Blog Archives

Up in the Air

This week won’t freakin’ end,
All the good amaretto’s gone,
Lost the cat on Another Manic Monday—
I know I did something wrong.
Not sure why they shot down my balloon,
So pretty in the clear blue sky—
They say they’ll have information soon,
I just wanna know: goodness sakes, why?
So I see a fair bit of coin has found its way into my bin
Precisely at the time when I dream of seeing you again
So I’ve a modest proposal, nothing up my sleeve;
Thanks for keeping in touch and yes I can breathe.
Perhaps I gotta open a vein,
Gonna really do it this time,
I just can’t go thru this again,
So many clouds at the horizon of elm and pine.
Better try to shift to the minor chord—
An incautious leap into a changed mind:
Love all your thoughts and prayers;
How the masses act so very kind.
But soon Burzek will stroll an aisle;
When once my only friend was Nurse Abby,
But looks like we’re waiting for a while:
What’s the name of your old tabby?
He’s so lost inside this ethyl place
Of his own making
So I seem to be so amazing;
Ain’t anybody here faking.
No answers from an imprudent text,
Who knows what’s coming next.
Chances swarm and the mind reels—
Is this how kismet feels?
Around the bend, around the corner,
Such nights as these I could be a goner.
So here I am at something o’clock,
But that’s not the real time.
It’s just at where in Life’s maze I’m lost
Awaiting a new midnight to fix this rhyme.


Artist Lily

Artist Conjurer

Stand Render

Draw me a picture of

Passion long sore past

Of swift cold winds

From a north cold, fast

Outline the future

Bright or short

Of a Princess bold

Strong from Fablehaven court

Show cat’s curt tails curlicuing

Aloof lithesome beast

Awaiting the master servant

Next hot feast

Wonder with a line draft

Wine glass down and paintbrush raised

More ochre more fire more enscene

The next promise amazed

Just Wanna Go Home

Dead sons of Abraham
3 by 3 in the ground
Take me home
Unloved furbabies
Unclaimed in the pound
Take me home
White House shake up
Wiped the slate clean
Get me home
Peninsula missiles aiming
Making for an aloha obscene
Get me home
It’s the Age of Incompetence—
No one’s in charge
The media will surely report
With Veracity, by-and-large
Just wanna go home

A Wind, Promiscuous

A freshening wind
Promiscuously winds down the creek
Orange-black cat darts under the eaves
Two dead branches low as if to speak

A door squeaks, opens
The firmament is shaken
The cat shrieks

It matters
A grin, a dripping of red pools
Fluttering wings escape
How does the future shape
Our dreams, if only ‘if only’ were so
Old and 60 and alone

A raining morning
Turn around
Floods in Wimberley
One dead, two missing
Happiness cancelled
Rescheduled for a drier time
Happy All Saints’ Eve


You…you puppy!
Yep, I said it. I called him that.
Of course he still would not listen.
Stupid cat.

And On The Thirteenth Day…

The snow had sloughed off from the roof
To pile up beneath her window
Season’s Greetings, and all the rest—
[Even Poet knows not how this’ll all go]

Lost in thought, she looked up,
The new book had washed of distraction,
But seeing the snow inviting her so—
Tobogganing looked like the next attraction

With hooded coat, and all scarfed up,
Melissa dragged out her new sled.
Trudging over to Dead Man’s Hill
She intended to be a blaze of red

From top’o the hill, she surveyed the scene:
She readied for a sure mighty shove;
When grasping her ear, a plaintive cry
Came from the pine tree branching above

Melissa scanned, and looked and looked,
But couldn’t locate the sad wee voice.
So, grabbing a branch, up she went.
[Later, she’d claim she’d no choice!]

Up two and then four and at last ten,
Melissa topped the old pine tree.
There, clinging to a branch, and shivering so much,
Was such a sight our young girl did see

Embracing the trembling bundle,
She slowly made her way down;
Down too steep Dead Man’s Hill
And all the cold way back to town

In her house: “MOM! Come see!”
The child’s sharp clarion call so rang.
Run came Mother, and also Dad
With her two sisters, the rest’o the inside gang

There, in the hamper of knitting yarn:
Shaking between bolts of tan and blue;
A wee calico kitten, slick from snow
Looked up as if to inquire: ‘what’d I do?’

Getting a towel from hallway closet,
Mom burnished the furry ball ‘til dry.
Dad held Melissa and the other two girls
And, of course, they all began to cry

But Mother was sharp, and off she went
With the little furball to the breakfast nook—
And opened up a can of evaporated milk;
Presenting the saucer was all it took

“I guess we can keep her,” Dad opined,
And those sobs turned into peals of joy.
Twas the day after Christmas, so you’ll know,
That the kitten was the bestest ever “toy”

What to name her, was the last task,
To end this story they’d forever so tell.
Well, the choice was obvious, I rather thought:
I’d like you to meet our new cat, NOEL.

Everybody Pistoled Off

Every body is pistoled off!
I mad at everyone!
I mad at you and you and you and you
And him and her and they and them
And it!
I jus wanna fall down, bang my head,
And spit!
And here come my caseworker,
But he don’t know nuthin bout nuthin.
And here come my nurse,
And tells me I’m lazy, I’m no good, I don’t listen,
I’m stupid; I’m non-complement, and bunch other words—
But made it home and the cat’s a wailing:
In “Pure Meow”, of course.
He’s pistoled off too.
Dumb fur ball! You’re non-complement!
Oh Hale, Season’s Greetings!

Sign In

Sign in, click here, and wait
Sign in, click here, and wait
When the page loads it’ll be great
But seems such is not our fate
As the little wheel goes round and round
Goes round and round
Round and round and round
Round and round and round
Do the dishes
Round and round and round
Polish the silver
Round and round and round
Mow the lawn
Round and round and round
Read War and Peace in the original English
Round and round and round
Wash the cat
Round and round and round
Go to the ER [WHO washes cats?!]
Round and round…
Page opens!
But, sigh, there’re no comments:
Feel sadder than burnt toast, holy grommets!
Well, nothing to add right now
Guess I’ll sign back in tomorrow
X out

We Call Him Jack

Meow meow
Let him out
Meow meow
Let him back in
Meow Meow
Fill his bowl
Meow meow meow
I’m just about done in!

Meow meow
Put me down
Meow meow
Pick me up
Meow meow
Scratch my back
Meow meow meow
I really wanted a pup!

Meow meow
Let him out
Meow meow
His highness wants in
Meow meow
Back to the shelter?
Meow meow meow
But look at that grin!

Meow meow
He’s okay
Meow meow
He can stay
Meow meow
Naw, can’t take him back
Meow meow meow
We call him Jack