“2 Blog Posts In One Day!” Part One: Top 5 Memes I Found In 5 Minutes II

2 blogs in one day! I’m sure most of you are all asking “But why?”. Well it’s quite simple really, a lot of people enjoyed the last time I did the whole “Top 5 Memes I Found In 5 Minutes” thing, but most of my followers follow me because of my poetry that I post. So to remedy this I thought I’d please the masses and my followers by posting two blogs today. 

First things first, the memes.

#5 OMG it’s O’Brien! (Squared)


An oxymoron if I ever saw one. On one hand you got the lovably hilarious (or hilariously loveable) Conan O’Brien, but on the other you got Miss O’Brien, the enemy of every 21st century female who owns a television, as well as myself. (I watch Downton Abbey and I’m not ashamed to admit it) Kinda reminds you of Obama doesn’t it.  Hold up I think Barack is trying to say something . . .

#4 Shut Up! Barack Is About to Speak


“I accidentally all the money, is that bad?” *I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts on what was just said* . . . Nope. Sorry Mr. President but you kinda dropped the ball on that sentence. Kinda like the time you (Insert a time when Obama screwed up as president here). Btdubs we all know you ate all the money Barack so stuck your sorries in a sack.

#3 She’s “Lady” Not “Bro” Éowyn


Classic! I can’t explain it, it’s just so simple yet brilliant. It’s simliant! Dang, that doesn’t work. Uh . . . It’s brimple! Frick that’s even worse. Screw it, it makes me laugh okay, so just g.o.m.b.!  

#2 This Baby


Now I’m not one for getting babies intoxicated (or “hamsauced” or “swagged” whatever the kids call it these days) and do not support the ideologies of his parents, but I must say I’d give away my iTunes library to see this meme in real life. Just imagine sitting across from this baby at a social gathering “goo-goo”ing  and “wah-wah”ing about his daily happenings and personal problems, I for one would be most entertained. (That’s not weird, is it?)  

#1 The Greatest Nicolas Cage Meme Ever!


Nic Cage’s last feature film. (Comedy gold)

Part 2 coming soon


The Dancer (A Poem About a Dancer)

Yesterday I wrote a poem and I wasn’t pleased by it. This is not that poem. This was written on a starry night in Texas as I sat on a log, and thought about dancing.

I got the image of a girl dancing ballet on a stage and this was me translating that image into words, or poetry what have you. 

The Dancer

 She moves

So intricate so fragile

With everything

And nothing

The gentle overture

A sweeping discord of love

Lost and broken

Of truth and sacrifice

Her heart bends

With grace and ruined to despair

Oh to keep the soul

To keep the soul

And molded by such pretty lights

By such pretty sounds

Lost in it all

In every direction

The line holds

And beauty’s face harmonious


And everything

Oh strings of heaven’s joy

Be my pain

Be my brokenness

So that I may know

That I may feel

And lose myself once again

Like waves upon the shore

A flower in a garden

A song in the wind

Move me

Break me

And I will stare forever

In the eyes of beauty

As beauty moves

And spills like the sun

Across the fields

And her portrait unveiled

In the form of creation

Oh how I love

Oh how I burn

To live

To feel

To love

To die

And should I die

My heart would pass

Complete yet empty

Whole yet broken

Ever changed

Ever transformed

By these moments

That stain the ethers

With such pretty colors

Like dawn on the ocean

My ocean

Of eternal blue

Of eternal love

And I have heard such beautiful music

And I have felt such glorious pleasures

But never have I seen beauty

Beauty so intricate so fragile

To the tune of angelic voices

And melancholy

Gazing into the very heart of heaven

The very heart that inspires the most hopeless of souls

And how hopeless am I?

And the line

And the overture

And the discord

And everything

And nothing

We are broken

Weathered glass

As she moves

As beauty moves

P.S. Iron Man 3 sucked.

“Not Another Poem!” (Sideways)

I can hear the people who have kept up to date with all my blogs so far saying this: “Not another poem!”. So in spite of the two and half of you out there that actually read this thing I am posting another poem. 

(“Where does the ‘half’ come from?” you ask? Well the other half of the siamese twin from Japan that follows my blog, hates my guts and said my blog was too “ostentatious” and continued to call me a “dilettante”. But her favorite movie was the Hunger Games and said that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was “stupid” so what’s her opinion worth anyway right? So I can only count the half that likes me) 

Anyways moving on . . .

