We were on a side quest. I wanted some cool, fresh
cherries to savor as we strolled hot Saint Tropez.
So we were in a grocery store, in the township,
I was pushing a shopping cart along the frozen food aisle
when suddenly my feet flew out from under me and I
took a hard, embarrassing, backward spill.
Peter was shocked - “What?!” He exclaimed.
One second I was up and the next I was on my back.
It was like a lightning strike or a film edit, I was like WTF?
I was in flip-flops and there was a puddle of water.
I was fine, if scuffed up - thank god I wasn’t in a dress.
I got right up, I mean I’m not a 90-year-old lady.
And after a second we walked on, only to be swarmed,
a moment later, by the store manager and his minions
- “Are you ok?” He asked, scrubbing his hands.
“Yes, I’m fine - no, I don’t want to fill out a report”
My left big-toe was swollen and bleeding - so no running
along the beach this morning - now THAT seemed weird.
I guess it was more of a back-side quest.
.
.
A song for this:
Helter Skelter by the Beatles
Trouble Me by 10,000 Maniacs
"I'm bored!" I told my mother
as she stood there washing dishes.
She told me, "Go clean your room,"
but that's not what I wanted to do.
"Momma, that sounds boring—
not much fun at all."
She promptly answered,
"Then vacuum down the hall."
I stomped my foot and shouted,
"No way! Not today!
I want a new adventure!"
How can it be, with all her years,
she has no great ideas?
So I asked her one more time
for something fun to do.
Craving something more,
I said once again,
"I want a new adventure!"
My mother sighed, our conversation over.
Exasperated, she exclaimed,
"I'm not your cruise director!"
Fathers,
You learn from them,
For better or for worse.
How to be, or not to be,a husband.
How to be or not to be a parent when it's
your turn.
There are no books, holy or otherwise.
And religion is all but useless,
It has no moral compass
Holy images on walls,stautes,moving or mute
Never,kept a mother or wife safe in her home.
Respect is basic instinct
One either has,or, hasn't got.
' He'll be on his own yet,'
My mother often exclaimed.
When there was nothing else left to say.
And true to her word;he died alone.
The dark cloud lifted,the light broke through.
The voilens played
The mad lady sang.
And I danced around the grave.
Stuck? Traveling through my minds' quotient
I seek the ultimate of thus an idea
Focusing on the inevitable
Pondering with a thought! A phenomena!
The concept - thought process
Skipped a beat - the forbidden mingle
Exclaimed - exhausted per se!
Flutters with that of a wink and yet too , A giggle!
The block - it's tantalizing drama within
Whispering sweet nothings - A charm! A wit!
The audastic of the ideal in tune with your head
But yet it consumes ideas complex not to fit...
Initiated by his 1848 discovery
the California Gold Rush peaked in '49
at John A. Sutter's Mill
where finding flecks of 96% pure 23 carat fine
in the American River muck
Marshall exclaimed, 'I have found it, it's mine!'
for altho' a carpenter from New Jersey in Coloma
on 24th January he was in luck
and overcome at the site of his find
in total amazement he was orestruck
I don't care really, Wendy,
What she exhorts of me,
As I sit and sing,
Give it my all,
And its lots,
My own concert in the car,
As Godley and Cream sing
Their truly amazing song.
And sure, didn't I Wendy,
Make it my own,
Changing the lyrics to suit,
I'm not not in love,
I corrected,
I'm so in love,
Became my lyrics,
And I recall Gary,
Mr Short,
Kindly reading them,
And he sang the new lyrics,
The ones I'd revised
It's a sweet memory too,
His act,
His brow gently bobbing,
The lyrics sung in his head.
Anyhow,
Once again, I digress.
Hearing them sing,
About to exit the car after dropping off Matthew,
Then Eve and Lara,
And I recall the tea lady,
Encouraged to speak those words,
The genius of the writers-
They couldn't get those lyrics on key,
And she opened the door,
In the studio,
Who
Wants tea, coffee,
Or some such,
She invited...
Eureka!
That's it!
You're the voice we need...,
Godley exclaimed!
Where was I?
Lost again...
Oh yes.
Big boys don't cry,
She intones,
Silly woman,
If she could see me now,
A big boy,
A big grown -up boy
Crying.
Sobbing actually.
Silly woman...
A hypotenusal segment would stray.
Concerned geometers would say, "What way?"
till the brightest of them exclaimed, "Hey!
