Tag Archives: poem

The Fruits Of My Labor

It’s Monday of the first week of March. Today is my anniversary. A woman beyond loveliness and wonder–who subsequently is emitting adorable yelps of frustration as she combs through her magnificent, albeit apparently temperamental, mane of hair–is accompanying me on an odyssey to a glorious cornucopia of all-that-thoust-shall-consume meat.

And the first video of our nonstop week of creativity and fun begins! Hopefully someone enjoys it. I suffered greatly for the craft.

[[Is This O.k.? : Steak Sauce Brownies]]


Sagittarius ichor flows like sap,
through my mortal coil.
Brewed from the savage tears of frost giants,
by just Gabriel.

A myriad celestial patrons,
toiled together in
imperceptibly divine harmony,
So boy can bleed.

I don’t know if I’m crazy about that last line. I’d love to know what y’all think.


Creative Outlets

Obviously my attempt to write every day has begun on a rather… shaky and uneven footing. There are a number of factors, both anticipated–my inability to prioritize any one desire over another– and unforeseen–the timely and beneficial acquisition of a wonderful job at Southern California Comics–but ultimately I’m trying to view this experience as a lesson, not a failure. How could it be a failure if the newfound confidence I gained from starting this blog led to me submitting my work? To inquiring about a job position? To doing something new?

Justifications aside I am feeling a second wind, as it is. Being able to consume and coexist alongside comics on a daily basis has rekindled my creative passion. Additionally, tomorrow is my and Carrie’s five-year anniversary, and I’m feeling like a very blessed man indeed to have earned the favor of such a wonderful and entrancing woman.

In short, I’m high on life, and I’m determined to channel this creative drive, to take advantage of the fortunate life I live.

I’m grabbing March by the horns and I’m not letting go. I’m going to finish a script. I’m going to write another short story. I’m going to try my hand at poetry many, many more times. Whatever it is I want to do, I’m just going to do it, dammit.

And I’m starting this event off with a renewed dedication to my YouTube channel, youtube.com/sendmorerobots. Carrie and I conceived and filmed our first proper humorous entry into the “Miscellaneous Monday” category, and I hope people enjoy it. If not, we enjoyed filming it (as much as one can enjoy the humorously unfortunate experience we inflict on ourselves), and then we’ll try something new. We’ll keep trying.

Prayer and Magic

Opposition is antiquated, artificial.
A venomous injection into the natural.
Yggdrasil’s branches deviate symmetrically,
Exposed in awful, undeniable reflection.


The gods in their
govern over
countless domains.

Save Fortuna.
known as Tyche
in bronze Hellas.
She has no throne.

She does not blow
dice nor kiss feet.
She answers not
cracking timber.

In our swollen
impassioned and
languid hearts laughs
fickle Fortuna.

Valete omnes!


I don’t usually write poetry. Then Steven took me to a poetry reading. And now i’m writing subpar poetry. (Apparently so is Steven.) Maybe this will help me/us improve?

I Remain

There is a child screaming.
in the park, behind our house.
The child screams the loudest
every night, from eight to one.
More children scream. Perhaps
A man, their father, as well. 
Why is the child screaming?
I remain, inside the house.


So cruel, the black wolves,
fur coats matted with dew drops.
What tiny red shoes.


Howling fog,
Goosebumps to white fangs.
That poor child.

Also I’m watching Moonstruck. Taken together I think the howling seems seems fitting, no? Anywho, you should watch Moonstruck.

Now I’m watching John Wick. God this movie is phenomenal…y visceral and brilliant.The script is lean and crisp, the dialogue succinct, the violence necessary and unbloated… So good.

Rest In Pieces/Arctic Emotion

Alright, so I hadn’t actually planned on posting this, but it’s Valentine Day and what better way is there for you to show love for yourself than by making fun of yourself? These are two songs (I know, more bloody songs from someone who fancies himself a fiction writer) I wrote in high school. They’re… interesting, if for no other reason than serving as insight into the mentality of high school me. I think only a handful of people have ever see these, so I hope y’all enjoy.

