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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.

Monday, April 30, 2012

What I Learned In Columbia - A Tale of the Wrench

This area is known for its beef
If this was America
It would be the Midwest
This upper floor hotel restaurant in Bogota
It's known for its steaks

So of course I order the chicken

When I had arrived here
I learned that a broken Lockheed L1011
Looks the same on the ramp in Bogota
As it does on the ramp back at the home base

The broken number two engine is just as heavy
And takes just as many cranks
On the manual chain winches
To get all the way down to the ground
And the new motor back up again

There is no trick in gravity
Just because you are in the Southern Hemisphere
And the normally empty cargo plane
Is full of pallets of slowly rotting flowers

The cabbies drive just as scarily
When all their curses are in Spanish
The traffic as heavy as in any other big city
Although more heavy with horses and burros

The hotel seems nicer though
At least the lobby does
All covered in gleaming polished marble and granite
Gold colored fixtures here and there
Looking a bit like the excesses of the Middle East to me

The rooms are standard issue Holiday Inn
They use the lobby to recoup some of the operating costs
It is rented out to film and television productions
There will be a soap opera filming there tomorrow

I was sort of tired though
Not really caring
With not much in the way of clean clothes
Dinner was in an hour
On the top floor

Our handler
Really just a cargo supervisor
Though he fulfilled all the roles of a handler for us
Recommended the place
And several of the waitresses

Who had
If you believed the old goat
Experienced his intimate expertise
In various inappropriate places

Like I said
I ordered the chicken
Everyone else had steak
It was a mistake

When my chicken arrived
I didn't give it much thought
Just started tearing into it
Talking about things with everyone else

After I got about halfway through it
I realized it had quite a rubbery texture
I looked down
And the part I was currently eating
Looked pretty pink
Pretty raw

I spit out what I was chewing in disgust

Our handler leaned over
"I thought that looked a bit underdone"
And went back to eating his steak
I was embarrassed
And picked at my salad

That night
I learned that food poisoning
Is about the same in Columbia
And I spent the night on
Or next to
The toilet

I had a choice of CNN or Disney
For English speaking television
I opted for Disney
So to the tune of Walt's classics
I was sicker than I'd ever been

In the morning
I was weak and tired
But thought maybe I wasn't sick anymore

I was wrong

The lovely fresh fruit blended drink
That was made just for me at the breakfast nook
Tasted awesome going down
And it tasted just as good
Coming back up five minutes later too

I passed on the local walking tour
At about the same time that I passed
The full film crew and actors in the lobby
Them gawking at me
My had clamped over my mouth
As I ran for the bathroom once again

It was kidnapping season anyways
Though I didn't realize that at the time
Staying in the room
Waiting for a flight
Was a better idea for me

I learned that flying to Newark
Even on a fancy new Boeing freighter
Wasn't fun when you were sick

I learned that the aircraft lavatory
Is just as lousy
As the hotel bathroom
When you have to be sick

Though at that point
I did miss the Disney channel

I was a little feverish leaving Newark
And I learned
That they won't let you take a toolbox
Full of hammers, wrenches, and screwdrivers
As carry on for a commercial flight

Insisting that I was a licensed mechanic
And that I really knew how to use those tools
Did not reassure them

Thankfully
In those pre 9-11 days
It wasn't a big deal even when I bickered with them

On the drive back up north from Detroit
I learned that three road weary mechanics
Don't smell any better
When they get crammed into a small car together

Mostly
On that trip
I learned to always order the steak

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Tired

Boy am I tired
The cock crowed as the sun came up
But I was in no mood for it
I threw rocks at him until he gave up

Just too tired
My partner reached over stroking my manhood up
Wanting to waken me in a pleasant way
I smacked him with a pillow and told him to give up

Way tired
Coffee didn't even make a dent as my eyelids wouldn't stay up
I snarled at stupid people with stupid ideas
Ending usually by telling them to shut the fuck up

Hitting the hump of tired
As lunchtime rolled around I started to feel human and perk up
But it might have been too late as nobody would speak to me
So I called down to the Indian restaurant and ordered lunch for everyone sent up

Feeling randy and happy
I stopped at the florist and to my tab there added up
At first it wasn't enough for my partner
Until I got on my knees to beg forgiveness and fluff him up

Now sated and sleepy
I tracked down the poor rooster who was acting all cut up
Gave him some attention and reinforced his ego
So he'd be all ready tomorrow to once again wake me up



Saturday, April 28, 2012

2X2

It fits
Fits together like bricks
Stacked like Tetris
Locked in like Legos

Yin nested with Yang
Laying like spoons in a drawer
Cuddled up
Like Forrest Gump's peas and carrots

It's a two fer
A couple's day
A night out
A date

Three hundred and sixty five of them
And you have yourself an anniversary
Twenty five of those makes silver
Fifty is gold

Get enough of them in a row
Then one before the other
Or occasionally both at once
It becomes a shared headstone

Eternally granite
With beginning and ending dates
Side by side forever
Or at least until the next big change

Friday, April 27, 2012

This Man

This man
Wakes in the morning
Before the sun rolls out of bed
Gazes at the twinkling starlight
Scratches his head and says

"What ever could be
Bigger than me?"

