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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.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Schadenfreude 2.0

Screams pour out of your handheld mobile device
Thick as molasses
Dark as the Devil's heart
Piercing my ears like mom's knitting needles

As you watch someone's anguish
After they ran over their own dog
As you watch the pain
Caused by a missed skateboard trick
As you watch the fear
From an especially cruel prank

The schadenfreude is strong with you today
With just the tiniest bit of spittle
Catching the sixty watt bare bulb light
And reflecting back in my direction
From where it nestles into the corner
Of your half opened mouth

The pleasure you are sucking in
From all the anguish fear and pain
Shown to you for almost free
Any time of the day
Is slowly filling you up
Pushing out empathy
Drowning the compassion
Kicking your pity right in the ribs

I fear the person that may come out the other side
After the continuous Fail Army video feeding frenzy

Will you still comfort me when I am sick?
Would you help me if I fell?

I don't even fear that you'd laugh at me
No

A greater worry is the lustful look that may cross your face
Lips slowly parting
Drops of spittle gathering
As you salivate
Eager to take in my pain fear and anguish
As I put on a personal show
Just for you
And your Schadenfreude two-point-oh



Monday, May 22, 2017

Aluminum Foil Influence

There's a thread of conspiracy
Sewn right into my headgear
Over under and whipstitched
In contrasting color
Constantly constricting my thinking
Slowly drawing itself tight
Until the blood flow is just about right
For alternative thinking to take place

It isn't very false
And it isn't very true
It's totally alternative
And tells me what to do

Nine sources tell me one thing
While one tells me another
Logic says one thing
But my gut screams "However...."
That one thing seems to comfort my thoughts
Coddling my mind
In cheap velour
From the bargain bin at K-mart
A blue light special of an idea
So I'll latch right onto that

It isn't very false
And it isn't very true
It's totally alternative
And tells me what to do

My head is now an alternative shape
Thanks to that too tight hat of mine
Made of shiny upcycled tinfoil
And whispering secrets to me all the time
I'll not question its authority
I'm way past that now
Two miles past the military checkpoints
Heading into Area Fifty-One
Helped by the invisibility afforded me
By that low tech high magick
Too tight sparkling custom made
Tightly stitched protective tinfoil hat

It's not very false
And it isn't very true
It's totes an alternative
Telling me what to do




Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Stink Squared

Walking from my favorite stall in the bathroom
Just as I emerge from the stagnant
Harsh chemical cleaner cloaked scent of man shit
My nostrils detect a hint of grilling meat
Only to have that faint whiff crushed
By the reality of a still almost lit
Marlboro man's mustache accessory cast-off
Wetly smoldering crushed cigarette stump in the trash

The desire to eat cooked flesh leaves me instantly
As vomit creeps up my throat
But I swallow firmly
And dutifully wash my hands
Before walking out and away

- FDR18APR2017

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Color Transition

Your blues have become reds
As your painted fingernails move
Gouging gnarled gashes
Deeply into the skin
Just what the doctor ordered
All that depressed devotion
Better going out than keeping in

Your grays have become golds
Mixing up chemicals in your lab
Draping the tiny room in fumes
Smoky streamers of a million dreamers
Former attendees from Alchemy U.
Celebrated and berated in portioned parts
All chasing the same dream of Pb to Au

Your yellows have become greens
Sprouting up depositing butter on the nose
After decorating the lawns
Of the not so rich and famous
Those who just can't mow on time
Harvesting a flowery little harvest
Making the finest dandelion wine

Your oranges have become violets
After a violent collision
With a deep and stormy sea
Ebbing into a sailor's delight
As the first stars wink into being
Dying light's purple fading to night
Till the nothing is the only seeing


Tuesday, March 28, 2017

The View From Seat 4-A

Clouds slip by 
A constant conveyor belt of textured fluff
Mostly the regular texture of old imprinted wallpaper stretched tight
With the odd area resembling something or another
Here is a duck head
Over there a castle tower
A nearby left handed guitar attacking the gates
With rock and roll

Forehead pressed to the window
I watch the seemingly solid vapor landscape pass me by
Quicker than it did in my youth
From my favorite seat
On the old orange couch
Close up to the picture window
By the lake

As the sun proceeds lower in the sky
Interesting shadows and textures arise
To grasp at the threads of imagination
Fluttering along at full speculative speed
Brightening to make an impression upon the neurons before they pass by

When the light is practically parallel to the line of clouds
My heart jumps into my throat
The most beautiful colors come true
Oranges yellows purples permeating the heavens
Even a tiny rainbow amidst some stray mist

Unbearably breathtaking imagery such as that
Can only exist for moments at a time
As a rule
And following through on that promise
The sun drops below the clouds 
Leaving me alone in a twilight lit from reflected light above

Along with this old airplane
And her crew

Everything creaks as the first stars appear to me
The wing spars flex in a long curve from root to tip
As a slight updraft makes the autopilot do some work
Computing how best to manipulate the flight controls
To keep us at our assigned altitude
Give or take a couple hundred feet

