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Dec 2012 · 1.5k
For Science!
Joel A Doetsch Dec 2012
Are you bored?
Do you feel there's no point to the things you do?
Is your life missing an element of excitement?

Fear not, I have just the thing

Put the Awe back in Awesome
Put the back Zing back in Amazing
Put the Fanta back into Fantastic

What?  Fanta is great.


It's rather simple.  

The next time you have to do something you find boring, depressing, or unfulfilling, do it FOR SCIENCE!

Some examples:

I'll be out later, I have to do my English homework...FOR SCIENCE
I'm giving the big presentation tomorrow...FOR SCIENCE
I got into a car accident this morning...FOR SCIENCE
I don't feel so well, I need to use the crapper...FOR SCIENCE.  I'll be in there awhile.  For Science.
Someone tried to steal my purse, so I stabbed them...FOR SCIENCE

I guarantee that if you use this handy tip, your self esteem will rise, and people will find you exponentially more interesting!

Or they might think you're crazy

They definitely won't think you're boring, though.

So go out there and show the world what you're made of

For Science!
Science has shown that Science makes everything more interesting
Dec 2012 · 697
Joel A Doetsch Dec 2012
They gather 'round
the mountainous pile
it's towering
to them
it's frightening

Cascades of books
Pages upon pages of
They despise these words
they hide them in dark corners
of their minds
Where they do not peer
where the tissue paper of their fantasy world
barely holds back the truth

They've gathered all their fears together
in the square
covered in gasoline.  The fuel of the righteous.
The medium of control and order
Now those are words they can get behind.

They stand for a moment
as if they aren't quite sure
if what they're doing is right

The moment passes
a lone cigarette flips carelessly
through the air
Bouncing off Twain
Rolling past Dickens
Before landing on the esteemed Thompson

Let there be light, indeed.

The heat given off is immense
Why wouldn't it be?
The fire is burning through ideas
A powerful fuel source
freedom of thought evaporates
with the smoke
with the smell
of burning paper
of burning leather

These righteous people
These wise people
with no emotions
but anger and hate
are suddenly alive

They roll their eyes back
into their heads in ecstacy
in hypocricy
it brings them pleasure
to destroy knowledge
and replace it
with falsehood
with lies

The pile is smoldering now
A hill of dead authors
They walk away

It's a tough job,
defending the world
from free expression
from the burden of choice

but someone's gotta do it
as far as they're concerned
it might as well be them
Dec 2012 · 1.2k
Joel A Doetsch Dec 2012
Open your eyes, child

It's not a dull gray world you live in
See the color of life refracted through curiosity

This world is so much more than a
monotonous day to day existence

Every second of every day there are
mysteries waiting for you to solve

There are questions
burning for answers

What is that star in the night sky?
I'm glad you asked
Keep asking questions
Always ask questions

Never let up in your search for understanding
Ask the same question of different people
Question their answers
Challenge your perceptions
Keep Asking Questions

Can you?
Should you?
Why not?

Don't settle for an answer.
Find more questions.
Questions will shape your life
will alter your course
more than answers ever could

Answers are only questions that no one asks anymore
Dec 2012 · 1.0k
A Snow Covered Field
Joel A Doetsch Dec 2012
three men standing in a snow-covered field
trying to recapture their youth
these men standing in this snow covered field
haven't a clue what to do

As boys, they owned this domain
It was their land to tame
It was magical, and theirs for the taking

They were crazy, wild, and free
They could not possibly be
the gents who stand here freezing and shaking

Three men standing in a snow covered field
quietly staring in space
These men standing in this snow covered field
they try to remember this place

They indiscriminately shift
they just don't know what's different
about this scene that belongs to their past

they used to slip and slide on the ice
They never thought twice
of these things that were not meant to last

Three men standing in a snow covered field
look at each other and smile
These men standing in this snow covered field
are suddenly kids for awhile
Nov 2012 · 922
Joel A Doetsch Nov 2012
I eat the right food, I have the right friends
I buy the right clothes to keep up with the trends

I know the right people, I'm right in my head
Every morning I get up on the right side of the bed

I write the right lines and play the right songs
I sing the right melody when I'm singin' along

But when I'm with you, suffice it to say
I want to do the wrong thing in all the right ways

I can't find the right words, so I'll let my lips speak
Heavy gasps are the only response that I need

I'm right in the moment and you're right there beside
upright and downright, from your side to mine

We're electric
It's hectic
I push and you pull
we both love it *****
put our feelings on hold

No more right, no more honor
No more straight and narrow

I want dark, I want sin
I want lust by the barrel-full

Let's make all the wrong choices
Let's do all the wrong things
Let's walk the bad path
  and learn what wrong
             really means
I nearly got this one right
Nov 2012 · 669
Zumokuta Temokuchiarimiri
Joel A Doetsch Nov 2012
Zumokuta Temokuchiarimiri

When I sneak into your room,
you will never hear me

My mind's alert, adrenaline pumped,
my moves are slow and measured
I step so silently around
the objects that you treasure

There's no recourse, there's no escape
You can't avoid your ****** fate
I approach your side, nowhere to hide
out of my sheath my dagger slides

As you gurgle your final breath
the last thing that you will ever see
are the lifeless, souless eyes
of Temokuchiarimiri
This is apparently my "ninja name".  You have no idea how hard it was to make any semblance of a rhythm with it...
Oct 2012 · 1.4k
Joel A Doetsch Oct 2012
The boys, the boys, they can't help but stare at her
as she's talking, she's walking in iambic pentameter

She breathes in italics
Words fall from her lips
San-serif movements
Punctuate her hips

She writes, she paints, her dreams soak the paper
such beauty, such beauty, my willpower waivers

Her eyes tell a story
in which I want to belong
Only she knows the ending
as she has all along

I wish, I want, a new story to start
with her, with her, with all of my heart
Sep 2012 · 2.4k
Painted Man
Joel A Doetsch Sep 2012
There was once a rich and powerful man, known throughout the globe
for his accomplishments, for his wealth, for his power and his vision
He built his empire from sand and dust, with blood and bone

One day he desired to become immortalized in a fine painting

He wanted it to be the finest painting ever conceived -- painted by the hand of a god
He wanted people to look upon the work with tears in their eyes, staring at the beauty
that they beheld

He scoured the nation, looking for the artist that would create his masterpiece
day after day, lines formed at his estate as he took each one in
and sampled their artwork, and their sketches.

Weeks passed

None impressed him.  He became distraught

"Is there no man in this world who can possibly create the wonder that I desire?  Is there no man who can immortalize me in such a way that words could not describe the perfection?"

A voice crackled behind him.

" MAN can.  I, however, am not a man"

He turned to see a short creature behind him.  It was short with blue skin and orange eyes.  It's sharp teeth gleened as it smiled.

"What on earth are you?  Why are you here?"
"What I am is no matter, though you can call me Velnard. What I'm here to do is paint you"

The man frowned

"What is your cost?"

"I only ask that you never leave the painting that I've created"
"I would never leave it anywhere!  If it's as wonderful as I hope it to be, it would stay with me for eternity!"

Velnard smiled.