This next poem is called ‘Sideways’ and it is inspired by true events. So enjoy!

Or complain either way, I win.


 Irreversible the thought of light

And lovers cloaked with aching skies

Oh staggered woes seep into the morning

The mourning

And taste the tragedy of wandered youth

As it slips into the gutter of memories stained

Oh passion move me into the cages of my blessed fears

Of my blessed wounds

And heaven’s eye dares turn it’s gaze from me

Abandoned in the ocean of dreams and waking eyes

Oh the horror as my soul washes up on a forgotten shore

A wretched world

In drowning did my heart experience salvation

And her lips the taste of my desperation my blindness

Oh beauty leave me with my own destruction

Leave me with tigers

And clothe me in robes of such pretty colors

Let your heart be my footstool and spring be my passion

Oh lovers of light will your fingers be my guide

Be my hopelessness

And watch the rising sun as it washes over a new day

In the face of the evers may you know the heart of pain

Oh villain of truth may you know the world walks

Walks sideways

“But what does it mean?”

That my friend is a question for another blog, but I will tell you the events that inspired this poem involved a goat, horse radish, an oboe player, and a St. Patrick’s Day worth forgetting.

In Memory of Martin Richard

Over a week ago a tragedy occurred at the Boston Marathon, claiming the lives of three individuals and wounding hundreds of others. Even though I have no personal ties to the people affected or to the city of Boston itself, I can’t help but feel saddened by what was lost on that day.

It’s always hard hearing about the passing of a child, but it’s even harder when it has to happen to needlessly for unjust reasons. I don’t know why the death of Martin Richard has affected me so much, but it has, and I can’t help but feel for his parents and his siblings and everyone else who was impacted by this young boy’s short life. 

So with all of them in mind (and everyone else who lost someone that day) I wrote this:

To the mother of Martin Richard. 

Know you are not alone in these tough times, my prayers and thoughts go out to you and your family.

For Boston

In the moments that follow

As you hold on to the weariness of hope

Dark and empty and fleeting

There is nothing left of who you were

Only the unanswered cries

As you reached for the hand that holds

For the hand that saves

But these breaths you now breathe

And these words you now recite

Are lost in the drowning

And the tears and the pain and the hopelessness of it all

All you once believed is now rubble

The ashes of yesterday’s flames

The agony of tomorrow’s sweet departure

As life floats away in every direction

Screaming and calling the vanity of it all

The wreckage and the heartache

But remember and cherish their smiles

And the love and the joy and the freedom you shared

For brothers fall

And the heart withers away in desolation

But there was a time you danced in the streets

There was a time you sang with unabashed freedom

Free from all terrors

Free from all thoughts of loneliness

And all the shadowy places

And there was a time you once believed in gardens

And all the flowers that grew and bloomed

For from your hands grew life and life endlessly

Forever one with the earth and the rain and the brightest light

From your heart poured a love

A love that inspired and gave

And from the dirt did the sweetest rose bud

Crimson bright and a hope that would ever linger

On the eyes of all you touched with your gentle hands

Darling know that what was lost may never be retrieved again

And the wounds the scars the bitterness

May last a lifetime

And the ever sting of the hours

And the minutes

And the seconds

May be with you to the end of your days

The longing you feel

For the moments that will never be

And the laughs you will never hear

May never cease

But as I write these words

And you feel what you feel

I urge you

Most tender gardener

That you remember your blessed flowers

Where you were one with God

And you held creation

As well as all living things in the palm of your hands

And you called them beautiful

As they swayed with the winds of liberty

As they brought forth the colors of the spring

A window into the wonders of heaven

Into the very heart of God


As you lie awake in darkness

As you recall the screams and the horrors

A never-ending battle for hope’s lost children


As you cling to the emptiness of all that remains

As you wait for the cold of winter

So you may grow numb and frozen to it all

Oh most broken soul


The ones we lost and the ones we loved

For a day will come when we are all together again

In a place where love is boundless and our sorrow is no more


That they smiled and recognized the joys of living

That they loved and knew that life was worth it

That they if they could would urge you to carry on

But most of all remember

You once grew a garden

Full of life and flowers and freedom

And you called them beautiful


I know a poem isn’t much but it’s all I can do. 

