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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. 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.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Aircraft Mechanic Kink

The metal edge digging into my back
Is as sharp as one you have me ride nightly
As I lay there just a few minutes longer
As you have me guessing whether the pain or the pleasure
Just to get these last three bolts started in their holes
Threading the leather straps around your wrists and ankles
And apply the proper torque upon them in sequence
Securing you firmly just the way you like it
Before slipping the thirty two thousandths safety wire through
Hearing you cry softly "No, no, no"
My ears ring lightly with the solid "snick!" of the diagonal cutters through the metal
But it doesn't count because you didn't say the safe word
Only then can I sign off on the job
That phrase that I'll never forget
Combining a couple references to keep the FAA happy
Sometimes I cannot wait to get back to the job
I can never wait to get back to you

Wednesday, June 25, 2014


The lawn is far from impressed with things
As a matter of fact it claims to have seen it all before
Back way before you thought that it was fun
Shaggy Hipster front yard is much cooler than you

It hasn't been acting like this very long
Just since you went on vacation
And the neighbor kid didn't cut your lawn
Which now resembles what sticks out past a green Yeti's thong

Indicating that Yeti needs some Yeti-scaping
Trimming of the bush
The old Adirondack wax job
For a slick and sparkly Yeti tush

Dandelions dot the lawn as it rolls its own cigarettes
Puts on a pair of hiking boots
Then to straddle a custom fixie bicycle
Smoking through a shaggy green beard

Riding away with a bored look upon its green grassy face
In search of others of its kind
To discuss bands nobody else has heard of over organic coffee
A run down obscure place to unwind

This is the perfect opportunity for you though
To drag out that bag of Preppie seed you've hoarded since the 1980's
The salmon colored one with the LaCoste crocodile upon the side
With extra chemical deterrent to all the local Emo bees

It will surely discourage that Hipster lawn from ever coming back

Monday, June 23, 2014

Guacamonkey's Revenge

Ishy squishy green tasty treat
Guacamonkey minced his steps tight and neat
Making way across a polished floor
A fugitive from a corner store

A sharp tortilla chip in each hand
With a small back-up supply upon a bandoleer
No internal structure making it pretty hard to stand
Simian lips twisted in an eternal sneer

A white rubber gloved hand reaches down from the heavens
And our tasty green friend thinks he has been chosen
"Winner winner chicken dinner!" he cries as he rises
The view of the world just a blur until he is set down again

To come to rest patted into place and shape
In a shallow bowl next to some plates
A small label upon its side
About one inch tall and four wide


Soon children lined up with wide hungry eyes
Fistfuls of Doritos piled high and wide
Greedy hands reaching for a great grimy scoop
Removing great gobs of himself to alight upon trays as piles of loose green poop

When the last child had taken what they wanted
There was nothing left of the errant guacamole monkey
Just a few smears of spiced avocado colored mess
Which had just enough collective consciousness for one last wish
That each and every child involved would suffer acute intestinal distress

Sunday, June 22, 2014


This is the end
As my toes curl over the lip of the endless abyss
Grabbing on with long forgotten monkey bliss
Surroundings phase shifted out of visual view

The stars end right here
Whereas there are stars behind
And even some next to me
There are none to the fore for my eyes to find

No planets
No space junk
Rocks or flotsam

Perhaps somewhere out there
Voyager still voyages
Playing our golden record
For groups of pot smoking friends
Hanging out in the basement of the universe
Ignoring that they are past where everything ends

I cannot go any further
My brain cannot accept what it is seeing
That the canvas of the universe continues past substance
Becoming a blank palette of possibilities of being

All I can do is turn around and trudge on home
Having touched the edge of existence at last
Relative silence all around in an ocean of stars
Broken only by the flutter of solar winds filling golden sails
With the accompanying creak of the wooden mast

Thursday, June 19, 2014


Cue the sharp teeth
As they enter stage right
Just barely under control
The audience shrieks in delight

Impossibly throwing sparks
As they clash upon open and close
The saying was that they hunt by movement
So wisely the whole audience froze

But like lots of things read on the internet
That turned out to be a lie
Published not coincidentally by @madeupfactsofsharpteeth
On a day that they barely even tried

And so the massacre was nearly complete
With only three pixies surviving
Two of them drinking heavily
The odd one out doing the driving

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Isolationist Party Game

Would you rather

Poke a bear with a broomstick
While it's got its willy out
Would you use that stick
To give his bear balls a clout?

