Archive for the Poetry Category

It is Troll

Posted in All things music, Comedy, Poetry on March 5, 2013 by klogtheblog

There is no leader here

The king does not exist

Animal intelligence

They have no politics

It is Troll

Troll

Troll

It is Troll

The thing must be destroyed

With sword and torch and axe

Beat it to the ground

And hack and slash and slash

Kill the Troll

Troll

Troll

Kill the Troll

Now is time to flee

Run and climb and swim

Soon it will regenerate

All its severed limbs

It is Troll

Troll

Troll

It is Troll

Troll

Troll

TRRRRRRRRROLLLLL

Troll

–Steve Kilian

New Cover Bands

Two Variations On The Same Joke

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Long Lay We

Posted in Poetry on August 20, 2012 by klogtheblog

Long lay we under silt and sediment

Waiting out the tides’

Scraping of the shoreline cliffs

Which split and revealed

Our monumental bones,

Sitting up under the new sun,

Shaking off eons of dust

Rising to greet a world

Ripe again for conquest.

–Steve Kilian

Letter To Liam Neeson

Screenplay For William Shatner and Christopher Walken Consisting Only of Pauses

The Weathergoat

Posted in Fiction, Poetry on May 11, 2012 by klogtheblog

The Weathergoat trudges on.

First in blinding sleet, through slush and puddles that soak his feet to the skin, plodding next to garbage-strewn highways, salt trucks casting stinging fans of salt across his thighs as they lumber past.  The sleet then turns to freezing rain, plastering his hair to his face, drenching his clothes, making pale mushrooms of his hands.  Still he trudges on.  The rain passes and a bitter wind starts to blow, an eager pickpocket stealing whatever warmth he’d secreted away – even his armpits feel cold.  With the wind comes dust that cakes in the corners of his mouth and eyes, a chalky foulness that he can neither spit nor swallow away. The Weathergoat digs his hand deeper into his pockets and continues to march.

Finally, the sun comes forth, a baleful eye that cooks the water out of the blacktop, tainting the air with a humid petroleum funk.  But there are no clouds – the Weathergoat’s skin peels and blisters.   Pollen bursts forth from the ragged grasses on the side of the road, filling the cracks on his brow and in his lips.  Still he walks.

Elsewhere, in dappled shade under swaying sycamores, a man pours lemonade from a pitcher and passes it out to his friends.  Hamburgers flare and sizzle on a portable grill.  There is a cooler filled with ice and beer.  A gingham cloth is held down on a picnic table by bottles of ketchup of mustard on one side and a bowl of potato salad with hard-cooked eggs and scallions on the other.  A woman in a sundress waves a fly away from a platter of cheese and tomatoes for the burgers.  It’s a beautiful day.

For this the Weathergoat trudges on.

–Steve Kilian

Excerpt From the Proceedings of the IMF Field Survey of Candidate Nation 34-T-89

Taxi

December, December

Posted in Poetry on December 29, 2011 by klogtheblog

SOLSTICE BREAKS THE CLOCKWORK OF NIGHT

CONSTELLATIONS COME UNPINNED

FROM THE CRYSTAL SPHERES

AND FALL TO THE EARTH BELOW

MAYHEM UNSUES –Steve Kilian

State of The National

Post-”Bitches!”

 

 

 

K Riddle: You know my numbers, what’s my name?

Posted in Poetry, Trivia on September 29, 2010 by klogtheblog

The two of us

Are half of a whole

With many fifths

Or so I’ve been told

With many ones

An eight and a nine

But by sixteen

Two ones were mine

Who am I?

–not Dan Kilian, it’s someone else!

K-Riddle

Return of the K-Riddler

Hey Hey

Posted in All things music, Comedy, Poetry on July 6, 2010 by klogtheblog

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

People say we fuck around

We’re too busy fuckin’

Fuck this whole damn town.

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

You can all suck our dicks

In groups or each by their lonesome

Either way you end up suckin’ that dick

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

But sometimes we don’t fuck

Sometimes we just do our laundry

Or cut warts off our nuts

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

And by we I mean a solitary I

I live in an old folks’ home now

I’m just waiting to die

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

I have pain in my legs all the time

I can’t remember my childrens’ names

Or even if I had any

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

Why am I in this place?

I’m so lonely and angry

I wish I would die.

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

They made me a cake today

It’s my choice:  be bitter or happy

Fuck them all is what I have to say

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

I don’t understand TV no more

What the fuck are they even saying?

I wish I could see enough to read

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

I pissed my bed I think real bad

I’ll just sit here and wallow

I think I was once in a war

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

Some people came to visit today

I didn’t know them and then they were crying

I told them all to go away

*

Hey hey we’re the Fuckees

I couldn’t leave this place if I tried

I wouldn’t know where to go

I wouldn’t know where to go

*

–Steve Kilian

Regarding the Events off of Mayburn Key, July 23rd, 1964

On Language

M. O. TH.

Posted in All things music, Comedy, Poetry on June 29, 2010 by klogtheblog

Yield unto me

Foolish Christian priest

Your chalices of gold

I’ll drain them at our feast

Your lungs are splayed and purple

The surf collects its prize

From your cloven ribcage

While gulls consume your eyes

We sail onto your shores

Rape your village girls

Plunder, bloodlust, havoc

Our drunken captain hurls

Both epithets and vomit

At monks in robes of brown

They gaze up to their heaven

We bring our hammers down

*

Minions of Thor

Destroying foreign souls

Minions of Thor

Strong as mountain trolls

Minions of Thor

Sailing seas of steel

Minions of Thor

Hear the thundrous peal

*

<fourteen minute guitar solo>

<repeat chorus 3x>

–Steve Kilian

State of The National

Confession to Rassilon