Q: What kind of boat might a former governor of Texas have used to help illegals get across the Rio Grande?
A: A Rick Perry ferry.
Q: What did the official Vatican CPA discuss with a former Pontiff?
A: Pope Francis' finances.
Q: What is the shudder you feel when you think you've seen a ghost?
A: A phantasm spasm.
Q: What is the best prescription for the nightly news blahs?
A: The David Muir cure.
Q: Who is a columnist who writes about fashion shows?
A: A couture reviewer.
Q: What do you call a really careless guy who accidentally shoots himself?
A: A ballistic statistic.
Q: What do you call a large reptilian predator's temporary replacement?
A: An ad hoc croc.
Q: What is an opera extravaganza in Milan, Italy?
A: A La Scala gala.
Q: How would a waitress explain to a customer why his ham and eggs are green?
A: With a Dr. Seuss excuse.
Q: What was everyone asking when Franz Joseph hadn't been seen for a few days?
A: Where was Papa Haydn hidin'?
'Frisco to Atlanta, D.C. back to L.A.
Chaos running wild in the Land of the Free
Fighting for the right of frustration and greed
We're holding court in the streets
We had to make ad hoc law for the Nazi German freaks
Now just apply the laws to all those confused by geeks
Peace cries out through the masses and their fears
Lighting the fuse of anarchy, ostracizing all that appears
It's a freedom of all amended rights
Closing our eyes to the other side
Saluting the red, white and blues
(I must ask the relativist concerning rules, who's?)
Like Superman and kryptonite and a telephone booth
We've lost sight of (Pilate asks) what is truth
Beware the Sting
beehive
behave
Confused Snitch
tattled
addled
Test Pilot
explains
X-planes
Under Her Breath
mother
mutter
Rents Trucks
Ryder
rider
Hungry Surveyor
steak sauce
saw stakes
Lower Branch
entry
in tree
Indecisive
know way
no way
Football
which ball
your call
Three Syllable Error
acquire
a choir
Correction With Echo
acquire
choir
Analysis Paralysis
ad hoc
tick-tock
Match Point Yessssssssss!
tennis
ten s
Choose Wisely
insight
incite
Power of the Pen
Shakespeare
shakes spear
Save the Bees
believe
bees leave
Pray Without Ceasing
Miracle Man
11/27/2024
You cannot have a meaningful life,
if days are filled with meaningless clock.
If days are filled with internal strife,
you’re busy living your life ad hoc.
On those days, when you find you are stressed,
in prayer seek one who truly cares.
Quickly recall how God has blessed,
He takes our burdens through daily prayers.
Don't use prayer as a last resort,
in every life it should have some space.
Without a prayer life we fall short,
God takes our stress giving us more grace.
The crescent moon and sunlight consumed by the moon’s fullness.
The violin violates the quiet and quaint acquaintance of an eyeful.
The cow, with its rudimentary cuds, could only curse the night.
The bull will not croon its lullaby; he & his Bessy will not take flight.
It’s a circus, peculiar, not meant for sleeping babes in arms.
Infants blink black and white; Chagall’s kaleidoscope alarms.
The angels halt their silent night chorus to weigh in on Bach.
The strum of strings stuck to the ooey-gooey moon ad hoc.
A strange night, indeed, with flying fish - I thrice had that dream.
Marc and Bella sail over the circus-clouds with weathered extreme.
I shall fix upon a romance, most of us stay grounded, perhaps
One leg lifts the skirt, and perhaps the armored chap in lapse
Of selfishness, shows his shining sword, promises to protect
His girlfriend, his bride forevermore with a diamond affect.
Marc and Bella don’t look down to see who’s looking up.
While couples fight for a win, they won’t give up their loving cup.
Exploration of intensity and quadrants, amused in edenic perennial.
Chagall’s, are the canvases I would inhabit. It’ll take a millennial.
Custodian of Apostrophe's Apostle
Who done it, steed?
Who said what's read
between the lines marked
with ad hoc diacritic dashes?
We've come to pay our last respects -
So hard to know what to say next.
It's just harsh truth that we excise
As we convey our last good-byes.
When words alone don't help us grieve
We search for what we can believe.
While facts can foster dissonance,
Emotions field a false defense.
When hate and willfulness combine
Coarse words and actions fall in line
And set the stage for tragedy -
No time to think with clarity.
Teens roaming free with time to spend
Devised a "hit" - with guns from friends;
A drive-by aimed to score revenge
For some "wrong" pride pledged to avenge.
As neighbor's child went out to play
Stray bullets took its life away.
The "mean streets" were its enemy
But grown adults refused to see.
The tales that trend the evening news
Do little more than to confuse -
With homage paid to ad hoc views
They paint a scene with changing hues.
But, we see in their mothers' eyes
An anguished look - they realize
Such grave events can't be reversed;
That day relived as truly cursed.
A mob of crows conflate a raucous debates
with sweet songs.
They gather
on the broken branches of Autumn,
they fill the leafless spaces
that now are only naked windows
for a colorless sky.
An ad hoc hectoring
of dark and light notes shakes a cold wind -
a song sheet for the fallen and failing.
If you watch and listen
to that black-winged rabble
all will turn into the glossy iridescence
of ethereal harp music
played solo upon the few twigs left
within these stark woods.
The humidity is a sodden blanket
over our heaving bodies.
We are climbing through the jungle
to view a temple on top of a mountain.
