New Years’ Plea

Wannabe summers else
Fall into a new line
Get a rented house
That’s all mine
Leave this center
Of pompous lies
Creole up some love
Eat too many alligator pies
Win my own witchy woman
Neath a sly Cajun Moon
Get me outta here man
Before I do sumpthin stooped soon
Hours slow counting down
New Years is right oer there
Open the Mumm’s?
Not sure I very much really care
Just find get a new zip
Somewhere south of I-10
Come on man
Don’t make me beg again
Wanna be summers else
Listen to alligators stalking
Finally finish that cool book
By Mister S. Hawking
If you hear this plea
Text me soon—
Let’s all dance underneath
The next sly Cajun Moon

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Big Daddy

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Virtual Railfan – LIVE
Ashland VA
Wait. . .wait. . .wait, THERE. . .out of the branches!
Engine Engine
Car, car, and car, and car,
Car, car, cars, car, car,
With car, and car, and car,
Plus car, car, car, car, but the
Camera slides smoothly around (COTU? Bruce?), then—
Autorack
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And one more Autorack!
Rats, lost the bet!
Cookies for the other cool kids.
Back tomorrow!
Laters!
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Thanksgiving Pumpkin Pie

A catastrophe of old goslings
Came sauntering on by
Hunting perhaps some pumpkin
Or, maybe yet, a little pecan pie

A horrendous howl of honking
Sliced thru the early morning’s fog
Perturbing the pigs and piglets
Of our farmers: Mr. and Mrs. B. Hogg

Seems our geese were quite giddy
Having been passed over for the block;
So, Thanksgiving would could be grand
For our fancy pastry-chasing flock

Peering perkily from yon copse,
Sally Gossamer Wingstep did risk a look
At the scene of gosling and farm
That rested askew beside the country brook

The winds nappered around from the North
Painting trees and cheeks in orange and red;
Our woodland fairie was on a mission
Having come in place of her ill cousin instead

Beyond the span of the Hoggs’ Farm
A fig tree grew splendid, round, and high
With just the right, rich and sweet fruit
To go in the Queen’s Holiday Figgerry Pie

Sally soared high up the loaded boughs
Selecting the most succulent figs to bag;
Thence to return to the Queen’s Kitchen—
Now weighed sore down, causing her flight to badly sag!

Overloaded Sally collapsed just past the copse;
The goslings saw, then quick-wobbled over to assist;
Flapping wings, cheery honking, and madness
Cut thru the thick new holiday’s swirling mist

Fairie and catastrophe arrived in a tumble;
Hooray, the figs to cook were delivered!
A freshened wind rolled thru the trees
Sending leaves reddening and beshivered

Sally asked how could she ever thank them
As they’d helped finish her mission on the fly—
And there on the morrow, our heroic of goslings
Munched on some of her Majesty’s Best Pumpkin Pie!

Happy Thanksgiving! Don’t forget to have some pie!

Morninglory

So, well…yes
I suppose, I must confess
That I’m just a single simpleton
Never a race I have entered have I won
Not even a single one
Not one
But, once upon a time:
I shall venture with this little rhyme
(Or, maybe a true life’s story)
Of a friend aurora’d in golden glory—
Shall we call her Morninglory
OK then, M’glory
Twas in the frozen North,
Anchoring away such and so forth,
I chanced to follow a fellow swabbie into a shop
Where hot hip transfers are pressed onto one’s top
And oh, my heart did stop—
Full stop
Alas, of course, such a joy couldn’t last
As it happens: the many-many years have passed:
Morninglory had her own full Life’s path to travel,
As I sailed after green seas and trod flat rutted gravel,
Witnessing some dreams coarsely unravel,
Bang, the gavel
Now, upon these here internets
Where youngish oldies can place new bets,
Allowed I was to restart with a believed spent story
And became friends again with my Morninglory—
Never again to be sorry,
Never sorry
So, a Winter wish to all readers of this raggedy rhyme, and so-so story,
That your wishes come true and you again find your own Morninglory

A Simple Question

I was born
The petals of my life flower burst open
My shoots ached to touch the sky
Roots reached down embracing Mother Earth’s hug
Bees came, and I was pollinated
My youngens sprout at my feet
Frosts came and robbed me of my face
Springs return gave me back my voice
And sunshine ruled my every day
And now my old brittle petals close back again
The night attracts with stars and luminous futility
I once came to see and now long for sleep
Withering stems
And low-slung pistils
Call me home to Mother Earth
And I must answer
We all must answer
Because the simple question envelops us
But Nature doth fulfill and fails—
Clover softly calls us to assume fallow
And the warm soil receives our kind

