Plant of the Thing I Bought and other poems

Dear fans,

Writing my novel is really hard. I have 100 pages, but I need more of course. But right now I'm procrastinating and I looked through one of my old poetry books and found some poems that I think are pretty cool but haven't been posted on Telemoonfa Time yet. So I typed them up and here they are. I wrote all of them when I served a mission in the West Virginia Charleston Mission from 2002 to 2004. But this morning when I typed them I made some changes that I think make them better. Enjoy.


Deep Doctrine

Mysterious passages of scripture
excite the mind with visions of eternity,
infinity and miracles and gender.

Cosmic views seen through a glass darkly
flood the soul with feelings of
infinity and miracles and gender

While in this temporary gathering of each
of the five senses we talk of shadows of
infinity and miracles and gender

During mortality deep doctrine
mocks our thoughts with truth of
infinity and miracles and gender.


I’m all up over this Poemness

Yo check this rhyme sometime!
Hearken to my iambic pentameter.
Yo check this rhyme sometime!
Hearken to my iambic pentameter.
Yo check this rhyme sometime!
Hearken to my iambic pentameter.
It moves you, doesn’t it?


Dog One, Dog Two, Dog Three

1) Male
2) Female
3) Male

1) Obedient
2) Obedient
3) Disobedient

1) Happy
2) Slaphappy
3) Slaphappy

1) Dog Two
2) Dog Three
3) Dog One

1) Expensive
2) Expensive
3) Expensive

1) Fun-loving
2) Fun-loving
3) Hateful bounder


Examples of and Two Explanations for Misplaced Onomatopoeias

Clash Smack Blook Tawk
Hear the sounds of a shaking rock
Bing bang tooo zip
Or how ‘bout a fight on a pirate ship?
Crunch Bunch Gaw Jath
That’s the sound of walking on a path
Yip Yaw Zoon Goooot
There goes Daddy’s steel-toed boot

1) Oh the sounds
Oh the sounds
The misplaced sounds
The very very very very very misplaced sounds

2) Oh the ears
Oh the ears
The damaged ears
The very very very very very misplaced ears


Yawning, Putting on my Robe

I’m prepared for breakfast,
But is breakfast prepared for me?
I’m itching to get moving,
But is moving itching to get me?



Instructions for real-time Bible reading: Genesis 5:1-3

[Read:] This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day that God created man, in the likeness of God made he him; male and female created he them; and blessed them, and called their name Adam, in the day when they were created. And Adam lived an hundred and thirty years [pause 130 years] and begat a son in his own likeness, after his image, and called his name Seth:


Close Encounters of the Plant Kind

Rustle rustle in your face
Distractaling distractaling your business
Ha ha ha that’s me
Yeah yeah yeah that’s me
Yes I rustle yes I distract
Ha ha ha that’s me
Yeah yeah yeah that’s me


Bouncing Running Skipping

Bounce bounce bounce
Run run run
Skip skip skip


Squirrels that jump like frogs on pogo sticks, wearing super high jump boots

Zing! Hop!
There they go! Jumping!
Tree to tree-
Tree to ground-
Ground to Tree-
And the slightly less daring ground to ground!
The squirrels wear sunglasses-
There’s fourteen fourteen of ‘em,
And they’re all teenagers on television!
They jump like frogs on pogo sticks, wearing super high jump boots!


Eat this Popsicle while I tell you a Rhymesicle

Cat Hat Bat,
All mixed together in a vat,
Gets me ready for a very fat spat-

Punch!


The Clean and the Unclean

I’m sure the clean probably mixed in
with the unclean sometimes, in Moses’ day.
And just as night and day have a dusk,
And black and white have a gray,
My brain has two sides, and where they meet,
There’s a man, shriveled and indecisive.


Returning from the grocery store

Sunflower seeds, kidney beans, macaroni and cheese
What do you think of these?
Vitamin C tablets, candy canes, spaghetti sauce
If I destroyed these, would it be a great loss?
Tortilla chips, peanut butter, bubble gum
My loss of food would be a loss of yum.
Garbanzo beans, a dozen eggs, toothpicks
The more the yum, the more the licks.
Whole milk, frozen French fries, pickles
These things are worth more than nickels.
What do you think of my trip to the grocery store you nosy probably stealer?


Burning pig strips

Sizzling bacon
Oh I’m achin’
It’ll taste good
The best kind of stuff in the neighborhood


Really Big Fire, Plus Dragons

A tale was told in ye olden time
Of yonder exploits involving dragons
Spewing forth fire
that ‘twas hot, hot, hot, like a fire
(exactly like a fire!)
Oh! Oooh! ‘tis making me perspire!
What? Doth thou count me a liar?
Listen, Chavez, a tale was told,
But -that’s right- I used past tense,
And I’m not gonna tell it so if you wanna
Hear it then go get a quarter and put it in a phone
And call a caring female, ‘cause that’s what you are.
Yeah! You’re a female!
Chavez, you’re a female!


