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Saturday, December 31, 2011

#365 Three Hundred Sixty Five

This is the end
That's what Morrison sang
My only friend
End of line
End of sequence
An end to this beginning
An end to this spring

It's out there now
With life of its own
To wriggle in your noodle
To grow where it was sown

May it free your mind
May the rest follow
In singsong rhyme
In Seussian wallow

A copyright breaking
A line to be taken
A nagging feeling
That cannot be shaken

So very strange
To look back on this sequence
To smile
To cry
To frown
Where did that come from
Admitting that I have no recollection
Is it genius
Is it madness
Is it sadness
Is it obsession

I can't account for it
All I can do is add it up
And stare at where I arrive
Pretty much where I started

This one makes:

Three Hundred Sixty Five

Friday, December 30, 2011

#364 Time Keeper Tragedy

I saw him

Father time

He was riding
The Waterford crystal ball
Above Times Square
He was not afraid to fall

This was his last hurrah
His last seconds of glory
He wanted to go out with a bang
Something traumatic and gory

Jumping up and down
Like a wizened maniac
Screaming at the top of his lungs
Trying desperately to make it crack

Then it happened

The ball broke free
Bursting from the pole
Father time laughing with glee
Urging the ball onward
Hoping to crater a deeper hole

Accelerating downwards
At a whole lot more
Than 32.2 feet per second
That ball grew a comet's tail
Breaking windows
Cracking concrete
Not to mention the sound barrier

Hair streaming back
Oblivious to the heat
Immortal and indestructible
At least for a few more seconds
Father Time rode the crystal ball

But a sudden gust of wind
And a twist of fate
Brought Baby New Year
Into harm's way

Jerking his face up
At the last possible second
Baby New Year locked eyes
With Father Time
Both of them horrified
Waving their arms
Vainly pushing danger away
Until they were both lost in the flash

The impact cratered West 46th
Making it impassable for weeks
Worse still was the way things felt
Time wasn't moving properly
From the floor of Death Valley
To Everest's snowy peaks

Nothing would happen
For days at a time
Flowers wouldn't grow
Men wouldn't have to shave
Natural processes halted
Some were saved from the grave

But then time would stutter step
The man next to you
Would sprout a ZZ Top beard
In the span of a few seconds

Plants grew tall
Flowered to seed
Withered and died
At a blinding speed

People on the brink of death
All dropped dead
In the space of a breath
Causing mayhem and sadness

Too much
After too little
Humanity was succumbing to madness

We all knew what it was
It was Father Time's last act
Of high flying insanity

If only he hadn't
Things would be normal
Baby New Year would be adolescent
Regulating the gears of time
Just as he was meant

So as a group
We hold our breath
Trying to tough it out
Holding in the fear
Not willing to let it out
Some almost holding their breath
For the rest of the year

Some show cracks
It's inevitable
But who's to know
How many of us will make it
If the next Baby New Year
Is a No-Show

Thursday, December 29, 2011

#363 Looks For Meaning In a Vacuum

I have to do something different
I keep saying it every year
But this time I mean it
You are right to show fear

No more buying
Just for the sake of buying
Stocking stuffers
Bought and sold
Just to take up space
Is this what we've reduced it to?
Is buying the foundation of our race?

There are things one really needs
Starting with air, water and food
Shelter and companionship
They go a long way
Some things just keep you alive
Other keep you sane

Beyond those needs
Things get absolutely hazy
Do I really need this iPhone thing?
Or am I just batshit crazy

But the whole thing that started this
What the fuck is Christmas anyways
Is it a day, an event, a movement?
Supposedly the day the Christ child was born
Only to be slaughtered like an animal
Thirty three years on
This celebration of guilt
Has morphed into an unrecognizable form

Just like most modern holidays it seems
Meaning is lost in the commercial memes
Santa Claus, Cupid, and the Easter Bunny
Have come to represent certain holidays
And a corporate opportunity to take in money

But I won't go down the bitter path
It's just that I don't feel it anymore
Using my three mentioned examples
Christmas, Valentines Day, and Easter

I've lost the Christmas spirit
I've no love on Valentines Day
What am I to do
Without the feel of sacrifice and rebirth
On Easter Sunday?