"Then we have an agreement!"
The man smiled and extended his hand, which was grasped firmly by a claw

Suddenly, a large canvas was hanging from the ceiling

The man looked around

"Where would you like me to stand?  Have you no paint?"
"Ah!  You can just stand there for a moment.  The paint will be ready shortly"

The man stood, regarding the small creature.  His hand was itching after shaking on the deal.  Minutes passed.  Neither party moved.  The man became impatient.

"Are you going to start?  I have other things to attend to today."
"I think you'll find that this is more important"
"Well then get to it already!"
"I already have"
"You've done nothing the entire time we've stood here!"
"No, the paint is nearly ready"

The man had lost his patience.  "This is ridiculous", he spat, as he derisively flicked his hand at the creature, motioning him to begone.  He heard a splatter on the floor and looked down.  On the ground, a foot or so in front of him was a droplet of pinkish-brown paint.  He looked around for the source, to no avail.  He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the creature.

"What are you playing at, Velnard?"

Only then did he notice something was odd.

His chin felt wet.  He pulled his handkerchief and wiped it off and when he looked down, the white cloth was covered in a similar pigment as what was on the floor.  He looked at his hand to see it was covered in paint.

"What trickery is this!?"

He wiped it away, only to find more.  He frantically wiped more to see the pinkish tint turn to red.

Velnard piped in

"It would do you well to stop that.  That's blood.  Well, actually it's paint...but it was blood."

The man was livid.  "What have you done to me!?"

"I'm painting" was the curt, rather emotionless response.

The man felt the oozing moving up his arm and to his chest and looked down to see his clothes starting to drip, no longer as fine cloth.  He lifted his leg, and it made a sickening sound as it peeled from the ground, leaving a black imprint on the ground.  The rest of his body was beginning to look like the Sagrada Familia.

He tried to yell, but his teeth and tongue were becoming more malleable by the second.


"I'm immortalizing you, my dear friend!  You're just about ready!"


Velnard cackled.  "Perhaps not what you wanted, but what you agreed to.  One should always read the contract before shaking hands with a strange creature."

The man started to cry, but his tears only served to smudge his eyeballs, making it difficult to see.

"Oh dear, you're going to smear your colors if you keep that up.  Anyway, we're at the moment of truth!  The canvas is ready"

The man struggled to stay upright as his knees slowly were softening.  His breathing became ragged as his insides started melting.

"You have a choice, my friend.  You can either stand here and melt into a puddle of you-colored paint, or you can use the last of your strength and jump into my canvas.  You will be immortalized and people will gaze upon your beauty and cry tears of joy.  Is that not what you wanted?"

The man's mouth was drooping as if he had heard some rather shocking news, his body now looked like a failed attempt at pottery.  He knew another minute and he wouldn't be able to move the few feet to the canvas.

"Tick tock" chimed Velnard

The man, in despair, willed his goopy muscles to make one more movement.  He dove towards the canvas, splattering himself across it.  A giant human-shaped splotch mark was all that was left.  The room became quiet.

Velnard walked up to the canvas and touched it.  The ink shifted and splayed until it became the man.  

He was glorious.  He was immortal.

Just as he was promised.
Sep 2012 · 1.9k
Family of Consequence
Joel A Doetsch Sep 2012
They're a normal family
As normal as they can be

The father is a veteran of WWII
He runs a tight ship
but one can tell by
looking into his eyes
(the one that works)
that he loves his wife and children

The mother isn't a homemaker
because she's forced to
she actually loves the challenge
of keeping a household in order
it gives her something
to take pride in

The daughter is sweet sixteen
bright as the stars in the night sky
She wants to be a concert pianist
drawing in crowds of thousands
to listen to sweet melodic

The son is naught but an infant
slowly learning the benefit
of moving in order to get places
his eyes constantly wander
in wonder at his surroundings
innocence in its true form

They are a normal family

But they're not.

Look closely at the father

You can see the mangled remnants of his chest
Where he fell on top of a grenade
He is, indeed, a veteran of WWII.  
His name is on the large memorial in Washington D.C.
Just another young man willing to sacrifice
for something he believed in

His wife died in 1926 from complications during pregnancy
She never got to see her daughter's face
as the doctors carried her from the room
The mother's pale face and unliving eyes
staring at a nondescript hospital ceiling

The daughter's crushed skull is the byproduct
of a drunk driver who is still haunted by
the vision of teenage dreams sliced
apart by windshield glass in 1985
He drinks alone at home now

The child has a gunshot wound through his neck
a stray bullet from a gang fight that found flesh and blood,
just as the man who pulled the trigger intended it to
every time the infant giggles, one can hear the gurgle shortly after

This family exists somewhere outside our consciousness
They don't go on vacations to Disney World
You won't see them at the corner grocery store
They don't Celebrate the Holidays
They don't have
    a favorite sports team
    a favorite pair of shoes
    a favorite band
What they have is eachother
four random souls that found one another
lost in the ether
living their afterlife
the best they can
Sep 2012 · 1.5k
Joel A Doetsch Sep 2012
I found you hiding in your painting

I distinctly remember saying
that you reminded me of Monet

Beautiful without trying
          Elegant Simplicity

You said I was like Seurat

Up close a jumble of emotions and thoughts
that seemed to contrast, but then all made
sense when you took me in as a whole

That night, we drank our fill
we danced under the fresco moonlight
   Our colors bled together as our lines,
boundaries, and vision blurred

Perfect Chaos.  Dali would have approved.

But..your lips. Those perfect lips
in crimson red oil
contrasting pastel skin
remained crisp and vivid in my memories
They left their mark on my canvas

A smile beckoning, drawing me

That night, so long ago...

We painted a masterpiece
Aug 2012 · 2.2k
I Could Use a Map
Joel A Doetsch Aug 2012
I'm terribly lost

It seems that every fork
that I encounter
on this road of life
I choose the one
that puts me further from my goal

Everyone else seems to know where they're going
It's really quite frustrating.

Do I really have that bad a sense of direction?

I've been looking for you for years
The one I can give my heart to
It's here
in this box
all *******
with fancy twine and tissue paper.
It has a tag on it that says "From:  Hopelessly in Love"
I haven't filled out the To: yet

I will once I find you

I want to meet you
I want to become your friend
I want to fall in love
I want the feeling of your hand in mine
I want lazy summer days spent laying on the grass with you (just watching the clouds drift by)
I want frosty winter nights curled in a blanket with you (sipping hot cocoa in my arms)
I want to smile for no other reason than because
you are happy
I want to share your fears and sorrows because
no one should have
to bear them alone

I want to find the one
who is worthy of this affection
who is worthy of my time
who is worthy of my love

I will present my heart to you
when I find you

If I find you....

...I hope I find you
Aug 2012 · 3.0k
Joel A Doetsch Aug 2012
When I look at you,
all of my
common sense
seems to evaporate
as my primitive brain
takes the wheel

We won't take our clothes off
We will tear them off.
Rip them off
Ravage them
Destroy them
We will brutally punish the fabric
for getting in the way of our sins,
it will fall tattered to the floor
as we don new clothing
made of our sweat and fingers

Our lips will find one another
then they'll find our necks
then our chests
then our stomaches
then....we'll see
We'll draw maps of our bodies with our fingers
and then we'll explore them with our tongues.
Nothing is sacred
Nothing is off limits

I want to make you feel ecstacy
I want your legs wrapped around me
I want your fingernails digging into my back
Leave scars, I insist.
Our bodies will press together
cause fusion
cause confusion
I don't want to know
what is mine
and what is yours
I want to be
so hopelessly
lost in you
and you in me
that we might never find our way back
Why would we ever go back?