What Do I See at 8:30 PM on December 8th, 2003 (with my demon eyes?)

Three bags of cereal
A pan
A towel with a demon on it
Fourteen pieces of air
You’re a female, Chavez!


The Terribly True Account of the Dialogue Between a Once-Christian Boy and a Magic 8 Ball: An Official Recitation of MAMEB (Mothers Against Magic Eight Balls)

Q: Am I cool enough to ask Tiffany out?

Shake shake shake

A: Reply hazy, try again later.

Q: Will I live until I’m 20?

Shake shake shake

A: No.

Q: Should I be a Democrat or a Republican?

Shake shake shake

A: A Democrat.

Q: Am I cool enough to ask Tiffany out?

A: No, and that’s why you should burn the house down.

Hey! I didn’t shake you! I want my priest! I want my priest! (then, with hypnotized-swirl eyes) I will now burn the house down.


Downtown With My New Dreadlocks

I’m walking down the street
I’m grooving to the beat
I wonder who I’ll meet
Stepping down the street

Oh it’s Pete, sweet!
Hey Pete, you wanna go eat?

We’re munching on some bread
We’re getting nice and fed
We’re talking about my head
Wondering if I’m dead

Crap, it’s Ned, the blockhead-
He overheard what we said!

I’m running ‘cross the floor
I’m opening the door
I’m exiting the store
Joining the Peace Corps

Peace I adore, and Indian Lore;
Let’s make happy stuff, not war!


Plant of the Thing I Bought

My plant has leaves
My plant has flowers
My plant is so lovely
I love my plant forever
I want to dance around my plant
I want to put clothes on my plant
My plant is smelling good right now

My plant is saying hello
My plant wants to go to the store
“My plant wants to go to the store”
That’s what my plant said
Even though my plant said, “my plant”
He was talking about my plant, himself
My plant was talking about my plant, get it?

Umm…. My plant likes to make friends
My plant’s friends are other plants
Other plants aren’t as pretty as my plant
My plant has a personality
“A personality of love” says my plant
Only my plant wants to talk to me anyway
You can’t hear my plant when he talks
Only I can hear my plant
My plant gets angry sometimes

Like right now my plant is furious and ferocious about telling you about him because he’s jealous and he likes to be alone in his room and he never comes out and he said very many bad words to me and made me cry and he said, “don’t you ever do that again or I will be the most mean! Meaner than even you ever seen in your whole life” so I have to stay here and talk with him so he does not get the most of the upset and I have to feed him bugs and I’m scared now because maybe I shouldn’t be talking with you about him but I love my plant yes I love him and I want to show the world my plant of the thing I bought and that’s why I decided to tell you that I have a good plant yes a nice nice doesn’t-get-mad plant and it’s a good thing I’m in charge of this plant and this poem because oh buddy if I wasn’t in charge you would probably get the most death and I would have to listen to my plant yell at me and I would probably start to cry.

My plant gets angry
My plant gets upset
My plant is a person
I have been lying to you about my plant
My plant has a body like my body
My plant has two eyes that he can see with
My plant has two ears that he can hear with
My plant has a mouth that he can talk with
My plant isn’t really a plant, but that’s what I call him

He’s mine, though, yes, my plant is mine
I bought my plant, but not with money
I bought my plant with honesty
I bought my plant with good deeds
I mean I sacrificed a truth here for my plant
And I killed a purity there for my plant
The more I killed, the more my plant grew
I am scared of my plant now
I wish I could tell someone about my plant

I wish I weren’t going to destroy this poem about the plant of the thing I bought when I’m finished writing it and oh how I wish I hadn’t of bought him and nourished and clothed him and even there was this one time I remember when I was wearing a warm coat and it was cold in my room because it’s better for my plant if it’s cold well I don’t know the science behind it but he likes it better that way he says so cold in fact that one time when I was so cold he said “give your coat to me” and I said “but then I will be cold and you’re the one that wanted it cold so maybe I should make it warmer in here if you would like” and the plant said to me again “give me your coat” and so I gave him my coat and he wore it and I shivered- that’s the kind of mean things my plant would do just for fun I guess, but I

Must say that my plant is good to dance around
My plant especially likes it when I dance around him

And I like my plant
I really do like my plant
My plant has leaves
And my plant is not a human
My plant is not a problem
My plant of the thing I bought

My first novel

Dear Telemoonfa Time fans, as many of you already know, I am a writer. I like writing, it's something I've done for a long time, and it's something I hope to continue to do for a very long time. I have some free time in the coming days, so I decided to get down to business, quit whining, and write a novel.

