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.

Friday, September 30, 2011

#273 Entemophobic Vacation

What a shameless fabrication
This joke that is worshiped
And called a 'vacation'
Why so, you ask?

Let me tell you

A road trip it was
To the stars and above
Followed by sun and sand
To be pampered and fanned
By sexy brown boys
While lying in the sun

What it was
Was a nightmare
What caused it was bugs
Nobody knows from where

They came up from the sea
And covered the land
As far as one could see
I saw a girl try to pet one
But then it took her hand

Now we are holed up here
Almost out of water
But we have plenty of beer
Six rifles and ammo
No change of clothes
But ten tarps of patterned camo

Our perch on this tower
Is precarious at best
We've coated the bars with oil
To keep the bugs away from our nest

I don't know how long we can hold out
Which is why I'm writing this
Stuffing it into a bottle
And throwing it into the sea

Perhaps when you read this
You'll come to our aid
There's four of us left here
Please send food, water and a helicopter

But most importantly
Don't forget a giant can of Raid

Thursday, September 29, 2011

#272 Experience Points Sum = Zero


When I succeed
In my Zen crusade
And I rid myself
Of all possessions

Perhaps all of the mementos
That used to represent moments
Take their memories with them
Leaving a clean slate in their wake

Being that I am the mean sum
Of all my life's experiences
I wonder
If my sum will be the less

10 becomes 9

My baby things
Images of me being adopted
My favorite rattle
Thrown away
Losing the square footage battle
My kindergarten photos and art
Go into the dumpster
To be compressed and buried
Compost for another generation

9 becomes 8

My first tie goes away
Followed by a ticket to a movie
Long faded, title unknown
From a theater
Long torn down
My first years at St. Thomas
First book reports
Crayon drawings of birds and boats
Gone in the blink of an eye
Forgotten, fed to the goats

8 becomes 7

Middle school fades away
Mr. Dingman reading Huckleberry Finn to us
My lucky eraser
A special pencil
Running to the landfill

7 becomes 6  

First years of football souvenirs
First time in detention
Papers, grades, and year books
Favorite novels and cassettes
Marking the joy and the tears
Ground up for filler
Bedding for hamsters

6 becomes 5

Easier to make room now
High school disappears
With all the awkwardness
A scrap of paper with my locker combo
Prom after party prizes
Senior t-shirts
Never in my sizes

I empty boxes at a feverish pace
I haven't felt this free in years

5 becomes 4

College notes and books
Degree certificates
First time at a real career job
Old patches with defunct logos
There was a Harley in there somewhere
Hundreds of Compact Disks
Antique books

Into the pile!
Into the pile!
Where will it end
This pile goes on for miles

4 becomes 3

A photo of my wife
Taken a minute after
The first time I met her
Not knowing how she'd change my life
Deed to our first house
An ultrasound printout
Showing twins

3 becomes 2

More patches
More toy airplanes and hats
Another ultrasound
One fetus this time
Baby books
First haircut locks tied with ribbon
First day of school pictures

2 becomes 1

Bankruptcy papers
Foreclosure papers
New home surveys
New school sign up sheets
New paystubs from a familiar name
Piles of poetry
All go up in flames

Relegated to one
No mementos
No reminders
No keepsakes
No things to remind me of who I am

If experiences make the man
And all reminders of them are gone
I will forget all that I am
Become a negative sum
It's a crazy fear
But honest and true

The one

Would naturally lapse into

A zero sum outcome

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

#271 Party Pygocentrus


I am the party piranha
I get down cause I just wanna
Wanna dance  Wanna eat
Wanna par-tay all damn day!

I take some time to eat
A fine aged horse carcass
But then it's time to meet and greet
All the guests are arriving

Why hello Mr. Fish
You'd make quite a dish
But don't worry
I prefer red meat when I have a wish

And the Eel family
Quite delectable
For piranhas on a diet
Why don't you go over there and be quiet

Ooh, Mrs. River Dolphin
You are the honored guest
Yes, up on the table there
I must insist

No don't worry
Being tied to a spit
Is a sign of honor among piranha
(Find the dinner bell boys
It's almost time to come and get it)

Ser Piranha; Esq., ascends the podium:

"Welcome to the party my pretty river friends
Especially our guest of honor
Who I know will leave a piece of herself
With each of us, she is such a lovely donor"

"DJ please bring the lights down
As we light the fire
And rock this motherfucker down
I am the Party Piranha!"

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

#270 Goldfish Memory

I've heard that goldfish
Only have a memory of a few seconds
I can't say that it's true
I'm a goldfish myself
And I have memory as good as you

Oh, hello there

I've heard that goldfish
Only have a memory of...............