I can't blame anyone
Except for myself
I've taken the offered propaganda
Happily and with gusto
But it's not working anymore

The best I felt this Christmas season
Was when I had no small bills
Yet felt the need to put something in
The red Salvation Army tin

I slipped in a twenty
Folded up almost in embarrassment
Everyone would think I was showing off
Or so my cynicism said

The guy with the bell
He knows what money looks like
Even with the numbers hidden
He made sure to thank me
For my generous donation

I grunted an assent
Turned ad walked away
My Scrooge persona
Not working well that day

Right then though
I felt it
My heart grew three sizes
However you want to describe it

But that's what Christmas really is

It's not buying things
Just so there is something there
Without meaning
It might as well be air

It won't do anyone any good
And I'm done
For the tenth time I am
And I'll do as I said I would

Down with Christmas!
Long live Christmas!

You know what I mean.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

#362 Red Leather Imprint

Red chair
Red chair
Are you only a chair?
Covered in supple leather
Stuffed with fuzzy feathers
Smooth and warm
Like someone's skin
One that
I do believe
A certain someone had just sat in
Only recently gone
Their body heat still warm
On the skin
Of the red chair
They sat in

So I sit
In my skin
That I'm in
Skin to skin
With the red chair
That SHE sat in
Smelling the faint scent
You've left behind
Lightly gracing the leather
That same supple red softness
That now caresses my own

It's almost like touching you
This red chair
With it's soft warm skin
Just missing your details
The things that pull at me
Whenever I look in

If I close my eyes
I can see them now
Your doe-brown eyes
Curled lashes
Your grin
Made of shades of pink
White teeth
And your skin
Soft like hot silk
Supple as living velvet
My fingertips tingle
With their memories of you

Your breasts proudly pointing
Outwards from your chest
Your belly firm and sleek
Leading to the place I like best

Trimmed and tended
As a prized garden spot
With latin names
Mons pubis, labia majora and minora
A land where clitoris is king
Where I'd stop and linger
Forgetting the rest of you
As if that were possible
As your long legs
Wrap lovingly around

All this from a chair
A missed meeting
A memory almost faint
A scent clinging to leather
And contact body heat

My mouth tugs into a smile
I slide my cel phone out
I think I still have your number
You can't have gotten far
What with your scent
Your warmth
Your memory
So close
So deep

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

#361 Slumming It With Netflix Anime

This unrated anime is pretty good
Lots of cartoon boobs
And strappy slinky outfits too
But it's real geek food
That's for sure

I'm just bored
That's all

The storyline isn't bad though
But that's lame
It's like the guys who say
They get the Playboy or Hustler
Just for the articles

That's not me
I don't plan on marrying my girl pillow
Like that guy from Japan
No sir
I'm a real man
Sitting here
In my 3X Sonic the Hedgehog t-shirt
Perfectly respectable
That's me

I have to pause to ponder
Why female space warriors
Wear such outfits
Something between a dominatrix
And an ancient Grecian goddess

Does it further the story?
I find that I just don't care
This Japanese eye candy
Is pretty fun to watch

I just won't tell anyone
It'll be my little secret
I'll have to hide my fanboy status

If I get the tattoo in a secret place
And only watch the show in the closet
I can have little shelves in there too
To display all my collectible vinyl figures

In public
I'll talk football and fast cars
In private
I'll inhale manga and anime
In the dark
I'll masturbate to freaky tentacle sex fantasies
In the light
I'll detail my models with fine hair brushes

Oooh, they have a convention in Reno
I think I'll go

Monday, December 26, 2011

#360 Christmas Dinner

Good for the unspoken
Seeing the unseen
Assuming the worst

Normally around
A supper table
Noisily eating
Looking sideways
Thoughts creeping
Some towards a second helping
Others closer
To being written out of the will

After supper
Comes the dessert
Discussion of things
Uncomfortable in nature
Nervous laughs stepping in
To take the place of true joy
Veiled insults
Pointed accusations
Said with a smile
Dirty looks shot quickly
After the wrong word is said

Nobody know you like family
Nobody ever wins

The children
At their own table
Laughing happily
Eating or picking
With true gusto
Their own little world

I'm jealous it's true

It seems only a short time ago
That I was there
Happily eying the dessert plates
Talking about nothing important
Nothing hurtful
No baggage to unpack

When the booze comes out
It's a welcome sight
It will be the only thing
That keeps me from killing them
This Christmas night.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

#359 RIP Father Christmas

I feel dead inside
On this Christmas Day
Father Christmas died
His spirit flown away

He embodied Christmas spirit
And took such great joy
In selecting perfect gifts
For every girl and boy

From infant to adult
His happiness was in the selecting
Peaking in a crescendo
On the day of unwrapping

Eric likes model cars
He'd watch carefully and see
Which were his favorites
To find the best one that could be

Lisa loves this certain doll
Let's learn, read and see
To find the neatest one
And it's accompanying accessory

Karen had something catch her eye
Something shiny or needed
Looking until it's just right
Failure would not be conceded

Money tucked away
All the year long
A budget for Christmas
Financials never wrong

Decorations needed stands
Holiday collections to put on display
Everything Christmas related
The kitchen sink to Santa's sleigh

He started smiling
Around December 1st
Only stopping when a picture was taken
Then he'd make a face, the worst!