This man
Makes his living
With his hands
With his eyes
With all the parts he was given
And says to himself

"This is a hell of a way to make a living
What would happen if I just stopped?"

This man
Throws down his work
Which has kept him busy for so long
Chooses to walk the earth
Like a man named Cain
And says to himself

"This world is what's bigger than me
When I was so wrapped up in my life
I was too small to see"

This man
Makes a difference
Not by walking a treadmill every day
Grinding up grist
For which others must pay
He greets every person in much the same way

"Hello, I am you
Yet I don't know you
Tell me about yourself
Show me what you do"

This man
He learns what he sees
And teaches what he has learned
Till his feet grow tired
And lays his head down
For the longest goodnight
Thinking to himself

I learned what was real
I learned what was bigger
It was me
It was everyone
It was the ground
On which I stood

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Kiss Kiss

Kiss kiss
I slalom the car left then right
Imagining brushing each curb in turn
Carrying my speed on into the night

It's a holdover from childhood
When I went fast and turned left
In little midget cars
On little tracks
Little hands
Little feet
Pleather jacket buttoned up neat

I'm not as good turning right
Doesn't feel as natural
Probably never will
But I do it just to spite you
And of that
I'll never get my fill

I read some tips on driving once
And one remains with me still
Imagine a glass of water on the dash
And going fast without a spill

That's how you can be smooth
That's how you can be fast
The two aren't mutually exclusive
The traction pie will have your ass

It's harder than it looks
I tried it once for real
I ended up with water all over the place
And damn near a mass of twisted steel

I'm not as good as I am in my head
Or as I'd wish to be
It's fun to take some time out though
Just to pretend that it is real

Kiss kiss
Left right left right
Don't spill the water
Always try your best

Kiss kiss
Left right left right
Ad infinitum
Until you are out of sight


Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Send Me Your Dirty Pictures

Send me your dirty picture
With you naked
As the day you were born
Flashing your bits for the camera
Your cheeks flushed and warm

Send me your dirty picture
A coy sidelong look on your face
Hips turned and leg raised slightly
An arm draped across your breasts
Only R rated if I judge rightly

Send me your dirty picture
A full Hustler spread greeting my eyes
On a bed of furs with legs spread wide
Your tongue wetting your lips
Fingers on your pussy so I can see inside

Send me your dirty picture
You and your partner fucking
Faces lost in the moment
No posing
No faking
Egos simply along for the ride

Send me your dirty picture
Your masculine body bared
Muscles flexed just enough
Showing your ass hard as a rock
Hand lightly touching your shiny hard cock
Leaving me just the right amount scared

Send me your dirty picture
I get off on it it's true
I don't always take the time to masturbate
But I'll close my eyes and lose myself in the scene
Putting myself in there right next to you

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

The Elephant in the Room

Gray skin wrinkled and dusty
Trunk reaching out
Probing the furniture for treats
Snuffling in corners dark and musty

Finding nothing of interest
It moved a little to it's left
Feet steeping daintily
Staying out of trouble
Or at least doing it's best

Leaving enormous footprints on the floor
Mostly round with pronounced toes
This is no ten ton ballerina
Walking in pink slippers
Up high on it's toes

Thin size fifty ears
Flap lightly in amusement
As something funny appears on television
A new episode of Doctor Who or The Gong Show
It's taste is far ranging as you can see
Peanuts to pate'
Enjoying all kinds of party

Long thin tail
Brushing side to side
A little tuft on the end
Whacking me in the nose
In perfect beat
As if it's listening to Wang Chung in it's head
And that's all it wants to do tonight

It turns around slowly
Fixing me with one large intelligent eye
If it could speak
It would tell me something profound
But it cannot be uttered
And not just because it lacks the right sound

It's the Elephant In The Room
And it begs to be acknowledged
In silent accusation
It makes itself at home
Sits down and breaks the sofa
It's not going anywhere
Anytime
Soon


Monday, April 23, 2012

Back Seat Mistress

New Girl Venus
Wasn't that new anymore
She was bare from the waist down
On her back in my backseat
Her shirt and bra bunched up to her neck

I could only imagine how she looked
Because it wasn't me
That she had bared herself for
It wasn't me that her juices dripped on my seat for
It wasn't me that she had the love hate relationship with
I didn't really want it to be me either
Other than in a general sexual way
The person we both lusted after at that moment

Was Tina

Tina was holding court
Between Not So New Girl Venus' legs
I could hear them kissing
Or maybe it was kissing
Maybe it was something else
It sounded wet
It sounded good

Venus sounded good too
I had to admit
Moaning and panting
In time to the wet sounds
Tina's occasional words

I was driving
The old green Chrysler pleasure barge
Navigating the midnight roads of Grand Ledge
I idly rubbed my cock through my shorts
Not having the guts to pull it out and wank it for real

Afraid Tina wouldn't approve
Half afraid that she might

Thumbing the dash lights a little lower
I accidentally flick on the dome light
But snap it off again as fast as I can
I see a flash of skin in the rear view
Not sure whose skin
Or what body parts they were either
Just the flash bulb image of female skin
Burned into my retinas

Tina whacks me on the back of the head

"Quit it, Fred!"