Monday, September 26, 2011

#269 Germ Warfare


I was normally
Very normal
For a dirty guy
Certainly not at all formal

But you got to me
And I didn’t think you could
You were always a bitch to me
Never a kind word even when you should

But there you were sitting next to me
Eyes red and puffy
Wadded up tissue in one hand
Nose all drippy and stuffy

Wait, you thought I felt sorry for you?
Oh no

I was simply repulsed
As if your clown hair and cratery complexion
Combined with your attitude
Were not enough to kill any erection

You absolutely  had my skin crawling
As I thought of all the bugs
That must be living
Breathing and crawling
Spread out and sprawling
All over you

You, as you sit there all sick
Spreading your germs wide
With every sneeze you don’t cover
Every careless wipe you don’t hide

I finished my work
In record time
I went straight to the sink
And washed with caustic lime

When that failed me
I walked away trying to ignore
The ongoing germ warfare
But then halted in my tracks
Staring at our office door

I couldn’t bring myself to go inside
The handle, gleaming dully in the fluorescent light
Was covered with bacteria and virus
Looking around, my problem was compounded
I couldn’t back away either
I was now surrounded

So yes, you got to me

But looking back now
From these many years
Of living in a sterile room
Peeing into jars
Too afraid of the bathroom

All I can do is thank you
You showed me what I face
In the open diseased world
Which is why I happily stay in this place

Sunday, September 25, 2011

#268 BBW 3245: Who Are You?


I looked at the plate twice
Just to make sure it was right
BBW 3245
Yep, nothing wrong with my sight

I wondered who was in that car I was following
With that license plate so suggestive
Was it truly a Big Beautiful Woman?
Or someone with no idea what that message is

I could see her now
Standing in the line at the DMV
Filling out her forms
Taking the test for how far she could see

A red dress
Yes, that’s what she’s wearing
With the top cut low to show her huge breasts
And to capture all the men staring

Approaching the clerk with her paperwork in hand
A vanity request form she’d waited to fill out all day
She might have blushed a little
As he read what she wanted it to say

She must be 200, no 250 pounds
With her hair just so
Tasteful makeup and maybe a tattoo
That you’d have to be intimate with her to know

BBW 3245
Do you know how interested I am?
I picture her nude in my head
Lord, am I worked up now, SHAZAAM!

I just have to see
To see if my thoughts are true
Lay my eyes on her
Maybe she’ll look at me too

I pull out to pass
I press on the gas
I try to get set with the right attitude
I pull alongside and look over…..

Oh Shit.

It’s a dude.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

#267 WANT


You are my crack
You are my cocaine
You are the reason
I walked one mile in the rain

Now lying before me
I unwrap and open you
You lay there
So hot you are almost steaming

I can see your juices glisten
I can almost taste you on my lips
Your scent beckons me to hasten
Instead I raise my glass for a sip

I’ll make you wait
Although it’s what you hate
But I’ve got all night
I’m prepared to stay up late

I’m going to have you
Every way that I can
It’s been so long
My desire so strong

Finally I can stand it no longer
I reach out and grasp you firmly
I lower my face closer
And I give you a taste

You

Are the best pizza
I think I’ve ever had

Friday, September 23, 2011

#266 Looking for the Doc


Every day
I drive my car pretty fast
I get it up to at least 88.8 mph
But I still have no results that last

So I borrowed Matt's DeLorean
Thinking to get better results
Still nothing though
So go to engineering for additional consults

A flux capacitor
Is what you need!
It's not enough
To just pour on the speed

That's what they told me
So that's why I'm on this quest
Across the country
The world if need be
To find every man
Named Emmett Brown
That I can see

Thursday, September 22, 2011

#265 Bagels and Fragels


I've got bagels on the mind
Boiled and baked
Hot and salty on my plate
The joy I have cannot be faked

At the Bagel Fragel
I used to get my fix
All the flavors you could want
But I preferred the salt sticks

Just like a bagel
But long like a breadstick
Covered in salt
And some poppy seeds
Guaranteed to meet my needs

That, for me
Was the 'Bagel'
Part of the name on the sign
The other half
The 'Fragel'
Is less well known
Unless you're from East Lansing
Or Ann Arbor inclined

A Fragel
Is a sweet thing indeed
Made with delicious cinnamon raisin dough
It eschews the boiling and baking
Opting instead for a bath in hot oil

Oh yes, I said it
A fried bagel
First on one side
Then the other
Pulled out fresh
And rolled around
In cinnamon and sugar

Pure heaven on the tongue
I'll take some to go
Because with all these calories
I'll have to eat them while I run

But I don't care
It's a treat by which I swear
The next person coming back from Ann Arbor
Had better bring me some!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

#264 Help! I'm Trapped in this Existence....


