Ashton Kutcher Around A Campfire [Today's News Poem, December 29, 2010]

Ashton Kutcher Around A Campfire [Today's News Poem, December 29, 2010]

Check out this watch that I got from a star:
Platinum, crystal, worth more than my house
Ages before all the cities burned down.
Know something funny? He offered it free—
Offered me coffee and liquor and smokes.
Famous? You bet! But that's then, this is now.
Hey, this is secret—he offered his ass.
Why not? The loneliness kills us inside.
Company kills from without—yes he's dead.
Strangled to death, now I'm wearing his suit,
Cracking his bones—oh his marrow is sweet!

"Ashton Kutcher is getting toned and tough - so he can fend for himself and look after his family following an Armageddon-type crisis. The 32 year old tells Men's Fitness magazine, "It will not take much for people to hit the panic button. The amount of convenience that people rely on based on electricity alone. You start taking out electricity and satellites, and people are going to lose their noodle. "And people are going to go, 'That land's not yours, prove that it's yours,' and the only thing you have to prove it's yours is on an electronic file... People's alarm systems at their homes will no longer work, Neither will our heating, our garbage disposals, hot-water heaters that run on gas but depend on electricity. "What happens when all our modern conveniences fail? I'm going to be ready to take myself and my family to a safe place where they don't have to worry... All of my physical fitness regimen is completely tailored around the end... I stay fit for no other reason than to save the people I care about.""
—The Daily Dish, San Francisco Chronicle, December 29, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/dailydish/detail?entry_id=79914

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Cult of the Balloonist and the Flea [Today's News Poem, October 1, 2010]

Cult of the Balloonist and the Flea [Today's News Poem, October 1, 2010]

The balloonist was a showman, scammer, ne'er do well
Who had lived, like fleas, attached to host; to suck a bit
And to stay unnoticed: hidden next to crumbs and dirt.
If the beard of humankind permits the rats to dwell
With the flies, racoons and dandelions—why not twits?
We've reconsecrated brothels in our films; alert
For the holy prostitutes—besides hotels for cats.
And inhaling all the heated air we can, we rise
On our hype, until we see ourselves alone with rain
For our balaclavas, wearing thunderheads for hats;
And of course, believing even lightning our disguise
As we ride the sighs of lapsing life that blow our gain,
Unbelievably, beyond the grasp of desperate ghouls.
And we lied to cannibals about the sacred smoke.
And we saw them pray until they shrank from sight (the fools).
And we sneered, before the storm revealed a final joke:
And we scream, before we're sneezed from storm, like mucus drool.

“Two US balloonists who went missing over the Adriatic Sea while taking part in an endurance race are unlikely to have survived, race organisers have said.”
– BBC, 1 October 2010 Last updated at 17:13 ET
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-11457625


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