As the rhythm becomes more staggered
I want to be looking into your eyes
We're seeing stars and we're relishing
every single tiny little moment
every feeling
every fleeting sensation
until we collapse into
eachother's arms
too tired to move
swimming in a
river of passion

You still smell delicious.
I want you again.
Aug 2012 · 1.6k
The Rulebook
Joel A Doetsch Aug 2012
Oh dear
Oh dear
I've happened upon a queer
I don't quite know
how this should go
luckily I have my rulebook here

Morality for Fools
tells me homosexuality is a sin
Now I'm allowed
To yell it out loud
and tell him how naughty he's been

Oh dear
Oh dear
My neighbor's wife is licking my ear
Oh what should I do?
What happens next?
Lucky I keep the rulebook on top of my desk

Morality for fools
tells me that adultery is wrong
so I ask her to leave
and she seems a bit peeved
as she was itching to get out of that thong

I'll be the first to confess
It's sometimes a mess
to keep it all straight in my head
You see, I have no morality of my own
so I use the book's instead

It's perfectly fine
and I really don't mind
It's so much simpler this way
I'd rather be told what to do in my life
than make my own choices all day
This one goes out to the folks who quote scripture without actually trying to understand what they're reading.  They treat the bible as a rulebook instead of a moral supplement, and in some cases I wonder if they'd actually follow their moral code if they weren't afraid of damnation.

This does not go out to the people who are respectful in their religion and use it as a guide.  This does not go out to the people that respect people's differences and don't try to force others to follow their belief system.  You guys are cool.  Carry on.
Aug 2012 · 1.2k
Trickle Down
Joel A Doetsch Aug 2012
A man was invited to his boss's house for dinner.
The dinner was fabulous, made by a private chef
and served by the family butler.  It was, all in all,
a wonderful evening.

At the end of the meal, the man saw his host
collecting all the table scraps from the table.

"What are you doing?" asked the man
"Ah, well whatever I don't eat, I give to the butler and the chef."
"They can't buy their own food?"
"Well no, I pay them in scraps"
"That's terrible!"
"Why?  I eat my meal, I usually leave enough for them to live off of, unless I forget"
"Unless you forget?"
"Well, yeah...I mean a few glasses of wine and that food is as good as gone"
"You see nothing wrong with this?"
"  Should I?"
"You are feeding your staff table scraps!  The amount they're getting is miniscule!  It's a miracle they haven't sued you!"
"Aha! I do see your point.  It is a rather meager amount.  Fortunately, since I'm such a clever fellow...I have a solution"
"You mean to give your staff full meals to eat?  Maybe pay them with money instead?"
"Haha, no no my simple man.  I'll just have them cook and serve more food!"
"Well it's rather simple.  If the amount of food that is cooked and served is increased, and I eat the same amount, then what's left over will be equivalent of a full meal!  Brilliant!"
"Well...yes...but what if you get drunk on wine and eat all of that food"
"I'm sure that I would never do such a thing.  Probably"
"Well, one can't always predict these things"
"So instead of giving them a fair meal, you'd rather them put in more effort and time so that they 'might' see an increase in their rations?"
"I know.  I should get a Nobel prize for this stuff"
"Or commited"
"Quite right"
This is all off the top of my head, unedited, and probably makes no sense.
Jul 2012 · 1.2k
Joel A Doetsch Jul 2012
I walked to the place today
the place where our bridge
   used to be.  
It's still hidden
deep within my mind.  I
know the way to the spot
all too well.

I stand and look across the chasm

The structures that anchored our bridge
to the canyon wall are now overgrown
  with ivy and vines.  The once
mighty body of the bridge itself
   lies a thousand feet below, slowly
eaten away by the river of change.
The river that also eats away at our
canyon walls, pushing us ever further

I remember when we built that bridge.
I saw you across the ravine.  You didn't
notice me, you were too busy smelling
the tiger lilies.  I was in awe.
I felt like a fool pretending to be wise
I felt like a boy pretending to be a man

I yelled towards you, hoping you'd notice.
You did.
You smiled.
I almost died right there.

I sent you love poems on kites
You always blushed as you read

Then one day I threw over a line.
It was just the beginning.
Over the months, I built upon that
line, until I had constructed a
mighty bridge to
Span the gap

I was finally together with you
Everything was right.  My life
was filled with a soothing light.

I remember the night our bridge collapsed.
I remember the hateful words and venemous,
acidic thoughts that became kindling.
We spit bile and gasoline soaked barbs at each other
soaking the bridge with discontent.
We hurled insults at breakneck speeds, creating
sparks with the collisions.  The result was a towering
inferno between us.  It was fueled by contempt and

Still we shouted, unaware of the permanence of what
we were doing

By the time we came to our senses, we were too late.
The bridge creaked and bowed as the fire consumed
it.  I remember the last thing I saw before it fell.  I saw
your eyes staring at me through the flames, your
beautiful eyes lit up by the moment.  The tears
reflected off of your face.

The bridge finally plummeted into the abyss below.  It
was a falling star of potential energy.  What we could
have had. I cringe when I think of how black the river
looked that night.

Now I'm standing here at the spot that it all
started.  I look up, and I see you on the other
side again.  You're wearing a white dress and
a smile.

I smile back.
My heart glides.

Ready to begin anew
Jul 2012 · 1.2k
Boney Bones Dupree
Joel A Doetsch Jul 2012
There once was a blues man
as skinny as could be
who went by the moniker
of Boney Bones Dupree

He was the worst singer
I ever had heard
sounded like an alley cat
who done choked on a bird

His guitar wasn't tuned
it whined and it wailed
as he struck it with a
sharp and rusty 'ol nail

His teeth were yellow
his eyes were gray
his hair looked like
stray bits of hay

Still people came
from miles around
to listen to his music,
his haunting sound

He danced on the stage
in jaunty puzzle steps
you could hear the *****
comin' off of his breath

He'd scream one verse
until his face'd turn red
then he'd whisper the next
while he stood on his head

He'd jump up and down
and slam his guitar
throw the **** thing
right over the bar

Then he'd look to the crowd
and playfully smile
and thank us for
sharing his crazy awhile

After taking a shot
and waving goodbye
he went and jumped
back into the sky

He painted those evening
clouds with delight
as we watched him
sail off into the night

Outta sight.
An internet meme told me that this was my blues name.  I'm one crazy SOB.
Jul 2012 · 1.4k
Joel A Doetsch Jul 2012
breathe in

eyes closed

breathe out

breathe in

arms embrace bare shoulders

breathe out

breathe in

lips dance in the darkness
bodies, souls merge

breathe out

breathe in

a contented sigh breaks the silence

breathe out

breathe in

eyes open

breathe out
breathe in
breathe out
back arching
breathe in
breathe in
b r e a t h e i n
breathe out
breathe in

hand brushed across a cheek
smiles and comfort
as bodies entertwine
for peaceful slumber

breathe out
I felt there might be more to be said here, but why ruin the moment.
Jul 2012 · 922
Joel A Doetsch Jul 2012
I had questions on death
I had questions on life
I had questions about
and strife

I was told I should visit a
particularly peculiar man
who would set me right
who would give me a plan

I ran

I crossed mountains and oceans
and jungles and lagoons
I swam and I hiked and I trekked.

