

Huntress (poem)

A dark elusive clandestine destiny

The sculpted statuette of whittled ebony

One piercing arrow that she drew...

Punctured the throat of little Lew

Buried in the ashes of Len's slay

A singed shiny arrowhead lay

Phoenix Down (poem)

An average cricket chirping summer night,

Len pulled away with unheeded plight,

Some may call rape violent passion,

but Brute’s eyes were for attraction.

Shattered feelings, hope was lost,

The tempest in Len’s mind was tossed!

The confusion pain mixed with lust...

How could once she give him trust?

Age’s passed, she craved more passion,

met Lew, the sympathetic bastion.

Lew had no treatment for her tragedy,

provided balms, band-aids… mere remedy.

Len hated Lew, could not ignite her flame.

Lew hated Len, sought solace in pain.

Midst of the passion, the fire spread,

Brute’s heat engulfing, Lew was dead.

From the ashes Lew rebirthed...

The rest of this story is unsaid.

Wolf (poem)

I’m left handed, but never sinister…----------------------------------------------------Honest, humble, caring, and true; our family’s tight, together like glue. Annie's an angel, Raegan's rebellious, Tami the tougher. Three sisters protected by a buff big brother.---------------------------------------------------------------- Usually running alone, traversing all weather. The wolf pack hunts (snow-blinded together). Rock'n n' roll'n, sing'n moon-howling: boarding, biking, blading. Growling.---------------------------------------------------------------I ably maintain: autos, bikes, and machines. Accept the un-fixable: my aborted child. Know the fiery folly a match might bring...And a beating that follows. All but mild.--------------------------------------------------------A coward bit my friend, bleeding face torn off. Punched him in his place. Eye's blind. Lights off.-------------------------------------------------------------This verse: a portion of me, scribed when I was 23.-----------------------------------------------------------------

Bonnet, Mugs Bonnet (poem)

This classy ass suit? It's French; stark.

My cigars whisper rolling rings.

Bookie by day... don't ask after dark.

Long ears perked hear secretive things. 

Don't piss me off, my razor is: sharp.

Fur's unshaven, blade slicing stings.

Don't cross us, you might fall apart.

We got good friends: rings within rings. 
Of this family: I'm Patriarch.

Thumper: "The Kick", master of weng chun kung-fu.

Trix: "The Magic": with "cereal" disappearings.

Roger, "Comedian", and pimp'n playboy bunnies too.

Easter, preaching while the choir sings.

Bugs, my little brother, you big star you!

We're bunnies banded: bunnies in blood,

because rabbits rule over this neighborhood. 
 ===:-|

Counter-Strike (poem)

The fight: of comrades, of brotherhood,
are never considered senseless violence.
Widowed lovers, and childless mothers would:
require revenge for their lad's silence.

Kill the enemies, trounce the evils,
stay vigilant, and stab the weasels.
Get your rifle. Equip your gun.
Spend some money, have some fun...
Desert Eagle, A-W-P.
If we live tonight, drink's on me.

Wear armor: helmet and a Kevlar vest,
strap in tight, especially at the chest.
A trusty side-arm will save your life.
If, of course, you end his swiftly.
A hasty reload can kill you quickly.

Your grenades are tactical:
Blind, deafen, incinerate, distract, explode and screen...
If you use them, use them wisely, else hear a friendly scream.

Unless you've got 'me' backwards, there's no 'I' in team.

Hug the walls, slice the pie.
Hold your purpose, you might die.

If you live, then hear the fate of your kin...
Whether it be Counter-to or Terrorists Win

Fall Fete (anecdote)

I’ll keep this concise, but so much happened.

Fall Fete

Friendly faces, new and familiar; hugs and handshakes. Powerful impressions.

Liz and Liza, I think you, Stella, and Hudson should make a service that wakes people with energetic puppies, call it: 'Alarmingly Cute'. Alexandra, thanks for letting me carry you, not that your dance skill needed carrying. Alex, I'm glad the Corvette has an accelerometer, and that we took the scenic route. Andrew, Marty found out your mom didn’t like that table any way... lucky break! Ariel, someday I hope to sing with a harp, if you'd train me in vocals, I couldn't help but listen. Olivia, perhaps you'll warmly lend a helping hand toward my endeavors? Melissa, how about those SNATCHing wine stories? Meat Paper, the origin of your nickname is as elusive as deli wrappings gone with the wind... Cody: SMILE! Solomon, will you link me to a breathtakingly high quality video? Keyur, next time you lead me toward a morning jog, maybe MENTION THAT IT IS 4 MILES instead of surprising me. (worth it) Vicky, if I happen to catch you rolling around, I'll give you a very light push. Tamir, I lost my voice, let's lose it again sometime. Thanks for bringing Spikeball, Charlie, and for being my big brother, that’s always been baller.