P.S. If by some chance this reaches the Richards family I just want to say I’m so sorry for your loss, I truly am, and that during this season of mourning I pray God’s peace and comfort in your lives.

And Blessed Creatures (Or: As I Watch Fantastic Mr. Fox)

So there was this guy downtown and he was all “bro?” and I was all “bro!”, but then we said “Hey? We’re not bros.” And we went our separate ways (totally took me two tries to write “separate” properly)  and never saw each other again. As insignificant as that event may have seemed it actually effected me in a deep and profound way and it inspired this poem . . . 

And Blessed Creatures

 Awakened in the hour of suffering

My torment the color of wandering

And her kisses the white dazzling curse of despair

Oh how I burn with the setting of the sun

The broken shall choir a song of yesterday

Their own hands shall wrap their own endings

And my eyes shall see the light of darkness

For in the heart of brokenness perfected; a glimmer

Illuminations of my soul serenaded from the abyss

Losing all sense of rationality I scream

Into that gaping hole of my own nothingness

In hopes that the monsters inside prove living

That they may comfort the very wounds they drew

Oh the noise of silence as it tears through the canvas of reality

And her voice the lover of my soul

For she knows all of me for she has molded me

Like daggers from the mouth of a garden

And tears pouring from the eyes of heaven’s grace

Should the waters of the ocean run dry

The heart of the morning to never rise

In the midst of heartache to count the stars

Oh my hope drunken with disease and littered with fear

And blessed creatures know that you are loved

For in the hour of suffering lies redemption

The face of beauty unveiled

For her eyes the dawning of the day

Her fragrance a winter rose out of time

Her heart a pearl in the waters of solitude

And her soul the very song of heaven

 and every moonlit night

So yeah don’t ask me how that encounter inspired this poem, because honestly I just don’t know, but for the sake of the introduction it did. 

The Other Side Of Your Humble Narrator (Or As I Like To Call It “The Thin”)

So it’s been about a month since I’ve last blogged and there is good reason for it (not really). I’ve been super busy (LIAR!) organizing charity events (dropping pennines in those World Vision boxes does not count as “organizing charity events”, jerk!), volunteering at soup kitchens (oh please!), and celebrating life and it’s many wonders (if you call lying in bed till 3 pm with a tub of melted ice cream a celebration, then sure). But now I’ve decided to come away from it all and start this ole’ thing up again . . .

So moving on . . . 

I’ve been thinking of exposing myself a bit more than I am accustomed to, and a way that I’ve decided to do this was by posting some of my poetry on the notorious inter-webs. In hopes that others would be able to read and enjoy. So without further adieu I present to you all a piece I like to call the Thin (and don’t mind the length).

The Thin

 Growing up you hear words like “volatile” and “inconsistent”

While drawing pictures of beautiful women

You make motions to the sky screaming ‘Why can’t it be me?’

‘Why must I always be the one in silence?’

The one portrayed lifeless

As the speck in a horizontal world

Succumbed to the luxury of breathing

Face to face with the concept of mediocrity do you run?

Do you hide behind the mask of comfort?

Among the illusions of happiness and self-doubt

You paint your sorrows with cream-colored walls

Dress your wounds with grace and forgiveness

But still you dare cry ‘More’?

You dare say, ’I have not enough’?

You call the name of God in hopes of enlightenment of retribution

As if your life was an empty room

Needing to be filled with a deeper understanding a deeper love

From things you can’t put a name or a face

Shadows phantoms have become your dwelling place

And the only comfort is a memory traded for a dream

Dreams to one day call ‘Love?’ and get a response

But holding on only lasts for so long

Fingers numb, as do hearts

Feeling becomes but a word

The hands of time do not heal but take

They shape creativity to normality and call it “beautiful”


But as you hold the rotting hands of reality

You will see no beauty only decay

You will hear no songs of love

For love is a concept only God can comprehend

And no man dare say ‘Love’ from a position of sincerity

For no man can pay that cost

The cost to love is great but to receive it is nothing

Yes reality is volatile and inconsistent

Wisdom can be uttered from the mouth of a fool

But reality is not all that is real

And yes beauty can be captured in a brush stroke

Masterpieces can be created from immoral hearts

But beauty is not all that is beautiful

There is more to life than words and pretty faces

There is more to death than ‘What is left behind?’ or ‘What comes next?’

