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Sunday, July 31, 2011

#212 Lions

Two lions
Standing tall
Standing sentry
Over all

On either side of the great gate
With unobstructed view
Of road and courtyard
Eyes looking through you

Stone faced and cold
Ever present
So very old
Their gaze dripping resentment

Your presence is not to their liking
They watched you approaching on the old road
Their rocky facades crack
As they bound from their perch
You fear being made a snack

Their paws stalk the earth
Heavier than a real lions
Leaving deep prints in their wake
Your manhood hides in your loins     

Backing away slowly
As they steadily advance
The right one roars
A stone silent roar
The left slowly flanks you
Not leaving you much chance

Tripping backwards over a stone
You sit up quickly ready to run
Blinking the sweat out of your eyes
What you see catches your breath
All is as it was
The lions high on their perch
Eyes piercing you
Undressing you
Reading you
Forbidding you entrance
To their realm

Saturday, July 30, 2011

#211 Is Broken

A long pale once silken hair
Brittle from the sun
Malnourishment and lack of care
Lying on the floor
Cast aside
Snapped off at the root
Broken

As the horse that once roamed free
Spirit as wild as can be
Running towards the horizon
Endlessly
Captured by a noose
Branded by fire
Tied tethered saddled
Broken

Shining steel flashing in the sun
Held by the master
Who wielded the hammer
Folded a thousand times
A weapon of no match
Until colliding with that axe
Snapped
Covered in blood
Broken

Gaily painted pressed tin
Once the apple of a child's eye
I marched within
The endless realm of his bedroom
A wind up soldier with a key
Left laying carelessly
Stepped upon with a curse
My clockworks spilling out
Broken

A brown spirit flitting in the woods
I flash my white tail before I leap
I run gracefully towards the lake
Without a thought I burst from the trees
Smashed by a truck
My legs are crushed
I lay on the pavement bleeding
Never to rise again
Broken

Happy and without a care
Braving strange things just for the experience
Shaking hands smiling and making love
The world is an adventure
Until the spirit was torn
By cruelty and scorn
Now a wallflower living in a basement
Scared to go outside
Broken

Friday, July 29, 2011

#210 Bends


I bend
To the wind
It pushes me where it will
I lean and twist
This way and that
Like a tortured weather vane
Wearing white striped socks

I bend
As a dogleg
A right hand turn
In the course of the river
A whirlpool at the corner
You’ll gather up speed
As you fly down the water
In your tube
Drinking beer

I bend
Only so far
Before I break
I’m strong
But brittle
It’s not something I can fake
Oh you can try
And you will
But as you put the pressure on
My face will stay stony and still

I bend
To your will
I’m pliable
Like putty
You can shape me for any purpose
Whether noble
Or ill
Am I the perfect tool for any job?
Or am I undependable
Because of my lack of rigidity
Only you can decide

I am your Silly Putty

Thursday, July 28, 2011

#209 Is the Church of the We

I pray to the mighty amoeba
That my day will go well
His polka dots and sun spots
Reflect the best and worst in me
It is my God
It is the mighty We

Ye, it came to pass
That the mighty amoeba
Did come to the tide pool
At the beginning of time
From whence all things did come

On a fiery finger
Did amoeba arrive
From the heavens
To our world
Which it saw was good

It's soft pink body
So decorated with the blue polka dots
Acquired many sun spots
From being out without SPF 60
Learning that, it did create the sunscreen
Whence moderation in all things
Was called a goodness

It looked around
And saw much to do
And so
The amoeba divided
And divided again
Giving our world life
A precious gift
And for this
I worship the Holy We

It is the We
Because it is in me
And you
And everyone
And everything

The We permeates
It gives insight
Into the all
That we all came from

The might amoeba
Referred to as The We
Does not like broccoli
It is the one creation
That turned upon The We
Gave it indigestion
Causing great gaseous emissions
To pour forth from it's holy self
And for that
We do shun the broccoli

So it is written
So mote it be

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

#208 Is Crowned


Come
Come and see
Wonders and horrors
No shortage of either
Under the big blue top
Spinning so fast you'll lose your balance
About a second before you lose your head
You'll be crowned the king of fools
And the crown that you wear
Shall start to wear you
And you'll change
The who that you are
Will become the what
Your actions
Exponentially
Louder than
Words