I apologize a few times
They don't believe it was an accident
But it didn't matter

The wet sounds started right back up again

If anything
Even more intense than before
The gravel roadbed crunched beneath the tires
The old headlights painting everything yellow bright
Nosing along under the stars

Without warning
Something wet pressed against my cheek

Tina whispered hoarsely in my ear
"Do something with that, would you?"

She got back to the business of Venus
I picked up the wet thing
It was cloth
It was a pair of lacy panties
And they were drenched

I slyly held them up to my nose for a moment
Seeing what they smelled like

Sweet
Musky
Wet
And somewhat like crotch

About what I expected I suppose
I cracked my window a bit
And tossed them out gently
Driving slowly on
With the woman I loved
Making love to her girlfriend
On the seat in the back

A few orgasms later
Venus insisted that she needed to get home
So I turned the car around
The girls got themselves arranged in the back
And by the time we were back in town
The streetlights illuminating us all dimly
They were both dressed
Flushed and happy looking
Holding one another

Venus kissed Tina goodnight
And oh
How I wished it was me

Tina climbed up in the front seat
Fiddling with the radio while we made our way home
We chatted about inane things
Bands on the radio
Cars we'd like to have someday

Then as we got closer to her house
She told me how wet Venus was
How she'd almost smothered
When Venus came upon her face
My face burned a little red
My cock got a little harder

Which I didn't think was possible

As I pictured what had really been going on
In my backseat
Only a foot away from my back

As I parked to let her out
Tina leaned close
She took my face in her hands

Hands that smelled just like the panties I'd thrown out
Looking into my eyes
She said those words that always kept me coming back
Coming back for the hope of something more

"I love you Fred"

And for the first time
She kissed me
Her full lips upon mine
And I tasted her
And a little of what Venus left behind

One hand left my face
And gently brushed my cock
Like a promise
That she may or may not keep

Then she was gone
Walking up to her house
While I was left dumbfounded
Able only to watch her go
Her heart shaped ass swaying in the headlights

I drove the short way home slowly
Thinking a million things
How I should have followed her
How I should have said something
How I should have
Should have.....

The next morning
In the light of day
I had two concrete things
To remind me that the night hadn't been a dream

A huge stain on my backseat

And a pair of crusted panties
Hanging off the antennae
On the left rear fender

Sunday, April 22, 2012

You

Softly stepping on the lambskin rug
I stalk you

You
Of the pale silk skin

You
Of the heaving bosom

You
Of the wailing cries

That hang in the air
As I part your thighs

Firmly tying the nylon rope
I bind you

You
Of the cotton candy colored hair

You
Of the straining muscles

You
Of the dirty words

That creep to my ears
In syncopated thirds

I want to
Suck your cock
My Master

Somehow
You draw out each syllable

Somehow
You draw me in

Somehow
You top from the bottom

Somehow
I give in

You
Are just as much the Master
As I

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Little Fishes

Little fishes
Hide in the dirty pond
Waiting for something interesting
A worm
Or a minnow
Just something flashy
It's all the same

With a tiny
Teeny tiny
Itsy bitsy
Microscopic brain
It doesn't take much
To awe and entertain

Sixteen trout and
Thirteen bass and
One lone little perch fish
All wait in the murky
Muddy depths of
Farmer Frederick's
Acre pond

Till one morning
Just this morning
A little girl and
Two little boys
Threw in worms on
Three hooks hoping
To catch a fish for lunch

But the fish were
Way too smart for
Those three hungry little kids
They flexed and
They finned and
Set free all three worms

Now in that pond there
Things are jumping
The worms they were a trio
Making song while
The fish dance
Every night and
Every day


Friday, April 20, 2012

Happy Psychosis

"What emotion does this face show?"

And she holds up a card
With a person's face on it
The person is showing an emotion
Or so everyone tells me

"Happy"
I answer with certainty

She holds up another card
"And this one?"

"Happy"
I tell her again

And another
"How about this one?"

"Happy"
Because this person looks happy to me too

She puts the cards down
And she looks at me happily

"This is very frustrating to me
You really can't see the different emotions?"

I give her a happy look
And she sits back suddenly
Looking at me happily
"No, they all look the same to me"

"Well I just don't know....."
She's looking especially happy now

"Can I buy you dinner?"
I could tell she liked me
From how happy she always looked around me
And she looked happy now as I asked her out

"No, absolutely not
It wouldn't be appropriate
I'm your therapist
And especially with your history...."
She wrung her hands happily

"I understand
I'll ask you again
After we finish these sessions"
I stared at her
With my best happy look

We said our goodbyes for the day
I only have six more sessions
Six more court appointed sessions
I still wasn't sure why I was doing them
The judge had looked so happy up there
I thought for sure I would just get off with a warning

But that's just water under the bridge
Almost done
My feet walk automatically down the street
I glance to my right down an alley
I see a homeless man
He asks me for some change
With such a happy look on his face
I don't give him any
He can't be that bad off
If he looks that happy

A little bit down the block
I see a happy looking man grab a woman's purse
He runs straight towards me
With such a smile on his face
It's like he knows me!