Christmas Eve Day was for shopping
Taking his list he'd kept all year
Coming home late overladen
He'd lock himself in a room
To complete all his wrapping
Christmas morning comes soon

Finally time to open gifts
He'd await your reaction
Often telling stories
Of how and why he'd made that selection

Such joy in the holiday
Wasn't kept just to family
Donations were made
To many a worthy charity

To which it's not certain
He didn't speak of who or how much
Charity given was not bragged or spoken of
And he treated it as such

Why was he like that?
I don't really know
Yet another story
Lost to time

Perhaps it was because
Money was often tight
When he was a child
Many gifts a rare sight

Or just the spirit of giving
That he was raised with
And nurtured and grew
With everything he did

All I know
Is that now he is dead
And to me it seems he took Christmas with him
Leaving emptiness instead

"So now your kids don't get to have Christmas?"
It's a question I get a lot
The answer is Yes they absolutely have it
Though my feelings are in a knot

I take great care
In my gift selection
And I'm getting better
Trying to go in the right direction

But I try not to wrap
On Christmas Eve
I try to give to charity
But not as much as he

On Christmas morning
I'll try to be all smiles
Though inside I'm far from happy
Far from it by miles

Christmas mostly seems
Like every other day
Often a little worse

Because Father Christmas
Has passed away
The day becoming less a blessing
More a curse

Saturday, December 24, 2011

#358 Building Claus

It was a late night
That's my only defense
For my actions
Both ludicrous and intense

I had to make him real you see
Since I was a child
He has haunted me
Bedtime stories
Dreams and nightmares
In equal measure
Promising everything
Delivering nothing

He's the pimp of the north
Robbing this ho blind

He didn't exist
Until two years ago
I know
Because I put him together

At two in the morning
The bar closed down
The owner giving me the stink eye
As Frank and I sat
Three sheets to the wind
And not even close to done

One scheme crazier than the last
Frank finally made a case
And damn if it didn't seem to have a chance
So we were in Glendale in half an hour
Dressed in black
Still drunk as skunks
Busted into the Cryogenics Laboratory
And stole Walt Disney's head

It wasn't his head I wanted
Just what was in it

Next stop
The Los Angeles County Morgue
To find a proper corpse
For this plan to have body
I looked in drawer after drawer
Until I found a likely candidate


Mid forties
Caucasian male
About eighty pounds overweight

I poked his belly
And it shook
Like a bowl full of jelly

This was our guy!

Frank did a crazy song and dance
And distracted the guards
While I wheeled out  John Doe
To the van in the alley
I set him next to Walt Disney's head

Which was thawing

Back at the lab
And I have no idea how we got there
Tequila is fickle
In what she let's you remember

I got out the bone saws
And tossed one to Frank
He got that look in his eye
And I knew this was just like Christmas

Three hours later
And we were done
Blood was everywhere
Frank wiped his face
And blinked at the sun
Just beginning to shine over the mountains

I didn't have time for a picture though
I grabbed the copper plated clamps
And hooked up the power
Stumbling to the switch
Holding my pounding head
Retching and wishing for a shower

Pulling the lever
Almost wishing it wouldn't work
The body gave a twitch
It's mouth a crooked smirk
Then parting it's lips
It took a breath
Past the grey whiskers
And awoke from death!

First coughing
Then sneezing twice
He sat up slowly
Looking down on us like mice

"HO - HO - HO!"