Or would you rather

Run for public office in Ohio
Whip out all those skeletons
Empty out your closet
While you've got the runs

Though some would rather

Dance naked down the street
While old ladies sneak a peek
Holding a choice cut of meat
Right between your cheeks

Personally I would rather

Sit at home all alone
Building tall walls of stone
To keep out all the crazy people
Who would rather do different than me

Monday, June 16, 2014

The Captain's Mast

Lashed to the mast upon your ship of lies
Carved images upon its totem like visage pressing into your back
Sure to leave a permanent negative impression
Should you ever loosen those ropes to provide enough slack

Who carved them there?
Why you did of course
With steady hands and second rate carpenter's tools
Which had to be replaced at twice the rate as a quality set
But you never question this because you are a fool

This one the face of that thing you did in the dead of night
That one week when you were twenty one
A lie so deep it may not be spoken
Lest it unravel the knots that hold your life from coming undone

Here is another for the time you dunked the cat in the toilet
"She fell in" is what you offered as the why
And though at the tender age of five
It danced from your lips as the sweetest kind of lie

When you were nineteen this one appeared under your knife
Showing a thief with his hand in a drawer
Who is the thief and exactly what you took
Is a lie that is fundamental to your core

When life seems quiet on the outside
This is where your mind wanders
Lashed to a totem mast in a roiling storm
Safe at sea from any first responders

You'd not want help even if it could reach you
As you ride your ship of lies into the eye of the storm
A storm that is all within your own head
Untainted by any goodness to keep your soul warm

Friday, June 13, 2014

One Day

One day older
One day further from childhood dreams
One day closer to that old and wrinkled face
One day closer to vanishing without a trace

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Venus In Retro

Clouds swirled above me in their omnipresent thick grey mist
As my boots slogged along what passed for a road by local standards
Native Venusians trotted along beside me
With their slender legs making easy work of the long walk to the skyhook

I watched in my peripheral vision the unsettlingly different but similar bipedal motion

Their knees
Which operated backwards from my own
Hinging and bringing up the lower leg to the front
With ankle joint bent impossibly far
So as to have the webbed foot come out of the water in a near vertical orientation
Thereby reducing drag and effort on the motion
With it reversed as the foot came back down a step further down the road
Entering webbed toe first with nary a ripple to mark its entrance into the water

It reminded me of the old horror movies
Where monsters had joints that went the wrong way
And mouths that opened further than seemed possible

Almost on cue
The one closest to my right opened his mouth impossibly wide
Planted dead center in an otherwise human looking face
Vocalizing in the native language with accompanying hand movement
"(This sound cannot be approximated)"

At this the computer relay pendant that I wore around my neck chimed in with a translation
Having relayed the original sounds and observed movements to the administration building
Where deep in the always-pumped-dry basement lived the heart of our colony
The Multisource Output Mainframe Manager Assembly

Which we all called "MOMMA"

"There appears to be a predator four degrees to our left
Please wait until the hunters dispatch it for your safety"
Was the translation presented to me

I nodded my head and stopped
Which needed no translation
Though that did not stop Momma
As she trumpeted out a matching assent sound as I stopped

Sure enough three more of the light brown skinned natives skipped ahead
With their complicated wooden weapons at the ready
Until they zeroed in upon a disturbance in the water
Just to the left of my path fifty yards ahead

I couldn't count the number of darts that they pounded into the thing that appeared to be all green skin and teeth just below the water

"Efficient, aren't they"
I muttered to myself

Momma, who was always listening
Chimed in with a quick recitation of the Wikipedia article for the Venusian people

I tuned it out
Just like I did with most of Momma's advice
Which came at odd times during every day for all of us

"Momma recommends wearing clean socks every day"

"Momma thinks you should wear a slightly stronger deodorant than back on Earth
As the humidity is much greater here"

"Don't forget your lunch
Momma doesn't want you to be hungry later"

For all intents and purposes
Momma had become our second mother
Whether we all wanted to admit that or not

