The Marina

“Tied” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Tied up at the marina,
waiting for a friend.

I see excitement,
just around the bend.

Loosening the ropes,
i turn into the wind.

My friend walks up the dock,
apparently ready to launch.

“Hi ho my friend”,
he says at the bend.

My eyes roll back,
saying “you’re too much of a nerd”.

Jack shoots back,
“you expect me to act like the rest of the herd?”

At that time the lake laughs at Jack,
with a wave soaking his shoes.

I tilt my head back laughing,
thinking God helped me with a little payback.

Ignorant to what was coming,
the next wave knocked my right on my back.

Jack being no slack,
jumped to help right after the watery attack.

Off in the distance,
we heard quite a yell.

A dad telling his kid,
“stop playing with the fire-boat hose, you’ve rung someone’s bell.”

-SWB

For Safety’s Sake

A Series

SWB Series: Really Bad Poetry

For safety’s sake,
don’t step on that rake,
you’ll look like a fake.

For safety’s sake,
don’t jump in the water,
the lifeguards don’t bother.

For safety’s sake,
don’t run in the street,
you’ll be a crow’s treat.

For safety’s sake,
don’t scream out load,
people will think your a clown.

For safety’s sake,
listen to your mother.

-SWB
“Poetry screaming of negative quality”

 

Exit

“Exit Today” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Exit,
a favorite past-time,

End,
a way out.

Stop,
to the beginning.

Exit,
from the start.

-SWB

…. back to the pad poetry series 🙂

City overshadowed

“Forgotten” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

SWB Series: Nonsense and Such

Do you live in a place that people seemed to have forgotten about?

Do you remember when you were young you lived in the hottest, coolest place on the earth?

Now, your pretty sure you live in a retirement community … overshadowed by the latest and greatest cool cities.

… or you live in Silicon Valley and you just traded your $3 million house for a 1970s custom van so you can  buy groceries this week.

Maybe not … if you’ve living near me you didn’t create a start-up that good.

So, one day you take the telescope you bought your kid because you thought it was ultra-cool (you’re a parent now, so you were really wrong about that which is why it’s in your closet and not their room), and point it across the river and see someone on the other side taking a picture of your city.

You figure out where they are and contact them (Big Brother Google makes this easy these days). You ask them what they are doing (you are curious, but vigilant too – so you want to make sure your city doesn’t have a stalker … remember there WERE children here once).

They tell you they are taking pictures and video clips for their YouTube series.

You ask, “What series is that?”

“Abandoned cities in Pennsylvania”, they reply.

… and then reality quickly sets in, and the truth comes out – ur just old, so is your city.

Welcome to middle age … it’s the new ancient.

-SWB

 

Remembering Times Past

“Times Past” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Remembering times past,
realizing things won’t last.

The lack of clarity,
at this age – sharpness a rarity.

Through a tunnel of memory,
wishing I were there.

A time of comfort,
memories of unbounded fun.

To the last,
remembering times past.

-SWB

Snowy Pine

“Snowy Pine” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Snowy pine,
how cold and sublime.

The sun is out and be told,
this extended cold is getting old.

The delicate white floating into sight,
tests my might to keep the positive in life.

Cold covered branches,
would be warmed with nice hot matches.

This snowy bliss is crap,
i consider to be much amiss.

Snow pine,
in no way do I claim you as mine.

-SWB

Bad poetry of the day, and an ode to Phil’s prediction of the extended winter we experienced this year.

Scientifically Proven Fact

Strange … it’s strange.We are all real.

SWB Series: Thoughts For The Strange

We are real.

It’s been proven.

There are those that contest this and insist we are all figments of each other’s imaginations brought together by a rare form of quantum entanglement.

These are the “unrealists”.

The unrealists tend to pair the flat earth folks and they may be proving slightly similar points. Only one difficulty is found in this situation, and that is the mutual felling that each is unreal and just a figment of something (imagination or otherwise).

To those that are real, reality TV is a great outlet for life and an established place for daily humor, while for unrealists is a series of documentaries of what doesn’t exist (although, there are times where the real and unrealists have agreed on that point during a show – see, reality shows are sometimes so planned that they are truly unreal and fictional, which proves points on both sides of the  real and unreal arguments … ie. the fiction is real, but the situation is unreal and all are figments of otherwise).

Insane, right?

Not to the unrealists and those trying to disprove their points (themselves at times since unrealists are really figments of themselves … they think).

Now, all of these points are scientifically proven by some type of science somewhere … you just have to find it – or make it up until it exists.  Making it up isn’t wrong – at some point everything exists. Star Trek proved that.

Did you get that transparent aluminum serving bowl yet?