The throaty laugh filled the lab
It seems he was quite pleased
Not to be on the slab

I smiled at Frank
Frank smiled at me
We both smiled at him
I set up the camera
Taking a picture of us three

Why Walt Disney's head?
You could ask
And you should
I won't take you to task

But I have no time to answer
We're running behind
He's been alive for the second time
For almost two years

And we're almost ready

The sleigh was easy
Just a standard NASA mock up
Paid for by you
The taxpayers

The animals
Not so much
We went through about seventy
Trying to get them to fly

But after some research
Specialized nanobots
Extra modifications
And assorted whatnots

It's almost time
To see my childhood come true
For tonight is Christmas Eve
The perfect debut

The reanimated Walt Disney
Is busy in wardrobe
While Frank loads the sleigh
I'm modifying the harnesses
Some eighty amp cattle prods
ought to make it easier to steer
While flying through the night sky
Pulled by eight rabid cyborg reindeer

Have a Merry Christmas Everybody!

Friday, December 23, 2011

#357 Killing Claus

I killed Santa Claus
It happened ten years ago last night
It was late Christmas Eve
When from outside I'd hear a clatter
So I'd thrown open the sash
To see what was the matter

What I saw defied my experience
It was a nightmare on ice
A crystalline monster
In a red hat trimmed in white
I reached for my gun
Then froze as he turned
Bringing me into his sight

When his cold blue eyes
Locked with mine
I squeezed the trigger
Of my Uzi 9

Millimeter, that is

I emptied the clip
In his general direction
I must confess
My eyes were closed
My left hand raised in deflection
The spent shells rained out of the receiver
Hot to the touch
Try it you'll be a believer

When the smoke cleared
And my ears were still ringing
All that I saw outside
Were some red scraps of cloth
And tufts of white rabbit hide

Sitting innocently nearby
Was a sack of presents
Spilling into the gutter
Next to runner tracks in the snow
Hoofprints in between
Ending about thirty yards down the street
The vehicle itself long gone
Up, up into the sky

After hiding that mess
So that none would suspect
I sat by my fire
With a stiff drink in my hand
Contemplating the wonderful holiday
That I'd just wrecked


Now ten years on
The world is much the same
Though Santa never visits
Some magic must yet be game
For though his terrifying coil
Has left this cold earth
His spirit lingers
And on Christmas Eve
If you stand quietly
Looking straight up
You might see a speck
A small moving light
It's Santa's sleigh and reindeer
Continuing their flight
Blindly and madly
With no Santa Claus in sight

Thursday, December 22, 2011

#356 Unwanted Amy

Unwanted Amy
Laid beneath the tree
Unwrapped only this morning
Now forgotten and hard to see

Lying amidst the cast-offs
Torn boxes and cellophane wrapping
Her doll eyes closed
As if she were only napping

Unwanted Amy is screaming
The little girl she was given to
Had made a face for a second
Before smiling and being thankful

The little girl had wanted an iPod
Her aunt had selected Amy instead
Because that's what little girls should have
Dolls whose eyes will close when laid in bed

The little girl did not agree
This doll could not play mp3's
Or play Angry Birds and Tiny Towers
And had thrown Unwanted Amy
Below the trash at the bottom of the tree
If the doll got lost
She thought
Maybe she'd be able to cry
And get the iPod instead

Unwanted Amy wanted to run away
But her doll legs lacked motivation
There was no nerves or muscles
To start the ambulation

When the trash was gathered
Unwanted Amy was swept up too
Tied in the hefty sack
Half covered in last night's stew

To make a last sad trip
In a green trash truck
To the place
Where misfit toys really end up

The trains with square wheels
The birds who love to swim
The planes that cannot fly
The Charlie's in the box
Of the real world

Smashed and spread out
Layered and buried deep
On the modern rubber bottomed
County landfill garbage heap

It will take Unwanted Amy
Over four-hundred and fifty years
Of dry doll tears
To fully biodegrade
All the while
Never having been loved
Or played with

To the Land of Unwanted Christmas Toys

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

#355 Krampus Loves The Naughty

Some have one
Upon each shoulder
An angel on the right
A devil on the left

Pinocchio had Jiminy Cricket

I have Santa on one side
While on the other
Is the horrid Krampus

When I pushed Sally in the snow
Krampus made me do it
Santa said not to
But Krampus offered me candy

Santa brings you things at Christmas
But only if you are nice
Krampus offers you bribes
Which are immediate
And twice as nice

I lit the school on fire once
Krampus told me to
In exchange for doing so
He gave me a shiny motorcycle
And bailed me out of jail too

"They "
Say that someday I'll pay
For all the bad I've done
But in my opinion
While I've never gotten a thing on Christmas
I've gotten good stuff every other day

Will come and stuff you in his sack
He'll take you away!
He'll make you his snack!


