Copyright Notice

Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Terminal Speed of 300 Toads

I see you are going down again
I'd offer you a gentlemanly hand
But gravity seems to be doing you well

If only there were some way of measuring this
Your acceleration in a vacuum
Your terminal speed

I spy a nice sized rock and throw it at you
Smiling as it hits you square in the gut
Who needs to measure shit when I can do that

You cry out for my help
And three hundred toads shoot out of your butt
Just like you always said they would

I fall down right with you at that
Tears obscuring my view
My breath catching in almost silent gasp laughter

"Oh my god!"
I finally gasp out
"You said, 'The day I ask for your help......
.....three hundred toads........ out your butt!!'"

And I can't stop laughing
Nor can the tears stop flowing
Never a breath will I catch

As we both hit the ground in unison
A smile upon my face
And three hundred toads pitter-pattering down all around us

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Valentine's Chalk Candy

I will
Just like the children's bedtime storybook
I'll hold you in my arms
Every moment that I can
And if you get dementia and forget me
I'll court you all over again
So that I can hold you then too

Could you
But not in a creepy way
Oh no
Just a bit of your love
A taste of your skin
A touch of your soul from within
(ok, perhaps in a slightly creepy way)

Would you
If I promised to be clean and fresh
A lightly minty tongue
Hiding behind warm soft lips
With facial hair trimmed so as not to poke you
I have prepared and am quite a dish

These candy printed platitudes
And more
Can be yours
Because I love you

ME 2?

Monday, January 30, 2017

Bridge Ices Before Road

Up to now it seems
That things have always been
Idyllic countryside drive 
Endlessly rolling hills
Easy going all the way
Until the edge of the known world approaches
With a thin ribbon of concrete and steel
Arcing off into the unknown

There is a temptation to turn around
It isn't too late to go back yet
Familiar highways and trails
Traversed a million times before
Tire tracks from times past
Crisscrossing the old familiar earth

But this road goes only one way now
And it is out up and away
As a light snow starts
A setting sun showing off distant clouds
Dumping moisture off their undersides
Obscuring the future in a haze

Looming large in the fading light
Going slowly past the final 
Well-used turnaround area
Where we used to gaze out at the unknown
In our youth
Sitting around bonfires
Tentatively kissing one another
And awkwardly touching
Before there even was a bridge beyond
Or at least we hadn't noticed it yet

Now pushing through an inch of snow
Crunching satisfyingly under tire
No place to turn back now
One final sign before the base of the bridge approaches

"Bridge Ices Before Road"

In black print
Upon a reflective yellow background
And a crazily skidding car outlined within

Up the structure we go now
Heedless of any warnings or fear
In search at last
Of that fabled away up and out
Darkness closes in
At the disappearance of the last irritated sliver of sunlight
And the tires begin to slip
And we notice that there are no guardrails

Speed decreasing upon a steady grade
Wishing for the sand tubes of a railed locomotive
Portable granules of that safe earth
That is now so far behind
Beneath accumulating snow

Lightning sparks across the sky
Illuminating all
Then twice
Long enough to look 
Then right
Over the edge and into black waters
That stubbornly refuse to freeze in the cold
Filled with the carcasses of cars past
The only indicator that anyone else has ever tried
To go this way before

Chug chugging upon slickness
Downshifting just to keep the engine running now
Acceleration a forgotten idea
To keep forward motion the ideal
Headlights shining up into the night
Catching sight of nothing but the gently falling snow
Flakes as large as curled white Persian cats
With ice blue eyes
Accusing us of everything
But expecting nothing

"Maybe the road just ends here at the top?"

That whispered question still hanging in the air
When the apex is reached
And the car teeters upon a point
And for an unending few seconds
There doesn't seem to be an answer
Until there is
And the car decides to go forward and down
Please keep your arms and hands inside the vehicle
Picking up speed upon the snot slick skid surface

Those curled white Persian cats
Have now become stars
Streaking towards the windscreen and past
A tunnel of bits of light
The hyperdrive is fixed at last

The far side approaches quickly
Too fast for much thinking at all
With several inches of fresh whiteness
Trying to find the road is a dicey call
Until the edges can be picked out
By sparsely spaces white reflectors
A path to a new land's interior
Following only the idea of a path
No tracks to be seen

A new territory
Try not to fall

Friday, November 4, 2016

Bitter Orange

Ironically bitter orange
Took a bite of his opponent
Speaking through the mastication
Of her milky mammaries
Chunks of flesh flying
Through gaps in his teeth
As words flowed wordily
Insults insulting the insults
That came just before
Withering them to rotten ropy bits
Stuck along a throbbing red gumline

Reaching for an old ICBM
To pick at those necrotic specks
Poking with weaponized tip
Grasped by a toddler's teething urge
Cracking open the warhead
With a soothing and curious bite
Irradiating the spot where his soul should be
Leaving an x-ray imprint
Upon the skyscraper behind him
A solid gold image
Of what lurks inside

There a silhouette of an unpaid carpenter
Here a pile of broken hearts
Left from those who tried to love him
Over yonder an infant in tears
Inconsolable and insatiable
To feel the whole world in its hands
But not willing to pay the price for it

An infant orange window shopping tire kicker
Everything he had ever wanted
Especially coveting
All the precious people places and things
That should never be within his reach

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Indifferent Swamp Yeti

Indifferent Swamp Yeti just doesn't have an opinion
Whenever asked
He probably won't even tell you where he is from

Every poll that calls his yeti phone
Gets noncommittal treatment
Pledging himself to some obscure seventh party
From Abominable to Zed the Bearded Giant
The Hirsute Aboriginals will get the job done

This swamp yeti won't tell you what he wants on pizza
"Oh, just whatever you want is fine"
Is something that he would say
Sitting on rotting logs
Roundtable debating topics of the day

So when the pies arrive in thirty minutes flat
No enjoyment will cross his face
Beneath thick hair and masticating grace

Only a vague satisfaction of being full
After consuming yeti appropriate portions
And tossing the crusts to the side
Where the odd toothy creature chews rudely
With lipless maws chomping wide

Indifferent Swamp Yeti takes pride in only one thing
And that is his lack of commitment to anything
Politics, "Meh"
Religion, "Meh"
Yeti rights, "Meh"
It is the predictable response
That he has for everything

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


Carbon fiber flex
As the world fell
Acrophobia attack
Motionless in space
Earth pulling away
Sensation of movement
Gone in the moment

Stage after stage
Reenters the world
Captured in gravity well
Arcing to cinders
Ashes to ashes
Thrust to dust
Matter disseminated

Wednesday, September 21, 2016


Hands hesitant
Reaching to the page
Through pen, pixel, or mechanical machine
Words fall tritely
Results disappoint
So futile
Much fail