For a man is not measured by riches

A man is not witnessed by what he accomplished

Rather he is measured by the standards of pure love

He is witnessed by the splendor of immeasurable grace

In a world where being seen is everything

In a time when being beautiful means nothing

What else is there to hold onto?

Where else do you find peace?

There is nothing and there is no where

Only the thin

Comment on what you think of it, steal it from me if you want and pass it on as your own, do what ever you want I don’t care . . . just kidding. Hands off the merchandise playa! 

What are your top 10 films of all time? Here are mine

Trying to decide on what my top 10 films are was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The countless hours and arguments I spent with myself, the hard cuts I had to make, and when I finally chose the 10 I struggled with the order and which one will take that coveted top spot. So without further adieu here they are.


10. City of God- What Coppola did for the mob in the Godfather, Fernando Meirelles does for the slums of Rio De Janeiro in City of God. By giving the audience a fly on the wall look into the harsh realities of life as a young man in the most dangerous city in the world. Based on a true story, City of God will leave you speechless. There wasn’t one thing about this film I didn’t love. Seriously watch it. Stop reading and watch it.


9. On the Waterfront- My favorite movie quote of all time, “You don’t understand! I coulda had class! I coulda been a contender! I could’ve been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.” Marlon Brando gives one of his finest performances as Terry Malloy, a down on his luck street thug and once prized fighter who wants to turn his life around.


8. Annie Hall- The simple story of a pessimistic New Yorker who falls in love with a girl named Annie Hall, played by the loveable Diane Keaton. Filled with charm, crisp dialogue, and enough Woody Allen quirks to keep you smiling from the first frame to the last. If you like being awesome and hate being not awesome then you will watch Annie Hall because it’s awesome.


7. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind- For all you Jim Carey haters out there “Sunshine” (sounds cooler than ESOTSM) will make you eat your words. One of the most original scripts I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing portrayed on film. The plot and the performances are so masterfully guided, under the direction of Michael Gondry, that we’re left with something unforgettable and hauntingly beautiful.


6. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb- Stanley Kubrick’s black comedy about the Cold War may not age as well as his other films, but in my opinion is his most important. Filled with a strong cast, solid performances (Peter Sellers is like totes lawlcatz) and sharp script, Dr. Strangelove will have you saying, “What am I watching and why do I like it?” If not well then that would make this really awkward.


5. Vertigo- The first time I watched Vertigo was the most terrifying experience I’ve ever had when watching a film. I know some will disagree but in my opinion this is Alfred Hitchcock’s finest film. The plot is masterfully woven together and the score is so magnetically executed you can’t help but feel every hair on your body standing by the time the screen fades to black. Filled with suspense and mystery, Hitchcock proves why he is the best at what he does.


4. Casablanca- Everybody’s favorite love story in cinematic history (I don’t know if that’s true or not but it’s definitely mine). Humphrey Bogart is the coolest cat in film history, and he proved it by single handedly making the name Rick sound cool. Also Ingrid Bergman is the ultimate babe (no jokes). After watching Casablanca all I wanted to do was wear tuxes, smoke cigars, start revolutions, and fall in love. Those are the signs of a good film.


3. The Godfather- There’s no such thing as a perfect film, but the Godfather comes awfully close. Like scary close. What else could I say that hasn’t been said? The score is amazing, the performances are unforgettable, Coppola’s direction is handled with such discipline and finesse yet still remains technically sound. No other film has impacted North American culture the way the Godfather has.


2. Citizen Kane- Hailed by many as “the greatest film of all time”, Citizen Kane pulls in at number 2 on my list. Watching Citizen Kane for the first time is one of those experiences you never forget. I literally couldn’t eat for two weeks because I couldn’t wrap my head around how beautifully the story of Kane was told and how tragic his life had turned out. It’s so good you just want to punch Orson Welles in the face for making such a mind-blowing film.


1. The Graduate- Picking number 1 was difficult, I mean any of my top 5 could have easily been here, but ultimately I had to go with the Graduate. Dustin Hoffman’s character Benjamin Braddock has to be the most tragic figure I have ever seen portrayed on film. Also the marriage between Mike Nichols vision, and Simon & Garfunkel’s soundtrack alone makes the Graduate worth watching. And when that final frame comes along be prepared to witness the saddest moment in cinematic history.

Just Missed the Cut: Reservoir Dogs, Shawshank Redemption

Leave a comment and let me know what you think.