"You didn't see anything asshole
Or I'll kill you!"
But he says it with such a happy look
How can I be concerned?

The woman whose purse was taken
She is screaming happily
Gods, it's like she won a prize
I think to myself

Everyone is so happy all the time
What a great world!


Thursday, April 19, 2012

Red Box

A dusty red Craftsman toolbox
It's not one of the nice ones
It's one of the low rent ones
One of the ones you buy
When you just need something toolboxy
Something metal with drawers
Nothing fancy

That was him though
We need to get from point A to B
What do we need to get there
And that's what he'd get
Hence the inexpensive Craftsman box

Inside are the beginnings of a tool kit
Things to repair clocks
Things to hold small things
Things to help keep you busy
In the twilight of your life
Small busy jobs
For idle hands

Because that's what retirement is supposed to be

But none of it really ever got used
Retirement was neither as idle
Nor as long
As he would have wished
So there it has sat
For over five years
Taking up space in his widow's garage
My mother's garage
Gathering dust
And generally reminding the world
Or at least whomever saw it
Of some of the things that were supposed to be

I collected it today
Getting my black shirt all dusty
Placing it in the back of the van
Taking it for the two mile ride to my house
To my garage
Where it will gather some more dust maybe

But maybe
Where I'll use the tools
With my idle hands
Keeping them busy
Much like his still should be
If life was as fair
As some people think it should be

An Apple a Day


An apple a day'
Keeps the doctor away
Or so they say
and thus it must be true

If we take that as gospel
Then perhaps ten would be better
Let's ask the apple apostle
And see what he says

Oh mighty apple guru
Where one is good
Shall many be better?
Or is that more than I should

Shall I be wary?

In response to my query
He gave good advice
If a little scary
And it was so good
I read it thrice!

Dear apple questioner
Your askance is reasonable
Though inadvisable
For reasons I shall now get into

One apple keeps things moving
Your stomach and upper GI
Your colon it groovin
All things work like they should

But add in too many
And trouble comes a plenty
Your stool will be
How you say?

"loose"

I don't mean the kind you sit on
With it's legs getting wobbly
I mean the kind you leave behind
And don't want to pick up after yourself

Lets just say it gets messy
And leave it at that
So keep the apple consumption within reason
So you don't scare the cat

As you would with the scene
That would happen if you
Consumed too many apples
Which I would term as more than two

Regards to your apple intentions
I remain the guru in question
Representing apples
In all their description

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

That Little Thing I Do

I am the hangnail
That hangs up on your pants
Every time you delve into your pockets
Snags your shirt as you put it on
Cuts your nose as you pick it

I am the hard little thing in your sock
That is just there after an odd wash
Putting on a clean sock from the drawer
I'm that surprise when you put your foot down
But when you turn the sock inside out
I'm nowhere to be found
I vanish into the air

I'm your favorite television show
Cancelled due to lack of ratings
Millions of people watch me
But not enough
So away I go
Maybe to live on in fan fic and blogs
Or a wrap up movie if you're lucky

I'm that car behind you
With lights aimed just a little too high
Shining in your rear views so bright
Making you re aim all of them
For the relief of your sight

I'm the mysterious creak in your house
In the dead of the night
Making you think I'm a burglar
When you go to check me out
I creak somewhere else
Giggling to myself
As you run about
Stumbling in the dark

I'm that beautiful girl
That smiled at you once
Making you second guess yourself
Every time you think of me
What might have could have been
If only you'd taken a minute to talk

I'm that shy gentle boy
Who was so nice to you in school
When all you dated was hot jocks
When you thought you knew what you wanted
And now that you really know
You stalk me on Facebook

I'm that catch on your clothes
That kink in your step
That small joy in your life
That glare in your sight
That strange noise in the night
The pretty girl
The handsome boy

I nag at you
A little bit
Every day


Monday, April 16, 2012

Every Day

Every day
You will wake up
You'll get up
You'll go on your way

Though some days
You won't want to
You'll wish not to
You'll lay back down for a snooze

One of these days
You'll not get up
You'll feel sick
You'll call in

But that's what sick days are for

Now and then
You will die
But don't let it get you down
There are even odds
That there is life after death
Maybe even reincarnation

Oh to come back as something grand
Like a gnat

At the very least
You'll live on in the universe
Being that that is one of those laws
Energy is conserved
You will be recycled

Perhaps born again
Within a far off star


Sunday, April 15, 2012

One Dime Bag Please

"Come in with me, would you?"