One of the best points in scientific practice is to try to disprove your point or theory. This puts the unrealists in a situation where they have to try to prove everything to be “real” placing them on the side of “the real” during this process. Politically this is an issue, because it causes internal strife with many “unrealist” organizations. Many a mini civil war within the unrealists have erupted during this disapproval process – even in purely scientific situations.

Scientists on both sides are trying to resolve this argument within 100 years … although this will be a challenge since both sides are still struggling with shapes and sizes, including that of the earth.

Unreal reality may result as a compromise to the argument.

This could ultimately result in things like the economy not being real and bread becoming free – since it wouldn’t be real in the world of the unrealists.

Note: To clarify “anti-reality” is not part of this discussion as it is a separate theory practiced under a completely different scientific discipline of the twisted grass method. This method would take close to a month to summarize, so we’ll hold off on that for now.

Please remember while reading this that this is completely unreal to the unrealists and the real alike simply because it is only a few atoms meshing into some form of digital ink (and if you try to make it completely real by printing it will damage your printer … since your printer is unreal, it can’t print anything real).

All hail reality!!!

… except for the unrealists.

-SWB … scientifically proven fact at it’s best.

We believe in inciting brain damage with words to help in keeping you from becoming a drug addict or alcoholic to obtain the same result.

The message

I left a message …

did you get it?

-SWB

… entered for the world’s worst and shortest writing.

Harder than it looks

Remember seeing that person do that job that looked like a piece of cake … then you had to do it and you found out how much of a pain it really was?

Yeah, so, in reviving SWB I figured I’d keep a little of it’s “rantiness” going by writing poetry (bad, horrible poetry) – and that would be WAY easier than trying to generate some legitimate stuff.

How wrong I was.

While I do realize that some of my real attempts at poetry many seasoned writers may compare with the brown stuff that comes out of their pets – the act of producing poetic writings that everyone would truly consider excrement is actually hard.

Now …. people produce crap all the time, so why does this suddenly become hard for me??

After taking some time to think this though and discuss it with a few people that have a couple of brain cells left … I’ve determined it’s not just me. It’s a problem with everyone.

See, once we as humans make a conscious decision to produce total and complete crap, it becomes hard work. I’m not saying that humans can’t legitimately product garbage – we do it all the time. What I’m saying is that it is sooooooooo much easier if we don’t actually make an effort at it.

If you don’t believe this watch the tryouts for American Idol. Avoid eating popcorn while doing that as the kernels hurt when you gag.

…. anyway, that was my whining for the day.

-SWB

Da Roof – a copy

“Da Roof Pittsburgh” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Da roof
Da roof
Da roof in on …

yea …. I can’t do it – plagiarise that bad even for a cool crappy poem.

Love this pic … I did as soon as I reviewed it on my camera. It just makes for a cool skyline shot and begs one question: How do you tell which one is yours? Are the locks the same too? Is each home a true copy of the one next to it? I mean, what happens if that’s true and you walk in on the couple a few doors down on their day off and having a little fun? Embarrassing.

Ok … maybe not as embarrassing as the fact that you pulled into the wrong drive-way because you can count that high (I mean … there is only about ten houses there).

Kind of reminds me of Apple products … you can’t tell the difference until you get your credit card bill.

Ahh … you thought this was going to be an Apple rant? Nope …. to easy, besides everyone else is doing that right now so I have to wait a few weeks until it’s interesting again.

Is there any purpose to this at all?

No really … the basic fact of most whining these days.

This is SWB just being tired of everything looking like an outright copy of something that existed previously (movies, people, pigeon poop). It’s tiresome …. no originality anymore. I mean, the pigeons could at least poop in different shapes.

I even make each posting look consistent … it confuses my readers less (not to mention myself).

Oh, originality … where art thou? About the 15th century, I think.

… as my dog would say {{groooooooaaaaaan}}.

The world gets an SWB Clueless award for originality.

-SWB

Thinking up more crap faster than you can erase it from your brain.

Frozen Ponds

“Core of a Cold Heart” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Frozen ponds,
frozen hearts.

Many lies,
from days gone by.

A smile once worn, fades away,
once thinking it would stay.

Many needs, many wants,
on the hunt for a lost dream.

Walking frozen, cold as can be,
the warmth drying up inside of me.

A world that once was a place of the sun,
has been made devoid of any fun.

Friends of the past, frozen in that place,
almost now seem like a complete waste.

Rivers of thought now end in white crystals,
the only thing heard is a faint distant whistle.

A mini ice-age has come to town.

-SWB

The latest in our series of poetry from people who have absolutely no business in writing it.

Pretty bleak, huh?

Well, I’m doing my best to paint a picture of how many people see the world now (or how we’re feeling in Pittsburgh when it’s Spring, and there’s still ****** frost on the car in the morning … not sure which). Of course I could just be getting in touch with my inner-Poe.

