Let me open this entry with a quote from someone else. That seemed to stir up a lot of feelings the last time and why pass up the chance to do a little stirring this time.
In my recent reading I came across this piece that struck me profoundly. I know nothing about it, but perhaps some of you do. Just from reading it, I get the impression, that it is part of a much larger piece but I could not be troubled to research it. It reads:
Carrying Capacity A man said to the universe: “Sir, I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.” -Stephen Crane, 1899.
With this in mind, I humbly submit these two pieces.
In Defense of the Old C.B.
I am the one you see picking up a lone penny in the parking lot I wear the same boots day in and day out They are all I have.
I fix an old thing And don’t buy the new, If I can help it.
I hate wasted food And move from room to room Turning off lights as I go.
When I warmed myself by the fire I was thankful for junk mail It was heat I didn’t have to buy.
I wash my clothes When they need it Washing them too much wears them out
I buy a lot of army surplus The stuff lasts forever and I’m found of pockets and khaki + green are my favorite colors.
Don’t get me wrong I am free with my money I might be referred to as an “Easy Touch”
I am a heavy tipper I buy leather jackets Because I know, with care, my grandchildren can wear them.
I have no problem with buying the best And ponying up plenty of cash, If I know it will last.
I have been cold I have been hungry I would wish it on no one
Paul Newman once said “You ever been hungry? Not just ready for supper,
But really hungry? To where your belly swells? You’d eat dog and fight for the bones.”
I find hunger to be A powerful teacher Make no mistake.
I count my blessings And pray at every meal It might be a long time ‘til I eat again.
My wife tells me I have a depression-era mind That bothers me none, If I pay my bills on time.
So here’s to the Cheap Bastards Ignoring Borders, Breeds and Birth Scrimping to the last,
Though they come from the Ends of the Earth.
This is of recent musings and was only committed to paper for the sake of this forum. I make no claim of being even slightly profound. This is just one of those things that Big Orange and I have been tossing back and forth for some time.
This next piece is something that I have been contemplating since High School. This, like most of the stuff I write, is of no redeeming value, at all.
Ode to a Well-Timed Piss
There should be songs, poems, and sonnets Dedicated to me: a well-timed Piss.
A Blessing From Pope to Pauper.
No inclination is more universal.
Some crave for love, Some crave for food,
But all are familiar with Me.
I strike all Drinkers From water to beer to tea
But when the time comes around, And the place can be found,
All have unspoken praise for Me.
Please, Dear Reader, treat these humble submissions in the spirit that they were presented and if you find that you have any true taste at all, Please, Please, write something better.
this is taken from Thomas and the Magic Railroad.It's actually a song and quite beautifully sung by a light n' airy soprano. I include it here because it's delightful and worth sharing for those who haven't heard it.
I KNOW HOW THE MOON MUST FEEL
I know how the moon must feel Looking down from the heavens Smiling at the silly things things We put ourselves through Missing magic each day And not seeing the wonder That’s how the moon must feel
I know how the moon must feel When he makes someone happy That’s a feeling I would feel When you smile at me I’ll be floating on air I’ll be beaming with wonder That’s how the moon must feel
The Princess and I have a mutual "friend" (she would use the term much more loosely than I, I fancy), A Certain Red-Haired Person Who Shall Remain Nameless (ACRHPWSRN) who we used to be close to but whom we never hear from these days, despite multiple calls, postcards and whatnot. I've begun making up parody songs to sing on his answering machine. here's the first, sung sometime after Christmas:
(sung to the tune of "Someday Lady You'll Accompany Me" by Bob Seeger)
Was The Hues Corporation on to something? Is this song relevant to your life? Discuss...
So I'd like to know where, you got the notion said I'd like to know where, you got the notion to rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby rock the boat, don't tip the boat over rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby rock the boat-t-t-t-t
Ever since our voyage of love began your touch has thrilled me like the rush of the wind and your arms have held me safe from a rolling sea there's always been a quiet place to harbor you and me Our love is like a ship on the ocean we've been sailing with a cargo full of, love and devotion
So I'd like to know where, you got the notion said I'd like to know where, you got the notion To rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby rock the boat, don't tip the boat over rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby rock the boat-t-t-t-t
Up to now we sailed through every storm and I've always had your tender lips to keep me warm oh I need to have the strength that flows from you don't let me drift away my dear, when love can see me through Our love is like a ship ..........