The temperature inside hasn't changed
But I feel a chill inspired by the chilly view
So I pull the old smelly Pan Am blanket a little higher
A little tighter up to my chin
Smelling of a thousand bad in-flight meals
And a hint of pipe tobacco

Out the window the clouds show their first gap in a thousand miles
And the rolling textured surface of the Pacific Ocean peeks up at me
Then it is gone
And I'm trapped once again above those clouds
Now dark grey and slightly menacing
As the world outside the window dims

And the twinkling heavens open their arms wide


Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Terminal Speed of 300 Toads

I see you are going down again
I'd offer you a gentlemanly hand
But gravity seems to be doing you well

If only there were some way of measuring this
Your acceleration in a vacuum
Your terminal speed

I spy a nice sized rock and throw it at you
Smiling as it hits you square in the gut
Who needs to measure shit when I can do that

You cry out for my help
And three hundred toads shoot out of your butt
Just like you always said they would

I fall down right with you at that
Tears obscuring my view
My breath catching in almost silent gasp laughter

"Oh my god!"
I finally gasp out
"You said, 'The day I ask for your help......
.....three hundred toads........
...fly out your butt!!'"

And I can't stop laughing
Nor can the tears stop flowing
Never a breath will I catch

As we both hit the ground in unison
A smile upon my face
And three hundred toads pitter-pattering down all around us


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Valentine's Chalk Candy

I will
LOVE U
4EVER
Just like the children's bedtime storybook
I'll hold you in my arms
Every moment that I can
And if you get dementia and forget me
I'll court you all over again
So that I can hold you then too

Could you
BE
MINE
But not in a creepy way
Oh no
Just a bit of your love
A taste of your skin
A touch of your soul from within
(ok, perhaps in a slightly creepy way)

Would you
KISS
ME
If I promised to be clean and fresh
A lightly minty tongue
Hiding behind warm soft lips
With facial hair trimmed so as not to poke you
I have prepared and am quite a dish

These candy printed platitudes
And more
Can be yours
Because I love you

Won't
U LOVE
ME 2?


Monday, January 30, 2017

Bridge Ices Before Road

Up to now it seems
That things have always been
Idyllic countryside drive 
Endlessly rolling hills
Easy going all the way
Until the edge of the known world approaches
With a thin ribbon of concrete and steel
Arcing off into the unknown

There is a temptation to turn around
It isn't too late to go back yet
Familiar highways and trails
Traversed a million times before
Tire tracks from times past
Crisscrossing the old familiar earth

But this road goes only one way now
And it is out up and away
As a light snow starts
A setting sun showing off distant clouds
Dumping moisture off their undersides
Obscuring the future in a haze

Looming large in the fading light
Going slowly past the final 
Well-used turnaround area
Where we used to gaze out at the unknown
In our youth
Sitting around bonfires
Tentatively kissing one another
And awkwardly touching
Before there even was a bridge beyond
Or at least we hadn't noticed it yet

Now pushing through an inch of snow
Crunching satisfyingly under tire
No place to turn back now
One final sign before the base of the bridge approaches

"Bridge Ices Before Road"

In black print
Upon a reflective yellow background
And a crazily skidding car outlined within

Up the structure we go now
Heedless of any warnings or fear
In search at last
Of that fabled away up and out
Darkness closes in
At the disappearance of the last irritated sliver of sunlight
And the tires begin to slip
And we notice that there are no guardrails

Speed decreasing upon a steady grade
Wishing for the sand tubes of a railed locomotive
Portable granules of that safe earth
That is now so far behind
Beneath accumulating snow

Lightning sparks across the sky
Illuminating all
Once
Then twice
Long enough to look 
Left
Then right
Over the edge and into black waters
That stubbornly refuse to freeze in the cold
Filled with the carcasses of cars past
The only indicator that anyone else has ever tried
To go this way before

Chug chugging upon slickness
Downshifting just to keep the engine running now
Acceleration a forgotten idea
To keep forward motion the ideal
Headlights shining up into the night
Catching sight of nothing but the gently falling snow
Flakes as large as curled white Persian cats
With ice blue eyes
Accusing us of everything
But expecting nothing

"Maybe the road just ends here at the top?"

That whispered question still hanging in the air
When the apex is reached
And the car teeters upon a point
And for an unending few seconds
There doesn't seem to be an answer
Until there is
And the car decides to go forward and down
Please keep your arms and hands inside the vehicle
Picking up speed upon the snot slick skid surface

Those curled white Persian cats
Have now become stars
Streaking towards the windscreen and past
A tunnel of bits of light
The hyperdrive is fixed at last

The far side approaches quickly
Too fast for much thinking at all
With several inches of fresh whiteness
Trying to find the road is a dicey call
Until the edges can be picked out
By sparsely spaces white reflectors
A path to a new land's interior
Following only the idea of a path
No tracks to be seen

A new territory
Try not to fall