As of today, July 29th, 2008, I have 70 good pages written. (double spaced, 12 point font, times new roman)

It's a young adult novel about a high school freshman named Mickey who likes a girl named Sarah.

I'm hoping I can get it published. Due to legal reasons, I'm not going to post any excerpts on Telemoonfa Time. But if I try to get it published for a long time, like a year or something, and don't get it published, then I might just give up and put it on this blog. I don't know. I just hope I can get it finished before school starts again in the fall.

I hope you are doing well.

See you later.

Sincerely,
Telemoonfa

Sharing the Gospel

The July 2008 edition of the Ensign's cover story is titled, "Sharing the Gospel Using the Internet" It was a good article, and it made me want to do a blog post on my feelings about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I claim to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. If you are not a member of the church, and you want to learn about the church, that's great! Latter-Day Saints are not only willing but eager to share their faith with you.

To find out more about the LDS church, you could go to church any Sunday; visitors are welcome to church services. If you like using the internet to research things, you should go to http://www.lds.org/, the Church's official webiste, or http://www.mormon.org/, another helpful website. Or, here's another option: you could get your hands on a Book of Mormon and start reading it.

Latter-day saints are not trying to be secretive, exclusive, or mysterious. We're trying to be open with our beliefs and our lifestyle. If you want to learn about the LDS church, there are plenty of good, accurate sources about it around. But there's also some biased and/or misinformed information out there, too.

I think the best thing to do to learn about the LDS church is to set aside a few hours to sit down in a queit place with the Book of Mormon and read it and think about it.

Let me tell you that I believe that the Book of Mormon is true and that it testifies of Jesus Christ. I believe that the Book of Mormon and the Bible work together to teach humankind about the meaning of life, eternity, God, the way we ought to live, and all those other important, ever-present subjects. The Church has helped me understand my relationship with Jesus Christ. The Church has given me the holy ordinances, like baptism and confirmation, I need to be saved in the kingdom of heaven.

Best of luck to you in your search for truth.

Sincerely,
Telemoonfa

Sitting at Boy Scout Camp

Sitting at Boy Scout Camp

I’m not a Boy Scout; I work in the kitchen.
That would explain why I’m here this afternoon.

The heat comes from the ground, worming
into my shoes and spreads to my head-
heat from the sun strikes me from above,
much like the oven heat hit me
a bit ago when I got the corndogs out.

Here in this big beautiful forest,
a bright new world to the little campers,
there’s a deadness about my life that
has me drooping my head, half-closing
my eyes, smoking another cigarette.

I’ve never been one to have romantic luck.
Seems like I buy a woman a beer or whatever,
she says thanks and by the time
I say you’re welcome she’s gone. Lately
I’ve just been buying stuff for myself.

Something small moves, near the picnic
table where I’m sitting, and I look.
It’s a chipmunk approaching me. No, not
a chipmunk. Chipmunks are cute: they have stomachs
that stick out, acorns in their cheeks,
they talk in squeaky voices.

This is a squirrel, tall-eared, lean, dirty-
he’d stink if I sniffed him.
He probably wants my candy.

I don’t actually know if it’s a him or a her,
But it seems like a male. I’ll just get it
settled in my mind that it’s a man.

He works his way towards me, moving in quick,
jerky movements, so low to the ground.
He’s nice to watch, actually. Now and then
he picks some twig or rock or pinecone up
with his hairy fingers, sniffs it, and tries
to get something out of it with his hands and mouth.

And what hands he has! His fingers are like
my fingers; he has knuckles and I have knuckles.

This encounter is fleeting. It’s not often that squirrels
spend so this much time this close to humans.

I’m being quiet so I don’t scare him away.

Part of me wants to leave a cookie out for him
at a certain time every day, and each day he
would get closer and closer, more comfortable
and more comfortable. Eventually we’d be friends.

That’s enough. The squirrel doesn’t know who I am.
I don’t really know who it is. I might as well deny ever
having seen the animal. I’m not having an uplifting
experience sitting here; my break’s over
and I gotta get back in there.

3 Poems

A Leg I See

Before my eyes there is a leg.
It is my own leg, and it is marked
by mosquito bites.
They are red and itchy and protruding.

Strange how I feel it now and you do not, is it not?
Strange how my sensations are locked into myself
made especially for my brain
and my brain only.

Neurologists can explain it all in terms of
chemistry. Religionists have their own ideas.
Nevertheless I confess that this leg
is my leg, and it itches.

Paying for Music

One thing everybody can talk about is music.
We know songs that stir emotions
album covers that call up in the mind
a block of music, a set of time. We
love to hear that song on the radio - the old
one by the band whose name is somewhere
in our minds, tucked away.

