The Rapscallion

Misericords

of champagne

vessels

Pungent echoes

from monaural

stutters

That rapscallion

cared not for virtue

nor the rules he must obey

To him, they were 

merely hobbies

Games he chose to play

Nostalgic Reincarnation

Ok.  I promised a poem today, well said I'd try, and I was able to put one together.

Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys

Lego blocks construct or die

Cobra’s laying in wait

Joes of General Issue will not run scared

As knowing’s half the battle they’ll be aware

Lick ‘em Stick em’

Cool to taste

Rock ‘em Sock em’

Robotics on display

Sen Sen, licorice charm

Mixing pop rocks on a dare

Coca-Cola doing pennies harm

While Slinky’s slink along the stairs

In the dark, Bloody Mary may appear

In the mirror from nowhere, so please

Don’t say the name 3 times, if once you do, don’t repeat

Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, NO, NO, stop right there!

Trouble, trouble

In the Pop-o-matic bubble-

Sorry, but the Chutes and Ladders break and fold

Scrabbled, Upwords, we Connect to Four, spawning a game

Of Trivia Pursuit, that for me,

Often leads,

To a trip into

Candyland.

All in fun, the songs now play

Snap, Crackle,

Poppers sound as Sparklers light the way

M40’s and Bottle-Rockets explode and take flight

But all’s well and good, laughing loudly

Until you’ll get stuck drawing four

Again and again…

Eventually all the fun has to end

But then again,

Perhaps a wildcard will show its face

In which case

Mario and his princess may just yet, have time to get away

Destiny

Destiny is desperate for attention

It likes to rub our noses in the predictions, the failures we are all too familiar with,

Those we recognize, much too effortlessly, as the consequence of our limitations

It appreciates the wind and breeze,

The aural quality to a storm filled summers’ night,

The sounds comfort spells to children stirred in fright

Beyond designation, sexless and inherently correct, destiny is a classification unto itself,

It loves the delicate nature of creation,

How a simple greeting planted in one’s ear

Can steer a conversation

Dictate a lifetime to follow

For good or worse

The experiments it plays on us,

Are always unrehearsed,

It is neither from darkness nor from light

Just a figure ever present, burning bright,

Guiding, leading, beginning, ending,

All creatures, great and small, are pawns and pieces

In the never ending game it plays, awake or sleep,

Wrong or right, it changes the rules of the fight,

Altering the strategies, adding and removing, integrating the challenges,

That test the will of man, obstacles he must overcome, in order to survive,

It endlessly monitors, every thought, every action, in this confusion each of us play