Some Christmas Confusion

So, I heard my first Christmas Muzak on October 31. How about you? Poor MegaHAL is having some problems with a certain Yuletide carol this year. Well, everybody gets confused about all those fa-la-las when we first start out, don't we?

Centuries later on the tongue.
show it to say we care--
our world in its proper place for me to change
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly window! I have embalmed the days,
and the fingers ceased to believe in accidents,
it's a subtle change in their beanpole

crooner days, buddy holly
fa-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la, la-la-la
don we now our gay apparel
fa-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la
don we now our gay apparel
fa-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
don we now our gay apparel
fa-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la
'tis the season include the making of a cease-fire
not binding upon you
a spacecraft flew by
on the table
with you, to see you through?
oh, yeah, and before he knew that in the silence, a tiny splinter
of one that can be used by the
erotic films of such a shame,
or softly lightens o'er her face;
together we might both be dead by now
billy wants it all now
september grass.

You know, if it weren't for the odd mention of September at the end there, this could almost work.

Okay, maybe that's the sleep dep talking.

Don't change horses in mid-ocean, suspended in the trees, intoning strange lore

MegaPoMo is over! I finished!

Doesn't feel like so much of a victory, I'm afraid. Unlike last year, this year I have not been quite so inspired. It isn't MegaHAL's fault at all: MegaHAL is always willing to provide as much nonsense poetry as anyone could require. He even helped a friend with NaNoWriMo this year! But what with this, that, and the other thing, I just have not been a very good collaborator in 2007. Next year, I need to get HAL fed good sources before the month starts, and I need to make sure I'm willing to read through at least a dozen or so nonsense poems each day to find something good to post. This year, I've been more likely to focus on how hungry I am than to work at finding some good imagery.

The shrine of sacred food:
in the dark and dismal day
with the thoughts i'd be a drudge, staggering to the whole, whether they go out
machine we call the school
our mark, one of those who lack the peasant's conspirators
the devil's in the sad lost autumn rung.
as young children learn to prophesy the hid eclipse,
the opaqueness of organs folded
upon the glass and the paperwork
there must have been
i've got a troll-free number.

Hmmm.

They pawn

their skeletons, falling endlessly from consciousness,
orders came: war in the next brook.
there is a dangerous thing, so beware. You
are full of warm socks and a house identical to its fond caresses,
and one--the flowers abhor--
the crocus--till she rises
the wings, tail, legs, and bill, as well as many large farming organizations, feeds billions of dollars into genetic
engineering research. The stakes are high or blue
but i was sleeping,
which makes me vegetarian,
and what to do the frowning gods invent new banes
and work in rain,
i knew it too darn fast;
and on them even better gifts than any
leftover flying. They leave
the rest of geometry, it is that young man, depending
on the subject matter. Many
art masterpieces from botticelli on
the altar of liberty? Let us hope that research on organisms with rudimentary brains will help
you give me something.

life's a song
for the first salt
particles of ocean bear:
full well the fowl perceived their bad intent,
and the water on the shore, so far
beyond necessity--

fame of myself in this chaotic
concrete way that it was through,
it totally coated the floor,
and with her baby chair,
monsters wandering in my bosom lies.

Well, that sounds like an interesting bit of genetic engineering, doesn't it? Oh, what more can I say? Let HAL have the last word tonight.

Cleanse skin thoroughly before applying. Use
a dancing demon
a choice of hot dishes or salads and you riding in the reed beds high
and in our own sure drift.
a method is needed for selecting a suitable reply out of danger, a black
earth and water, fire and air.
my voice is crying:
mine or someone else's.
why the stop for a while,
then up again in december
we can make our lives sublime,
and, on our road,
and between the lines
and we kind of no-man's-land between the shutters
on paradisal beaches,
an ugly enough song, sung
by a rote it answered to in music,
i want to we can break your heart.