#165 Is All in His Head

The evil Red Robes came into my room that night

They beat me about the head

With a Louisville slugger

Left me in a coma

They figured I was dead

But they were wrong

I was only, well, in a coma

And on that day

They made the weapon of their undoing

I awoke a month later

But I wasn't the same

I could hear what my nurse was thinking

I could move things with my mind

I found that out

By removing my nurse's panties

With my mind, mind you

No hands you see

Of course, that got me a slap in the face

She had zero appreciation for the technique

Only irritation at the results

And I had male nurses after that

Very hairy, male nurses

It didn't take me long to take the long view

And start testing the limits of my powers

I found I could add suggestions to people's minds

They didn't always do what I suggested

I got a slap from a male nurse that time.

But I digress!  It wasn't all about that

I recuperated over the next six months

In both body and mind

When I was finally released

I was ready

Remember I said I could move things with my mind?

Well get this, I could levitate and move myself

What does that equal?

Flying, of course.

Like Super-fucking-man

Oh hell yes

I set out to find the Red Robes

The ones who had attacked

And changed me so

It didn't take a short time

Yes, that's right

Had a little trouble finding them

Reading minds, planting suggestive thoughts, and flying

Are all well and good

And impressive in their own right

But, those things don't turn one into Sherlock Holmes either

Let's just say my detective skills were at the kindergarten level

So now two years into my search

For the dastardly Red Ro.....Hey, ouch!

What the hell was that?

Felt like a bee stung me on the ass......

And, there it is

The twist to my tale

Obvious as fuck too

What a lame-ass story

I'm still in a coma

At LA General

And the Bloods that kicked my ass

Are quite safe, I assure you

No mind powers

I can't even move my hand

To grab the nurse's ass that way

Pretty far from a super hero

At least I'm sort of awake in here

I hear what's going on

I'm sure that won't get old

Or maddening

Or anything

Right?

