Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Silly Emotional Teenagers


They think their vernacular is spectacular,
that the latest trend will have no end
that their hairstyles are smiled upon by crocodiles.
They distribute a flower every hour
professing a love’s fire which will never expire,
sticking awkwardly-shaped noses into grocery-store roses,
pressing two painted lips to the petals of periwinkle tulips,
communicating wanton agitations by way of carnations,
and in the reelings of their putrid, pubescent feelings
they think they alone hold the answer to war, poverty, cancer,
and that the solutions to all spiritual pollutions
reside in the ever-pumping blood of their ever-thumping hearts.
Ha! As if all it took to fathom the deep deep night was a spasm!
Oh, I suppose their peculiar customs are a bit endearing
and as no alternative to adolescence seems to be appearing,
let them live on with their gossip-telling and flower-smelling.
And anyway, who am I to dispense judgments, really?
Perhaps I am the one who is actually silly.
Though calm and measured I’m often appearing,
here now I sit, middle-aged, with sock and mud, smearing, smearing.

January


Jan was wary.
Jan was a berry.
Thus, Jan was a wary berry,
and rightfully so,
for wouldn`t you know,
Jan was eaten by Febbie
and the eating was scary
because Febbie was a sasquatch.
Stop what you`re doing
and listen to the chewing:
Chew chew. Chew chew.
Alas, the only comforting thing
the new year did bring
was the snow, and a train.
Choo choo. Choo choo.

To a Six-Armed Hindu Idol, on Display at the Phoenix Art Museum, Sculpted by an Unknown Artist, circa 900 AD


I will not bow to you
or pray to you
or do whatever it is that Hindus do
when they come walking into your view.
I will not offer you a sacrifice,
and I won't give you respect, or even act nice.
How can I, when your mere presence 
is an affront to everything I believe in?

You have no real power.
Nobody really has six arms.
You are a false god, an idol,
nothing more than the stone
from which you were cut,
inspiring neither fear nor love
in my thoroughly Christian heart.

How can you sit there
-whatever your name is-
some name I can't pronounce,
and shouldn't remember anyway,
but how can you sit there,
century after century,
sturdy, solid, confident?
Don't you know you're a phony?

My God is a jealous God.
How do you think He felt today
as I walked briskly by the European exhibits,
casting a few obligatory glances at Jesus?
How do you think He feels now,
seeing me stop here at your feet, slowing my breath,
admiring your bulk, grace, and symmetry,
gazing into eyes that look deep into mine,
ancient eyes which look all ways at once?

In Sunday School


I learned that rocks don’t have souls,
but people do, as well as elephants and moles.
Jonah got swallowed by a great and terrible fish,
and Judas Iscariot put his hand in the dish.

Some stuff is clean, and other stuff is not.
The Holy Ghost’s power cannot be bought.
Jesus cast out a demon, and it went into a pig. 
You can’t hide from God in a hole, however deep you dig.

I learned a hundred other pretty neat things,
but I like it best when the teacher sings.

Top Ten Mormon pick-up lines


# 10 Excuse me, but I couldn’t help noticing how modestly you’re dressed.

# 9 I think there might be something wrong with my Liahona. Both spindles keep pointing straight to you. Ah, but now that I see your beautiful eyes, maybe this Liahona is working perfectly after all.

# 8 By the way, my Dad’s a General Authority.

# 7 There’s going to be a sealing ceremony at the nearest temple next Saturday at 9 a.m. Will you prepare yourself to become my eternal companion by accompanying me immediately to our temple recommend interviews?

# 6 You look thirsty. How about a cup of hot chocolate on me?

# 5 Greetings, fair one. An angel with a flaming sword commanded me to take you as my seventeenth polygamous wife. Will you comply?

# 4 Hey there… you look like the type of gal who really knows how to hie to Kolob.

# 3 Have you ever played Settlers of Catan? Do you wanna?

# 2 Hi, my bishop finally just gave me clearance to start dating again. So… can I pick you up at 7?

# 1 Hi my name is Paul Bird and I just got back from a mission.

Streaming Content


Pictures and corresponding sounds flow like a stream,
down from an iMountain or down from an e-cloud,
down to my electronic device, a movie that seems like a dream,
moving pictures and soothing sounds that cover me like a shroud.

The experience is less like an afternoon with a stream
in the 1800’s and more like an electronic night in 2014,
and there are no streams and there are no birds anywhere.
There’s a lot we can do with computers, isn’t there?

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Is this the end of Telemoonfa Time?

Dear Readers,

A few months ago, I joined Facebook.  It's changed my life.  I check it every day.  And everyday, somebody "likes" something I do, or comments on something, and there is interesting stuff there, so I've been putting stuff on Telemoonfa Time a lot less.  I get more feedback on Facebook.  I wonder if I will eventually stop blogging altogether.  I hope not.  But Facebook is tempting.  It's weird.  I think I'm addicted to it.  I don't think I've ever been addicted to Telemoonfa Time. 

Um... whatever blah blah blah.  My life is pretty blah right now, blah blah blah.  Oh the woes of modernity, prosperity and the 40 hour work week. 

But everything is fine, blah blah blah...  Thanks for reading. 

But most likely I'll keep Telemoonfa Time going.  I'll try to put something up once a month.  If nothing else, I'll put new poems up here.  Some of my recent poems have been pretty good, don't you think? 

Oh, and this is an election year.  So maybe I'll write about politics as November approaches.  My political views haven't changed at all recently.  Conservatives are awesome; liberals are lame.  That's about all you need to know.  Vote conservative in the primaries.  Vote Republican in the generals.  This country is going to heck.  I guess all you can do is make your own home an oasis of freedom and righteousness.

Take care. 

Sincerely,
Telemoonfa