Skim+Milk+and+Schmereal+by+BFay

Greetings​. Hi. Welcome. Grab a bowl of cereal. Or Schmereal, if you feel like living an alternative lifestyle. "Truth must of necessity be stranger than fiction...for fiction is the creation of the human mind, and therefore is congenial to it." -G.K. Chesterton

You have entered. I'm not sure why. Read onward if you really have nothing better to do with your life so desire.

Forgotten Machine The new machinery, tangled in wire Its rusty predecessor short-circuits But while the ancient drowns under the mire, The new-born calculates and interprets “How could I have been replaced so quickly?” Laments the shocked face of metal wreckage “My masters once told me that they loved me” But now the //infant// sits upon the ledge The cycle is bound to repeat itself Machines are only worth the length they run Consumers in their ignorance and wealth Won’t satisfy themselves with //only one// So oblivious to the impending; The poor machine’s life will soon be ending.

Marco I keep repeating, But they never hear. Time is fleeting, I keep repeating

Requested a global meeting, Told six billion, “Listen here!” I keep repeating But they never hear.

Sometimes poems only take thirty seconds to write. ​ This is my haiku I hope that you enjoy it. Oh no, it's over!

Download my Calligrame!​  Untitled There once was a man from Nantucket Who accidentally swallowed a rock. He went to the hospital and died. I am referring to the man, not the rock. If I had been referring to the rock, I would not have known what pronoun to use, because the rock's name was "Pat," which does not specifically indicate a gender. Quite frankly, I am glad that the rock did not die, because I would have been confused. I didn't, however, care much for the man. You might be wondering, "Why isn't the writer more sympathetic towards the man from Nantucket." It's because he wasn't able to write a proper limerick.

Airport The girl wandered the terminal Awaiting his delayed return Comfort is ephemeral, And this she quickly learned

As she sate in a most uncomfortable chair The stiffness of the skeleton Grew impossible to bear She watched the sinking sun.

Not a minute had passed since she last checked the clock Time seemed so vast Waiting for someone to knock There was no tell-tale mast Approaching the desolate dock

Another airplane tore Through the sunlit clouds But the passengers it bore Did not include the proud Man who had left for war, And now she cried out loud,

“Have I waited too long, Or not long enough? Should I stay strong And wait for my love?”

Day gave way to night More hours had been wasted Waiting for a flight; A flight so long belated

She could no longer wait, So tired of asking, “When?” She burst through the gate And was never seen again

The plane took flight, Passed through the clouds Where day sheds light And night forms shrouds. Opeth - Isolation Years media type="file" key="08 Track 08.mp3"