Special thanks to Paul for hosting despite the shortcomings of prior lawsuits. Sunday’s hot dogs were somehow the best of my existence, this is coming from a frequent patron of Swanky Franks.

And Darcie.

Darcie, I hereby proactively nominate you to lead if we're ever stranded on a lifeboat together. Supplies, food, bedding, cleaning--Oh captain, my captain! Under your command, I’ll vacuum rooms 'til the end of the earth. You made the experience especially magical. Some of us tend to forget to eat, and turn into a hangry monster, fortunately, you had food prepped proactively! There is a numb spot on my left big toe that I’ll always associate with your caring statement, “You’ll be fine.”

And I didn’t want to boast, but (here’s where I boast any way), ere Sunday dawn, I lay supine next to the embers of the bonfire with low rumbling thunder rolling beyond the hilltops, the lightning like distant fireworks. The tail of the 9th shooting star remains my last vivid recollection drifting into a dreamless sleep.  

After such positive Friday and Saturday memories, Sunday's and Monday's felt somewhat:

backwards...

...sdrawkcab

He gladly yelled, “Let me know, you got my number!” We packed the tent, a badminton stake re-purposed the lost one. We tangented to stuff like: ATVs, oil, and how great the 80s were. Our conversation kept looping back to the great unknown: women. We arrived to the farm, and I finally unlocked the Subaru.

Marty awaited a click before departing the station; and held confident that his 4 year-old would figure it out. The boy struggled to buckle his safety seat in. I arrived in Poughkeepsie after about an hour.

During the ride, I had a minor altercation with the conductor. Before boarding, I scribbled some burning thoughts which became: 'When You Leave a Poet Speechless'. Eating a flaky croissant on the way to Grand Central cleared my head slightly. I slept restlessly. Vicky moved clothing off of the bed, despite my vocal contentment with the rug on the floor. Charlie buzzed me up.

Raul ensured I could get to Brooklyn. On Metro North, I wrote in my diary; Melisa and her husband chatted and cuddled, as marrieds do. Our party disbanded, physically unscathed, goodbyes all around. The headless horseman chose not to kill us. Kat screamed: a lot, several ghouls accidentally collided with me in an attempt to feast on her screams. The creatures had one rule: no touching.

We traversed a pond-side path toward certain terror: eerie, beautiful. We're lucky he was too distracted to bite us and drink our blood. The vampire DJ rocked out like it was 1399. We rendezvoused with Cody, Ted, Virgil, Kat, Raul, Melisa and Nassib at an entry queue with good music. A collector lusted at the Porsche as he took $5. Sleepy Hallow residents charged haunted hallow visitors for parking.

The ride slept me hard.

We laughed. He facetiously sighed, "happens all the time," to which I jested, “you saw me the other times?” I explained, "You looked really classy just now." On our way out, Virgil caught me attempting a candid photo of him reading a newspaper in a black chair near the fire. Ted Talks sent his drink back, his politeness: well received. The witty servers brought tasty food and contagious smiles. Beacon had a quaint, beauty atmosphere.

Ieva stowed overflowing bags in the trunk ere our fruitful departure. A red orb flecked with black bits nearly tricked me into grabbing a sticky apple look-a-like, 100s of flies evidently weren't so smart. Satisfying. Airborne bits flew. We played with the rotten ones, throwing and smashing 'em with sticks. A picker enjoyed an apple, maybe the flavors of the fruits of our labors never wither. The orchard Paul brought us to was basked in dusk-light, ‘the golden hour’.

Waving from Amin's Porsche inner-reflected my weary uncertainty. We recorded firing pistols in slow-mo; making me feel a bit better. The tent blew over and now had missing stakes. Andy, Paul, and the caretaker, Marty, helped me consider my options. Shit, that's where they were: Brooklyn. I put my keys and wallet in Charlie’s ukulele bag when it began to rain on the bonfire.