I finally found him in a field
a nondescript field of Indonesia
He sat cross legged within a hut.

A hut not made of mud
A hut not made of sticks

A hut made of hair.

A hut made of his own hair.
Still connected to his head.

He wore no clothes, but his
beard was so long that he
was able to wrap it about
himself as a shawl.

Interspersed throughout
the hair were baubles and
trinkets, folded notes and
photos.  Gifts from those
who had visited him before

It was a sight to behold

I was in awe

I had barely a chance
to utter a syllable when
he opened his eyes

and stared at me
and stared   through   me
as if in a trance

Then he spoke.

The answering of thousands
of questions had clearly taken
a toll on the man's voice, yet
his lilted rasp was somehow

"You have questions, my boy?
You wish to know my secrets?
Do you want to know the key
        to life?"

Yes.  Yes I did.

He smiled

"Young man, I have sat here
for seventy-eight years, focusing
         my entire life and all my
conscious thought on that very
thing.  My wife supported me
until her death.  My sons still
support me.  They visit me
often and make sure I stay
     healthy and fed.  I have
weathered famine and storms,
sickness and droughts searching
      for the answer you seek."

He closed his eyes

"I have forgone a life of
passion and comfort and
instead focused within myself
to find this answer.  In all
this time I have only found
one thing to be true."

I waited for the answer

"Life is not meant to be
explained.  It is meant to
be experienced.  There
is no answer, only more
questions.  I swore not
to move from this spot
until I had discovered
what life meant.  My
hair and beard are
constant reminders
of my foolishness."

He smiled

"Go and live"

and surely I did

*Acersecomic - n - One whose hair has never been cut
I found this:;=article&id;=26&Itemid;=15

I hope to write a poem for each of those words.  We'll see how far I get.
Jul 2012 · 1.7k
If I had a dollar....
Joel A Doetsch Jul 2012
If I had a dollar for every poem I wrote....

I'd have like a billion dollars

Because I would just write a program
that spits out random words and phrases

Then someone would tell me that they're
only going to pay me 50 cents per poem
if I'm going to be like that.

I'd be like "Whatever, dude...that's still half a billion dollars"

Can't be greedy, you know.

Then they'd try to pass some sort of law defining what a poem
can and can't be, spending millions of tax-payer dollars to stop
me from writing poems like this:

magnifying glass eats adolph ******
can I be valentine bubblewrap
I think so maybe
I peanut butter 1975 Yankees
Did you ****?

The judge would rule in my favor.  That would really ****
off the poor saps that had to pay me for my poems.

Doesn't really matter though....

No one pays me for this ****.
Jul 2012 · 3.6k
Blood Drive
Joel A Doetsch Jul 2012
I arrived at the church at 5:30.
It took me a bit to find the place

  there were only a couple half-inflated baloons
  to mark the occasion.
  Those, and a small sign with an arrow, which led
      down some stairs and into a cafeteria.  An
      older lady greeted me.  She had a calm smile
      on her face.  The kind that comes with age, that
      says that you've been there, done that.

"Are you here to give?"

           Of course.  Why else would I be here?


She leads me to a table that has a number of tall dividers
set up on it to prevent people from peeking at someone
else's personal life.  Like I care if you've had syphilis in
the last year...well I might if it weren't all men in here.

I start filling out the form.
No, I don't have an STD
No, I haven't spent a time totaling more than 5 years in the UK before 1996
No, I don't use drugs
No, I haven't had a fever in the last 24 hours

I do admit that I have been out of the country recently.

I hand my sheet to another lady.  "Where did you travel to?"

    "Japan, mostly Tokyo and a few places just outside"

    "Carol, could you check Japan on the list?"

She turns to me.  "I'm almost certain that's OK, but I have to check".  Another contented smile.

I sit down to be interviewed, we go over the questions once more.

    "Alright, I just need a small sample before we begin"

She takes the sample with a small contraption that
fits over my finger and jabs a small hole.  She runs
a quick test with the blood, letting a droplet fall
in a test tube filled with a blue liquid.  

The droplet sinks to the bottom.  She checks a box.

Apparently we're good to go.

  I'm given an empty blood bag and a number of rubber-banded vials
and pointed towards a circle of beds in the middle of the room.

I walk up and a portly gentleman takes my bag and asks me
which arm I'd like it in.


I pause.  

I want to be able to check my phone while I'm doing this.

"Actually, let's do left"

He gives a grin.  "Here, hold both your arms out"

I comply.  I immediately notice that my right arm
has a very accessible vein.  We're doing the right arm.

Oh well.

   "Let's go with the Right"

I smile and sit on the plastic seat

He swabs my arm with that wonderful orange/yellow dye
and gives me a stress-ball to squeeze, to help the process go
quicker.  He comes back with the needle.

I look away as I feel the uncomfortable breach of my skin.
It's a small pinch followed by a dull sensation, my body
telling me "That isn't supposed to be there, get it out".

         I hate needles.

I feel a light sweat break and my breathing quickens
ever so slightly.  It's ok because the hard part is over
I squeeze the stress ball every few seconds and I chat
with the man.

His name is Nick, and he's been doing this for a few years.  
He used to work in a restaurant, and then he worked for a
flooring company.  
He remarks
    on the fake grouting that the floor in this room has.  

You  can tell that he loves his job, that he's satisfied with life.

He comments on the t-shirt that I will receive for doing this

(because who would do it if they didn't get a t-shirt, right?)

He says it looks like a blueberry snowcone and tells me a
rather entertaining story from his youth about blueberry

I pipe in with my memories of the Tropical Sno  shop we had
when I was a kid.  

The bag is filled, the needle is removed.  A bandaid is placed,
and then my arm is wrapped with a smily-face bandage.

I give him a left-hand shake and go sit at the refreshments table

I drink a Pepsi.  I hate trail mix.

After about 10min or so, I get in my car and drive home.
I put on the blueberry snow-cone colored t-shirt and sit
down to read a book.  I think about the people working
at the blood drive, and I think about how happy they

I wonder to myself what the difference is between someone
who gives blood and someone who gives time.  I have friends
that travel the world for the Peace Corps, living in third world
countries with no running water, no niceties.  I think of friends
who could sit in blistering heat, helping to build a house for
someone they don't even know.  I think of myself, who thinks
that donating money to the Leukemia foundation and donating
blood to the Red Cross is somehow equivalent to donating sweat
and an able body.