Krampus is my friend
He advises on Final Four picks
He's my wingman
He helps me pick up chicks

With Krampus by my side
I've milked the economy dry
I run the biggest bank in Manhattan
I use ten banks to keep my coin in

That doesn't mean I'm not cautious though
I have a safe room in the basement
Stocked with guns and ammo
It's own oxygen supply
Batteries and snacks for which to die

Every Christmas Eve
I retreat to that bunker
I lock the doors
And I don't come out
Until December 26th
In the afternoon even
I don't want to run afoul
Of any strange timezones

No sir
Krampus won't find me
I'll be nobody's Christmas dinner
Let alone some hairy horned monster
Who hands out bad advice
From my left shoulder

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

#354 Just Drawn That Way

Overly muscled
Black panthers watch
Swimmers making laps
Left to right
Right to left
Golden eyes swivel
Following each aquanaut
Barely breathing
Poised to spring

Pumped full of steroids
Black panthers quiver
Their judgement addled
Tempers running hot

Kick board trailing a swimmer
Glides on by
Golden eyes slit
Nostrils flare

If only the two dimensional
Would swap to three
Black panthers would run free
Blood would flow in blue waters

Frustrated with reality
Black panthers
Go back to staring
Not moving
Not breathing
Overly muscled
Mascot mural upon the wall

Monday, December 19, 2011

#353 Occupy My Head

Occupy my head
Set up your tents
Get right behind my face
Push out all the bullshit
Be one heart
One mind
One place

Occupy my head
Sit down
Make yourselves at home
Let's whiteboard some ideas
On the tiled bathroom wall
Roadmap in my living room
Open the dreary curtains
Dispel the ignorant gloom

Occupy my head
The man
Has lost his authority to me
Laws made to fence me in
Are just fucking paper to me

Occupy my head
Your food does not sustain me
It keeps me breathing
That's all
Love and ideas
Are what really feeds

Occupy my head
Pull the broken system down
Burn the bricks and mortar
Drive the corruption
From this town
A knife for the politician
A rope for the banker
Flay the lawyers alive

Occupy my head
Leave the peace to Ghandi
Mobilize our country brothers
With their arsenals underground
Rest our hopes upon our will
They'll bring the war to us
We will give them their fill

Occupy my head
Is that how this will end?
Whose will is stronger
Theirs to forcefully break us?
Or ours to peacefully defend?
Time is ticking
Seconds are dying to see

Occupy my head
From sea to shining sea

Sunday, December 18, 2011

#352 House Round and Crumbling Down

In a corner of the yard
Stood a faded brick relic
A fading shadow of Sault Ste. Marie

Turntable pit
Filled with water and debris
Fenced off for safety
The tracks don't lead here anymore

Couplers and trucks
Litter the area
Cast-offs from daily operations
Reminders of activity covered in weeds

Darkness impenetrable from outside
Peering in through dirty windows
Reveals nothing of any secrets
A closer look is needed

The door isn't even locked
The grim 'Keep Out' signs
Are thought to be enough
But I don't see those anymore

Eyes adjusting to the dim
Afraid to move until they do
Light streams down here and there
From holes in the roof

Pillars of white light
Showing an incomplete snapshot
Of life today inside the roundhouse
The mind is left to fill in the gaps

Here there is train track
Rusty with age
A spike half pulled up
Rust glimmering wetly in the light

There a pit between two rails
Deep enough for a man to stand
To oil the axles and have a lunch
The bottom unseen under a thick gunk

Slowly eyes adjust
Seeing what can be seen
Nothing but a shambles is left
Showing tracks in the building
At shallow angles to each other
Covered in dirt and must
Not much to see
Until I turn around

Barely making out the blackboard
Hanging on the wall next to the office
Proclaiming itself to be

Round House 8c Safety Bulletin

Things half erased living upon it
The bottom most item
Written in large hurried letters:

Last one out
Please lock the door

Saturday, December 17, 2011

#351 I Am Anonymous

The shape
The smile
The mustache

An empty mask
To be worn incognito
A face of justice
For the people
To be shared
To be passed around

An empty automaton
Waiting to be occupied
To be used for purpose
A champion of truth
A puzzle in the mist

A puppet
Standing slack
Pull the strings
When the situations demands
Give your ideas wings

Not so much a shield
To stand behind
As it is a stage
To act your mind

By the people
For the people
Of the people
No one

Is that you Guy Fawkes?
Or is it just me