I looked at her nervously
I didn't know this guy
I didn't really want to go inside
All my young life I'd heard about drug dealers
They were dirty criminals
As likely to kill you as to sell you what you ask for

Or so my father said

"C'mon, please? I had a shit time a few months ago"

"What do you mean?" I asked

She looked down at the dirty floor of the Chrysler
Her face turned a little red
Without looking at me she told me

"I went to this guy's place on the other side of town
Over by the south side Meijers store
In that subsidized housing area
I was looking for a dime bag of weed

I had a hard time finding his place
All the buildings looked the same
After about fifteen minutes of cruising around
I found his door number
It was hard to tell because one of the numbers had fallen off
But you could still see it's outline in the brick

The place looked creepy
I shouldn't have gone in

As I walked up the short cracked uneven sidewalk
He opened the door
Eying me up and down
And asked if he could help me"

At that
She bit her full lower lip
And crossed her arms tightly over her breasts
Still not looking at me she went on

"I said a friend said he had some pot
He asked if I was a cop
I said
'No of course not'
And he had me wait in the front kitchen
While he went into the back for a minute

When he came back out he had the dime bag for me
And a little glass pipe with a couple little white things inside
He puts the bag on the table and offers me the pipe
'Here, it's something new I got, give it a try'

I didn't want to be a puss
So I fired it up with the lighter on the table
Cooking it for a few seconds
Then taking a big hit off it"

T turned to me at that point
Her eyes big and wet

"I felt like I wasn't in my body anymore
It was the most fucked up feeling ever
I had no sense of time or anything
Next thing I knew
I was on the floor on my back
My shorts were off
My shirt was pulled up
And this dude was fucking me

And I didn't care
I barely felt it even

He bit my tit so hard it bled
But I didn't feel that either
It didn't feel good
It didn't feel bad
I wasn't really there"

Suddenly she pulled up her shirt
Showing me her breasts
Those same breasts I'd been dreaming of seeing

But not like this
Not in this context

She touched a spot just above her left nipple
There were two quarter inch scars close together

"Right there
That's where the asshole bit me
I might not have felt it when it happened
But I sure did later"

She pulled her shirt down again
Her cheeks flushed
She looked at the floor again
Abruptly conscious of what she'd shown me

"He came in me
Got up and pulled up his pants
Sat down at the table and smoked
Watching me

And I just lay there
My head was up in the clouds
And I knew what he'd done
But I didn't care
I still didn't feel it
I just felt good
I felt high"

She started crying then
So I held her as she sobbed

"It was so fucked up
I worried I was pregnant the whole month
Who does that to people???"

We stayed like that for a little while
Sitting in the gravel driveway
In the green Chrysler
Outside Crazy Mikey's house
Who was supposed to sell us a dime bag

Nobody bothered us
Nobody really noticed us

Finally she looked at me again
Wiping her face with her forearm

"So could you go in with me? Please?"

Of course I said yes
I loved her
And she needed someone to have her back

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Evil Rat Hamster

The squeaking
The infernal squeaking
Never stopping
Never starting
Just always seeming as if it was

The half rat hamster ran
Never getting anywhere
And not caring either
Gripped by madness
Gripped by purpose
Who can tell
Yet running
As if from the depths of hell

His eye glints redly
Whenever I look in on him
I don't know when he eats
Nor when he takes time to sleep
He's always on the move
Grinding away at his wheel's bearings
Made of plastic
And turning to dust
Coating everything around his cage
With a fine white powder
Like a sculptor carving a bust

I'm not impressed let me tell you
When I'm awakened at three in the morning
By the high pitched squealing
Of his exercise ball a'rolling

His demonic purpose glares
From his one good eye
The other gouged out
In battle with his cellmate
For dominance of the wheel
Fought with claw and tooth
Rather than hard cold steel

If he were human
I imagine he'd wear a patch
Have a fluffy kitty on his lap
Which he would stroke
As he monologued his terrible plan
But he's a rat hamster
So he does what he can

Which is run upon his wheel
Wearing it to a nub
What happens when he finally destroys it
That's what keeps me up at night

That and the damned squeaking

Always squeaking
Never stopping
Always seeking
What
I hope I never know


Friday, April 13, 2012

A Gift For Our Zombie Overlords

Tick tock mister
You made this deadline
Not me
So do not whine
Things will NOT be fine
Unless you writ large line after line

I must have pudding for brains
Which is quite a thought
To think to look forward to
In the coming Zombie Apocalypse

Will my brains become legend?
Will they be sought after as a delicacy
Often wondered about
But never seen
Let alone tasted

Dreamed of
In the depths of undead dreamland
That surely zombies populate
In those times when nothing is going on
And they lay there quiet
In zombie hibernation
Their still maggoty sleep
One eye wide open seeing nothing
The other hanging obscenely from it's socket
Looking down at the ground
When it's looking at all

Will my pudding brains be served upon a silver platter
To the zombie king
Dressed in rotting rags of finery
Strutting haughtily in a shambling zombie way
Into the receiving room
Where my head rests gently upon the tray
My eyes closed most dignified
My mouth half open as if to say

"Here be-ith the most pudding of all brains!
Presented to you here
Oh mighty zombie overlord
Your royal highness the king!"