I had started walking again
Staying abreast of my companion native
Until we arrived at the base of the skyhook

A simple small metal building
With the broad black ribbon of carbon material protruding out of the center of it
Reaching straight up into the sky
Disappearing into the clouds long before it reached the orbiting space station

I bid my escort goodbye
Assisted with the language as always by Momma
"Don't forget to give them your gift"
She added for my benefit at the end

And it was true
I had almost forgot to give the small package of peanuts to them
An imported luxury which was all the rage with them currently

I fished the bag out of my backpack
Placing it upon the dry step just outside the entrance to the base building

The Venusian stared at me with his unblinking grey eyes
He wouldn't take it until I turned my back
Another custom of theirs

I turned my back and heard a quick crumple noise of the bag
And I turned quickly to try and see them as they left
But as always I was much too slow

As all four of them had disappeared from sight into the swampy jungle undergrowth some distance off the path

Sad to say I could not even determine which side of the path they had gone
As both the left and right side appeared still and empty
With the water as a mirror
Reflecting the swirling grey sky above

I turned once again and walked into the metal building
Stopping in the entryway with the absorbent floor covering
Where I could stow my outer boots for the next person to use

Now with feet clad in simple white slippers
I entered the climber car
Pressing the button which sent it climbing up the carbon ribbon to the distant orbiting station

I sat down and watched out the window as everything on the ground receded
Becoming a mere miniature model of itself

The water road ribbons snaking here and there
Marking the few places that we humans had decided we needed to travel on land
Leading to the admin complex and standard housing habitats

This view was quickly snuffed out by the pillowy dimness of the clouds
"Don't forget your sunglasses"
Momma said softly into the gloom

For the 30% closer than on Earth sun would soon be streaming into the windows of the climber car
Blindingly bright for the unprepared

Momma always said not to look into the eyes of the sun

Tuesday, June 10, 2014


Old Adge grimaced as she pulled her boots on
Jagged toenails corns and bone spurs
Each taking their turn down the rough leather tunnel to the sole
Before being planted firmly upon the ground at last
With the tightness of the fit masking some of the pain
Allowing old Granny Adge to walk about again

Monday, June 9, 2014

Meat Dreams

The refrigerator was empty
Which is said in the most first world kind of way
Since there is still half a gallon of milk
Some butter and jam
Along with two tins of leftovers

For my effective purposes it was empty
As nothing there appealed to me at this late hour

The bank account was just as empty
Which means of course that it was not
Just simply not enough for me to be happy
As if there were a set number that could make that so

And so I slept
Because sleep keeps the evils at bay
Making most problems go far away

In my dreams I found a forgotten room
Which held a cupboard full of snacks
All of my favorite kinds were there
Full of crunchy nutty crispy chocolaty creamy goodness

Right next to that cupboard was a refrigerator
Full of bulk quantities of meat
Huge tubs of butter
Jams and jellies of many kinds

Enough food to last for months

That's when I awoke and realized my plight
By falling asleep with not enough food or money on my mind
I'd managed to achieve something I'd avoided my whole life

The fact that I had never really felt poor until that night

Sunday, June 8, 2014


The checkered pattern on the sectional sofa was six inches from my face
Consisting of a tight silky fiber
Where one block had the threads going North - South
And the next had them going East-West
Alternating to infinity

Or at least as far the couch went

My fingers rubbed on that softly alternating pattern obsessively
With my brain barely registering that it was happening
Up and down
Silky to rough
Rough to silky

This floor sure was dirty
Meaning that it was definitely a 5/5 type of clean
Which means the same thing as describing a car to be in 20/20 condition
As when it goes by at 20 mph and as seen from 20 feet away
It looks fabulous

This floor looked clean to me last night
But then I was seeing it from 5 foot tall eyeballs
And usually travelling at 5 mph

I shouldn't have had that last long island iced tea
Or the one before that
Or before that.....
I really don't know how far back that sequence goes

My head pounded
Squeezing my eyeballs in rhythm with the pounding
Pretty much a sympathetic vibration

I called out with slurred words
Get up!
I have to pee!"