I have been trying for about three WEEKS to write some poetry for a contest thru the Jax Public Li'berry. I have failed and failed over and over again until yesterdiddy, when my Muse, Frank, buzzed up and whispered two words in my ear. Then he shoved his cigar back in his mouth and flew off on his lil' faerie wings. Here's what I think he wanted me to write:
the old fisherman searched the vast storm torn shoreline seeking what he lost
wind plaiting his beard water rims his ice-blue eyes as thoughts crash like waves
from the sea she came brilliant, shining like birdsong stepping through the tide
she stripped off her coat let her hair flow down her back and stretched up her arms
seeing her fay face he felt breath within him catch dreamed of what could be
she did not spy him steal up to her dropped wrapping carried off to hide
he called her Jenny placed gold ‘round her finger held her to his heart she was to be his though a wistful wife she made looking to the sea
when she found her pelt hidden deep in his sea chest she felt her heart rise
returned to the sea he was left to watch the waves take his selkie bride
this actually swam up to me at 3 am on monday when i was trying to get solenbum back to sleep. sing it to the tune of the wiggles 'my pirate school'
thumb up my nose, what is that dear? that is my nose pick-er, give me some beer! nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
hand down my pants, what is that dear? that is my ass scratch-er, give me some beer! ass scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
glass to my lips, what is that dear? that is my rum swill-er, give me some beer! rum swill-er ass scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
blind in my eye, what is that dear? that is my patch wear-er, give me some beer! patch wear-er rum swill-er ass scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
your treasure chest, what is that dear? that is my chest pinch-er, give me some beer! chest pinch-er patch wear-er rum swill-er ass scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
filth from my mouth, what is that dear? that is my swear word-er, give me some beer! swear word-er chest pinch-er patch wear-er rum swill-er ass scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
wench on my knee, what is that dear? that is my tit grab-er, give me some beer! tit grab-er swear word-er chest pinch-er patch wear-er rum swill-er butt scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
blade at your guts, what is that dear? that is my sword poke-er, lets end it here! sword poke-er tit grab-er swear word-er chest pinch-er patch wear-er rum swill-er butt scratch-er nose pick-er rink-a-dink-a doo, that's what they teach me at my pirate school!
Thou blank, crisp face with blanks to inscribe, Thou three part NCR form; pink, yellow, white. I tremble with anticipation and sweat with fear. Will I complete you correctly? Will you flow through The twists and turns of approvals and eyes? Will you become the purchase order I desire?
Your fields, unscrutable, I check my codes. The codes, byzantine and nearly uncrackable. Is software an office supply? Or does it have its own code? These answers I cannot divine, only uncover With the help of the toughest teacher: experience As you sail back and forth from clerk to clerk.
Still, a part of you stays with me, the pink part. You rest in my file, chronologically side by side With your brothers in sequential order. I protect you. I bring out the pale copy of the original that you leave behind To defend my word and work against those who stand against me Tyrants in a teacup, holding their rules close to the vest.
Woe to the tyrant who questions your authenticity! For I have copies of quotes and prices! I've followed those rules I was able to uncover and I have written them down to pass on to those who come after me. Oh, yes, tyrant, your empire shall crumble! Your gates will fall. And work shall be done in half the time!
But this requisition shall sustain me. I will sing your number, Again and again until your metamophosis is complete Until your items and services are delivered Until your invoices are paid. Thou shalt remain in the midst of other records Boxed, archived, tallied, charted, reported and closed, And I shall inform my replacement: "Documentation is truth, truth documentation"--that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need know.
It has come to my attention that I don't have much of a gift of brevity. It is simply just not on my list of qualities that were supplied at birth. It doesn't keep me up at night; just that I realized I don't have the basic skills to make a better than average poet, so I declined the oppertunity to join this illustriuos gathering initially.
But then, there is only just so long I can sit by and watch this much fun going on!
So, in the spirit of fun and poetry, I offer these few little gems. They are not mine and the original author/s is unknown to me.
There once was a man named McGlass, Whose Balls were made out of Brass, When a storm was in the weather, His Balls clanged togather, And Lightening shot out of His Ass!
There once was a Bar Maid from Sales, Who had tattooed on her chest, All the prices of Ale, And on Her Behind, For the sake of the Blind, was the very same thing, But in Braille!
A Bear walks into a bar in Boise and orders a beer. The Bartender tells him he can't serve a beer to a bear in Boise. It's against the law. The Bear is beerless and breaks out in a broken barrage of bickering! Breaking barstools and busting bottles and belts the jukebox a time or two. Then, to top it all off, Barrels down the Bar to bite off the head of the feminnin Barfly!! He Bolts it down, Bobbypins and all! " I DEMAND A BEER!!!"Bellows the Bear. Belched the Bartender,"It's against the law to sell a bear a beer in Boise, 'specially one on Drugs." "A Bear on Drugs?!?" Questioned the bothered Bear. "Yea," said the bucolic Bartender"What about that Bar-Bitch-You-Ate?" I Don't have the gift of brevity, I can't write a decent poem even if I had a mouthfull of it but I do know a few dirty jokes.
Okay, I just made this one up. My mind drifted off as I was listening to Santana.
In the yellow room the mother stands. Breasts keen and splendid, kittens purr at her feet. The sunlight gleams upon her she is wise to the world.
Come in to my home welcome, welcome! Don’t be overwhelmed by the strange beauty and the warmth of this dwelling. All through the doors all through the halls.
See the walls with the future written on them?! Caress the wood, smooth to touch and metal weapons, armor to lust. His presence apparent, breathing life in to everything good the spirit here is magnificent.
Enter the garden where the big Buddha smiles burn the incense and stay all day. Sip home brewed tea with magic spices. The garden’s alive and the pond is mild sit here in the shade and love for a while.