My high opinion of myself never flagging
Even in death
I am proud of my good taste

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Tall Enough to Reach the Top Shelf

Roots firm in reality
Atlas and Saturn rockets
Philosophy as old as man has eyes
My arms reaching ever outward
Fingertips stretching past the skies

Tasting vacuum at the edge of the atmosphere
Getting used to weightlessness
Moving on
Looking back
Seeing earth as a sphere

Lingering at our moon
Planting some flags
Tracking up the place
Pressing into the moon dust
Leaving an impression of my face

Launching again without a sound
Setting foot on mars
A year older in reality
Yet just a blink in time
Terraforming the planet
Building cities
Singing Interplanet Janet
With her galaxy girls

Growing bored with the god of war
Moving onward
Outward
Still rooted in the soil of Terra
Grabbing at other moons
Around other planets
Around other suns
Farther
Until having been so many places
That it is forgotten where I've been
The zig zag path across the universe
Branching and backtracking
Multiplying as I go forth
Just like it was written
Sometime
Somewhere
My roots
Once so strong and awesome
Now rusting ruins
An empty shell
To be puzzled over
No longer thought of as home
To a people too numerous to count
Scattered to the stars


Wednesday, April 11, 2012

St Petersburg

My dear Ava Dregorovitch
Invited me to stay for a bit
She didn't tell me why
All I knew was when
So on a plane I flew
Growing colder as I went
Though it was all in my head

I'd heard that it was freezing in St Petersburg

Arriving with a chill
I started to drink with a will
A will to warm up
And a wish for the Caribbean
Why am I vacationing here Ava?
I wondered that night at supper
She just laughed and fed me vodka
Because she was nothing
If not a caricature of a modern Russian

So I got roaring drunk in St Petersburg

I woke up in the morning
Rolled over and without warning
Bumped noses with Ava
Her breath didn't smell very good
Certain mine didn't either I jumped out of bed
Promptly stepping on a condom with a squish
Grossed out and head pounding
I ran for the loo

The hangovers are worse in St Petersburg

I felt much better after the purge
Brushed my teeth and went back to bed
Looking at Ava with new eyes
Half uncovered with silky thighs
I popped an erection and thought evil things
Sliding in alongside her
I slipped myself inside
Making myself comfortable and at home
Her eyes fluttered open
Not a word was then spoken
As we fucked like animals in the morning sun

The pussy seems better in St Petersburg

After breakfast we went out
Meeting folks and hanging out
Preparing for a flash mob that night in the square
Apparently this was why I'd been invited
Though her motives were suspect
As she slid her hand into mine in the park
We kept at the nice day
Going where things were
Planning things and getting drunk again

The days are much better in St Petersburg

The evening came around soon
And we all gathered in the gloom
In the center of town just off the square
Five hundred people in all
Most strangers though I'd met some today
Looking at watches and shivering in the breeze
Five minutes to eight
We all stripped ourselves bare
Except for shoes
Which we deemed necessary for the event
The clock struck eight
We ran out of the gate
Making a full lap of the square in a dead run

Sprinting naked in the streets of St Petersburg

I think I might stay
Ava's convinced me
St Petersburg
Is the place to be


Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Superduper

When all else fails
I'm the one you call
The superhero in rags
Someone to take the fall

With my cape flapping behind me
I come running to save the day
Leaping then stumbling
Trying to get out of my own way

I never said I was graceful
I never said I was keen
I never said I wouldn't catch on fire
When doused with gasoline

Cars I can't lift
Bullets I can't outrun
You'd almost say what's the point then?
I say, rather, that's half the fun

If I were invincible
Then none of this would be a chore
Things would be easy
Life but a bore

But as it stands
I have to work for every accolade
More a Batman in spirit
Than a Superman Kyrpton made

So throw up the signal
Dial my 800 number
However you summon me
I'll take your call
Operators are waiting
Join the short queue
I'm your superhero in rags
And I know just what to do


Monday, April 9, 2012

Yardly Goings On

The morning is
The soft squeak of the rusty gate
The simple entrance to my yard
Where the turkeys like to congregate

With their gobbling and gawking
Chortling and guffawing
Laughing turkey laughs
At some joke I'd have to contemplate

The squirrels over think things
Darting in and out of their zone
Suspicious of every shadow
That the low hanging sun does bring

Robins and woodpeckers
Each doing their thing
One tap tapping a tune
The other constantly gathering
Gleaning flotsam for a nest
The perpetual act of nesting

Then there is me
Observing what is there
Stalker of the yard
Deserving of a restraining order
Though staying fifty feet away would be hard
For on days where I am lazy
I certainly don't go very far


Sunday, April 8, 2012

Happy Easter!

"Shhh, this is the area he was seen last year before He went to ground"

My brother and I stalked the woods slowly
Deep inside the nature preserve
The early morning predawn gloom all around
Eyes and ears alert for any movement
We'd already jumped twice this morning
Once it was a mama deer and her fawn
The other time it was a very grumpy porcupine
Which snorted at us as it waddled on it's way

Not much else stirring this morning though
But just as every other year
On this day
That would soon change

Last year
Seventeen people
Mostly teens on an Easter pilgrimage
Were slaughtered
Their heads cracked open like so many Easter eggs
Half eaten brains sloppily left all around

After all these years
He doesn't even care to eat all of them anymore
I think He has taken a joy in the killing
My brother thinks He may be deteriorating slowly
And this is just another indication of His slow decomposition

