Sunday, May 25, 2008


Hands down, It needs to end, I'm tired, bored and sore
on call from dusk, til dawn, til dusk again,
screaming I want no more
There's only so much I can give before my mind gets charred,
you'd think I would have picked this up
the first time I was scarred
I need to float away from this, indeed before it's too late
so I can still walk with pride,
forgetting this feeling of hate

tick tock...tick tock...

Not yet,
still waiting
for the day I know that I can
not her
for though she's now gone,
I know I must continue;
live on
but waiting
till I once again can believe
without her
picture floating
through my mind leaving me
for its only her
I see
just waiting
for the grand disappearance
to occur
so that I may begin
again wanting to sense,
to feel
new emotions;
not the unreal

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Shocking Tale!

He arrived home from work late that rainy night and the short walk from his car to his 19th century bungalow had left him drenched. With the current real estate market being in the condition it was he had snatched up that property for a steal knowing full well that there were a few things that needed repair. He prided himself in finding good buys. His soon to be ex wife Kathy hated him for this quality but she'd soon be out of his life. To some the bungalow might have appeared as a discarded soapbox (Kathy) but to Charlie it was a treasure since someday the demand for this type of property in this neighborhood would be high; and he knew it and could wait.
Not only did the great price tag include this shell of a home but it also came along with a few acres, a rarity for sure. Charlie was usually a patient fellow and in the past this same patience had payed off so he wasn't really concerned that the roof leaked nor did he care that the old electrical system needed updating; time and a little cash could turn his investment into a goldmine.
As he was flipping through the days mail and sorting out the bills from the junk he simultaneously was slipping out of his soggy clothes and was thinking about a nice bourbon and coke. After getting about halfway through the mail he decided to go and actually change into something dry and warm. Although patient when it came to some things, he was not at all happy about dripping water onto the new oak floors he had installed in the little entrance way.
Just as he began walking back to pick up the rest of the mail the lights went out; typical he thought, "I probably should have had the electricity fixed first". He headed towards the back of the house where the old fuse box was located and as he approached it he realized that it must have been raining harder and longer than he had thought; the pot he had under the leak in the roof must have overflowed because he could feel the unmistakable dampness of water permeate his socks.
Without thinking he reached to open the fuse box and even though no one was around to see the flash or hear the pop Charlie stood there looking like a character out of a comic book with his hair on end seemingly glued to the box. That night was the end of Charlies dream to ever make good on his latest investment.
A few days after the funeral Kathy was at his house, now her house, when she noticed a stack of unopened mail on the hall table. Next to the table was a wastebasket with a postcard sized mailer sitting right on top and she couldn't help but grin when she read it; the bold type ad read "Our Rubber Soles Save Lives". Kathy literally said out loud " sorry guys, the lack of rubber soles is what just saved my life". You see 50/50 would have been a struggle but now that it was all hers, well, maybe it wouldn't be that hard after all, and maybe now she herself could be a little patient.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Camel Juice

Twinkle, twinkle, little sheik
you think you've got us up a creek
Costs above the dunes so high
like a golden bullion pie
Twinkle, twinkle, little tsar
keep your oil right where you are
If I need to walk for miles
blisters yes, but you'll see smiles
Choices slim, but they are there
don't include your palace chair
Twinkle, twinkle, little prince
thoughts of you just make me wince
It's our fault, I place no blame
but don't you think that it's a shame
For any country to have to
rely upon a petting zoo
Twinkle, twinkle little Prez'
please heed what your nation says.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Ring, Ring, go away...........

Phones, phones, phones, everywhere you turn today there are phones and personally, I believe they are misused. At the risk of sounding like my dead grandfathers grandfather, a decrepit dead fart, I will gladly voice my opinion, even on a phone if need be. As you all know, no revelation, in today's society everyone carries their phone on their person; whether it be on their hip, in their pocket or purse, or plugged into their ear looking like a huge blue palmetto bug about to dig in and make a nest. There was a time when two people were in a room alone and a voice was heard that the other would naturally turn to listen and offer a response. Today however, in the same situation, it is rare that the conversation is aimed at anyone other than a mouthpiece, a portal if you will, not the person you may be with.

You see people on line in the bank, standing at a grocery counter, driving vehicles, landing at an airport, in the backs of churches, I've even been in public restrooms and have heard people speaking from behind doors on the bowl! I don't know about you but I'd rather not have to hear someones blow by blow description of what last nights dinner has done to their stomach; especially as it's occurring! You know how those rooms can echo. Don't get me wrong, I know the importance of a cell phone, I carry one, my wife carries one, everyone I know carries one and it is very helpful and useful at times but there are many times when they are used as a mere distraction; not a need to convey information. Anyone that works or has worked with the public knows that due to a cell phone they have been interrupted in the middle of conversations or transactions while their customer has answered their phone; and it very rarely involves the matter at hand.

How many vehicular accidents have occurred due to these wretched little monsters and their availability? I'm all for the progression of civilization, I would never stand in the way of the evolution of anything, the leaps and bounds that man has achieved since my conception have been utterly amazing but sorry guys, I detest these little ringing nuisances. Again, no doubt, they have their place, everything does, but I feel that these things are not bringing us closer but actually pulling us farther apart on an individual level. We no longer recognize people by their voices or faces, we now know people by their numbers, by their ring tones. I'd be willing to bet that I could pick up someone else's cell phone, dial one of it's contacts, and have a conversation with a complete stranger and they wouldn't even know it was me; instead their brain would somehow make them believe that I was 851-5698, since I'm sure they would answer, "Hi (whatever 851-5698's name is)".

As much as I claim to hate these things and gripe about their misuse, unfortunately I myself am also guilty of the same as I complain about. I've never gotten to the point where I had to talk to someone while on the john, I can draw lines, but yes, I too have used it as a distraction at times. I do however try to curb it's usage to what I feel a conveyance of necessary information. Perhaps since so much of what I do involves using the phone that I try to limit using it as much as I do. Who knows? What I do know however is, if you feel like rebutting this or helping me to understand why I might feel this way about a wonderful addition to our technological lives, tell me face to face or write me, please don't phone me since I probably won't answer anyway.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

You tell me

Mashed words
crumpled note
Cyber nerds
code they wrote
Unhinged door
no brainiac
Lack of rapport
don't mean jack
Cop a squat
near the throttle
Prozac yacht
in a plastic bottle
Hockey puck
slippery ice
A little luck
would be nice
Unwanted whiff
an oily rag
Dirty handkerchief
makes you gag
Supposed prose
what a joke
I must suppose
it's just a cloak

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Clotted roads

An inundated mind becomes muddled
causing confusion as to where to turn next,
which step is right, which walked path will begin
the series of the correct progressions
My filtering abilities seem to be clogged
for the most part and simple tasks now
cause me to be overly cautious which in turn
leaves me too often feeling mentally paralyzed
Maybe I need a new vision, a new purpose
to enable me to let my newly chaotic existence
fall to the wayside and once again start
seeing and sensing an orderly life; like before
"It's only human" they quip, "part of the process"
I've read, but this cannot continue, this isn't me,
at least not the me that I have come to know,
the me that I have become comfortable being
I wish it was as simple as flipping some valves
into the backwash position and clearing the muck
from blocking the way, adding some clarifier tonight
so the morning would bring clearness to to it all