And the sound of the needle scratching the vinyl-
just before the magic - the fuzz before
the daring feat - that anticipatory moment injects
squiggly feelings into our spines and necks - it joins
the savage and the conqueror in an embrace -
they start dancing, bobbing their heads,
wagging their butts.

Rhyming Poem # 5

I have a black hat.
I don’t know where it's at.
Maybe its in the closet.
By the way, what's a bozzet?
I've never heard of a bozzet before,
maybe it's a type of floor,
or door. Or a rock band that's hardcore-
or that part of the flick with the intestines coming out plus more gore.
Is it an economic outlook in which the poor are glor-
ified? or a trinket trolls adore? Or,
maybe a bozzet is a bit of lore
about a store that sells only a single apple core
(No, that last definition slash explanation was a bore. Ignore
it.) A bozzet must be a tiger.
- yes- exactly a tiger!
the spitting image, with matching DNA
A "tiger" (not the thing itself but the word signifying the thing) is common, paltry, cliché
any decent coloring book has one.
So let's call a tiger a bozzet.
Nay, rather, let's call a bozzet a bozzet!

4 Poems

Out at Camp Raymond I’ve been reading a lot and writing in my journal. I found a poet I love. It’s Stephen Crane, author of The Red Badge of Courage. Here’s a poem he wrote that I really like:

In the desert

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter – bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”


Isn’t that creepy awesome? It sounds mythic and huge.

Here are three poems that I wrote recently. This first one is influenced by Frank O’Hara, and it’s based on a true story.

Eating Bagels and Strawberry-Flavored Cream Cheese

This is a delicacy, you know?
munch munch munch,
to eat bagels like this-
to eat cream cheese like this-
munch munch munch,
the single-serving pouches- oh!
the pre-cut bagels- oh!
munch munch munch
right in the middle they’re cut-
smudges of pink atop the tan… mmm…
It’s all just like I’ve seen it on TV!

This second one is also based on a true story. Ever since I got the Herbst appliance, (the Herbst appliance is a metal thing my orthodontist put in my mouth to make my lower jaw stick out further, thus correcting my bite.) out of my mouth, my jaw makes this cracking sound now and then. This Thing With My Jaw reminds me of one of my previous poems, Sprinkles on My Ice Cream.

This Thing With My Jaw

Human bodies have funny things about them:
joint problems, facial ticks, amputated limbs,
strange noises coming from within.

Me, I have this thing with my jaw.
Every morning upon opening my mouth
perhaps to yawn, or to yell at the cat,
a cracking noise and feeling happens.

It’s as if a tiny troll lived in there,
and to make his living he mines for gems,
and Jablork (the name of the troll)
uses his cute trollish explosives to blast
through several feet of rock.

In fact right now I know my mouth
is populated by more than mere
bacteria, and by more than Jablork-
but by dark spirits in flashy costumes,
and by wolves.

This next poem is partly inspired by a co-worker I have right now who is really friendly, but he’s always talking about visions that he has and voices that he hears. He was in prison for about six months and then he was in a state hospital for mental illness for a year. He’s very interesting. He’ll talk and talk and I’ll listen and listen by the campfire.

In Times of my Ease

I should be thinking about oppression,
about my peers in the war,
or the Chinese children who made my shirt.

Instead I’m occupied by the rise and fall
Of my eyelids – by the encroachment and retreat
of the haze in my mind, by my schizophrenic
friend’s impassioned talk of the Dalai Lama,
vampires, Jim Morrison, third eyes, chakras,
and his pivotal role in it all.

But I do hereby concede that
I should be thinking about oppression,
about my peers in the war
or the Chinese children who made my shirt.

This next poem is self-explanatory.

On the Modern-Day Literary Elite, Of Which I Am Chief Of

Here I sit with a scholarly anthology of poetry.
I write a little;
I read a little.
I am by the campfire, it is midday,
and I am obscure.

No. Charlotte Perkins Gilman is obscure.
I am fobscure.

I read a little,
I write a little,
I loaf as Walt Whitman once loafed.

The trees and the rocks really do look very poetic today;
deep within my inner heart I feel the very throbbing, poetic
feelings about these trees and rocks before me – oh!
with such force my heart doth throb!
Aye – force! Force and clamor and fury!

Yet I doubt even a thousand people know my name. Sigh.

Those idiots!
Idiots indeed- Millions of them-
Billions of them- ignorant insects-
There they are, walking around, doing nothing consequential-
does it not occur to them that I might be sitting here at Boy Scout Camp
meditating on the mysteries of the soul, exuding wisdom,
breathing out beauty, communing with the seraphim?