Blog Day 2011 Part 2

Topic 7: The Hydrant

“Go outside. Pick a starting spot and direction. Walk 100 steps. Find something from that spot and blog about it.”

This fire hydrant now finds itself a decorative adornment for some typical American family in some typical American suburb. This was not always the case. No, this hydrant once found itself on a busy city corner. Waiting patiently to fulfill its duty and save the citizens  of this great city from the nightmare flames. Day in day out the lonely hydrant would wait, ready and willing, to subdue it’s fiery foe. Well, unfortunately the day of reckoning never came and it became far too unstable to remain so it was auctioned off and sold to the lucky owners. Now it sits still, patient, ineffectual, and completely, utterly, defeated.

Creative Writing Music

On Poetry Month – Poem 4.

For my last poem of poetry month I decided to do a found poem with some cavets. The poem is written with the lyrics of the first song to come up on my iTunes when placed on shuffle (The song also must contain lyrics). The poem must contain only words found in the lyrics and those words can only be used once each unless they repeat in the lyrics. The content does not have to relate to the song in any way.

So, when I put it on shuffle I got the song Black Out by Pavement. An awesome song and band. Here is what I wrote. It’s pretty dark, but I really like the turnout. I will post the lyrics to the song below the poem.

Dirty Trail


Where does it go? How do I get there?

No one has a clue


Criminal’s rattlesnakes walkin’ past

Shut up. No, talkin’

Count to ten


They start turning


Spastic wrestling





Frigid air felt like grass


Gauzy rays of lights dancing

Parting with the elements


What will I find?


Black Out by Pavement

Sunday driving past your own hall of fame

It’s closed on weekdays, shut for good

Pick out no one when you’re talkin’

Felt like rattlesnakes were walkin’

No one has a clue


The parting shots, the thin caught

Fault line dancing across the frigid air shafts

A spastic grass, a criminal’s child


Count to ten and read

Until the lights begin to bleed

Lights; til you actually a-see the rays

And your thoughts they start turning


Tells you lessons that you’re learning

No one has a clue


The gauzy thoughts of those dirty scots

Wrestling with the elements up on the trail high

I need to know

Where does it go? how do I get there? what will I find?


(fun fun fun, fun for the summertime blues)

(it’s gonna set you free)