Martin is an Animal
Sometimes he's Wild
And sometimes he's Tame
Every once in a while,
He acts kind of Lame,
He's tall and brown
He likes to Read
He's into music,
And he likes to Feed.
He preys on things
He thinks are funny
And here they're collected
No charge, no money.
So check it out
And stick around
Enjoy the sights
And all the sounds
Of this the Martin's
chosen Home
Where The Animals
Like To Roam
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
![can’t wait for the new season!
:]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m451b7ofbx1qzm7s5o1_500.jpg)
In Response to a Muse Who Thought to Ask
I’ve seen the gods set foot on the earth; golden feet have graced the rough exterior of our reality and the world is new because of it. How I feel age escape me and how my soul reverberates with a need to reciprocate. Bellowing in deep roars of laughter, at chaos redesigned. How can anyone resist the temptation to test the limits after seeing gods defy the walls of our own existence. Screaming through pieces of lead, against reams of empty frames, and onto the strange new worlds we’ve strung together out of thin air.
August mumbling
I don’t yet know what to do with time so small it’s bound to be lost among the other moments… and what to do with the notes of such a time. It really is one of the least significant problems of the human race.
But only I know these moments well, and if it’s all I own one day, drawers sinking through second story floors, weighed down by my doubt and sin, by my every whim jotted down in between my selves on meaningless moments I’ve left tucked in the nooks of the street, on shelves and under the darkness of the fridge I’d be happy to spend my unborne moments ahead seeing those left behind on pages lined for my own convenience.
And to know that now will mean nothing until the day it becomes the past. To observe myself through a lapse in time, what a thought! That I’ve mastered a sport all my own, like the man who knew how to live without being told to breathe or to speak or to kneel before a king. Like this self-made man I know freedom of a kind very few can describe. The rules are there when I need them to be, but it’s all in my head I know. I know. I’ll play along (what else can I do) and spend my moments bouncing a ball back and forth with myself.
I <3 Bunnicula!
(Source: shortiscute)
Just Sayin
You, overgrown soul, couldn’t carry a second song until the first was done. You’ve been stringing notes on your latest work for fifteen years, since you finished writing “I love you” on paper hearts; in that room where our children sang songs that weren’t theirs. Practicing to be just like you.
Did you notice that we never separate in stores, or at the bank, where we ask for our money. And we do not separate in the kitchen where our hips spin around one axis as I rotate glass and crystal, china and porcelain around fingers still scarred. I drop things whole and pick up the shards. And you take flesh in your own, lay it on the stove to speak in sizzle screams, wild mutterings that are only human after you’ve had your way with them.
But at night you sing again. And yes, tonight you’ll sing a little more than you did the last time, but it may be another fifteen years before you’ve forgotten this new note. And I have become entranced with something I can’t know, and why should there only be two as happy as we? And who would be better than the man who is empty solely because he exists only in my eyes. And who yearns for a voice, for a tongue, not weighed down by words, whose heart beats faster than my own. How sick I am of Jazz in the morning, and the weight of knowing you’ve confessed your sins to my spine as I slept in bed with you last night
*swoon
(Source: martymikalski)
Speaking of Spirits
I saw a Spirit speak to you, while I dreamt idly by.
And witnessed fires growing wild, exploding from inside
And yet contained within a sheath of papery wrinkled hide
You looked quite bored and glassy eyed as silly songs kept time
buzzing, dripping, honey-sweet, unwavering from rhyme
And meanwhile on the center stage a Spirit sang his lines
You leaned across, from worlds away, and handed me a slice
Of hidden meanings steeped inside the waters of your mind
I couldn’t help but filter out the symbols and the lies
You didn’t see the spirit here, instead you saw a man
I didn’t see the hidden things you planted in my hand
Three worlds collided from afar, with mythic walls between
And neither one could understand the things that they had seen
Saw Howl recently. Fantastic.
(Source: thorninyourside)
