Pareidolia: I See Faces Everywhere I Go, So I Turn Them Into Characters
Hey! My name is Keith Larsen and I use pareidolia to create characters I see in everyday objects.
"Pareidolia is the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern."
We've all seen faces in things before, I just decided to turn them into my own creatures and give them stories by writing poems for them.
I’m the drunk octopus looking to fight.
Fear the left hook and the jab of my right.
You’re at an advantage, my eyes are offset
Yet I’ll surely win this one, I’m the safe bet.
Even with six legs behind my back, this’ll be no match
But I can’t leave this wall, I’m stuck, I’m attached.
Love can open many doors
We're often used to open albacore.
I'm Jan, and this is Fran.
We've been told no, again and again
Many against us, our life is a sin
But in the end, love always wins.
I'm Ellie D, the amphibious illuminator.
The frog that toggles on during a power failure.
I'm not green like Kermit, and I don't tell jokes
But, keep me in mind next time the electric croaks.
I'm a dandy dapper dampener.
Fires tickle my fancy, those are no match for me.
Remove my monocle you must, for the water to flee.
When it comes to parking, I know I'm a nuisance
But when your dog pees, I'm somehow translucent.
I'm a damn dampened hydrant.
Slow and steady wins the race.
That's not the case when it comes to this face.
Tracking your time, waiting for it to expire
The shell on my back being a parked cars tire.
Your times running out, telling you is my purpose
This is my role, as a parking meter tortoise.
I'm just a bag takin' a drag
Greaser hair, pull string flair
I'm not full of myself as I may look,
I'm filled with your belongings, like pencils and books
Give me a chance doll face, I'm not a cheater
We'll hold hands at the drive-in theater.
Ting tang walla walla bing bang.
You'll be healed by these words I sang.
I'm a rusted rake, a trusted fake.
Hiding behind my mask as you take the medicine I make.
I collect all that is natural, dried leaves and all.
Homeopathy is the term, if I recall.
My tines are feathers, oxidized from the weather.
Come to me, the witch doctor, so you can feel healthy and better.
Did you hear the news? Pull down my ears is how I'm used.
Newspapers are what I dispense.
Be up to date with your current events.
Look at new gizmos and gadgets, clothes and jackets.
Just about anything worth to mention.
You can call me Yorker, your yellow news dispensing gremlin.
WOAH, all this traction can cause a fire!
Braking so hard losing tread on my tires.
I’m bicycle Rick, bearded and hip.
Wearing my cyclist cap on every trip.
I’m there for every drag, I love to race.
But this is my face when I come in the last place.
I’ll win next time, my bearings must be tighter.
Remember my name, Bicyclist Rick, the astounded bic lighter
A yawning morning monkey, yearning for caffeine.
Senses not so keen, for this waking groggy coffee fiend.
Hoo hoo ha ha, that first cup was great.
That productive primate mode, we all can relate.
Ba da ba ba ba, energy all day long it’s not gonna quit.
Bananas and coffee, breakfast of chimpions, and I’m lovin’ it.
There, there Philip, no need to be sad.
You have a nice complexion and your pimples aren't bad.
You may not look appealing, but once they're done peeling, they'll forget what they were seeing.
What's on the inside is what counts, you're not a dud.
I'm your brotato, and we'll always be best spuds.
I'm tired of cleaning up after you.
Whether it's a mess you created or something destroyed.
My face is the solution, and I'm relatively annoyed.
Sitting in the corner, like I don't even matter.
Until your klutzy self, makes a messy splatter.
I have no more energy, I'm much too wiped
But, I really mustache you, who created the quantum theory of light?
Eyes gaze upon you as you slumber
Elegant crown, headboard lumber.
Ruling the cold bed realm, casting arctic spells.
Residing above you, in the room of hotels.
Call room service to order more blankets and towels.
Here, spotted Ursula, the magical Ice Queen Owl.
Can we talk about the elephant in the room?
Or just about anything your mind consumes.
There to help when you need the support
No matter the baggage, no need to abort.
Hooked on assistance, nothings irrelevant
You will always have help, including this happy hook elephant.
How art thou? Gretchen, the grainy haired, flat capped jester at your service.
This is thy bowing gesture, although appearing nervous, the pleasure be thine.
Thou would'st be too, being wooden with a hook.
Many moments hath with awkward hands shook.
But, no need for this wood to weep and wallow,
I bid you farewell, and to all a good morrow.
Jovey McJupiterface is what I was titled.
I'm your biggest neighbor, a surface over 23 billion miles.
The heaviest of our planets, I'm known as the Gas Giant
My eyes made of storms, cyclonic and violent.
You'll finally see beneath my clouds, there's much more to know
All made possible, by NASA's mission, Juno.
Please dispose of your gum and butts.
Keeping the streets clean, this is a must.
All this cigarette smoke, causing me to choke.
Scuba gear for protection, it’s my eyes you poke.
Don’t turn London’s streets into a sea of rubbish
I’m Cecil the Scuba bin, you can find me in public.
Hey dere, you notice my teef missin'
But I'm just like you, I talk and listen
My inner's calm, yet I'm lookin' crazy
Push my teef when you're feelin' lazy
Your door remains shut thanks to me.
Twist my body for the hinges to move free.
I'm Larry, the latch beaked bird.
When you tried to be sneaky, my mouth is the click you heard.
My face remains hidden when you do too.
Open your door, to see the bird that never once flew.
Can’t you see my mouth is open?
Probably not, you stare in the mirror as your hands are groping.
Twisting my glasses, messing with my sight
Fidgeting, finding a temperature that suits you just right.
My runny nose; an elongated metal hose
Using the water to fix your hair and clothes, you strike a pose.
Finishing with a paper towel, make sure to toss it.
I’ve had enough, I’m a four-eyed frustrated faucet.
Short stack Stanley is sweet as can be.
His tummy filled with liquid, and it’s not sugar free.
Thick like molasses, you may pull back his nose until it passes.
Smiling, staring, as you eat your pancakes.
Stanley’s syrup is for you to partake.
Ain’t it nice when Granny’s in town?
Reminiscing old times boogying; gettin’ down.
Mmm, scrumptious cookies, too good for just one
Complaints about technology, it ruins all the fun.
Her eyes smile with her wrinkled lips
Asking about your life, giving you tips.
In case you forgot and needed a reminder
Relax and enjoy it