I'd reach out
But this bottomless feeling
I have in my gut
Makes me shut you out

It's not that I don't want you
Your attention
Your companionship
Your affection

It's just I have this trap door
Deep down inside
It sucks me in
And there I have to hide

I scratch at the walls
I shed my tears
All the while
My body goes on
Showing no fears

Smiling
Telling everyone how good the day is
When it's just an automated response
Like talking to a conversation bot
Just saying what it's supposed to say
Which really isn't a lot

But it's a fair exchange
For questions relegated to pleasantries
Real answers are not required
Polite convention is not to be denied
If you do give honest answers
People feel violated and TMI'ed

The body presses on
All nods and smiles
The soul is carried
Bound and tortured
By the frakked existence
In which it is ferried

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

#263 Too Many Boxes: Too Many Memories

Boxes of memories
Full of books
Full of pictures
Full of CD's
Old cassettes
Even 8 Track tapes

I have too much
Too many boxes
Too much deteriorating media

Things I haven't looked at
Let alone used
In years

I have to purge
It all just can't stay
Taking up space
Gathering mold and mildew
Until they decay
Much to my disgrace

I've looked over the books
Some are easy to get rid of
The book club editions
Gotten to check things out
Read once
Entertained
Then should have been passed on

Harder
Are the books I used to love
But they just don't hold up anymore
I'm a much different person now
Than I was when I was twelve

Into the donation box they go
Don't worry
I've kept the good ones
Until they will get looked at too
And I'll wonder why I kept them

Pictures are easy
I just keep them all
I just file them away neater
And in smaller clever boxes

CD's, cassettes and 8-Tracks
Are a harder nut to crack
Overall anyways

Cassettes have to go
They are slowly going bad
The magnetic transfer
Always taking place
Until such a time
As the only sound they'll make
Is not that of music anymore

The one offs
Or otherwise precious ones
Are set aside
To be digitized
To the landfill
All the rest do go

8-Tracks
Are set aside for now
I don't have many left
So I'll have to think
If I want to get rid of my 8-Track player

One goes
And the other must as well

CD's
Are an issue all their own
Measured in pounds
And cubic feet

I went through many years
Of spending money
Buying everything I liked
To always have it close to me

Now here they are
In their hundred pounds of glory
I've almost halved their number
Yet the prospect still staggers me

How can I let this one go?
Or that?
My god, what if I want to hear that someday?
I'm having a rough time

Soon this purge will be over
And the subjects that survive
Will hide in their boxes once again
To exist, if not thrive

In a few years
I'll revisit the issue
Unless a flood or fire does it for me
But then
That's just wishful thinking

Monday, September 19, 2011

#262 Fear of the Virtual Me

The bar is smoky
You appear out of the haze
All legs and smiles
So attractive in so many ways

I offer a chair
You join me there
We share a few laughs
We drink a few drinks
We exchange names and numbers
Both hoping to meet up again
You kiss me on the cheek as you go
Leaving on that up note
I watch your hips sway to and fro
Until you disappear once again
Into the smoky haze

When I get home
I undress
And get ready for bed
Empty my pockets
And look at your slip of paper
Such a normal name
Such a pretty girl

What might I find
If I flip on the computer
And Google your name?
I wonder what you would find
If you Googled mine?

Am I the sum of my Facebook page?
The lists of my hobbies and favorite activities
Old photos showing off old styles that were all the rage
Postings and comments and chat histories

Have I done anything offensive
In my comments or links
What about pics I’m tagged in
Taken after we all had too much to drink

What will you think
When you find out my middle name
Or you find out I posted a strange medical question
In hopes of finding others going through the same

Once you've found my old MySpace page
Perused my Google+
Checked out my Amazon wish list
Will I still be able to gain your trust?

I am that person?
That virtual me?

I reconsider the computer idea
I think it might be nicer
If I called you in the morning
I’ll invite you to lunch

The waiting to get to know you
Is half the fun
I hope you feel that way too

Saturday, September 17, 2011

#260 Creeping Tree

The wood knows
And it grows
And it shows
It knows the seasons
It knows the winter
And the spring
And the very many things
That that does bring
It buds
And it sprouts
It grows tall with a shout!

You think you hear a noise
And you look out
But all you see is your yard
All is still

It's green
And brown
And purplish blue
It appears attractive to you

It invites
It despites
It offers respite
To those that would bite

The wood dances
It prances
Not just in the fire
It knows the need is dire
So it doesn't hate
The hour is too late
For such things

Looking again
Things seem different
You can’t put your finger on it
Yet, all seems still

This tree has a brain
It’s wood contains veins
Like tracks for the running of trains
Going up and down
Around and about

Commands pass
From crown to root
And it edges closer
To it’s goal to spout shoots
Down you old coal chute
Up through the floor
And under your old boot
It will grow in the wall
All down the hall
Until there is a knock at your door

You’ll ask who it is
It will answer
“Candygram”
You’ll open up eagerly
Only to see the tree

What happens then
Is a mystery you see
The tree
Simply hasn’t thought
Past that point

Looking at it
Or at least the part of it
That is there in front of you
It seems normal
Simply part of a tree
Oddly in your upstairs hallway

And of course
Quite still