Fifth of November

I failed to remember the fifth of November
So when I awoke to the wails and the smoke
A feeling of genuine surprise was evoked
I'd prepared nothing for this anniversary day
But I need not dismay
For upon my front porch sat a brown wrapped box with a note
It said simply "Join Us"
And when I unwrapped what was inside
I found something perfect in just my size
A shiny new Guy Fawkes mask just for me
Which I donned with great pleasure
And made off to take my measure
Against the bastards who'd chop us all off at the knees
Don't wait up for me and let the cat out at ten if you please

"Remember remember the fifth of November
The gunpowder treason and plot
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot"

Eat at Krill's

Bill is a krill monger
And being someone that sells krill
And is called Bill
He is most often called Krill Bill

Krill Bill owns an establishment
Located upon the sandy bottom
Of the deep blue sea
Where on any given day
You can find my whale and me

Whether it's choppy or calm
We go above and beyond
For the joy and the thrill
That is the cuisine of Krill Bill

Monday is Sour Krill night
With little grilled creatures that make one pucker
Followed by a side of mayonnaise
And complimentary dessert of a Tootsie Roll Sucker

Tuesday's are spicy
With a sauce oh so green
It tastes sweet going down
But then really turns on the steam

Wednesday's are for lovers
With an unwritten rule to bring a date
The krill are served unadorned
Arranged neatly upon a heart shaped plate

Thursdays are for fun
There are board games at every table
Krill are used as game pieces
To be eaten at random
Then replaced when the wait staff are able

Fridays are Thank God It Is night
With imported krill of dark complexion
Served with rye bread and honey cakes
Lined up at the bar for easy inspection

Saturdays are for drinking
Not many krill are actually digested that evening
They get eaten just fine mind you
But when mixed with the copious amounts of alcohol
That seem to magically appear at one's table
It's just a deafening vomitus scream
From most of the patrons if you know what I mean

Sundays are for recovery and confession
For pledges of sobriety
And a reestablishment of our krill obsession
As piles of fresh little kills
Are added line by line to our bills
Which week by week gets bigger and longer
With no appreciable regression

Then the weekly routine starts all over
With all the highs and lows that it does offer
So allow me to recommend to you
I'll not force you against your wills
If you're in the neighborhood of the Great Ash Reef
Take advantage and eat at Krill's

And don't forget to say hello to Bill!

The Censor, a Dirty Picture, and Some Words

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One Thru Five

One is the loneliest number
When that's how many days I've been clean
It's a minor marker on an uncertain journey
While I'm feeling more strung out than I've ever been

Two is the number it takes to tango
A minimum number to cooperate
A buddy to help hide the body
A fellow soul to share one's fate

Three gives you a triangle
Either in love or geometry
Three degrees is damned cold outside
As well as a very shallow trajectory

Four is the common quadruped
Loping along the foursquare savannah
Tweeting his thoughts to the world
And the fact he's being stalked by Jack Hannah

Five is half a decade
The anniversary needing a gift made up of wood
A very pretty buffalo nickel
Which is no longer able to buy anything very good

Now you can count to five
Thanks to these silly rhymes
Breathe in breathe out it's no big deal
Come back tomorrow around this same time

Fake Factoid

In my head are enough facts for a lifetime
Put there against my will
In state run education farms
Force fed a gruel of sponsored knowledge swill

Some of those facts
Are in fact facts
Whereas others are simply assumptions
Following closely by invisible bias
Which things we'd be fools to let guide us

Now in these more modern times
Where plot devices can be foiled with technology
Facts can be double checked
With results of varying variety

I still learn things occasionally
And sometimes they are even true
But sifting through all of them
Is just too much trouble
I'll leave that to you

What's in there is in there
Speaking of my head's factual throng
I don't let it out
Even when it's in the wrong

Too much trouble to Google
Can't afford the effort to Wiki
Let alone look inside Wolphram
The Alpha of the group

My preconceptions preconceived
Growing in the womb of my head
Safe and sound in the same neurons
Into which they were fed

Sometimes it's strange words
Different spellings
Different meanings
Meaning a myriad of things

Dates and names
Facts, events and claims
All swirled together for convenience
Mine not yours I assure
Thus keeping my thoughts shiny and pure

So when you think I'm wrong
Or even a shade mistaken
I'm afraid I'll just stay my course
My faith in me not a bit shaken

Dead Aircraft

On this day
Aerodynamics ceased to exist
All things aerospace failed us
Airplanes dropping to the ground mid flight
Fluttering downward like so many leaves
Already a famous day on it's own
Now an additional addendum to it's title set in stone

Dia De Los Muertos De La Aviacon

Watcher of the Bones Watches Me

All the little white painted faces
Decorated in every color
Floral patterns and curley cues
Both natural and artificial hues

My blood sugar is spiking just looking
But I want one anyways
I ask if these are the kind I could eat
But my spanish sucks
And deciphering the shopkeeper's reply is an impossible feat

Two sugar skulls bump lightly in my sack
One with red petals all around it's eyes
The other with delicate blue patterns
Much the same color as the sky

At home I set them on the table
Ready for November 1st
The Day of the Dead
With two days to go I was thinking ahead

On the next day
Only one day to go if you're keeping track
I picked up the blue one and smelled it
I even licked it a little before putting it back

Maybe I shouldn't eat it
After all, the decoration could be poison
But I can't get the idea out
So I locked in the mental box that all the rest of my bad ideas go in

The Day of the Dead dawned clear
And the idea was out of it's box
The sugar skulls staring at me
All the while I was putting on my socks

I wasn't going to wait any more
I could taste it already
Before I knew it the blue one was in my hand
Heading for my mouth straight and steady

A crunch and a brief sweet euphoria
Followed by the room spinning
The floor impacting the side of my face
As the remaining skull sat there grinning

I was dead
All my flesh peeled back
Laying in my apartment
Lights dimmed with all decorated in black

A spirit hovered over me
Her own flesh gone as well
Skull tilted back jawbone open wide
Sucking in the stars
Fuel for this atomic bone bride

Empty eye sockets regarded me
Speaking into my spirit
"I am Mictecacihuatl"
There may have been more
But my fleshless white boned terror censored it out
And I ran from the after life seeking the comfort of my cold hard floor

But that's not what I found
As I realized where I was
Laying in state in a room wrapped in a hospital gown
Alive and well
As well as can be
After eating a toxic sugar skull on Dia De Los Muertos
Having my stomach pumped
And living to tell
Of the bone spirit who watched over me
Sucking in her stars
Watching me with empty eyes that could not see