Brain Blurbs

Erm... another miscarriage of a poem or one that just needs some time in the prenatal care unit? Can't tell yet.

It's the same old you
The same old me
Just the rise of technology
Distract the man on the street
Keep him blind
To the hand of the elite

Something that hit me, perhaps as the start of a spoken word piece.

Do some women think of their children like I think of the results of dinner at Del Taco? Do they think to themselves, "Well that was marginally satisfying. What is this brewing in my gut? Oh no not the cramps!" Perhaps they look down and stare at the product of their efforts and repeat something similar to my thoughts, I put in all this work for such a small result? You'd think it would have turned out a little bigger. I pushed and sweated for all this time and now I have this. Do these same women wish that they could have flushed their children away like a Macho burrito?

This is the Grey Space

For a long time I've taken part of the name Mithrandir from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings series. In the Elvish tongue that Tolkien constructed the name means grey pilgrim. For those of you that know me well online the remainder of my name is Shrike. Most people mistype this as Strike. The Shrike is a character from Dan Simmons' Hyperion Cantos. This is an interesting amalgam of a name: Gandalf's character was an integral part of Good's struggle versus Evil whereas the Shrike is first perceived as a malevolent but is later illuminated as its own force no matter how violent. This is a basic explanation of the tick and tock of MithShrike. Committed to doing good, grey in more ways than one, morals and motivations occluded behind walls of pontification, just a space to throw crap up and hopefully I can mold this turd into something worthwhile and then plate it solid gold son!