Wow. That’s about all I can say. At least one person found poetry instead of weirdness in my daily digest of Twitter posts (which I’ve already deleted). And he turned it into a poem about breakfast and Billy Graham, among other things.
You can read the poem here or after the jump (poetry like that is too potent to not give you a little warning).
Ode to Twitter and Breakfast
by Marcus GoodyearNobody tweets about breakfast anymore.
It’s all get to work this and late for work that.
I’m sitting down to breakfast. Yeah.
Cereal, milk, OJ. That’s all breakfast needs
to be. I love breakfast. Between 7-9 a.m.
talk about breakfast. And coffee doesn’t count.
Toast is underrated.
Confession: I have *two* distinct Breakfast Time songs.
Confession #2: I came up with them *before* I had kids.
Also, I launched a Billy Graham blog, billyspot.com
“The morning is here … breakfast is near.”
Wow, you’ve got some breakfast song chops.
I promise to keep the Billy tweets to a minimum.
My mother drilled it in to me to avoid sugary cereals
so it’s Wheaties. I used to eat Corn Chex too.
Wheaties, milk, OJ. Always. Yes, I love habits.
A 1978 Texas Monthly feature asks if Billy
Graham is the most powerful evangelist since Jesus.
My songs involve repeating “It’s breakfast time” to different beats.
Oh, sweet breakfast time, it’s good to be back.
When my body conspires against me, breakfast will help, right?
If breakfast doesn’t help, you can’t blame breakfast. It tried.
Billy Graham’s 1st public testimony “reinforced
my conviction that I would never become a preacher.”
Then, oh, sweet breakfast time, it’s good to be back.
Given that two lines of that poem came from a response you sent me to a question I sent you, I’m proud to have been a small part of your breakfast poem. It’s like I’m “between the lines” somewhere. :-)
I mean, does this not just INSPIRE you to keep Tweeting?
I’m a former Tweeter (it was just more noise in my life), but this… this is a totally cool use of the site (leave it to M.G. to give Twitter a step up).
Aaron, I took creative license there, and implied that your breakfast song was actually Kevin’s. For simplicity.
Poetry isn’t a factual kind of truth, you know?
It was a fun little activity.