The exertion is draining us,
I have to nail words together
to form constructed sentences.
Amorphous clouds of vagaries
form miasma's in my head.
I don't even care about the temple
despite my Buddhist leanings
but these evangelical missionaries
are as keen as mustard - go figure.
I thirst for a cold beer, a cold anything.
We are sweating through our clothes
choking in the heat-haze,
but the keen young nurses and doctors
are all for struggling on.
I'm just a follower; a lone Brit
in a happy mob of Americans
thank God they don't all burst into hymnal songs
or call for an ad hoc prayer or two.
At the top
I am wheezing, sweat blinding my eyes
i'm hating these good folks
with a satanic fervor,
though too weak now to curse.
The temple is very old
and it's okay in an ancient way.
I want to sit here and meditate a while
but this forking girl and boy scout tribe I am with
want to explore.
In my mind
I see a laughing Buddha
a Pu Tai figure
rocking back and forth on his fat ass.
*Image of Harper Lee View by SMaga.
To Kill a Mocking Bird
A feared world like a Japanese *macaque,
Terror strikes external, flys the war hawk,
Ricochets Toccata & Fugue by Bach,
As the free world furthers debate and talk,
Astir and toss like in a Chinese wok,
NATO military supplies ad-hoc,
"People protect what they love," -- Cousteau, Jacques,
Ukraine warns hope will run out on the clock,
USA and Russia, the new, **Iraq.
*macaque pronounced; ma-kek, or, ma-kok--I used the latter
**Iraq pronounced; I-rek, or, E-rok--I used the latter
2022 October 06
It's not a prerequisite, of course, but if a piece of writing is any good, chances are it's probably offensive to someone. (Paraphrasing John Irving-A Widow for One Year) So, writer beware...
Words are a writer's stock in trade,
To ply it well requires a versatile,
Not volatile, vocabulary.
With words a writer's claim to fame is made,
But words can have broad repercussions.
So when he writes
He should select them well,
Not just to sell,
But so they don't arouse the scrutiny
Of those guys who comprise Homeland Security
And become the subject of discussions
Of the FBI, the CIA,
The DAR, the DMV,
The IRS, the IRA,
USPS, the EPA,
The PTA, SPCA,
AARP or AAA,
Twitter, NAACP,
The NFL, the MLB,
The LGBTQ community,
The NRA, the PGA,
NASA or the BBB,
Ellen, Oprah, Dr. Phil,
An ad hoc Sunday sermon bill,
Or his city, county, state constabulary.
My soul grasps how to reap life's unique goal.
Style ushered as an epic quest, a stroll
I'm fraught with findings to an ad-hoc probe
Throughout the time frame of our respite roll.
I was spurned by a hodgepodge of light strobe
By then, I knew what direction to throb
A diaphanous shed haunts our capture
In bearing, there is a celestial globe.
It's a matchless range gain from the ledger
Spite the spirit's sharpness, body's rapture
Chiefly have bestowing way, their insight
Dreamer's best stance is his decoy nature
Upon abyss veiled in sheer azure bright
Kernels had been seared by a dreadful blight
The stubborn mindset that stifles their voice
Tethered a faint guide in the shrouded night
Before drowning, our uttermost darkness
Beset by datum, view, knack, and strictness
Our heart's need, masked by a snarling ego
Bold eye buried by a slight abhorrence.
Written: January 19, 2022
Earth Life Purpose poetry contest
Unseeking Seeker
Always the plastic containers,
leftovers maturing stacked in gelid wastes
where pork slumbers among the peppers,
chicken spooning with onions and cabbage.
The polar remains of once tropical meals
transformed into undocumented containers
to be opened far too late.
A curried hash so ad hoc that it could be
the flotsam of a ravenous hurricane.
Zipper bags squelch under groping hands,
carefully wrapped comestible debris
speaks to the eyes more clearly
than any warning sign could.
Dinners and snacks survive
as half-eaten life-forms
buried behind a white doored crypt.
Some, a few only
may be resurrected, only to be boiled
into innominate concoctions
by a cook who once loved them
way too much.
Start from square one
Pick the low hanging fruit
Work smarter not harder
Drill down to the root
Dive deeper going forward
Get a swat team, touch base
Square the circle, value added
Reach out - save face
Game changer, deal breaker
No brainer, ad hoc
Move the dial, close the deal
Plant the seeds, walk the talk
Get the metrics, crunch the numbers
Roll the rock up the hill
Make the forecast robust
And may the variance be nil
Pump up the expenses
Relax from your flap
Keep an eye on the audits
But don’t worry about GAAP
Plan B with your A game
Ahead of the curve
Drink the Koolaid, baked in
Take a risk, get a nerve
Low ball it, blue sky it
Step off the grid
Use buy-in and win-win and
Get a core competency, kid
Manage up, manage down
Then pull up your sox
And at the end of the day...
...at the end of the day…
think outside the box !
Unsullied nuns in a sullen line,
watching us six year old’s.
Again I hear the quacking of ducks
as new brown leathers shoes
creak.
We stepped and skipped,
though skipping was a serious offense
behind the school fence.
What my eyes took in
or let out
I cannot now recall
or what I was, or who all others were.
We were an ad hoc grouping of tabula rasa
jostling to be known.
Blank slates were our minds.
I do not think anyone wrote on mine
or I on any other.
We were almost children,
happy to be unquestionably
engineered
to be good for Jesus.
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