Remote Relationship

Darkness

All through the house

Everything still all around

The bare dry wood under the peeling paint

Grey in the moonlight

A faint repetitive sound

Coming from an open window

A soft blue glow lighting the room

Softly repetitive

Small breathing sounds accompanying

A firefly zooms closer

Thinking this light to be some strange potential mate

It is not

It is a nude man

Wearing a headset

Looking at a computer screen

Upon which is a nude woman

Also wearing a headset

Both aroused

Both looking intently at the webcam

Speaking words to one another

Descriptive and loving

Then cruel and hard

There is a certain rhythm

It accompanies the words

And their movements

Disinterested

The firefly flies off

In search of a love of his own

Leaving the two lovers

Separated by thousands of miles

Such is modern love

A Bold Culinary Choice

My nuts

Are Salty

With an intense vinegar flavor

They crunch when you bite them

Kind of filling too

But not too much so

Everything about them

Seems just right

Shaped like almonds

They come in a blue container

Labeled as BOLD

Both the word and the font

Overall satisfying  so I'm told

The punchline here

Would be that I have blue balls

With BOLD tattooed on my scrotum

Alas, it's not to be

I bought these at the store

You're welcome to try some

I'm sure they have more

I certainly can't share these

For this can is empty

When I asked "Who wants some?"

All I heard was a chorus of "ME's"

And I was the only one in the room

I can't believe I ate the whole can

Have a Little Sugar With Your He-Man

Some treacle for your tea

It makes it palatable

Smoothes it's bitter edges

Cooks your teeth

Sitting smugly in their gums

Rots your bones

Gives you the runs

You should really eat better

Pizza every day

That's at least one full pie

Makes you fat

Makes you smile

Makes your tailor wealthy

As he charges by the yard

Finally kicking you to the curb

Pointing the way to Omar's

They make tents and awnings

Eat eat

You are too thin

Skeletor had more meat on his bones

It was the vegetables

They drove him mad

He burned down villages

Just to plant asparagus

And if that isn't evil

I don't know what is

Thank goodness for He-Man

He'll let me be fat

His show starts in twenty minutes

The Dominos guy better get here soon

Half hour or it's free you fuckers

Oh how I miss the '80's

For Want Of Style

I want to be Coleridge

I want to write of Xanadu

But I don’t want to smoke opium

Or be interrupted by a person from Porlock

To wander the North

In search of Service

Poking at the coals of Sam McGee

Still entombed in a firebox locked in the ice

Go left, instead of right

Hacking through brambles

Short on sight

Touched by Frost

Get on my Silverstein

Go to where the sidewalk ends

Peer into the beyond

Sing a song, make amends

Do a Seuss

Rhyme words that don’t belong

Even making some up

To amuse and enthrong

Hack like Morrison
Eat the peyote

See sad strange visions in the desert

Vomit up poetry

Ramble with Dylan

Sing incoherently

Attend Woodstock

Have the Memphis blues apparently

Finding one’s style can be elusive

And is only seen

After you stop trying

What’s left, is you

Out Of Time

I’m stepping out of time

I’m tired of the rat race

I’m stepping out

Stepping back

Saving grace

Looking in from the outside

The universe isn’t so wide

I spread my arms

I can encompass it

It can’t resist my charms

Making it more manageable

I squeeze it down a bit

Not down to singularity

But something close

Something flat

A four dimensional map

Which is okay

It doesn’t hurt my brain

Not in any way

I fold it flat

And take a look at the scene

Past, present, and future

All a united meme

Confusing at first

I soak it up a bit

Then my eyes cross

So I have a sit

My cosmic armchair

All comfy and full of ether

Real Corinthian leather

And just for a touch of class

A drug lord’s beeper

I am a child of the ‘80’s

The universal map

Spread out on a war room table

I touch here

And I’m there

Watching things unfold

A planet dying

A star crying

A nebula giggling

Warring races vying

From my place out of time

I can watch anything

The moment of creation

The progress of evolution

Everything is hands off though

I can’t touch anything

I can’t change anything

I can only watch

I can even see the future

And I’m not in it

Yet I’m everywhere

I don’t know if I like this

Demi-goddery stuff

I fluff up the map

Until it regains it’s universal shape

I’ll let that roll awhile

Pressing the button

On my ether filled chair

A footrest pops out

It’s a galactic Lazy Boy

Real Corinthian leather creaks

I slump down for a short nap

Perhaps a few weeks

Or a millennium

Water the dogs for me

#367 BYON

At the 25% level

Most American Indian Tribes

Will let you apply for membership

To be accepted or not

Being a member entitles you to

Something

I really don't know

To be part of a group at least

Some dream that it gives them money

Or a share of a casino

A door prize headdress

Your own teepee to watch the dawn

By that same logic

Being part French

Might give you a croissant

Or maybe a free pass to the Louvre

Be recognized as part Irish

And get drunk on the house

A complimentary sack of potatoes

Some green cheese for your mouse

It's a shameless outstretched hand

Hey what's in it for me

Not by any real need

Just proving the old stereotype

Of white man's greed

Though that truly knows no color

Born in 1971

Political correctness still in the future

My pedigree papers list four things

One among them "Indian"

Hence the 25%

Although you'd have to wonder

If that means Native American

Or the other "Indian"

With the dot on the forehead

Does it really matter?

I'm as white as the snow

One is as likely as the other

(So white that I glow!)

Maybe I'd want free college

Or a job in the casino

Injuns have airplanes too, right?

Maybe I could work on one of those

But it doesn't matter

A pedigree is just a piece of paper

Easily changed or lost

If I have the urge to immerse myself

I know just what to do

I'll borrow that wigwam

And set up my Weber grill

German sausage, check

French bread, check

Irish whiskey, check

I'm a regular United Nations buffet

Are you coming?

I sent you an invite last week

I'll expect you around three

Bring Your Own Nationality

#366 It's Like Watching Paint Dry

Performing the apply

With robotic strokes

Tom Sawyer would approve

As would Mister Miyagi

Painting the Fence

It's the official technique

And theonly one

Of which we'll speak

Now watching it dry

What a boring ordeal

Best to be done

After a hearty full meal

That way your eyelids can droop

Time will go into infinite loop

And before you know it

It's dry to the touch

Waiting for the inevitable peel

The watch hands don't stop

As long as you wind their spring

As does the seasons

Weathering your job

Whether sitting interminably

Waiting for it to happen

Or walking by periodically

To check on it's progression

Eventually

The cracks will show

The paint pulls up

Curls up

And it's time to con someone

Into doing it again