Almost two thousand years of yearly terror
He has evaded capture and death every time
It's almost madness to think we could stop Him
But we do
It's the tale we've been raised with
That someday
The chosen one will stop His reign

This year we made the pilgrimage
To Uzbekistan
About fifty miles north of Urgench
Where He was last spotted last year

We try to blend in with the other scattered pilgrims wandering the countryside
All hoping to catch a glimpse of him
Although most never will
For after He kills
After He gets his fill
He goes back to ground
And isn't seen again until the next year

I'm contemplating the lousy odds we have
When we hear the screaming
It's bloodcurdling
And it can mean only one thing

Jesus has risen once again

My brother and I pull out our Glocks in unison
And begin sprinting towards the commotion
Both of us eager to catch a glimpse of Him
To put a bullet in what's left of His brain

But the screaming stopped
Silence thick as tar dropped on us
We both froze
Ready for anything
My skin prickled with sensation

What was going on?
Where was He?
Eyes desperately looking for a glimpse of something
Guns at the ready

Then a rustle and a blur of motion
And my brother dropped to the ground
His decapitated head rolling towards me
I take one step towards him
Then I am gripped in a pair of vise like arms
There is a tickle of a beard on the back of my neck
Then Jesus' teeth lock onto my skull
Cracking bone

Oddly
The last thought I think
Is that of an old image of a protestor from the 1960's
Holding a large hand lettered sign
Which says

JESUS SAVES

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Not the Easter Bunny

From the belly button up
She was all Penthouse Forum

Tight abs
Full and perky breasts
A perfect sexual transition
From collarbone to neck
A face Miss America would kill for
Flowing hair down her back

It was the rest that was distressing

Instead of arms
She had wings
Great black wings
Big enough to pound a man to death
If he were foolish enough
To make an attempt at the upper human beauty

Waist down she was a bird
Not a great looking bird either
Kind of a dirty vulture looking underbody
With poisonous looking claws

In one claw
Was a basket
A dainty pink basket

In that basket were eggs
Painted pretty eggs

She would hover at random intervals
Looking all around
Then swoop low to the ground
Her free clawed foot
Would reach into the basket
Pulling forth an egg
Held daintily in her talons

To be deposited carefully
Oh so gently
In a hidden spot

Then she was off
To do it again
Never quite finishing
Never quite running out of gaily colored eggs
Never quite convincing me
That my eyes were not deceiving me

But what else can I guess at?
She's got the basket
A never ending supply of Easter Eggs
And she is hiding them carefully

Friends
Meet the Easter Harpy

Friday, April 6, 2012

Cake of Horror

I am so round
Browned
And moist

I am a single layer cake
Cooling on the counter

I am awesome

I see a can of frosting next to me
I cannot wait to be frosted
To be stroked all over
With a slippery chrome knife

Just the thought
Sends shivers down my nonexistent spine

Mmmmm
Here you come

Wait, what are you doing!
Aaaaah, ouch!
Your cutting me!
Stop! Stop!
Can't you hear me screaming!
What are you doing with those pieces?!
You are a monster!
You hear me?
A MONSTER!

Now with the frosting
That doesn't help you know
It still hurts

And what's this?
Coconut?
Some licorice and jellybeans?

You've ruined me!
I was so lovely
Now I'm hideous

What have you done?
Just eat me already
Put me out of my misery
Even in my worst nightmares
I never thought I'd be

A bunny cake

Thursday, April 5, 2012

A Little of the Old In and Out

We charge in
Full of purpose
Full of promise
Full of rage
Hate
Love
Lust

Arriving spent
With nothing left
Except the wanting
The wanting of a nap

After resting up
We get up
We scrounge up
Some courage
Some crazy
Some gumption
Motivation
Fuel
Miracles

There isn't much to do though
Except that which must be done
That which must be dealt with
From which most would rather run

Then we leave
Not with the bellow we rode in on
But with a soft crunch of gravel
Beneath our tired feet
Down that winding narrow path
That's not much of a street
Full of weariness
Full of completeness
Full of life
Hellos
Goodbyes

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Cancer Rap

My lump
My lump
My lovely larynx lump

It's so scary
I think I'll name him Larry
It's a lump
What?
It's a lump
What?

CARCINOMA!

I checked one day
It was there
As if to say
What up?
Huh?
What up?
Huh?

It's a talking carcinoma!

My lump
My lump
My lovely larynx lump
None of the boys want it
They all gots to hate on it
It hurts all the time
But I don't mean to whine

It's my lump
My lump
My lovely larynx lump

(carcinoma!)

It's kind of aggressive
I wouldn't want to guess if
I was going to be around next year
With all of the cells changing
Their D-N-A rearranging
To attack all of the tissues around

Check it

My lump
My lump
My lovely larynx lump

Oh shit it's carcinoma!

Hanging with my lab coat boyz
Playing with their hospital toyz
Cruisin the city avenue
Tipping their radioactive brew
Tuggin on my hair
Watchin it fall out everywhere

Word!

My lump
My lump
My lovely larynx lump

Fuck you carcinoma!