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

#207 Underbed

It’s dark
As it should be in underbed
Sometimes the light shines in
Some ankles walk by
But then it is dark again
By any standards
That’s a good thing

Dust bunnies cling to surfaces
Here and there
Some stuck in my hair
I sometimes eat them for fun
I’ve discovered they can taste different
Must be the different flavors
Of dust and hair
That they’ve become

I lay around a lot
It’s what makes me happy
In the land of underbed
Scratching my hairy belly
While I stare up at the bottom of your bed
Sometimes snacks appear
Like flotsam on the beach after a storm
A half eaten banana here
A not quite empty yogurt container there
Thank goodness you are not a tidy person
I’d never get anything good to snack on

At night I think about coming out
Sometimes I do
But it scares you
So I usually don’t
I need things though
So Soon I may have to brave it
The big wide world outside
Of the realm of underbed

I’m getting to that age
Where I feel the urge to take a mate
Sometimes I wonder
If there are even others like me
I’ve never seen any
Just you
And your ankles

I’m putting together a kit
From some old socks you left
I have some half eaten snacks
And lots of dust bunnies
They will sustain me on my journey
I hope I don’t have to go far though
There is something in the back of my head
That tells me there are others
Other creatures, possible mates
Who dwell in darkness
In other realms of underbed

Monday, July 25, 2011

#206 Is Water

Water
Holds many secrets
Which are always changing
Fluid and dynamic
Uncompressable
Strong as steel
Yet adaptive
And flowing
Around every obstacle

The river bend
Becomes straight
Given enough time
Water will change it
In the long run
Adapting
In the short

Water holds religion
It baptizes the faithful flesh
Fills them full to brimming
Yet washes away
Leaving no evidence
To rely upon

Water holds life
Things seen and unseen
Living in it's semi-solid mass
Living and dying
Beneath notice
Above reproach

Water is life
It sustains
It fills
It replenishes

Water is death
When it encloses around you
Silent and dark
As any tomb

Water holds many secrets
Only one of which
Is you

Sunday, July 24, 2011

#205 Cleaning up After

The purging of a life
Is not such an easy thing
Lots of loose ends hanging
Waiting to be snipped
Physical and emotional strings

Some bills over here
Some unfinished letter there
Things that were meant to be done
Left halfway
By the originator
Now in the ground

A family tree project
Started in good faith
Names, dates, details
Scribbled on the worksheets
Now probably never to be finished
But put in the 'save' pile
Just in case some son or daughter wants to

A list of accounts and passwords
Everyone has one
Unless you are Rainman
Which is possible
And no offense

Which accounts to keep?
The widow doesn't know
Will she ever Ebay again?
I can't advise her
I had to show her how to use email
Earlier today

And so does it go

Most of it, his things he liked to keep track of:
His hobbies
His accounts
His lists

His toy trains
Loved since he was a boy
Sitting in their special room
Grandpa's special toys
They will gather dust in his absence

His Accounts
Kept to the penny
Going back 50 years
He knew where he'd been
And had a plan of where to go
The money was placed just so

Lists of assets and liabilities
Collections in the basement
Things owned in the past
Dates purchased and sold
Approximate values
Based on what, I do not know

The flim flam and snippets of a life
Left behind
For whom I wonder?
The historians?
He wasn't famous for anything
History will forget him soon enough

Eventually everything is gone through
Some things thrown away
Some things given away
Two small boxes are all that are left
To be tucked under a widow's bed
For looking at
On those long winter nights
When she weeps
And wants to remember
That beautiful man that she wed

Saturday, July 23, 2011

#204 Lives In Sixty Paces


I’ve been a firefighter
For at least an hour
It’s getting boring
There aren't many fires
Everyone seems to be okay
So I say my goodbyes
And I’m on my way

Sixty paces later
I’m a knight storming a castle
Fighting dragons and dodging arrows
There’s a fair maiden inside
Rescuing needs to be done
Will no one step up to her need?
I shall be the one

After scaling the castle wall
By using my daggers to climb
Slaying the evil wizard
And carrying the princess from her prison
I refuse her kiss (eww)
I take sixty more paces
And end up doing this:

