Tuesday, April 30, 2002

a haiku by Michael Sherrillo

I have failed myself.
Not in my ability;
but in my desire.
"A Spring Breeze"
a letter of love, by Michael Sherrillo

I hear your voice in the wind. As
I walk, I imagine I see you, and for
a moment, before my mind reminds
me that this is a wonderful illusion,
my heart races, as your name fires
through my mind and catches on
my lips like a bullet fired from it's barrel.

You, like true loves ghost, hover so
taintalizingly close. I reach out my arm,
hoping to touch merely the hem of your
skirt, so that for one brillant moment I
find that for which I have searched for in
day and dream... love.

I cannot pretend that I deserve even a
glance, for the beauty i see therin is
more than my mortal heart could stand.
All I long for is to love you, for asking for
such an awsome thing as to be loved
in return I may not deserve.

I never expected, never let myself hope,
that in my reach, my humble desire, you
would fall into my arms, as a piece of me
died, so that it could always remian in the
total happiness of that first embrace.

I still remember the days, seemingly so
far away, in which I would float, just watching
you soaring off the ground into the sky, both
powerful and graceful, a hawk that would float
in the air, suspended in time, and then, softly,
come down. I used to lose myself in you then
as compleatly as I lose myself now in your
every word, your touch, your glance. But,
somehow, by losing myself I have also found
something which is far greater, something
which I hope to someday call Love.
"Love's Breeze"
a poem by Michael Sherrillo

Your name blows across me,
Like a warm gentle wind.
I have been pierced,
You, so like a golden arrow,
Have cut through the exterior persona
Of how I am portrayed.
The falseness, which I surround myself in.

Your pointed shaft has darted though me.
And touched a part of my life, my heart,
Which I was afraid would never be found,
And of which I had begun to doubt existed.

I see you, and I see not a person,
I see an angel, floating above me.
One who has gathered the sun in her lips,
The moon in her eyes,
And the eternal joy of youth in her laugh.

And you sit in the sky, archer of love,
Holding in your hands my fate.
For like a fine musician, you have taken this old
Harp, and from it, beautiful music now floods.
The strings of my heart now play,
The song of your name.

Not because of any skill in the instrument,
For it is just an empty vessel.
But because of you, and all which you are,
You've filled me until I overflow
The feelings, which you evoke, spill out into prose and onto page.
But I flood without worry of ever being empty again.
Not after having met, an angel like you.

Tuesday, April 23, 2002

A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

Streaching forever,
the road which lay before me;
into the distance.

Sunday, April 21, 2002

"Rinse and Repeat"
A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

Soap runs through my hair,
dime sized drop, rinse and repeat;
now, conditioner.

Saturday, April 20, 2002

A Unoriginal Thought
by Michael Sherrillo

Women can be divided into two
basic catagories; infallible angles,
and irredeemable whores. The fun
part is figuring out which is which.

Thursday, April 18, 2002

"From Afar"
A stream of consciousness by Vance Tran

I glance and there she is.
Amongst the deteriorating buildings
and litter riddled lawn, she stands out.
She is not like the others, I can sense it.
Her spirit is good and pure, fiery and true.
Her beauty is unique, with subtle strands
of hair framing her face, hiding her demure smile.
The sunlight surrounds and protects her from the rabble.

But, I am foolish to feel this way.
She cannot possibly begin to look at me
and feel the way I feel about her.
I am just me, not deserving, invisible.
Besides, I have done this many a time,
elevating mere strangers to saints in my mind.
She is not special in any way, I conclude.
So, I quickly look away and tell myself not to feel.

With a sigh, I walk away, and try to shrug off the grief. -
A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

Through windows comes the
slanted sun. Dusk nears as light
slips across the floor.
A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

In sadness I drown,
from the ceaseless bitter tears
which my love now weeps.

Wednesday, April 17, 2002

A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

Daylight is darkness
when loves light is shrouded by
my own hearts sorrow.
A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

Night ages the soul,
experience ages the
mind. Through these, we grow.
A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

With a troubled heart,
I walk the night in sorrow,
seeing only darkness.
A haiku by Vance Tran

Droplets of water,
Streaming down my furrowed brow,
Wash the day away.

Tuesday, April 16, 2002

An Original Thought
by Michael Sherrillo

Why is it that athiest can be so tolerant
of others religious beliefs. But people with
religious beliefs are so intolerant of athiest.
An Original Thought
by Michael Sherrillo

While taking a test, when you are faced
with a true/false question, if you can
eliminate one of the anwsers, you should guess.
You have a better chance of getting it right.

Monday, April 15, 2002

Vance Tran and Michael Sherrillo would like to post this joint announcement to apoligize to Mike Griffin for an earlier offensive haiku. A wise man once said, "with great power comes great responsibility." Let us learn from this mistake and continue on. We're sincerely sorry, Mike.
"Mike Sherrillo"
A haiku by Vance Tran

Michael Sherrillo...
Too many syllables, eh?
No, I think it fits.
a haiku by Vance and Sherrillo

Mike Sherrillo sucks
Big, big, big, big, big, big ASS!
Suck it, Mike, suck it.

An Original Thought
by Michael Sherrillo

There are seven little words
I've found no woman EVER
wants to hear, but that every
man says at least once.
"I love you, there, I said it."
A haiku by Vance Tran

I feel we must push,
push our way through the masses,
the unwashed, unclean...
Introduction to "Leaves"
by Michael Sherrillo

Each day comes and goes,
Passing unseen as the breeze.
And as it blows throughout our lives,
We all become so many leaves.
by Michael Sherrillo

In green youth we each hold fast,
To the trunk of our family tree.

Then, when grown, we all fall off,
And each of us is tossed and turned,
As we are all cast our seperate ways.

Each leaf comes to a place of rest,
Some close, while others still far away.
And sitting, we age, turn brittle and brown.

But the winds of time continue to blow,
Leaving none of us unchanged.
And now, we fly again, as dust,
And in that wind, find each other the same.

"Kung-Fu Haiku"
by Vance Tran

My young pupil failed
I say, "No, kick high, then low."
"Good, young grasshopper."
by Michael Sherrillo

This car, no longer
With wheels moves,
But by desire is powered,
By imagination is driven,
And by fate is destined,
To follow the curves and contours
Of the roads which chance
Places in our way.

A haiku by Michael Sherrillo

The twisted blade turns
round and round, neither following
nor being followed.