Welcome to the Journey of Understanding the Poetry of The RomeoDog.
Poem 1: Relationships are like videogames
You've got to push a button, to start to play, you've got to make it through some levels, you've got to power up and defeat some bosses. But most of all, to see the end, you shouldn't have to give up, and sometimes you'll die, sometimes you have ask if you can have a continue. It'll get harder and harder the further you go into it, sometimes you won't want to play anymore, sometimes the story gets a little dull. Sometimes it seems like the game is unfair. But you've got to keep playing, you have got to keep learning, you might have to change your play-style, once you can't go any longer.
Don't say the game is broken, it's got puzzling components, mysteries and hidden objects. The hardest part is the multi-player, oh it's difficult to compete with others, ignore them and do your best. You might be the one, with the highest score, in the end.
November 15, 2010
Poem 2: A poem for tonight
No Beer, but Cheap Single Malt Whiskey
I barely drink, I swear—cheap single malt whiskey, Inadequate to quench my thirst, it fails me. No beer to mix it with, no fruity cocktail, Just hullunder juice syrup—a secret drink. For my Pity.
Most readers and lurkers won’t know its taste, Yet, Elon Musk’s new tweets mirror my space. He, dyslexic in the closet, I’d wager, And he fibs about reading books, a sly behavior.
NASA scientists, their wisdom profound, Invite him to interviews, knowledge unbound. But SpaceX, oh SpaceX, I spit in your face, The downfall of space, a cosmic disgrace.
Clear as water, yet powerless am I, No voice to disarm them, no wings to fly. Perhaps I never will; my words fall like rain, I tweeted Elon: “Mars awaits your strange protein.”
My star sign—an earthly creature, land-bound, Mars, a distant realm where my fears compound. Earth’s isolation experiments, Mars simulations, Mental unraveling, sanity’s disintegrations.
A prison awaits, red dust and metal confine, No sailing from Europe to North America’s line. Six months to Mars? A laughable notion, Radiation’s embrace, pills to stave off erosion.
Fools on Earth embrace the one-way trip, No priest to eulogize, no burial crypt. Suicidal pioneers, Musk’s rocketry they trust, Gullible twats, chasing stars, their dreams combust.
Saturn V’s zenith, a bygone era’s grace, Now SpaceX dances with deceit, a perilous chase. Private coffers swell, promises unkept, Success rates waver, contracts silently wept.
For my endeavors, I seek no return, No broken pacts, no disappointed concern. Poets, miserable yet triumphant, they write, Joy in creation, their souls take flight.
My theories—beyond comprehension’s veil, Nameless, unrecognized, yet they sail. I hope they’re stolen, borrowed, embraced, In the right environment, their essence traced.
Earth, my canvas, holds the keys to my quest, Mars—a barren slate, no mentors to invest. Colonists thrived in North America’s embrace, Natives taught them to grow food, life’s saving grace.
But Mars? A desolate frontier, stark and cold, No one to teach, no whispered wisdom to hold.
October 8, 2018
Poem 3: A Faithful Man and a Faithless Woman
Together, they form a horrible combination— A good husband might find himself with a bad wife, As a Sri Lankan proverb aptly states.
Her faithlessness cost me a portion of my genius, Yet I refuse to rest. I shall paint the abstract canvas in blood white once more.
It is nothing short of astonishing how love can be both tragic And an absolute joy, yet never simultaneously. The dual nature of love defies easy definition.
The pleasures of intimacy with someone you love, They are profound but not without cost. The one you’re intimate with remains a part of you, Unless you dull the moment with drugs, alcohol, or lies.
The church advises waiting until marriage, For a reason beyond mere tradition. If you choose intimacy before wedlock, You risk losing that person who becomes a part of you, Without the symbolic ring to mark your union.
And so, the disorder of incompleteness and disloyalty persists.
When they depart, perhaps there’s no reason to return.
May 28th, 2012
Poem 4: Podcast
Wondering I call on you to listen, To hear my voice speak my own poems. As I cried out in the past, on the webs. Spiders and bugs, they all collected. Some with good intentions, some with bad. I became so known, because it is this easy for me to write.
I traveled little, I saw not much. A love of a woman is no longer needed. I changed to a better, a stoic, I cry no more, I just defeated war. I made myself General. And I beat the Cause, to be a loving father, with a Christ like love for his children.
For I now know, they are safer than ever before.
May 15th, 2024
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