My journey making a new friend, my struggle to balance friendship and a brotherly bond. These are my invaluable experiences. This blog is intended to organize my feelings as I begin my friendship with my new little, who I will call Tommy for the purpose of this blog.

My friend gave me a jar to put on my shelf where I could place my most valued ideas. I should just screw off the top and there in I would plop all of my thoughts. They would cascade into this jar of mine, whirling and spinning around.

But before I could twist off this top to plop my very own opinions and ideas, I had to listen to my friend’s thoughtless thoughts. For his are grossly graver than any wishes of miniscule me. Twist went the lid and out he let slid all what could have been my precious impressions and aims. Then all that I knew was what he put into my jar of a friend’s ideas.

On my shelf it now sits with the crumbling cork covering what I could never put in. My abandoned eyes gaze with an unworried head haze fixed on this sated jar. Shallow and silly it seems nay knowing ones own dreams. I’m watching others’ dreams spinning and twirling on my shelf in a jar.


Thursday, February 11, 2010

Week 4

I know Tommy will like this poem. Poetry can be fun. Yah. Sure. I won’t quite phrase it like that though. I want him to think I’m cool. Come on!

“How Did A Hair Get There?”

Pee pours towards porcelain but I can’t really relax. There’s a pube on the tube, how it got there, un-knew. Oh how bile a blunder to me. Us manly men in the room wonder just who put this pube in our porcelain potty; why are you there little hair? Who left you to wet and wither? Of interest to me, is he three-foot-three or does he enjoy to leave bits of himself for me? To see this there, this curly black hair, has ruined my splendid splashing. Goodbye poor potty, for your owner was naughty and left you to rot on our seat. How this did fall, a mystery t’us all and okay at the same time.
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