Poetry of a Conlanger

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

The McNugget Epistle

I'm lovin' it.

Lovin' what?
Are you gettin' some lovin'?
Lovin' the abnormal english?
Lovin' the apostophe?
Lovin' the salad dressing?
Lovin' the fake multi-culturalism represtented by
languages on the side of a five-piece chicken select box?

I would gladly hear your tale.


I had hoped.

It wasn't much and it wan't the same,
but it was there-
glimmering, budding, somehow springing up
during the
dead, cold wasteland
of winter.

It wasn't the old flower, and I was glad.

It was a dandilion, a weed of the soul-
Nay, a weed of the heart.

Just a weed.
No more,
No less.
Was it less?

And with but an exhale of regret
-mist clouding my vision-
I leaned down, eyes wide,
and plucked the weed.

I had hoped.
Was it less?