Saturday, February 19, 2011


Oh, so much effort for one shiny coin
The mariners about the Pequod must
Have thought, as watching Ahab bust a groin
And other parts, to spume if not to dust
In chasing his white whale. I make it sound
Exciting, quite a thrilling quest; alas
'Tis buried deep within the book, all bound
Up in a hipster's egotism. Blast!
The captain lost his leg once to a beast
His questing for revenge led him to parts
Far-flung and not well-known. Ah me. At least
I read it on my Kindle, strained no hearts
A-hauling it around, this Moby-Dick.
At last I'm done; now give me something, quick!

In Which @SennyDreadful Hits The Big 3-0

Bend over, Jenny dear, it's now your turn
To get your spanking (do they that across
"The Pond"?). I find you've done a lot to earn
These kind attentions - I'm quite at a loss,
Indeed, to sum you up for readers who
Don't know your work already, that you write
Lovecraftian and subtle, that you woo
The muses with good plonk by dark of night,
That you're a source for finding all the cool
And crazy shows, that ev'ry tweet's a treat
That comes from you. On this, your birthday, fool
Them all! Why yes, you're thirty, but 'tis sweet
To claim you're even older: you will see
The compliments do shower you. Trust me!

Monday, February 14, 2011


Now ring the bells and blow the trumpets! Let
Confetti fly and faces ache from smiles!
We weren't there to see it all, and yet
We feel the joy e'en 'crossed a thousand miles.
J.J. has added yet another "J,"
And Jenny now has more at home than beans.
Squeenager has another dad; I'd say
A spare of those is good to have: it means
There's more love for to go around. A toast:
The Melzerbeans! I wish you lots of fun,
Success and scribbling, and, what I wish most:
Your marriage be a long and happy one.
i love you all and, yes, there are some tears
As I tap in this sonnet. Darlings, cheers!

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Snow Blindness

I really mustn't e'en begin to care
If anyone is reading, but I do;
Just as I know it's best that I don't stare
Out from these windows, just to see if you
Might look back at me, as I risk the fierce
Stab of the blinding sunlight that the snow
Reflects into my eyes. To let these pierce
Into me is the height of folly. No,
I must let neither in. Instead, I draw
The curtains, take a deep breath, and must turn
Back to my work, try to unclench my jaw,
And keep me from the thoughts and glare and burn.
It matters not what's happening outside.
Days such as these, I'm just meant to abide.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Sonnet Recipe: @drblow's Awesome Bean Dip

First open up a can of refried beans
(The vegetarian ones are the best),
A jar of salsa -- you know what this means! --
We're making the best bean dip in the West
(Or East). Shred up some lovely pepper jack --
This dip is hardly dip without the cheese! --
And if you find this combination lacks
A kick, a can of jalepenos, please!
Mix all this up and heat it on the stove
Until the cheese melts well and doth combine
With all the rest, till it's a treasure trove
Of smooth and awesome flavor, truly fine!
It's great with chips and also over rice,
And you might find some other pairings nice.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

In Which Kenneth Cole Blackens His Own Name

A dark and scary thing erupted when
A clueless rich designer tweeted how
The chaos there in Cairo must have been
Just mobs a-crowding 'round his store right now.
The internet's alive now with the blurts
Of those who mock him, push the boundaries
Of taste as they do so. In truth it hurts
No one; they are just jokes and words, but Jeeze,
To think of all that must have lurked beneath
Polite facades ere this event. I can't
Say that I do not laugh, but grit my teeth
To see this on display. That just one scant
And dumb remark provokes a genre is,
The cost, I guess, these days of doing biz.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

No Wonder @Ghostfinder Likes Groundhog Day!

My co-author and much admir'd net-friend
Is now become a slightly older man.
This Groundhog Day, the shadow's not the end
Of what we have to celebrate. A fan
Of Adam's "voodoo steampunk" writings, I
Most certainly am. They've got style and verve,
Lovecraftian and them some, but this guy
Has many other tricks to help unnerve
His readers. On his birthday, I am proud
To sing his praises, though I tap my foot.
He owes me our next chapter. I am loud
And rude to say it here, know he will put
The pedal to the metal just as soon
As he's done with his new novella. Swoon!

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Ex Drummer: Ow! And What?

Ex Drummer's something squalid and surreal.
Motier's vast array of camera tricks
And violence and punk rock made me feel,
All through this tale of one guy and the sticks
He knows not how to wield, as though I were
A victim of an unprovoked attack.
That's not to say it's bad. It won't occur
To anyone to shut it off. I lack
The words, perhaps: description's not the thing
For such a film. What lingers is the sense
That Dries manipulated me, too. Ring,
O ears, and blink O eyes; that's one intense,
Kaleidoscopic bout of madness which
I don't want to repeat, but cannot bitch.