I’ve always found darker poetry interesting because it can indicted one of three things: 1. You are crying out for help because you are depressed and hiding it (basically in a dark work where nobody cares anyway) , 2. You are getting useless destructive emotional crap out of your system so you can function as a normal person, 3. You’re a technical person … in which you are just documenting the fact that for you getting anywhere near normal is just a useless attempt at avoiding a nice comfy padded room, which is your destiny most likely in the near future.

…. a little bit of sarcasm there, maybe.

Writing does have therapeutic value – which is why the healthcare industry hates it. Stress is very lucrative. It incites depression and a multitude of other profitable health issues.

Imagine if we all wrote (and maybe found a few suckers to pay for the stuff) de-stressing us enough to very rarely be sick. I mean to a point where everyone’s blood pressure is down to perfect, heart disease disappears, our immune systems function top-notch and naturally rid our bodies of cancer and other diseases. Wow!!

Now think of what that would do to the economy. Tragic!

Your doctor friend down the street would lose his job, and have to take back his BMW.

Your BFF that works as the pharmacist at the local Big Bird store gets moved to cashier in the grocery department losing a ton of pay and has to take back her BMW.

The next down neighbor who sells the blood pressure meds and chemo supplies to the hospitals that over-charge for them loses his job and has to take back his and his wife’s BMWs too (he sold a lot of stuff so they could afford two).

Just because of you …. inspiring people to write and de-stress (instead of getting them to de-stress in a way that get them some kind of transmittable disease), BMW has now gone out of business. As the iconic status has disappeared, people are even less stressed because they don’t have to work ninety hours a week to afford their BMW to indicate that they made it in the world, and now have even more time to write, de-stressing them more and more.  An abumdance of medical issues fade away, and more jobs are lost.

People eventually are no longer sick, and the worldwide economy collapses … people go back to living in huts and caves realizing they are completely happy without any economy.

All because of you ….. a writer that inspired many to de-stress through words.

How dare you!

-SWB

A first … a really crappy poem paired with a really crappy mini-essay/commentary (or whatever you are calling it at this time). Did we do well?

 

Strange on the road

“Stagger Street” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Along the road enjoying the view,
askew I stagger a bit.

The peds look strange at me,
like they’ve seen a deformed, mutated bee.

I wish I could tell them it’s only I,
oh … I wish, I wish, I wish I could see.

Guys in black with pretty silver plaques,
follow me now, saying they need to take me back.

“Where”, I say, “I’d really like to stay”,
my words failing to keep them at bay.

A trip, a blip, and ooodly-bop,
the sound my brain makes before it goes “pop”.

I missed missing a big dark thing with a bright light at the top,
maybe that wasn’t my brain going “pop”.

Oh …. that’s the taser bringing the white light,
from the guys in black trying to make me drop.

I guess they succeeded,
i just wish they would get the spinning city to stop.

-SWB

From our really bad poetry series – a wonderful poem about a typical day on Grandview Avenue in Pittsburgh :-).

… an no I’m not glorifying drinking, I just write the dumbest thing I can think of about the pic in the posting and proceed to write award-winning poetry (although opinions about the award wining poetry bit may differ).

At the shore and more

“The Shore” (c)Lawrence A Capozzolo

Eating my food,
enjoying the outside crappy mood.

No fish jumping,
no music pumping.

This life before summer,
it’s really a bummer.

… a quick crappy poem of the day – tell us if we’re getting worse (efforts are being made to improve the horrendousness of our poetry).

-SWB

Waiting for my coffee

“Coffee Shop” (c) Lawrence A Capozzolo

Waiting for my coffee,
i haven’t ordered it, but they should know.

Listening for anyone,
nobody has taken my order.

Maybe they don’t like me,
but I don’t seem that bad.

Not sure what the issue is,
i still don’t have my coffee.

No respect anymore,
it’s just easier to ignore.

The sun is shining in the window on my head,
hopefully it won’t turn red.

Someone noticed me!
“if you aren’t going to order something get the **** out!”.

Maybe I should have stayed in bed,
doesn’t anyone read minds anymore?!?!?!?

-SWB

Another in our bad poetry series … enjoy, or not.

BTW … the shot is the actually coffee shop I write in mostly – Crazy Mocha.  Excellent people and service – so check it out if you are in Sewickley, PA. Tell them that Screaming Weasel sent you. It won’t get you free coffee or a better price … but it will get you a very strange look.

The Daily “Huh?”

It’s the daily “huh?”,
the perfect place to do “duh?”.

The perfect way,
to ignore what anyone may say.

All time time,
remembering the perfect line.

Just say “huh?”,
and ignore away they day.

-SWB

Part of our really crappy poetry series.