A good Cali Girl
I never sully nor smear
Good people at all
I have a so deep respect
To all respected people
Cali is a descendent of Babylonians
She practices necromancy
conjuring spirits of her ancestors
her rituals and spells are world-renown
bullies who misunderstand despise her
they fear her visions and insights
she often foretells what comes to be
This terrifies those who cannot
Ignorance often courts violence.
Cali’s spiritual guides warn her of the bullies
She escapes their ignorant pitchforks
Praying for their spiritual enlightenment
The rooster was in love, thrown off his feed, smitten
He had fallen in love with a gorgeous tabby kitten
The cat in question still lived with her sainted mother.
Don’t date a fowl bird! Warned her prejudiced brother.
The rooster could not stay away from his love’s alley.
He was totally love-sick for this kitten named Cali.
He put on his best suit and a fancy sombrero
Took his guitar and began serenading his cat in alley narrow.
Cali came to the window and began singing with the bird.
This is craziness! You are a baby, said her daddy, Tom Turd.
He told the bird to never come back, and chased him out of sight.
Rooster snuck back with a hack, and the lovers ran off that night.
The solar farms, ugly and large
And props for the wind-induced snarge
It’s green they’re extolling
But blackouts are rolling
And, best of all, no EV charge.
—————
snarge - noun: (military, slang) The remains of a bird after it has collided with an airplane (bird strike), especially a turbine engine.
the furious
beast sought
its luscious feast
spreading everywhere
devouring all in sight
seeking to please
its insatiable appetite
with all that was there
as the charred waste
blanketed the sky
with its smoke’s dye
and gloom’s scorching taste
meshack,
shadrack and abednego
faith is put to the test
no matter where
we would go, the furnace
would be there
denying the weary any rest
from the soaring flames of the west
oh, the fire this time
destroying yours and mine
if there be heaven on this earth
this must be her hell’s inferno’s birth:
though fueled by evil dante wind
the flames of satan will not win.
Former Miss California,
my Cali girl
She’s beautiful inside and out
Her magnetic personality:
bright sunny smiles so attracts me
Cali girl takes me riding
when the surf is high
I’ve fallen into the water
of her warm Pacifico charms
She’s so gorgeous from the outside going in
Politely rejected Stanford,
said she didn’t feel the need to be elite
Moves to her own samba rhythm waves of the beach,
my Cali intellectual gypsy
She’s a down-to-earth woman,
no Rodeo Drive mannequin snob
My Cali girl don’t run with the Beverly Hills crowd
She’s so winsome on the inside moving out
Gave her beauty crown to the runner-up,
said just winning it all, that was enough
Then drove her 82' Mustang into anonymity,
parked her beautiful self
in a lounge chair next to me
Our virgin conversation
gave her the vibe to unwind,
and let her hair down
Just be herself ... with no
paparazzi expectations hanging around
She’s truly beautiful inside and out
So sweet of her to open the door,
allowing me into her world
Now I’m her city Motown guy,
and she’s my country Cali girl
Dedicated to my beloved friend, Kee
IN THE FIRED FURNACE OF CALI
(APROPOS THE ANNUAL RUNNING OF FIRE AND MUD)
Roaring radiant raging waves of heat,
the charging beast, glowing red hot with anger,
devours all within its path; left over sable statutes
send streams of spiraling smoke sketching
grayish designs upon the hazy blue canvas above.
Weary eyes reflect the yellow-orange-red glow
that only the rage of a Dante-like hell could bring.
The wretched earth once again lay hopelessly
on the remnant of her charred bed: awaiting
her steaming tears to wash away the ashes.
In the meanwhile mourners collect scorched
memories: telltale recollections of sacrifices
nature left upon her Vulcan altar.
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