Category archives: Vindaloo
Discussions of the spice of life, spices, and/or life.
Hard Warrior
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Hard warrior
Above my cradle
Driven by ideals
Rough passions
Fine humour
Your words
So hard to hold
In my heart
Once removed
I can't understand
How you can be
So strong for me
Seeds of Lust
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
She'll leave it all to seeds of lust
Well let's embrace it friends
Plant our little seedlings
In rich dark soil of the night
Raise them with good hearts
Minds free of minor fears
We'll teach them truth
Show them love of knowledge
Try to give them wisdom
Raise them as good people
Who may ...
Poof
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
We're off, we're off for a quick trip to
The place where we did growing do
Returning in a single day
All the more with VoIP to play
Otherwise Mundane
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Strange that the heart leaps
When a beautiful girl
Says something otherwise mundane
Party of Loons
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Those who are awake shiver
As the grey idealogue
And his party of loons
Lead the sleepers astray
Lure a country back
To darker days
Sanctuary with the Blogger's Muse
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Egads they're getting closer!
Save me gentle lady
From the murd'rous horde
Intent upon my words
I've so few left at this late hour
I must from random books implore
I scrape a few quick quips together
That holds them for a day
I leave a bit of rhyme
Sitting on their path
Hoping that ...
Why no productive output today (I need home for a rest...)
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Out rather late yesterday (or this morning, I suppose). Leigh and I hit a trance club after Simon's party. Got home around 5am. Despite the lack of sleep, however, I triumphed 3 games to 1 against grams. However, I haven't been able to get to sleep for a nap yet (despite trying all afternoon). Too ...
Sands in the Doctor's Hands
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
The sands
In the doctor's hands
Run too quickly
In the doctor's hands
Run too quickly
Oil-based Paint
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
I want the red
Deep and rich
Full of fats and oils
To dig itself in
Deep into the surface
Take full possession
Become the wall
Shed all that comes after
So many rain drops
Gathered on the floor
So no white-washing
Will cover its memory
Or forget that
We were here
Maybe a Draft
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Spring days
In darkest winter
Pass unheeded
In my unchanging room
Maybe a draft
From the open window
On a brilliant
Sun-kissed afternoon
Mike C. Fletcher, the VRPlumber, is a philosopher of design turned computer programmer based in Toronto, Canada. He works primarily in the Python programming language, and maintains a large number of Open Source software packages. You can reach him at: mcfletch@vrplumber.com.