Now eight months later
I don't mean to be a hater
But my voice
That shit be gone!
What with the hole in my neck
I gots to talk through this electronic thing
Which makes me rock out
And sound just like Stephen Hawking

~the following said in electronic voice~

My lump
My lump
My lovely larynx lump

CARCINOMA

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Gimp Rack Date

I'm the man in the gimp suit
Not saying a word
Behind vinyl zippers and rings
Mentally flipping you the bird
Thinking a thousand evil things

But then you know all this
After all
You can get in my head
How else would I end up like this
When all I first wanted was just to be in your bed

Now here I am
Under your spell
Wrapped in your fetish
My submission a palpable smell

Letting you have your way
Whatever
However
Wherever
That may go

My eyes in the mask
Peering through chrome rimmed holes
Show emotions enough
If you look and are bold

Widened in fear
Now narrowed in hate
Watered with pain
Corners crinkled
You know I'm smiling
And you don't want that
So out comes the crop
Whistling through the air
Smacking my soft parts
Rippling my fat

Now out come the chains
And suddenly I'm a weightless gimp in space
floating and twirling in spite of gravity
Hanging from your rack
In a pose so painful
But not too much
You made sure
Trussed up in a pose so pretty
On your mobile rack
Deep in your dungeon
In the heart of the city

I must hang here for hours
To pay a penance for your pleasure
You roll me by the door
You move on to other chores
Others will come in
You'll strip them down
Both physically and mentally
Holding them in thrall
I'll have to watch it all

If you come by don't forget to say hi
I'm the first gimp hanging on the left


Monday, April 2, 2012

Hairy Little Folk

The hair folk of Havana Town
Collecting their bottle caps and goose down
Running combs and brushes through their hair
Looking ravishing with a frown

The clippings of the barber's floor
The snarls collected on a brush
Stray wispy strands on a baby's pillow
Gather together in the morning hush

Till gathered together
It forms a little person
Body squishy and snarly
Legs and arms bristly and gnarly
Wispy baby fuzz on top
In a Fonzi 'do

The epitome of cool
To run amongst the forgotten things
Strewn in alleyways and mansion wings
Collections of pull tabs and kite strings
Sorted so carefully
By size shape and color
To coo and covet over
Small scraps of mirror
Assembled in a mad disco ball
Not hanging
Not spinning
Just for looking
For poofing and poking
For adding volume and glamour
To the small hair folk of Havana


Sunday, April 1, 2012

Tortoise Walk

"The only thing you have to watch out for are the Tortoises"

Wait, the what?
And I give him a puzzled look
I'm a country boy
But not from the desert

"The Mojave Tortoise,"
He explains
"It's protected, and that's why the hot rod club stopped using this property
The animal rights groups were giving them too much grief
And it didn't help when they did actually run over a few of them one weekend during speed runs"

I just kind of stared out at the long stretch of desert
Eight hundred acres
With a semi prepared stretch almost two miles long
A couple concrete pads near the road
I can sort of picture the set up

I'll put my trailer on that one there
And my portable hangar on that one
Oh yes
I like this
And the price is right

The salesman is still trying to sell me

"Of course there is no reason you can't use the property for whatever you wish
As long as precautions are taken for the tortoise population
Some sort of written protocol you'd submit to the Chamber of Commerce
To let them know that you are concerned"

"Low altitude speed record"

I blurt out the lie before I can think about it

"I'm going to modify an airplane and try for the low altitude speed record"

Fortunately, in this neck of the desert, that doesn't even raise an eyebrow

"Well okay then, might I recommend what I saw a group do last year?
They did their little letter to the Chamber
And said they'd do a 'Tortoise Walk' before every run down the track
You can cheat and do it in a vehicle very slowly
Which will probably be something you'd do anyways
Wouldn't want to hit a tortoise with your plane I wouldn't think
They do get pretty big sometimes"

I hear what he's saying, and I'm making mental notes
Although, in the back of my mind
I have a kind of little kid joy
At the thought of having 'pet' tortoises on the property

"Lets do one right now, do you mind?"

I ask the realtor hopefully

He laughs, and turns to walk back to his truck

"Sure thing, you can see most of the property along the way too"

And so I find myself in the realtor's old Ford Bronco
Rolling at about ten miles per hour across the desert
The wide speed run area standing out from the surrounding scrub
Mostly because of it's lack of bushes and cactus
Though there are numerous rocks and small plants starting to poke up
It hasn't been maintained in about six years

We are chatting about the sad housing market
When I see it
About twenty yards away
It looks like a dusty rock
But it's moving slowly

"Stop, stop, I see one!"
I say excitedly

He hits the brakes and I'm out the door
Trotting over to the tortoise

I get down on my belly in the desert dirt
I stare at the turtle
The turtle stops walking
And stares at me

We regard each other for a minute

The turtle starts walking again
Going wherever it is that he was planning on going

I get up on my knee and brush most of the dirt off

When I turn back to the truck
The realtor is leaning against his fender
Smoking a cigarette and looking at me like I'm loony
I walk back to him laughing

"That was so cool!"

I tell him

He shakes his head

"You are the first person that I've ever had do that"

I shake his hand

"I'll take it"