In a shiny new space craft
Flushed with pride at my new job
As a brave astronaut
Floating in outer space
Weightless as can be
Really hanging from a rope
Carefully looped over a tree

I resupply the space station
And fix a few satellites
We've been space-walking a long time
We check our tools and gauges and realize
Our air is getting thinner
Time to reenter the atmosphere
It’s almost time for dinner

I make it sixty paces closer to home
But I have time yet
I pause to race an Indy Car
Faster than all my competitors
I charge hard as they make way
Waving to AJ Foyt
As I pass him on the straightaway

The sun is dipping lower
It’s definitely time to eat
I take the last sixty paces

This time I’m me
I kiss my mom
She looks surprised and asks why
I tell her just because
And help her set the table
She asks how my day was
I tell her of the many jobs I did
As I made my way down the beach
The way the sand felt under my feet
The fun adventures I had
What great kids I did meet

Nothings better than being me though
As I complement mom on another great meal
I'm tired and looking forward to my soft bed already
And dreaming of the things I’ll do for real

Friday, July 22, 2011

#203 Keeps the Monsters Away


I've got this toy
With two metal things
A body made of wood
With a couple of springs

I use it every day
It's fun as heck to play
And most importantly
It keeps the monsters away

They don't like it's clicking
That sound it makes
While I'm winding and it's sticking
And all my pressure is scraping off little flakes

They don't like those either
The flakes I mean
Even more than the clicking
Those flakes just make them turn green

Feel ill they do
Just at the thought
Of dealing with this perfect mess
That I have wrought

For if they come near
To threaten all that I hold dear
I'll click my toy, making sparks
Lighting the flakes of magnesium
Causing the hot white fire that they fear

Yet come they do
Every once in awhile
Testing the waters I suppose
Coming single file

That's part of their pain
Being monsters of little brain
They learn this small lesson
But then forget, they are difficult to train

Away they run as they always do
Every which way they fled
Meandering back
As their courage ebbs back
To take their place as monsters of the underbed

Thursday, July 21, 2011

#202 Don't Ask


Don't ask me
What I really think
I might just tell you
In vividly descriptive words
Changing how you feel about me
And make your heart fucking sink

Don't ask me
For directions
I'll send you in circles
A hundred miles out of your way
Just to amuse me
And totally make my day

Don't ask me
What I want to eat
I'll go into a soliloquy
On the nature of food, man, and nature
Why the sky is blue
And why that should matter to you
And you'll never get to order

Don't ask me
If I like those shoes
I'll tell you they make you look slutty
And how much I like that
You'll walk away feeling dirty
Like a whore

Don't ask me
If you can break the rules
I'll ask you if anyone's looking
Including your conscience
Which is the harshest observer
And will keep you up at night

Don't ask me
If that dress makes you look fat
I'll probably tell you yes
Little do you know
That I don't like my women skinny
And your Boticelli-esque form turns me on

Don't ask me
If it's hot enough for me
I'll quietly gather kindling
For a bonfire
Light it and throw you in
And throw that question right back at you

Don't ask me
If I really love you
It will make me cry
If you haven't believed me
The first thousand times I've told you
Then what chance have I

Don't ask me
How I'm doing
I'll do a handstand
My kilt will fall about my chest
And you'll see how I wear it traditionally
You'll shrink from my manhood's funny dance

Don't ask me
What my last words are
They are not for your ears
The blame and regret
Of all my years
Will run circles in my head
Even as I draw my last breath

You don't want to know

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

#201 Happiness Is


Happiness is
A warm gun
Some fruit stripe gum
Playing twister, with general fun

I define this feeling
As a slight sense of reeling
Of rolling down a long hill
Sliding on a sled wherever you will

I divine the meaning
As a sense of well being
Such as being nude
Covered in kittens

Happiness is seeing yourself
Reflected in the fender
Of your shiny green metallic Schwinn Sting Ray
As you perch on the sparkled banana seat
Smiling for all the world to see

You pedal around
Without a care in the world
Except to listen for the church bells
Telling you it's time for supper