I should really do more
maybe then I'll earn that smile
that those folks wear so proudly
Jun 2012 · 917
The Things You Do
Joel A Doetsch Jun 2012
Your smile made my heart melt
So inconsiderate
For you knew just how I felt
then made a mess of it

Your laugh made my tongue tie up
It was awfully rude
I have all these things to say, my love
and there's nothing I can do

Your beauty made my eyes light up
It is so horribly unfair
I see the wonder hidden inside
your long, entrancing stare

Everything you do, and moreso everything you say
Causes my senses and my body to act in the strangest ways
It's quite alright, I really don't mind, you make it feel like home
I'd rather be crazy for you, than sane and all alone
Jun 2012 · 1.2k
Joel A Doetsch Jun 2012
A Fever.

The kind that consumes you completely
and totally.  The kind that taunts you by
playing with physics.  

You're so hot, yet as you throw off the shiver
You've been sweating for hours...yet your mouth is barren of moisture

You lie as still as possible.  All movement equals pain.
Don't roll over
Don't scratch that itch
Don't even think about it
Curl into a ball and
Embrace the stillness

You're delerious as you flit
between wakefulness and sleep
never quite sure where you are
at any given time

Your dreams are drawn in the style of Dali
Colors everywhere, bright and vivid.  
The beauty makes you want to cry
To scream at the heavens,
Yell until your voice gives out.
Why?  Why are we forced to live
in such a bleak and dreary world
when such beauty lies
just beyond our eyelids.

The heavens answer.

You wake up in agony.  Your head is
Pounding so hard that your eyesight vibrates

For a brief moment, everything makes sense
Everything in the universe comes together
into a brilliant cosmic speck of enlightenment

It's wonderful and terrible.  
It's beautiful and disgusting
Your mind is reeling
The comprehension is too much

You love the pain
The pain is freedom

As it envelopes you,
the realization hits you
that you won't remember

You scramble to write it down
As much as you can before the
dullness replaces the fire

It won't matter

You'll read the words that you've
written on the paper much like
an archaeologist reads ancient

Knowing, but not understanding.

Pain wins, you lose.  Unconsciousness

Then you wake up,
still dizzy from the fever.

Look around your room
and wonder why you

Jun 2012 · 1.6k
Instructions for Life
Joel A Doetsch Jun 2012
1.  If you aren't moving your hands while telling a story, it's a boring ******* story.  Add in something to make it exciting, like a chance encounter with a tiger.  So what if no one believes that tigers walk down 5th avenue, at least your story doesn't **** any more.  You know whose story ***** now?  That ******* who doesn't believe a tiger can make it in the big city.

2.  Make bad mistakes every once in awhile.  How will you know that you don't want to be part of a Colombian Drug Cartel unless you try it out for a few weeks?  Who knows, maybe you'll find out it's your true calling.  Maybe you'll stage a coup, take over the whole thing and get the hot girl in the red dress.  But no, you're sitting at your computer reading this.  My point is, drugs are bad ok?

3.  Don't be that guy who thinks he's better than everyone else because he always "does the right thing".  You know why he's never made a mistake?  Because he doesn't have a real life.  His life is as real as a Ken Doll's unmentionables.  Yeah it's all smooth and shiny, but he can't have any fun with it.  What's the point of  having a life that can't be potentially ruined by terrible decisions?

4.  Take chances.  and I don't mean by putting "Piccolo Pete's Face Burning Tabasco" on your hotdog.  I mean walk up to the next girl you see and give her a passionate kiss the likes of which she hasn't had since 3 days ago when she drunkenly made out with some random dude at a bar.  Yeah, you may feel like you've just been kneed in the groin and/or maced multiple times in the eye...but you know what?  You just made out with a beautiful woman, and you've got a good lawyer.

5.  Don't take advice from people you don't know.  Especially some random person on the internet, those people are just shady.
More to follow, maybe.
Jun 2012 · 924
Unnatural Disasters
Joel A Doetsch Jun 2012
Pacing back and forth, picking up her
cast off clothing

telling him it's not her fault.

It was a heat wave, she didn't
have a chance, as her clothes
dripped off her into puddles
on the carpet.

She was unprepared

An earthquake shook her, and she
fell down to the rhythm.  Once it
started, there was no going back.

She was just along for the ride

It was a tsunami of passion, she
just was caught in the rip tide
of desire, along with her inhibitions.

She couldn't escape

A volcano erupted, and ignited
something terrible from within her.  

A tornado of emotions tore through
her and left her ravaged

She was lost and alone

It wasn't her fault!

If anyone is to blame, it's those ****
Asian Butterflies, causing all these

Unnatural disasters
You know the old saying...when a butterfly ***** its wings in China, it causes people to be adulterous here.

Disclaimer:  Not based on a true story :)
May 2012 · 989
Monkey Lovin'
Joel A Doetsch May 2012
He's a real good kid, he keeps his head down
She's pretty and polite and fun to be around
but when they're together and ain't no one in sight
They get down like animals in the middle of the night

He's walking in the door
She's lookin' to score,
knocks him to the floor
says baby do ya want some more
yeah, do ya want some more?

There's a trip slip to the bed
dip as the fly unzip, hands rip
off shoes and dress
before too long it's a
***** hot mess
put the bed to the test
as we press
You hear him confess

I love it, love it when we do the monkey lovin'
With the nails, biting, pushin' and the shovin'
between the sheets is as hot as an oven
as we become one again and again and again and again

She wraps around his waist
and he's now lost in space
taste the sweat
don't waste a second
this place is heaven
while they do the dance
lost in a trance
their faces merge
as they're on the verge
oh they're on the Verge
yeah they're on THE VERGE
as she yells out

I love it, love it when we do the monkey lovin'
With the nails, biting, pushin' and the shovin'
between the sheets is as hot as an oven
as we become one again and again and again and again

They relax between the sheets
curling their feet
hearts catch a beat
their lips meet once more

*Scratches Head*
Joel A Doetsch May 2012
It was a Wednesday night
in the city, in a shoddy bar
that was pretending to be
a trendy one.

I sat at a table along the
wall, trying my best to look
good while sitting on a stool,
which is a difficult task for
those who know what I'm
talking about.

I was on my third beer when
he sat down.  I'd seen him here
before.  He had dark black mess
of hair that somehow suited a
thin framed face and onyx eyes

He had a strong jaw, a quick
smile, and always seemed to
be wearing a faded bomber
jacket with the initials CMJ
sewn onto the front pocket.

He took a sip of his drink,
and took a long look at me.
"You don't look like much
of a risk taker".  He paused.
Another sip.

It took me a moment to
realize that he was waiting
for me to answer.  "Oh..uh.."
I thought about it for a second.
"I don't suppose I am.  I guess
I've always played it safe"

He casually stroked the stubble
on his face as he finished his drink.
"How's that workin' out for ya?"
"It keeps things simple"
"You smoke?"
"Nah, bad for your health"

He smiled a big smile as he
pulled out a pack and lit one
up.  He pointed over to a
group of girls 2 tables over.
"You see that brunette there?
She's been stealing glances
your way for the last hour"

I looked over, just in time to
see the girl in question quickly
turn back toward her friends,
hoping that I did and that I
did not notice her.  

"You should go talk to her"
"Nah, she's with her friends"
"What if she weren't"
"I dunno, maybe...I'd hate for her to say no"
"If you don't find out, you'll never know"
"If I don't go, she can't say no"

He looked at me, then my beer.
"Imagine that your beer is full of risk"
I looked at the amber concoction
"Now, if you take too much of it, then
you have a real chance of pain and
suffering the next morning, but you
also got a chance at the best night
of your life.
  You still drink it anyway, right?"

