Four
The Little Blue Engine
by Shel Silverstein
The little blue engine looked up at the hill.
His light was weak, his whistle was shrill.
He was tired and small, and the hill was tall,
And his face blushed red as he softly said,
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”
So he started up with a chug and a strain,
And he puffed and pulled with might and main.
And slowly he climbed, a foot at a time,
And his engine coughed as he whispered soft,
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”
With a squeak and a creak and a toot and a sigh,
With an extra hope and an extra try,
He would not stop — now he neared the top —
And strong and proud he cried out loud,
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!”
He was almost there, when — CRASH! SMASH! BASH!
He slid down and mashed into engine hash
On the rocks below… which goes to show
If the track is tough and the hill is rough,
THINKING you can just ain’t enough!
alpha/omega
as it was, so shall it always be
Someone needed this instruction
At Fazoli’s, 6:30 pm, March 9, 2010.
goodbye yellow brick road
my email address is fountainhead at insightbb dot com
that is all.
You asked me over, and over and over…Have you seen my peacock feathered hat?
If it was under a four-leaf clover
I’d be on the lawn looking for that
This is not the Beaver Brown Band.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
As an apneac/insomniac, my hours alone in the middle of the night can be both a blessing and a curse.
On the bright side, I have much more free time to think/doodle/listen/browse/post/chat/dream/cry than the normal human.
On the dark side, I don’t sleep.
Be that as it may, as it is neither here nor there, my point being and such, I have found something creative (and horrifying) that I created many years ago during a long period of awakitude. I had not turned 30 yet, so hopefully you can chalk this indiscretion up to childhood playfulness. I give to you: egotrip.