The Ballad Of Yes

Give me your shouldn’ts, your wouldn’ts and won’ts,
I’m buying up couldn’ts and didn’ts and don’ts;
I’ll take each ‘if only’ and ‘what might have been’
and I’ll stack them in boxes and lock them all in.

I’ll load them all onto a boat on the sea
that’s got just enough room for the boxes and me,
I’ll sail through the waves and the currents and tide,
then I’ll throw every single box over the side.

I’ll toss every ‘not now,’ ‘maybe later,’ and ‘no,’
every ‘what were you thinking’ and ‘I told you so,’
I’ll watch as they sink through the brine and the foam,
then I’ll turn back to shore and I’ll set sail for home.

And I’ll sing to myself as I sail on the sea
a song about how good it is to be free,
about all the adventures waiting for me,
all the things I can do, all the things I can be.

– The Little Blind Girl

Illustrated version [download here]:

the-ballad-of-yes-illustrated

 

Elegy For A Suicide

The world is fractured and I keep feeling lost
since he died. Time falters forward, pausing occasionally
to look for him. I glance over my shoulder
when I hear a twig break or a door sigh
the way he used to, though I try not to,
and I miss him again. He was a dream, an idyll and ideal
and now a martyr. His crusade for love
left him damaged and afraid, alone in his mind.
I couldn’t reach him in time and so he left
without me, escaping on eager, trembling wings.
I remember him when a conversation stutters,
when a star tumbles to the ground,
when a beautiful girl cries. Mercy
and grace must surely be his, if anyone’s.  I believe
he came to rest among angels who understood him,
and now he shines in the diffuse indigo night
for everyone, and not just for me. I believe this
because as I stumble through the pieces of this world,
only the heavens make sense.

Sonnet to Johnny Depp

Español: Johnny-depp

Image via Wikipedia

Shall I compare thee to Gerard Butler?
Thou art more yummy and more versatile;
Harsh critics pan Gerard’s roles more and more,
And high profits elude him still a while.

Sometimes too weird the star of Brad Pitt shines,
And steady has his skin’s complexion dimmed,
And sexiness does all too soon decline,
Especially when beards remain untrimmed.

But thy eternal fresh face does not fade,
Which frankly freaks me out a little bit,
No wrinkles do thy perfect face invade,
nor senility cloud thy clever wit.

So long as movies play for eyes to see,
So long my ticket stubs belong to thee.