I glanced up
"Yeah, sure"

He finished his cigarette and put it out
in the cheap glass ash tray

"Lets say you didn't.  The thing to
remember is...If you don't take it,
someone else will"

In one fluid motion, he had swiped my
beer and poured it down his throat.  He
wiped his now sated lips with a grin.

"Come on, are you serious?"
"I'm absolutely serious.  The
question is, are you?"  

He stood up and walked up to the
pretty brunette.  Within minutes
she was laughing at his jokes and
forgetting about the man she was
thinking of minutes before

Two tables down, that man sat
in front of an empty beer glass,
realizing that the words of a
complete stranger were truer
than the ones he'd been telling
himself almost his entire life.

I needed another drink
Joel A Doetsch Apr 2012
I was faced with a conundrum just the other day.
You see, a girl that I had fancied -- she took my heart away

She cut it open it with a rather rusty sharp utensil
then she penned the most beautiful lines with that sanguine pencil

Her writing with my AB Positive were delicate and wonderful
as I lay upon the ground, seeping by the bucketful

While I will admit that I was all manners of distressed
I also couldn't help to be tremendously impressed.
I'm noticing a trend of death and blood in a few of my recent poems
Apr 2012 · 915
Chicago Robinson
Joel A Doetsch Apr 2012
Let me tell you 'bout a man called Chicago Robinson
with eyes like jade and breath smell like Jameson
He dances with girls who have skin taste like Cinnamon
He don't think about life, 'cause he too busy livin' it

He came out of his momma croonin' smooth as Sinatra
His voice makes the noises that'll sure hypnotize ya
The girls they all dance to the beat cause they wanna
they slide up and down like they coated in butter

He don't got many clothes, but he's got his own style
His eyes pierce on through you, he got steel in his smile
When you meet him you might not know how to feel
He'll fix you up quick, and you'll be soarin' with eagles

Chicago does what he does when he do what he do
while he's tellin' his stories in the language of Blues
He don't care where he goes, don't have much to lose
So long as he has women, music, and *****

You like hearin' stories? he gotsa lots of 'em
You want a fight? Best be movin' on, son
He's the best and the worst inside of all of us
There just ain't no one else like Chicago Robinson
No idea where this came from.  Don't like the last stanza
Apr 2012 · 3.2k
Spin Cycle
Joel A Doetsch Apr 2012
I wear my emotions on my sleeve

  You ignored the gentle wash label...

bleached them with your stained whites

   as you sat on top of the machine

                           in your underwear

                  enjoying the good vibrations

You even had a cigarette after....
   lipstick stained, hanging from your smile

            Reminding me that it was, after all, my fault
            and I should be more aware of what I leave
lying around

"I'm not Martha F*ing Stewart"

That's the first honest thing you've told me today.
Apr 2012 · 999
Joel A Doetsch Apr 2012
Life moves fast.

No, really.  Life moves at an insane speed

We're currently hurtling through space
at 2.7 million miles and hour.  By the
time you've finished reading this one
sentence, you have moved far enough
to go from Seattle to New York and back

Just sitting at your desk

By the time you are twenty five you
will have traveled approximately
five hundred ninety billion miles
from the spot at which you took
your first breath.

That's a lot of mileage

I like to think that there are
tiny remnants of you and I
floating throughout our universe.
Atoms that have rubbed off of us,
that have fused and split with other
atoms, eventually making their way
off of our planet into space.

There's a trail of you spanning hundreds
of billions of miles all leading back to one
point in space and time where you existed
for a fraction of a second.  No one else on
earth could ever have come into being in
that spot.

A thousandth of a second and you're already
a mile away.

That's your moment.  That's where you began

I'd like to think that's where we go
once we've gone.

We came from the stars

It seems an appropriate
Have I answered your question?
No?  Oh...I'll have decaf.  I'm moving quickly enough as it is.
Apr 2012 · 1.3k
Math Problem from Hell
Joel A Doetsch Apr 2012
One train leaves Santa Fe going east at seven eleven
destination's unknown and the speed is irrelevant
Another leaves Boston at eight twenty five
We know when it left. When will it arrive?

If eighteen percent aboard are practicing Christians
and twenty eight percent are worshiping Krishna
what percent will be spared when the trains have collided?
Which subset will have a better chance of survival?

If there are five homosexuals with their life partners
and thirty two fundies with hate signs and markers
What are the odds that of the forty-two mentioned,
that ten gay folks survive.  Was it divine intervention?

If you factor and account for wind speed and sun
If you double check your figures (and carry The One)
Are those who climb from the wreckage unharmed
more righteous than the ones who lie dormant and calm?

How long will you stare silently at the equation
searching for a solution that leads to salvation?
When all is said and done at the end of the day
There are no survivors, so says F=ma
I think I may have misplaced the point in Albuquerque
Mar 2012 · 1.5k
Tiger Stripes
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
Yesterday, I walked up
to a tiger, and asked him
if he was jealous of
the leopard's spots

As it turns out

Tigers don't talk.

On a related note,
I no longer walk
Mar 2012 · 732
Glass Box
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
In my mind exists a pit of black quicksand
where memories come to die, slowly
sinking into the deep abyss

You are in a glass box,
sliding down
staring up
begging for rescue

If I rescue you from the depths
I shatter the glass reflecting
the perfection of who I
want to remember

Leaving only reality

So the real question is

Should I forget the goddess?
Or should I remember the devil?
Who knows...
Mar 2012 · 529
Is that it? (10w)
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
Two words to change the world?
Here goes:

Happiness is
Mar 2012 · 727
Repeating Myself
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
They say

that the definition of insanity, that is what insanity means
is doing the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over

again and again and again and ****** again

and expecting different results and expecting different things and expecting you to care

I guess you could say

I'm crazy for you
I'm mad about you

Or maybe I'm just a fool
Inside the head of a madman
Mar 2012 · 895
Sleepless nights
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
My girlfriend snores.  Loudly.
Some of the sounds that come
out of her mouth could be put
into a horror movie.

Recently, she's started snoring
in Latin.  Don't ask, I don't know.
Anyway, somehow every Tuesday

She summons a demon

At first, we were both shocked.
The Demon and I, that is. She
sleeps harder than she snores.

The Demon was apparently
just chilling down in Hell and
then Bam.

In some dude's room where
it sounded like a rather large
animal was dying.

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly
amicable at first.

Things may have been said
Objects may have been thrown
Souls may have been threatened


Tuesday is now Poker night
I may add onto this...we'll see
Mar 2012 · 1.1k
PSA on Metaphors
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
When she kissed him
he lit up like a firework
shot into the sky
and exploded in jubilant splendor

She was not entirely pleased,
as he now rained down upon her.

When he smiled at her
she felt as if the warmth
of a thousand suns were
inside of her chest.

Luckily there was
a fire extinguisher

Choose your metaphors
with care
I don't feel like making sense right now.
Mar 2012 · 869
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
I've walked as far as my feet can go
through deserts, oceans, and forests of rain
through tundra and mountains and  wide open plains
Searching for a way to keep you here

I have failed

I feel I've reached the end,
as my legs buckle and bend
I fall
to my knees.

