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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2015. 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.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Who Says Black Friday Is Bad?

"You complete me"
I whispered tenderly
To the half-priced
One day only on sale
Newfangled magpie shiny Black Friday
Television set

In appreciation
It glowed warmly
Though putting off nothing but cold
As it streamed images
Though my eyes
Into my soul
Crushing it

Beneath the sheer weight

Of humor so humorless
That the laugh track was needed
For one to know when it was funny

Of sales so amazing
That my wallet started vibrating
With eagerness to splay itself wide open
Like an over eager mother
About to give birth

Of news so real
That it felt like it was a world away
But right next door
With fire and heat and death
None of it my problem
Just for information

Pixels soon melted away
In a sheen of my own tears
Eyes propped open invisibly
The urge to blink gone

Such was the sight
Of my newest of loves

Monday, November 23, 2015

Cue the Foley Work

Slaloming through large crumbs of food
A cockroach crouched and found his groove
Shooshing first this way then that
While swaying betwixt his antennae
A cocked and jaunty cap

Bowls loomed large far above his head
As he glided his chitinous form across the Formica
Stopping here and there to sample the fare
Like a tourist at an eating exposition

Just ahead a delightful smell reached out and touched him
Sending his body into a quivering rhythm
A beeline was made to this so tempting dish
When suddenly a hand came down from far overhead....


Sunday, November 22, 2015

Fat Man Seeks Enlightenment

A fat man seeks enlightenment
At the bottom of many pitchers of beer
Eating through all the pretzels on the bar
Only repenting the next day out of feral fear

As the cholesterol pumps through his arteries
Like thickened beef baste gravy paste
His life begins to flash before his eyes
Full of pies stuffed with lies
Comfort wrapped in pastry shells

Sitting at a stained green felt poker table
Dealt nothing but busted hands
Food hanging from his chin
In congealed quivering stalactites
Eyes a rapid motion amateurish tell
That flick from his dead man's hand
To the pot not full of money
But overflowing with cake
Belly groaning and a growing
Pushing the table further and further away

Winning now a distant probability
Sitting in his wide fat man's chair
Wearing special fat man clothes
A sandwich board nearby
Declaring his search for meaning
Only drawing a stream of taunts from passersby
Enlightening him only as to what he appears to be
For his mirror must have lied
Every morning he looked deep within it
For glossy silver backed answers

Surface level revelations notwithstanding
This fat man still seeks enlightenment
Looking further from the traditional food trough
And closer to whatever may feed his soul

Saturday, November 14, 2015

I Used To Be Better Than Sliced Bread

I had a dream I was a fax machine
That the world had passed me by
But some people still kept me around
Till even I began to ask them why

With a cloth electrical cord
And a dusty mechanical action
Raised art deco lettering
Tumblers for addition and subtraction

Every day I'd whir to sleepy life
Facing each morning with no purpose
Wasting ink and paper
In a wasted calibration dance

Then one day someone took me home
Giving me a place upon a wooden shelf
With a little plaque declaring what I used to be
Now just an outdated heirloom curiosity

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Elliptical Motion

My ferrous superfluid
Gyrates in time
To the fluctuations
In your magnetic field
Attracted by your pull
Pushed by your force
A gentle dance
A soft romance

Maybe destined to be
Or perhaps all just chance
No way to know for sure
The exact science or circumstance

Though the dog knows we've tried
With aura detectors
Resistance thermometers
Palm card interpretations
Enough to make a psychic go wild

All I know
As I orbit you
First close
Then far away
In three dimensional forms
Affected by your expulsion array

Is that I'll never stray far from you
Lest I lose my form and my way
To drive endlessly
In vaporous disarray

Saturday, October 31, 2015


All the hepcats and kittens
Filed their claws in anticipation
Adjusting their ears
Cleaning their fur

And hacking up the inevitable hairball

Trying to forget their tedious day jobs
With collared kittens in the call center
Mewing instructions into their headsets
Tech support for the feline set

All those hard to install games of cat and mouse

Finally the appointed hour arrived
With a simple gonging of the wall clock
Spurring padded paws to the foredeck
Ready to walk the streets at twilight

It was trick-or-treat time at last

Aircraft Mechanic In Situ

The tall tails greeted me
Bathed in golden liquid sunrise
Just as they had
Thousands of times before

Static in the still air
Crouched potential
Seemingly ready to spring into the sky

The same left turn down hangar row
That I'd made for the first time
More than twenty years ago
Now marked by some new hangars
Newer types of aircraft
Fresh young faces
With so many new names

 I learned
And I broke a lot of things
Slowly learning to heal instead of hurt
And never would have guessed
That I'd still be here two decades later

I watch
And I try to teach what I remember
To keep the metal in the air
For as long as it needs to be
And never planning
On where I may be two decades hence

Though let's be honest
I'll probably still be here