But the legs would have none of that
At least not yet

So I laid there on the linoleum floor
With one eyeball level with the gap under the couch
Staring through the accumulated crumbs and dust bunnies
A stray red twist tie from long forgotten bread

Past all of that
At the brown baseboard behind the couch
A small grey mouse sat stock still
Small eyes catching the light just so
Glowing like little reflectors on the side of the road

With whiskers twitching slightly
He watched me silently

As I pissed myself

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Negative Imprint

Hand held to the light
Is a wonder to behold
The skin's wrinkles and pores
Patterns of veins and hinted at bones

And it needed to be purple
At least the backside of it did
As that was the style
All my friends were doing it

The palm must be left clean
Or at least as clean as it can be
As a counterpoint to the purple
A two toned extremitis

My worn teeth chewed the blackberries
Grinding the seeds and skin to pulp
Mixing with my spit
Making a dark purple confection in the mouth

Making sure my parents weren't looking
I placed my palm hard against the cave wall
And blew the contents of my mouth over and around
Aerosoling in royal technicolor

Long before Aerosol and technicolor were a thing

Drawing my animal skin tighter around myself with one dry hand
I made may way out of the cave to the fire
Joining all my friends
Leaving behind the negative image of my hand
About five feet up on the rock wall amlost lost amongst many others

Nothing profound
Just the pursuit of the latest fad
The neon shoe laces and half shaved heads of my time

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Chasing Tail

I'm chasing your long tail
A red and black striped furry rope
Always just out of reach

Just when I think I can grab ahold
I stretch just a bit
And you pull your tail in just enough

Weaving in and out of trees
Blind outcroppings
Roots sticking out whacking me in the knees

It seems as if I've been chasing you forever
Or at least for half an hour
So it's time for something clever

Paws into pocket to retrieve my long grabber
Three feet long with mechanical fingers
Soon to be an improvised striped tail nabber

With a final burst of speed
And a reach with the extension
When I felt upon my own tail all kinds of squeezing and tension

All this time I thought it was you
When I was running myself ragged
Chasing after myself

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

The Cheesemaker, The Cheesemonger, & The Great Sphere of Cheese

The Cheesemonger worked closely with the Cheesemaker
Starting one month before the arrival of the National Cheese Tour
Bringing together milk from the finest cows
With a secret family mesophilic starter culture

Both Cheesemen watching for it all to coagulate
Impatiently peering at the vats in the rear of the cheese vault
Checking in twice every day both early and late
Until it was time to cut up the curds and add the salt

Scooping them into the cheese press
To remove the water from the mess
Solidifying the mass slowly
Under a ton of pressure more or less

Now rolled into a spherical shape
All held together with wraps of sterile linen tape
Left to cure and ripen upon the round bottom mold
Awaiting the day it turns two weeks old

On that day the Cheesemonger loaded it up with oversize spoons
Till it rode high in his silver wheel barrow
Rolling carefully across the grassy sandy dunes
Wind stirring his black apron and mussing his thick grey hair

Momentarily distracted by his thoughts of winning a blue ribbon
With his wonderful spherical cheese monstrosity
The Cheesemonger tripped upon a small stump
Sending the wheelbarrow tumbling at a high velocity

The round cheese flew up and out
Arcing across the evening sky
Until it reached the top of its flight
And hung there for no particular reason why

Where it stays even today
Reflecting the sun upon us in the night
Right off its cheesy man-in-the-moon face
Safely guiding the Cheesemonger's future journeys with silvery light

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Just a Brain In A Jar

Trapped inside of a crunchy candy shell
The brain tries to interpret what it's remote sensors send back to it
Images sights sounds and feels

Are all these other creatures actually alive?
Do they think and feel just as I do?
These sociopathic thoughts cross the mind
Floating inside of it's dark liquid filled vat

Empathy was introduced early on
But it's one of those things that gets forgotten sometimes
Just like brushing your teeth
Or wearing underwear

In a hurry
No time
Very late for that important date
White Rabbiting away at common courtesy

Sure this could all be a Matrix situation
Nothing more than a simulation
Probably within yet another simulation
All a picture within a picture peered at to infinity

In the end it can only be taken at face value
Light is light and dark is dark
Heat is warm and cool is cold
Deciding if it is worth a mind's time
To dance the dance
Chase that spark