Rest In Pieces

So just break down this shell of a man,
my spirit won’t linger on much longer.
If your hands won’t then your hatred can.
Trust me the latter is much stronger.

So pull me limb from limb,
and scatter every bone,
bury me deep,
just let me and my casket alone,
and far away from you.

If there’s not an ocean between us, then I’ll never rest in piece.
(You better stay away from me, you better stay away from…)
I’m so damned tired of this battle arena you planned for our eternity
(So unsure of of what you wanted, so unsure of what you wanted for me)
You tightened your grip much to far and now I’m just out of reach.

So how does it feel to know I’m not around?
That I’m 1000 feet underground?
Where my life is my own, and you have no place.
And all you have left are my bloodstains,
On your face.

So pull me limb from limb,
and scatter every bone,
bury me deep,
just let me and my casket alone,
and far away from you.

If there’s not an ocean between us, then I’ll never rest in piece.
(You better stay away from me, I know you’ll stay away from…)
I’m so damned tired of this battle arena you planned for our eternity
(So unsure of of what you wanted, but now I know just what I want for me)
You tightened your grip much to far, and accidentally set me free.

My Arctic Emotion (Seriously this title)

Winter was cold this year.
(A frigid gust, a current that I just wasn’t ready for)
I think I’m glad I spent it here.
(At least I was, because, )

But now I think to myself,
what if I’d spent it somewhere else?
The answer’s buried inside,
I couldn’t tell you if I tried.

Frosty love turns and blows in in the evening.
Saving’s over, but for me it’s just beginning.
The cold air’s gotten colder, and in here I think it’s freezing.
My heart is hungover as she wishes she was leaving.

Oh how I wish she wasn’t leaving.

Cause under the snow I’ve been bombarded since this winter has begun.
And those soft lips that have been hardened left my favorite song unsung.
No longer well-kept or well-guarded, silhouettes of devotion.
This winter finished what it started, so says my arctic emotion.

My arctic emotion
(Frosty love turns and blows in in the evening.)
My arctic emotion.
(Saving’s over, but for me it’s just beginning.)
My arctic emotion.
(The cold air’s gotten colder, and in here I think it’s freezing.)
My arctic emotion.
(My heart is hungover as she wishes she was leaving.)

You should have finished what you started,
so says my arctic emotion.

Yah… so… there’s that. Angsty Rob (back when people called me Bobby. *shudder*) Reading them over, I suppose there are some elements that could be salvaged– I was and still am particularly found of that and those soft lips that had been hardened left my favorite song unsung line. Who knows? Sometimes it’s important to look back at what we’ve done.

But here’s looking to the future.

Nowhere To Go

So for my very first post I want to post a song I wrote recently. For a while I had been suffering with issues of identity, specifically how I identify with other people, how I’m perceived. Simultaneously me and my ridiculously amazing girlfriend, Carrie, were struggling with our place in the modern world, and how we felt utterly incapable of seeing a future that balanced financial stability with happiness, or at the very least, purpose. I don’t know that all (or any) of that internal struggle is properly conveyed in this song, but I hope you enjoy it.

There isn’t a home for us to go,
no garden, no houseplants, no children to grow.
No path you can follow, I can’t lead you through.
The souls of tomorrow swallow you and me.

No, this road only goes where we won’t.
These boots have been covered in layered of mold.
One million “we’re here’s” we may never say,
I know that we weren’t meant to live this way

The truth is my brother/lover,
we’re freeze in the summer,
we’ll burn in the winter,
we’ll never recover.

The dead and the living,
the whole world is spinning,
and I can’t go with you/ but we’ll be together!

So if you’re curious about the /s, it’s because I couldn’t decide if I wanted the lyrics to be of a more romantic and personal nature (lover, but we’ll be together), or simply a platonic lamentation (brother, I can’t go with you). Opinions?