Le poèt et le prédicateur.

Back in High School I was best of friends with a fellow by the name of Chris. We were the original odd couple. He was a mathematician poet, while I was the preacher of philosophy. No two minds could ever be more brilliantly opposing than ours were. This fuelled our friendship, and conversation for many a year. Where we differed we differed passionately, and where we agreed we were a force to be reckoned with. And if we each had half a brain, then together we still wouldn't have half a brain. And yet we thought ourselves to be intellectual monsters, amidst our peon peers in public school. Which we were, to be totally truthful. How many other people would compare themselves to Plato (myself), and Aristotle (Christopher)? The comparison surely fit, in our own odd way. Now-a-days, with our interests leaning more Biblio-centered, we would probably be likened more unto John Wesley (Christopher), and George Whitefield (myself).
In high school we could be seen roaming the halls, in a fevered discussion of some sort; or lounging in the weight room during gym class, heatedly debating; or sharing our musings and mumblings in study halls and "life skills" class; and during lunch we were often found to be eating. But in the midst of all this seriousness was quite a large amount of tomfoolery, and almost as much of ballyhoo. Our conversation wasn't made complete till it was heavy laden with punch drunkenness. For example, we once paired our respective powers of intellect together, and came up with Maph and its one working example - by merging math and philosophy together we proved that it is indeed "better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." Therefore, in the spirit of presenting serious subjects in a lighthearted manner (or is it presenting lighthearted objects in a serious manner?), I offer unto you a series of poems Chris and I wrote many years ago ... I would say, roughly 6 and a half years ago ... give or take half a year. I have retained the original spelling, capitalization, and punctuation in transcribing these hand-written pseudo-treasures. Enjoy!

Untitled Poem by Zachariah Patterson
Fade to grey, button tops
trying to hide, killing cops
I've gotta birdy in my hand
like a dessert, survey the land
Searching life for my desire
Gotsta find the right way out
Classified ads "wanted for hire"
Could we be taking the wrong route?
Friends just staring, like sitting ducks
madness has run amok
Every one just wants a buck
And it seems like we're all out of luck

Butt Char by Zachariah Patterson
Look! My grinder on the floor
rain is falling on the door
in front of us is a store
we're waiting for our friends some more
They'll soon be here, I am sure
We tell tales of mystic lore
about those hearts that are kept pure
By us drive a nice green car
I presume that our friend ain't far
lo, rain still falls on the tar
If we played golf we'd miss the par.
Maybe they're drinking in the bar
we should check, I'm sure they are,
they burned our food, it is butt char

Untitled Poem by Christopher Fiorello
As I look down, toward the wheel
I see some steamy oatmeal
the steam, it rises to the top
and starts a tango with a mop.
The mop, however wants to waltz
and steam get shafted - its his faults.
Jeff and Adrienne will jaunt
and visit us while teeth they flaunt
A very pretty girl is he
Jeff has the gift of Monody.
AJ, on the other hand
would like to swim inside the sand
Zach has food of Hefner's aim
Whilst cowgirls dance with cubist claim
The red-haired violist lulls us all to sleep on oil
and with her pow'r removes us from both man's and Tesla's coil

Untitled Poem with Alternating lines Written by Each of Us by Chris (lines 1, 3, and 5) and Zach (lines 2, 4, and 6)
We run to break, Banana spray
it's my favorite drink, anyway!
Blackend skies collide
falling down on every side
The rain is piercing
please come here, sing!