This appears as good a place as any
to rest my weary eyes
I look to the sky

I lay on the soft forgiving grass
where the ground embraces me
and all of my past

At last, I am a part of something

On the spot that I existed,
a tree will grow as a testament
it will be what was best in me
branches arching and twisted

Reaching out towards the sun
To find your love

I can only hope that one day
that you'll find my tree
on a warm spring morning
and have your thoughts
turn to me

You'll sit down for a rest and
you'll wonder what happened
to that man you knew
not aware
that even now
I'm here with you,
providing you
with a tree that can shade you
from the afternoon sun

Your eyes will close as you
into a mid-day slumber,
resting in my eden

and I will finally
be at peace
Mar 2012 · 7.8k
Joel's Mole
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
Joel's mole dug a hole
in a grassy knoll....
the mole hit a pole
and started to roll....
he hit a troll
and they smoked the whole bowl
of mind control.  

The troll asked for a toll,
but the mole was on parole.  
Joel's mole has no soul.
This was not written by was written for me on my 20th birthday by my classmates (and professor) during class.   I claimed that "Joel" was not a good rhyming word, and thus this was born.
Mar 2012 · 558
It's all fun and games...
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
He saw her in a moment fleeting
noticed that his heart was beating
she noticed him too, and gave a smile
more and more his heart grew wild
it exploded right out his chest
it made an awfully terrible mess
she took a look at her ***** laundry
pulled out a tissue while smiling wryly
She let him make it to first base
while wiping the entrails off her face
when they were done she giggled and smiled
and told him that though it had been fun for awhile
he was moving just a little too fast...
ripping his heart out was supposed to be last
A friend of mine told me that he had recently found out that a few girls in our high school (almost a decade had this game where they'd lead a guy on until he would ask them out, allowing him to take them out, buy them gifts, etc...and then decline and move on to the next guy.  It was a game to see who could reject the most guys.  The things you learn...
Mar 2012 · 1.8k
Once, we were explorers
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
We met a very long time ago.  We both were world travelers,
and we both desired a deeper understanding of our past.  We
met by chance, and it was not love at first sight.  I found her
to be far too passive and cautious, unable to see the thrill in
life.  She found me too brash and reckless, willing to put
myself above others to achieve my goals.  We both had our
points, I guess.

We kept running into each other.  It became a competition
to see who could leave the site with the most artifacts.  At times,
it was quite a heated battle.  Words were said.  Lines were drawn.
This went on for quite some time before we realized we could
do much more for our science if we worked together.  The
first few months were hell.  We spent our days silently
working in each others shadows.  We spent our nights
at opposite sides of our tent, poring over the data from
the day prior.

I don't remember the day it happened, nor the year,
but I do remember it was raining.  We were arguing
about the proper reference notation for a particular
discovery when she turned and called me a callous ****,
right before tripping on a branch.  I was about to
laugh and tell her it served her right, but just at
that moment, as her wet hair framed her oval,
tear-streaked face...

I truly saw her for the first time.

I think she must have done the same, because she
didn't say a word as I picked her up and brought
her to the first aid tent.  She bit her lip quietly as I
treated her swollen ankle.  We both knew it,
though neither of us would ever speak it.

Things were different now.

Our newly forged companionship breathed new
life into both of us.  There was no terrain, no peak,
nothing on heaven and earth that could stop us.
If there was something to be discovered, you had
**** well know it was going to be us doing the
discovering.  It was a golden age when I was by
her side and her by mine.

Our travels finally took us to the unknown during
one particularly muggy summer deep in uncharted
jungles in the south.  We had heard whispers on the
wind of a legendary artifact, one that had been cited
in ancient texts throughout the ages.  We didn't know
exactly what it was, but our nature compelled us to
find it.

We were laughed at, blacklisted by our own colleagues.
We started losing supporters, slowly at first, but soon
our funding was drying up.  Despite every reasonable
chance we had to turn around, we simply could not. It
was emblazoned in our DNA that we must pursue this
unknown thing.  It became our passion, only superseded
by our love for each other.

We did find it.

Eight years later, in the middle of the rain forest, in a spot
so remote that it had never had human footprints, we found
an underground system of caves.  We set into them, and
immediately found ourselves lost.  Traveling for what seemed
like weeks, we survived on moss and spring water.  Just as we
were about to finally extinguish our faith that we would find
what we were seeking, much less our way out...

There it was.

It was stone, approximately 3 feet in diameter, and sat on a raised
pedestal.  It had raised markings on its surface that resembled a
language, though no language that I had ever seen.  The regular
sound of water dripping into it was the only sound outside of our
ragged breathing.  It was a well.  It was our well.  I don't know how
we knew it, but at that moment we both realized that this was the
purpose of our existence.

As we peered into it, we saw what I can only describe as the separation
of time from space.  What I saw burned itself into my brain, threatening
to drive me mad.  The last thing I remembered hearing was a voice inside
my head telling me "At the end, it shall begin".

We woke up at our home, this vivid memory still fresh in our minds,
thinking that it had been a dream, until we saw ourselves.  We were
young again, just as we had been the day we had met.  Further
investigation showed us to be, for better lack of the word...Immortal.

At this point, the years feel like they flew by like rifling through the
pages of the book.  Empires rose and collapsed.  Weather patterns
changed, tectonic plates shifted, it all was mundane at times.  The
one thing that seemed to plague the human race throughout the
eons was the concept of hatred, which saddened us.  We were like
ghosts, sitting on the boundary of humanity, but even that great
chapter eventually ended.  I won't bore you on the details of how
the human race met its demise.

We walked the empty planet watching rivers erode into canyons,
as forests became deserts.  Volcanoes erupted, violently altering
the landscape.  Species continued to evolve, eventually giving way
to other intelligent beings.  They too built massive civilizations
on the planet that humans had once called their own.  They also
made beautiful arts that were a wonderment to our eyes.  They also
hated. All of them eventually ended up in the museums of their
successors, ancient bones the only sign they ever existed.

Five billion years later, the Sun enveloped our planet.  We did not
feel the burn, but we were left with the unfortunate problem of no
longer having solid ground to stand on.  We floated throughout
the universe, hand in hand. We laughed, we cried, we made
love in the place where no one can hear you scream (in ecstasy).
We couldn't speak, but at that point we didn't need to.  The universe
continued to expand, as we continued to float aimlessly.  We had
seen more than any intelligent being could begin to fathom.  We
remembered everything, nothing was lost to the haze of forgotten

Eventually, the universe slowly began contracting.  I won't even
bother telling you how long it took.  It waned down and down.
It became the size of a nebula...the size of a galaxy...the size
of a planet, until it was so small that it could fit inside of your
wallet.  We contracted as well, our atoms pushing together
as we embraced each other.  It shrank until it was the size
of a single quark, with us inside it.  2 minds occupying
an infinitesimal space.

The we exploded

In nanoseconds, we expanded destroying the emptiness
and filling it with light and heat and life.  We became
every atom in our own universe.  It was freedom, to
no longer be trapped inside of a body, but to just be.
There's no word that can properly describe it.