Happiness is a kind of contentment
A safe cuddly feeling
Which is often found
In the arms and body
Of the one you love

Preferably when it isn't too hot
For when it is
I strive for the same feeling
By just looking at them

Happiness is
The sun on your face
Crunchy leaf piles in the fall
Unique snowflakes
Clinging lightly to your eyelashes
As you turn up your face
To watch the first snowfall

It is in moments
Snatched before they are ruined
By someone's comments or guffaw

It is in your heart
Where all good things are kept
Those perfect kittenny cuddly sunshiny crunchy snowy memories
There for the remembering
Any time your close your eyes at all

Happiness
Is
What you make of it

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

#200 Burns it Clean


The heat is unbearable
Cinders and ashes
Float in the air
The humidity hovers at 90 percent

How ironic that I want fire

The living fire
To cleanse all
Sweeping as from heaven
Leaving only potential
In it's blackened wake

I add more fuel
Piling it higher
The flames lick at the treetops
In answer to my stoking

I poke and I prod
At the cherry coals
Hiding at the bottom of the pile
Urging them to eke out a little more heat

I will drive the demons away
With the very fire that borne them
My poker waves in triumph
As the fire gets it's head
And starts eating it's way ahead

Off we march
My fire and I
To avenge the wrongs
And leave no right standing

Good and bad
Both take the heat
The time is past for judging which is which
None shall be spared
In this mad march to the sea

Froth spills from my lips
As I whip the flames
"Faster!!" I cry
It obeys me
With startling speed

I have many a mile to go
Before I can rest my fiery head this night
On my asbestos pillow of hope
Gazing out upon the black plains of the world

Monday, July 18, 2011

#199 Is a Kitchen Accretion Disk


There’s a black hole hovering in my kitchen
It sounds crazy
But it’s true
About three feet off the floor
Big as a basketball
And looking right at you

It stands where my trash can once did
Rest in peace chrome trash can
I loved you for your art deco looks
But now you are crushed
In a small dense gravity well
The garbage inside you also mushed

I wish I’d had some instruments
Or some observation going on
Now I have only a theory
As to how it was born

The trash can
Was always overfilled
Such that the flipper door couldn’t shut again
Gaping with things hanging out
As an animal with it’s tongue after it was killed

Still the can wasn’t emptied
Trash was pushed in mercilessly
Compacted and stood upon
Though the can’s metal walls protested
Crinkling and groaning
Sometimes heard almost to be laughing
As someone approached with another thing
Giggling at the idea
Knowing you must be jesting

Until finally it had to have happened
Something snapped
Or contracted
Or popped
With that, the can and all it’s contents
Disappeared from this existence
Leaving this small rift in space
To mark it’s place

It’s kind of convenient now
I must admit
I just toss garbage anywhere near
And it gets sucked right in
I never have to empty it either
Although there are hazards involved
Yesterday I lost my second favorite hat
And the day before
It almost sucked in the cat

I’ll have to put up some signs
It will keep OSHA at bay
Something simple and clear
I think it will say:

“WARNING: Time and space compressing kitchen disposal.  Use with caution”

That should work.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

#198 Is Quitting


“C’mon bitch, smoke me”
I come alert from my daydream and look around
Nobody is there
I look down

It’s that goddamned cigarette again

I’ve been trying to quit
I know I should
And I’m trying
So get off my back

But the cigarette’s siren song
Is hard to resist
Especially when it is so compelling
It’s words pour out like sugar to my ears

“Wrap your ruby lips around me
You know you want it”

See what I mean?
It knows what I want to hear
And it doesn’t let up
I try to think positive thoughts instead

Spring meadows
Bunny rabbits, skinny pigs
Sweet smelling breath
Unless I have garlic

But those are the breaks

Babies, puppies, and sunshine
But I can’t keep it up forever
Work stress furrows my brow
And I unconsciously reach for the pack

“That’s it, slip me out, it’s so confining in here…”

That one cigarette
Being saved for when I really really need it
Pushes my buttons
I DO want it

But as much as I do;
I want it a little less than yesterday
And a little less than the week before this one
So I have it’s number

I shove the pack back in my pocket
Munch on some sunflower seeds
And mentally tell it to fuck off
I don’t need it anymore