#164 Rose Colored Memories of Newport

The car

Twenty-two feet long

Forest green

With chrome on it's peaks

Adding sparkle & gleam

Passed into my hands

For the princely sum

Of two hundred dollars

It was missing something though

So you'd know where it was coming from

Needed a face

A tiger's mouth

And eyes

Like from a fighter plane

So that's what it got

It could see where it flies

Super fast

Or super slow

It always was ready to go

Grinning it's frozen smile

Teeth white

Could be seen for a mile

Five hours forty minutes

Meant something then

A run from the capitol city

To a crumbling copper empire

A walk in the park

Didn't even perspire

Laying out on the hood

My friends and I

Watching drive-in movies

At the old M-78 Theatre

Smoking cigars

Crunching junk food

I thought I was king shit

It really put me in a mood

In Copper Harbor

It drove out in the woods

Down two tracks

It never really should

No unwanted excitement

Whatever was asked of it

Some things are just up to the task

Of whatever a 19 year old

Could throw at it

It had it's flaws

But they numbered few

And the day I had to let it go

It was in exchange

For that same two hundred dollars

May it bring them as much joy too

#163 Is Like Other Things

My word

Is like gold

It's valuable

To some anyway

Umpteen dollars an ounce

My actions

Spake louder than my words

Thus were like platinum

Silvery, and heavy

Sort of burdensome

In a way

My thoughts

They were deep

Like shallow puddles

In the street

All it takes is one car

To splash on through

And those thoughts

They are through

My reflexes

Am lightning quick

If lightning were something slow

Like a five minute comedy schtick

Takes a bit to build up

But then watch out

I'll give a sloth a run for his money

I ran

Like a rabbit

That rabbit from the fable

Quick in short spurts

With long naps in between

My eyes

Are like a hawk's

If hawks they wore spectacles

Thick ones too

Poor hawk

Can't fly with coke bottles on his face

My heart

Stays true

It Guides what I do

It's my compass in a storm

And keeps my love

Pointed at you

#162 Craves Rummage

Every garage sale sign I see

My foot creeps towards the brake pedal

I itch to turn the wheel

But then my mind starts to meddle

A day of frantic garage sale frenzy

Might net me a multitude of things

An old book that I’ll never read

Or a box of knickknacks I don’t need

A cache of old magazines

I vaguely remember

To pile in my own garage

To eventually burn someday while on a bender

A small pet cage

For an animal I might get

If only I had the time

I’d even teach it to sit

A board game

Same as I had as a kid

Only missing ten pieces

And a half torn lid

Oooh!  An old bicycle

With a rusted up chain

To hang from my rafters

Just looking at it gives me chest pain

All the things in other’s garages

That I could use maybe, someday

Are better off staying where they are

So I press on, going on my way

#161 Locks it Down

I am the binder

The clamper

The constrainer

The one that puts the dampener

On your fun

I’m the red stapler

That everyone keeps stealing

And you’ll burn the place down for

Leaving everyone reeling

At your cajones

I’m the Man

I tell you what to do

Without explanation

Just because I said to

Drop and give me infinity!

I’m the corraller

I’ll round you up

When you stray from the herd

Me and my herding pup

Git along little doggie

I’m the killjoy

That says you’re too loud

You tell me I’m too old then

I don’t let you see me cry over that

I’m too proud

It probably comes from being coddled

Protected from everything

Likely too tightly swaddled

I just want to be safe

Someone needs a hug

#160 Hank's Hat

The afternoon sun warmly shining

Hank Aaron runs the bases

After hitting another home run

Waving his hat happily

As he rounds third

He lets it fly

Into the hands of a young boy

In the third row

Leaving the stadium that day

His prize clutched in his little hands

He puts the Hat on

Swearing to never take it off

And for about a week

He almost does just that

Only taking it off for showers

And church

All his friends amazed at his luck

After that week

He wears the Hat

But not as often

And keeps it on a special shelf

Above his bed

Until one day

When he wears it downtown

Setting it down on the seat on the subway

That boy leaves it behind

Not realizing it’s gone

Until he emerges into the sunlight

Now far too late to get it back

The Hat

Rides the subway for a few stops

Before a farmer from Poughkeepsie

Sits down, and sees it there

He had forgotten his hat at home that day

So he adopted this one

Even though he wasn’t a Braves fan

Wearing it home to his farm

The Hat soon becomes his favorite

Riding high on his head

As he drives the tractor

And takes care of his animals

Until his wife got him a new straw hat

And the Hat, was set aside

Migrating to the bottom of his closet

And eventually

Out to the barn

Used briefly on the brow

Of a county fair prize winning sow

Making many people smile

Then just as quickly

Set aside again

Falling to the floor

Making it’s way to the corner of the barn

Near an old set of overalls

Destined to be the outfit

Of a new scarecrow

The coveralls got stuffed with hay

The Hat lighted upon a burlap head

Sewn tightly on, to defy the wind, and birds

So with the sun shining down upon it’s brim

The Hat reached the end of it’s days

Seeing several seasons of duty

High up a pole

Upon that scarecrow’s head

Until the weather had it’s way

And turned it to shreds

#159 Worships Internet Jesus

Jesus is the internet

He swallows me whole

On a daily basis

Body, blood, and soul

I can worship him

On a Sunday

Or really any day at all

Every day, is his day

I watch my porn

Growing more perverted by the year

And Jesus is in me

Flowing through me

And out of me

Into this tissue here

Jesus is Amazon.com

He is the Daily Gold Box Deal

He gives me credit

He keeps me real

When I gamble

On the sites from the Caribbean

It's Jesus, who helps me bet my mortgage

That the next roll will be a seven

I confess my sins to Jesus the Internet

As I comment on various blogs

Down with Democrats, Eat the Republicans

Feed their entrails to the hogs

Even as I write this

I'm feeding the Internet called Jesus

Giving bits of data worship

To him that coddles and keeps us

Heaping our creativity

Our greed

Our abbreviations so holy in their brevity

Upon the altar of the Internet

Digitizing my life

Entering 1's and 0's until I cannot stand

Help put Jesus into my life

Holding me in his Tron-like hand

Jesus the Internet, He told me

That I'm on the right path

As I create my spam

To sell my Viagra, or suffer His wrath

From the monastery

Of my workshop shed

The glow of my LCD monitor

Making a halo around my head