MySpace
myspace music my music  featured playlists  top artists  music videos  karaoke  shows  forums 


blogs.myspace.com/brianrowe
MySpace.com | rss | sign in
Brian Rowe



Last Updated: 11/18/2009

Send Message
Instant Message
Email to a Friend
Subscribe

Status: Single
State: California
Country: US
Signup Date: 2/12/2005
Saturday, January 24, 2009 
         A couple days ago I saw a pigeon in the road.  I was hurring to work and impatiently waiting at a crosswalk when I looked down and saw it. 

        It's always a bit startling to suddenly see a dead animal sitting right there next to you... but then I took a closer look.  Not only was it a dead bird... but it was a dead bird and a cookie.  That pigeon was right on top of the cookie... dead as dead can be.  As far as I could tell, the cookie was still whole and uneaten.

          and I'm not sure what that means, but it just seemed appropriate. 
8:15 AM
 
Print
Previous Post: Too Soon- lyrics and other things... | Back to Blog List | Next Post: old poem...
too.dark.park

 
Well, the Egyptians believed they'd take with them to the afterlife all the things they surrounded themselves with in death. Me... yeah, I'd be pretty happy with a cookie.

 
Posted by too.dark.park on Saturday, January 24, 2009 - 8:38 AM
[Reply to this] 
your man lucas

 
psycho epistemologicaly it would mean that both the cookie and the pigeon being noticed by you and by your acknowledgment of a deeper possible meaning in the situation reflects yourself a great deal. if this quandary burns in your mind still i suggest you entertain the muse.




write a song about dead pigeon . . . .

 
Posted by your man lucas on Monday, March 16, 2009 - 5:49 PM
[Reply to this] 
your man lucas

 
I came across this and thought i would share.

Poem To A Dead Pigeon
Jack Micheline

Grey and white feathered bird
You lie there dead
For all to see
In the sunlit morning

Most people pass you by
For you are a dead bird
Grey and white
Your feathers in the sun

The Negroes pass
The West Indians
The poor Irish going to Portabello Market

The green stocking girl
Who sells her wares on the corner
Bananas and dates and oranges
They are selling in the market

I bend down
On my knees
In the sunlit morning
And kiss your wing
Grey and white
Gleaming in the sun

No more
Shall you aspire
Air and cloud and sky

No more the noises of the rabble
To wet your thirst

No more
On this earth
Poor bird
Shall the light
Blind you to darkness


No more          Poor
         Bird
No more

 
Posted by your man lucas on Wednesday, October 28, 2009 - 11:11 PM
[Reply to this]