Surely my items would turn up during cleaning... Charlie and Vicky hugged me goodbye. Darcie commanded the cleaning operation.  Where the hell were my keys and wallet?

I awoke next to cooling embers around 4 am, then took my sleeping pad and blanket into the warmth of the back room by the stairs.

Goodbye Middletown! (anecdote)

Friends at Luce,

In 2013, your building showed me hospitality before most of us met when Gordon let me use the facilities since my heat, water, and power stopped working that winter. Eventually, he sub-letted the apartment, and now several of us are on a first name basis.

It began with Ed and Michelle at the corner of the bar, and their explanation of some 70’s movie I never heard of about a beach. Cynthia got me a Dogfishhead and burger (BTW Cynthia: an Irish lad told me I should sign up for X-factor… Glad you told me about it!)

Over the next couple of weeks, things were good: I installed my sound system in the parking lot, met a girl on OkCupid, and captained the Pratt volleyball club team: Kick Sass. Soon I got a terrible sprained ankle… The night it happened remains vivid in my memory...

Crystal had just given me crushed ice. Consuelo carried the ice and my backpack as I tried to make it to my apartment. He walked in pace behind as I crutched toward the third floor corridor from the elevator. I hobbled awkwardly attempting to reach my pocket with my keys in it. He helpfully retrieved them, and paid attention as I pantomimed the right way to pressure the correct key into the lock. He let me in, and I tried (miserably failed) to go down the corridor steps on crutches. I didn’t hear him lunge, but felt my shoulder gripped I stared at the corner my forehead almost slammed into. Thank you so much for catching me despite the sweaty shirt. Also, you bike is super cool.

--

Ed gave me crutching tips, Hamo and the guys had a variety of Amazon.com jokes concerning my steady package arrival, Edin talked about geometry like a square, and for some reason: Crystal kept pumping her fist into the air after parties. We had conversations about running barefoot, scooters, cars, and concerning facial hair. Zuma… Michelle…. Cynthia… and any others who I suspect thought the beard was unattractive- know that it felt great, and is coming back! Conditioner, combs, fingers, and best of all: frosty wind: made it wonderful.

Thank you Sami for understanding my foolishness with the water. Sorry, my mistake.

I quit my job in earnest of becoming a programmer, and in the long term: a harper troubadour (someday: robot symphonies!). It took me a couple of months to learn Python, and in late August, I wondered: What next? And more importantly… where? Michelle had just shopped London of more goods than she could take back on a plane, and Ed was about to vacation in the United Kingdom. Their travels encouraged me to visit, and maybe live in Scotland. I fell in love, wrote poetry, and intend to be a Scottish citizen (There was also a small visit to London: http://tweakunique.blogspot.com/2014/10/some-luck-from-irish.html).

It’s been a pleasure everyone. Keep in touch? I use Facebook, so let’s be friends.

-Andrew Guthrie

?

--I am The Riddler!

Who am I supposed to be?

What a question asked of me!

Questions... questions are so much fun.

Especially that particular one.

Information: Is. Not. Free. And shan't be sought un-thoughtfully.

So: Let's play games and have some fun!

'Cuz hey, life's a gamble... answers gained must be won.

What am I hiding? Enlighten me!
Then I'll reveal, and enlighten thee.

-- a cane

This thing? Just a walking stick.
Mom's giraffe petrified from a trick,
lost his balance, then his ear ripped.
Sadly his neck snapped, I heard it click.

-- the color green

Photosynthetic, profitable, peeling, and perfect:
a recyclable, clean gleaming, effervescent sheen,
it's forever giving, prosperous, and verdant.
Mmmm Mmmmmmm, I just love the color green.

-- shoes

To wrap skin on my skin is to showcase wealth,
clean scrubbed, polished, shiny and civil.
I walk and run as they arch my continued health.
Another's future was far more dismal.

-- prism glasses

Light, rainbows, prisms and glory:
sometimes the answer is staring you in the face,
and to see the colored perspective of a story,
will let you enjoy dignity and grace.

--  a tie

This? Oh, a piece of manual piety.
An uncomfortable knot of flaccid fibers.
A conformative leash for manly society.
Required by your supervisor's supervisor.

-- gloves

One for dexter
the other: sinister
the first would text her
the other just missed her