Friday, February 22, 2013

Alliterate that A**hole

Surprising superlatives, such surreptitious slang,
Preened performances plucked from pearls of premeditated pang .
Each ember of emerging emotion enacted to its epitome,
Coach and captive cocked in complicated cacophony.
Time to turn and tamper with this tempestuous tone.
Must muster my mediocre mythos to misatone.
Hope is a harrowing hinge on his hedonistic harmony.
Cease, center and co-opt out of this carcass ceremony
As I ascend above the amalgamated anarchy.
Really, realizing that this is a recurring reality

Sigmond spews such sporadic spots of slop

Monday, September 17, 2012

Crazy was , what crazy did

The stupid inside me is dying, DYING, and I’m sad to see it go,
Does this mean that by the end of the day, I’ll be wiser than Deuce Bigalow.
When I look back, it’s been a long time coming, I've felt it for some time now,
My jaw hurts daily, with teeth so wise, I’ve been acting all grown up somehow.
But this must stop, it must it must, I’m no sage or messiah,
Last time i checked i dreaded that fact, that my grades were getting higher.
These stupid graphs, excel plots and reports of corporate fertility,
I need to think of ways but how, I must, I have to exit this mature lunacy.
I've got it , I've got it , no I haven’t, haven’t a slightest clue,
I'm getting smarter, wiser perhaps, and there is nothing I can do.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, I might have jumped the gun, I think I definitely have,
Just last week I sniffed some glue, I’m sure my IQ has halved.
But then again, I woke the next day and saved this spectacled guy a million bucks,
Perhaps today, when I take a shower, I’ll take with me, my favourite yellow duck.
Remember the time I said I was ill and tried to fake malaria,
That was stupid was it not, or was it just corporate dysphoria.
Well all is lost, I am but a shell, a corpse of a once hormonal teen,
Tomorrow I’ll go and act in the show, knowing I will always be 'a has been'.
Then the next day I will go and I will pray, in the altar of hedonism,
Knowing fully well, that my mind is still, sane as a multi faceted prism.
I’m hoping someday, it'll find its way, back into my cranium,
Till then I say, to you all good day, this rhyme has been eating into my mental per diem.

Sigmond ... needs to read the SUN

Tuesday, June 28, 2011


Gregarious generosity of generic jargon
Absolute absolution abound

Time tempered trespassed and tourniquet
Starved salvaged sanity sound

Inched imperfect insolently incapacitated
Depraved desolate and drowned

Carapace compounded constricted contained
Help this harrowed hapless hound

Sigmond signalling soundly the scrumptious cessation of sessions

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

There is a need to move but not a need to hurry
There is a need to better but not a need to change
There is a need to do but not a need to get it done
There is a need to succeed but not a need to win
There is a need to be you but not a need to be
There is a need to end but not a need to begin
There is a need to itch but not a need to tickle
There is a need to laugh but not a need to smile
There is a need to cry but not a need to sob
There is a need to love but not a need to be loving
There is a need to live but not a need to have lived
Needing needs a need but there is no need for needing

Sigmond in need .... indeed

Friday, February 11, 2011


I close my eyes to get away.
An inch is a mile across.
A mile is a mind long.
A mind is a blink away.
Today I walked on the clouds.
Today I swam across land
Today I flew in the sea.
I saw a a song
A song sang to me.
I heard the dust fall.
The dust fell on me.
I felt the openness of a confined space.
The space inside me.
Blink and it changes.
Think and its anew.
I am here not there.
But here does not define me.
When I am there I count the fathoms.
One Inch, maybe one and a half.
My map, my mind, me.
I will come back with my eyes closed.

Sigmond and the safari in his head

Friday, September 03, 2010


I sit in my cubicle and zone out to space,

My stomach is getting bigger from my toes to my face.

My computer is dumb and my colleagues even dumber,

I've been here so long im numb, scratch that im a number.

42656925 is reachable at zero-seven-nine,

Don't tell me your problem, im sure I'll be fine.

Its not that im not listening, I am i swear,

But this brain inside me just doesn't care.

You there at the back, what are you talking about,

I said my alter ego's like a cold smooth stout.

Now im just rhyming , inconsequential and random words,

It really sucks being stuck in this corporate herd.

Sigmond asking ,"Why was Floyd Pink??"

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Letters of Love (lost and found)

Dear Betsy,

Betsy my dear I have found love,
To me she is my favourite glove.
Hand in hand we paint the town red,
All over the hordes as evil lay dead.
Her finesse is critical and deadly and still,
Analog or digital I auto aim for the kill.
Shes no wii, no station of play,
She is curvaceous of shades white and grey.
Dear Betsy don't cry, meet her you must,
This is love, though digital, my taste I trust.
Its not that I have had this feeling before,
You and Miss Pac Man were fun but there was no gore.
Please believe me when i just say,
She and I are to be wed today.

Love digitally

Dear Wilbur

Wilbur my dear, I really don't mind,
Your love for the video games that you find.
What bugs me however is the fact that you still,
Think I give a shit about your 10,000th kill.
Remember that day when i said, "This looks like fun",
I was three vodkas down and as high as a nun.
Dear Wilbur don't cry I'm sure she a catch,
Just wondering, where exactly is her "Consummate here!" latch.
Please believe me when i just say,
A root canal is better than you any day.

Ctrl Alt Del + Shutdown

Sigmond is what ????