Christmas Gift

I wanted to paint you a horse.
But that's as far as I got.
A mangled debauchery makes not a good gift.
So I'll leave it as just a good thought.

I thought I might make you a song.
But my fingers can't figure a tune.
A dismembered melody hard on your ears is not one that you'd have me to croon.

So I sat with my pencil and paper in hand- a poorly sketched figure of horse, and just then- I thought up this poem to salvage the night.

I look at my clock. It's morning alright.

My heart has grown heavy. I've wasted my time- with only to show this ridiculous rhyme.
No beautiful pony. No soft serenade.
What good has it done, all the plans that I've made?

I wanted to paint you a pony.
That's as far as I got.
I'm ill-equipped at the moment you see.
But there's some gift just in the thought.

Leave it to Sesame Street to find the right words

Well, I'd like to visit the moon
On a rocket ship high in the air
Yes, I'd like to visit the moon
But I don't think I'd like to live there
Though I'd like to look down at the earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I might like it for one afternoon
I don't want to live on the moon

I'd like to travel under the sea
I could meet all the fish everywhere
Yes, I'd travel under the sea
But I don't think I'd like to live there
I might stay for a day there if I had my wish
But there's not much to do when your friends are all fish
And an oyster and clam aren't real family
So I don't want to live in the sea


I'd like to visit the jungle, hear the lions roar
Go back in time and meet a dinosaur
There's so many strange places I'd like to be
But none of them permanently

So if I should visit the moon
Well, I'll dance on a moonbeam and then
I will make a wish on a star
And I'll wish I was home once again
Though I'd like to look down at the earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I may go I'll be coming home soon
'Cause I don't want to live on the moon
No, I don't want to live on the moon

I thought I had a poem to post here- one I had written long ago- but it wasn't very good. I've wanted to write more. I've wanted something to say for a long time, but I just don't have anything. I have no more stories I care to tell, no more poems or songs I care to share with the world. There is nothing I hold today that I care to offer this world for one more day. I don't care to see the sun rise in the morning anymore than I care to see it set. I don't want to take a picture of it. I've seen the sun set a thousand times. It does not interest me. I've seen a thousand days just like today, all its beauty and pain. The cold of the winter is nothing new, and the spring will be the same as it has been for thousands of years before I ever witnessed it. The summer will be hot. The mountains will be fun. Water will be refreshing again, even though it's brutally cold now. Nothing will change. Nothing ever has. I see no point in the display. I see no point in the pursuit. All I see is a tired little rock in space, spinning as it has for an untold number of rotations. And it will go on doing so. Is there no greatness anymore to be desired? This blog has run it's course. It has moved beyond it's original intentions, and morphed into something vulgar.