Following No One

I seem to be slouching
Forward onto my hospice bed
But I still remember my name
And I’m sure the cat’s been fed
But I can’t open the Just Tart Cherry
And the shoulder’s crap as per usual
All the Senators have stopped representing
Their polity with a calm and disdain casual
Tracked my keys into the box
Outside the box of what I can remember
Who I am and where I’m going—
I’m sure Fest Acadien is still in November
Pouring the second merlot
They say it’s good for my heart
I should move over to Alexandria
If I’d ever own what it is to be smart
Summter lingers on here is Austin
Need to replace the ac filter soon
I hope the rains pass soon
I wanna to see the Harvest Moon
But I know what’s coming
And I should get ready
But I’m so tired these days
And my thoughts are unsteady
To pack all this important stuff again
Boxes in boxes, memories in stiff cardboard
I had followed her here, a path made easy
But now to move for myself, O Lord
I’ll die here in Casablanca
Or any likely foreign shore
Not ready for the next chapter
Not alone, at least; not anymore
But time to let Jack out into the night’s stew
Hey Mr Tambourine Man
In the jingle jangle morning…

It’s Over

It’s over
No two more darker words
Nor a more potent phrase
It’s over
Stronger so than all those Merry Xmas Days

Finished HS senior exams
Walked to Franma’s house on the Avenue
It’s over
Was all that I knew

A letter came from LS and U
Invited me not to come back
It’s over
Can I ever get back on track

Finished USN Basic
Shorn of more than of callow locks
It’s over
Next mindmuck hiding by Mediterranean docks

Finished Navy School in Waukegan
Where angels walked the floors of supermalls
It’s over
While the terror of the overseas tensely calls

My AMCROSS message whisked me home
Father had died
It’s over
How come I never ever cried

August 26th came and went
Sixth time I drove all the way home
It’s over
In a broken VW lacking any kind of chrome

Failed at Grad School
Coke and sexes ruled the live long day
It’s over
When you’re stupid you’ve nothing much to say

Mom died
Fell and hit her head
It’s over
Is there someone I should blame instead?

Quit the rock and roll band
My wagon had rutted into the insane
It’s over
Time for me to find a new brand of pain

Broke one sure sweet heart
I hold onto all the blame
It’s over
King of Pain my sad sorry game

Graduated Social Work School
But couldn’t find a job gainful
It’s over
So sold stock to buy sound gear to make an earful

At da Leaf met a cool Austin vixen
Things went from kinda cool to pretty silly
That’s all over
But now I get to share in a miracle named Lily

Quit a professional hospice
Respectfully I tried to define Life’s last line
But then it was over
My understanding of a DNR correct not quite in align

So slow approaches my own demise
A child will have to mourn a parent dead
Then, it’s over
I wish for everyone any kind of easier time instead

A Scattering Of Quizzical Looks

A scattering of quizzical looks,
A flurry of meaningful hugs,
Why must my sad lady fair
Scare as if all men are thugs?
More than a pair of kisses &
A small certain of rolled up eyes;
With a hand-to-palm reflex too old—
Ma’am, unspoken thoughts aren’t all lies!
Just gimme some shelter:
Those northern storms boil up so fast.
I’m not very sure your fear and dread
Will all night gunk us up in the past.
Lovely one retired just last week,
Congrats on your monies independent,
But risk a chance with a dancer cheek-to-cheek
Before your tired heart is completely spent.
To those eyes whose tears have shed Afghani sands—
Find your calm and take hold of loving carefully hands.

Theoretical Storms

Theoretical rains
And supposed storms
I know it’s crazy
What odds and a thought forms
When you’re old and lazy
And now it’s just all slowness and pains
And they’ve stopped reading your porms

Lightening displays
And rumbles cross the street
I say watch it
Listen for the sax down beat
You know you’re gonna catch it
But Young Turks loom over newer days
And they’ve taken over your old seat

Suspended sunshine
The streets return a cleaner dry
Come on, let’s go
It’s time to take another try
Lace it up and hit the do’
Kill off two miles and don’t whine
If your goal is to really fly

The Sun Goes Round and Round

Did you see how that sun did sure set
Burning down and turning grass to hay
A fiery heat like in our redhead’s eyes
When things broke up but it’s gonna be okay
Too young to Afghanistan
Too young to learn life’s that dirty
Too young to have to always gear up again
An old old woman before she made thirty

Did you see those high night sparkled skies
Space with just enough empty to hide all the shame
Stars breathless shining down on we the unworthy
Though not so for our redhead who lost the game
Too young to Afghanistan
Too young to sail in the Horror Sea
Too young to fight it over and over again
Another veteran shotgun betrothed to PTSD

Did you see how that sun did early rise
A fresh start promise of another new day
Like the love flowing in a nurse’s pure heart
Floating in a speed boat off a New Jersey quay
Too young to Afghanistan
Too young to become so old old
Too young even if she’s only just fifty
With a sad sad story too often again retold