Friday, March 30, 2012
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Poems from a Vault #1
Three Wishes.
A Waltz.
I've dreamt of a cavern with an alter so tall,
Where giant's stand on their toes to adore,
The ancient old lamp, all covered in mortar,
In need on some cleaning, a rise with some water.
Inside the housing of stone-cold old brass,
Lived a being, by nature, blessed with age old class,
He'd give me a gift, of wishes, yes three,
And I'd wish them on you, as if wishing on me.
I'd wish it was as easy as just pressing play,
On a CD to take all your worries away,
The music would fill you with the energy to soar,
A feeling, so strong like never before.
With wish number two, A trip unplanned,
On a boat, then a goat to a far away land,
Where car parks are torn and shopping malls crushed,
To make way for the sudden rainforest rush.
Though, with wish number three, I could not free the genie,
For you need it more, to escape from the meanies,
Those who surround your bed, and cloud your head,
And listen to less than what you have said.
A tip of his fez, with his job now complete,
He disappears to a land, untrodden by feet,
He waits, years and years, for the next man to find him,
A man who's in love, a love which is binding.
So I've used up all three and I am now at a loss,
Since ten thousand wished could not bare the cost,
Of everything that I wish I could give you,
Like a lifetime of happiness, in which we could live through.
Stuck in this rut I would go on a mission,
Equip with nothing but the fiercest ambition,
To again find the genie with the power to change,
All that you wish to be sent away.
If I found it Again…
I would pick up the lamp, rub it 1, 2, 3,
Then tilt it to the side and fill our cups up with tea,
For a wish-granter does not exist in our world,
The only magic is born in the heart of a girl.
But yes! Wishes come true, though not in an instant,
For your deepest desires, you must be persistent,
Through frights, and delights which may catch you off guard,
When that specialized someone is warm in your arms.
It is a sad conclusion that wishes from lamps,
Are as fictional as talking warthog and Meir cats,
But the one thing I promise, with my actions as proof,
I will do anything and everything for your wishes to be truth.
Written by Michael Berto.
circa 2007.
I've dreamt of a cavern with an alter so tall,
Where giant's stand on their toes to adore,
The ancient old lamp, all covered in mortar,
In need on some cleaning, a rise with some water.
Inside the housing of stone-cold old brass,
Lived a being, by nature, blessed with age old class,
He'd give me a gift, of wishes, yes three,
And I'd wish them on you, as if wishing on me.
I'd wish it was as easy as just pressing play,
On a CD to take all your worries away,
The music would fill you with the energy to soar,
A feeling, so strong like never before.
With wish number two, A trip unplanned,
On a boat, then a goat to a far away land,
Where car parks are torn and shopping malls crushed,
To make way for the sudden rainforest rush.
Though, with wish number three, I could not free the genie,
For you need it more, to escape from the meanies,
Those who surround your bed, and cloud your head,
And listen to less than what you have said.
A tip of his fez, with his job now complete,
He disappears to a land, untrodden by feet,
He waits, years and years, for the next man to find him,
A man who's in love, a love which is binding.
So I've used up all three and I am now at a loss,
Since ten thousand wished could not bare the cost,
Of everything that I wish I could give you,
Like a lifetime of happiness, in which we could live through.
Stuck in this rut I would go on a mission,
Equip with nothing but the fiercest ambition,
To again find the genie with the power to change,
All that you wish to be sent away.
If I found it Again…
I would pick up the lamp, rub it 1, 2, 3,
Then tilt it to the side and fill our cups up with tea,
For a wish-granter does not exist in our world,
The only magic is born in the heart of a girl.
But yes! Wishes come true, though not in an instant,
For your deepest desires, you must be persistent,
Through frights, and delights which may catch you off guard,
When that specialized someone is warm in your arms.
It is a sad conclusion that wishes from lamps,
Are as fictional as talking warthog and Meir cats,
But the one thing I promise, with my actions as proof,
I will do anything and everything for your wishes to be truth.
Written by Michael Berto.
circa 2007.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tennantism
"I've been to many planets in the solar system and you'd be surprised how many of them look like quarrys in wales." - David Tennant.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wibledon History: Isner and Mahut: 5 World Records, Match Suspended at 59-59 in the 5th
"John Isner"
An exhausted Looking American Jew.
It's what happens when the french get involved.
It's what happens when the french get involved.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A Clip For the Clouds (Neon Spoodle in Neon Badger and Violins)
- Music:
1. Without You I'm Nothing - Placebo.
2. Hydrohedron Hexaherdron - Billy
3. This is the Dream of Win and Regine - Final Fantasy (Owen Pallet)
Overheard in Camden;in a stall store place that only sold belts, woolen t-shirts with a variety of rock stars printed on them (Variety included wholly of Ozzy Osbourne looking like John Lennon
http://www.myspace.com/michiluca
http://www.michiluca.com/
Camdentown; The Town Forever a Market, Forever Charming, Forever Adorable, Forever Smiling and Blushing Masseuses in the Underground, Camden Forever
... or "get me the F out of Camden." as over heard from an american, by an australian.
I wanted to write an article, which I still may do.
There were far too any conversation had and over heard, as well as adorably friendly incentives to plug the township as much as possible.
(like it needs it...)
I may also edit the photos.
But, truly, Camden is a place only for the imagination.
and the photos were color-filled enough on account of that it was Camden, innit.
As Noel Fielding would say;
"Ask the people of Camden, They Know."
And their masseuses' are hypervintagecute.
There were far too any conversation had and over heard, as well as adorably friendly incentives to plug the township as much as possible.
(like it needs it...)
I may also edit the photos.
But, truly, Camden is a place only for the imagination.
and the photos were color-filled enough on account of that it was Camden, innit.
As Noel Fielding would say;
"Ask the people of Camden, They Know."
And their masseuses' are hypervintagecute.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)