Billions of years later, our first intelligent life came
into existence.  We did our best to nurture it, but we
admit we are not perfect. We may have taken too
active of a role early on, giving miracles to those
who we deemed kind, and punishing those who
we deemed wicked.  Eventually we realized we
were doing more harm than good.  We retreated,
becoming mere observers of our own creation.

Hate still existed, but we also saw wonder and beauty
that far out shined even the worst souls, much like
light banishes the darkness with such ease.

People always think of God as some all knowing,
all powerful being that knows your soul and
passes judgement.

We sometimes wonder if they would be amazed

or disappointed

to find out that God is just two star crossed lovers
who lived just a little too long
This is way too **** long.
Mar 2012 · 973
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2012
You spot her on the dance floor
Her milky skin reflects the glowing
light of green lasers.  Her eyes are
closed, as she absorbs the beat. The
bass travels across the floor and up
through her legs as she tilts her
head up in ecstasy.

She is in a world all her own. She
drowns out the crowd, within her
own frequency she moves her feet
to the beat that the DJ creates. Her
hips sway, creating vacuums of
energy and drawing people closer
to her essence.

She sweats  away her feelings of
insecurity, loneliness, and regret.
The acid on her tongue does not
corrode her skin, though it does
seem to melt away her inhibitions.  
Maybe her clothes, if she's in the mood

She knows all the boys are watching
her. Maybe if she's lucky, there's a man
as well. Someone who can attune
himself to her rhythm and grasp
her complexity. There will be sweet
synchronization as they create sin
waves in between the sheets.

This is her release
She will be a hair stylist
She will be a nurse
She will be a lawyer

But tonight?

She's alive
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
I'm sitting here in this cold steel chair
I'm sitting here in this dim and dank room
My hands are tied behind my back
        with barbed wire.

You're standing over me with a rusted scalpel
You've cut open my chest
You are examining its contents

You make an incision into my heart
You stand back and watch
as blood spurts onto the grungy wall,
          creating sanguine portraits of you
                  in various states of undress.

                          I always told you I was talented.

You don't even notice.  Figures.

You scrawl notes into a battered notebook
about my state of mind.  You're trying to
figure out the formula or the equation to
explain my nature in a way you can grasp.

You smile that porcelain smile
You tell me you'll need to run
        just a few more tests
as you pull out a syringe
that would make Nikki Sixx cringe.

Look at that, I made a clever rhyme for you.

Of course, you don't notice.  You're busy
jamming that monstrosity into my neck.

You're injecting yourself into me so that
I won't ever be rid of you.  It's a black tar
that now fills my bloodstream.

You could have been a bit more gentle

My hands tug at the wire
causing blood to eagerly
spill to the floor

I pass out.

When I wake up,
    I'm naked and cold and alone
        I'm on the side of the highway
    I'm trying to hitch a ride
        as far away from you as I can.

You sewed a twenty to my ***

You always did have a good sense of humor
Work in Progress
Feb 2012 · 632
Feels Like Home
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
Eyes Closed*        

My hands on your hips
   Your toes on their tips
A collision of lips

Our tongues      

into that oh-so familiar place
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
Dear 27 year old me

This is you when you were 12.

I know that you're probably
busy counting your 100 billion
dollars or hanging out with
John Travolta or something,
but hopefully you find time
to read this.

I'm sure you are now
the CEO of some huge company
and have a huge mansion on
the coast of France or something.

You're probably dating a super model
and have servants to wait on you hand
and foot.  Maybe even your own theme
park.  Who knows?  I mean even without
the theme park, you can't complain.

I'm sure some mornings when
you get into your flying car
and zoom off to your office
on the Moon, you wonder
how you got here.  You
wonder if you deserve to
be where you are today.

I just wanted to tell you
don't worry about that crap

Just keep being awesome.

See you in 15 years.


Dear 12 year old me.

Stop writing stupid letters
and study.  You are not
helping our cause at the

15 years late, 100 billion short
It was my Birthday two days ago.  I wondered what I would have told myself when I was 12.
Feb 2012 · 607
Drunk (10w)
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
left foot
right foot
left foot
left foot.


Feb 2012 · 781
The Dance of the Ephemeral
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
We waltz about the room,
so completely unaware
of the impending doom
that is our love affair

Every step that's taken
leaves behind a crack
in our weak foundation.
We're never looking back

We deftly dance and twirl
'round the holes that we create
that are always being filled
by the things we cannot say

Our dance becomes difficult, now
as we struggle to find our rhythm
the dance floor is so much smaller, now
we begin to feel a schism

The floor is all but gone my dear,
we're standing face to face
confusion as to how we got here
to this tiny place.

The darkness of all the things
that we thought we could ignore
is silently surrounding
we're oblivious no more

I was looking so deep into your eyes
I was so thoroughly engrossed
that I didn't stop to realize
I was dancing with a ghost
Feb 2012 · 1.4k
Mardi Gras
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012

See the multitude of orbs
of varying
                       and colors

There are beads as well.
Feb 2012 · 2.8k
Drinking Problem
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
This is a formal complaint to one Cupid
on behalf of the population of earth.

We find that you've become somewhat,
how can we put it mildly....
ever since you started drinking.  We've
found that you have not been taking
your job seriously at all since that time

We were understanding at first.  Your
job?  It's not an easy one.  It tolerates
almost no failure, and requires both
physical and mental capacity that is
beyond what most of us can spare.

However...we feel that the alcohol is
affecting your judgement and character
in a way that we can no longer accept.
Below, we've listed the particularly
heinous abuses of your power

1.  Taking bets on what you can make people fall in love with.  John is now smitten with a cactus while Jenny can't stay away from the inflatable Santa Claus on the Morgans' lawn.
2.  Having very attractive women fall in love for your...erm...personal pleasure.  That's just offensive
3.  Having members of the same family fall in love.  The vulgarity of it all is just appalling!  It's an ****** epidemic!
4.  Shooting your arrows at Rhinoceroses and then laughing as they charge a poor unsuspecting person is not funny.
5.  Likewise, shooting an unsuspecting person and having them fall in love with a Rhinoceros who doesn't reciprocate is equally unfunny
6.  Last, but not least...Please fix the Republican Candidates.  Mitt Romney and Rick ******* are trying to get married next week.  While I'm happy that they are now "for" gay marriage, this cannot be tolerated.

So?  Do you have anything to say for
yourself?  Is that alcohol I smell on your
breath?  You don't even care, do you?
Well...we have no choice but to revok---OW!

Oh dear.
Feb 2012 · 836
You Can't Schedule Love
Joel A Doetsch Feb 2012
What a wonderful day, this Valentine's day
When the young couples get together to say
How much they adore and cherish each other
Kisses  are  currency  for  afternoon  lovers
My only problem, and forgive me the question
Why only 24  hours  for romantic expression?

You have every day in a year to show her she's special
So choosing just one strikes me as quite artificial...

Do you care as much for her as you have portrayed?
I'm thinking not.

You just want to get laid.
Hopefully didn't come off too bitterly.  I think Valentine's day should be a day to celebrate your love, not prove it.  Proving it should be done throughout the rest of the year.
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