I think it went from B to A."
In days of old
Those poets bold
Would peek at
A thesaurus
When slyly shamed
Sadly exclaimed
They did it so the words
Won’t bore us
And yet it seems
The best of schemes
Is viewed by some
As witchery
Yet those who do
Are tired too
Of listening to
Such .itchery
LIFE IN ACORNISTAN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a brown-haired squirrel named Stan,
the charismatic, electrifying mayor of Acornistan.
His fur held a most strange zap
“We’ve got to do something ASAP!”
His advisor suggested, “Call in the g-man.”
They summoned a blind man from Bhutan
‘You’re fur’s gotta go,’ he said, his face deadpan.
‘But like Samson, I’ll lose my power
To this static I shall never cower!
You’ve got to have another gameplan.”
‘Maybe some crème rinse or a bit of Dippity-Do*
will eliminate the static from your furry ‘do.’
‘Dippity Do,’ Stan exclaimed. “Just who are you?
Go back to Bhutan, you silly man. Shoo! Shoo!’
‘Stan decreed. ‘No static in Acornistan. Static adieu, adieu!’
The Stumble and Rise Poetry Contest
Back in my military days I was at chapel one Sunday morning and the Chaplain was really getting into his sermon, true story.
THE SERMON
The preacher preached with such passion,
his words he just didn't ration,
he exclaimed that's no s***,
upon realizing it,
recovered in clerical fashion!
RETHINKING FOUCAULT
Just as a verse comes from verses,
a song comes from songs...
Text comes from texts,
Everything comes from the whole,
nothing is just an extract
of what already exists and has...
Everything is in place... and just copy and paste...
Of course, transforming, assembling
the story to taste...
But the new fact doesn't exist
nothing exists new...
But there is knowledge,
the innate talent!
Archimedes, renowned scientist
exclaimed his Eureka!
upon finding the "solution"
to a complex proof,
in a general field or mathematics...
Later, in a less long-lived stage,
well before the calends
Shakespeare, the theatrical wizard,
confirmed this missing piece for us!
A non-blatant copy of the plagiarism
perpetrated disguised by
his abysmal talent...
Nothing is created, everything is copied
nothing new and so new
the genuine is old, ancient
everything comes from the one!
... ALEA JACTA EST
ready! AND DONE "
SNAIL MAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Stu, with his shell brown and bold,
From the forest post office, he slowly strolled.
With letters packed on his back galore,
With slime as his tires, he slowly went to each door,
"Your snail mail's arrived!" he extolled.
“You fool! Haven’t you heard of email?” badger exclaimed
“Of all your slowness, you should be ashamed.
“With the click of a mouse
You no longer deliver from house to house.”
“But, but…I’ll lose my job,” Stu proclaimed.
“Oh, Stu, you’re so uninformed, so old school.
Your skill set you must totally retool!
Have you not heard of UPS or perhaps FedEx?
You can deliver packages and other objects!
“But snails don’t drive. You’re such a fool!”
“Besides, I’m looking forward to my postal pension
Not to mention days without strife and tension.
And all those Forever Stamps I’ve amassed
I’ll sell online or on my webcast.
Then with Musk I’ll travel to space, otherworldly dimensions.”
~ A Story You'll Surely Adore ~
('Suicide's a Pain')
As I was about to enter the store
I was smacked by a malfunctioning door
Without so much as the slightest warning
or a perfunctory good morning
Astonished more than stunned
I took off at a brisk run
to inform the manager-on-duty
of the door that had greeted me so rudely…
When I’d finished my story, to my utter surprise
the manager muttered: “Lies, lies, nothing but lies”
My jaw dropped and I exclaimed, “Why? Why? Why?”
the manager replied, “We’ve an epidemic of spies”
“Spies from our competitors,” he continued
“that’s why we smacked you upside your head”
In disbelief and rage, I said, “Well, I never” –
pivoted right back into that door ~
and keeled over dead
Roaming in the corridor,
The fairy chuckled,
Mesmerized by the beauty of her own dress,
She grew self-assured in her little fairy school.
The multi-colored tutu,
inlaid with wild flowers;
Rivaled her silver sandals,
Which gleamed like her sparkling wings behind.
Then came the final day,
Bidding farewell to her tiny realm,
She moved ahead.
With sadness and excitement intertwined,
She decided to work through,
Until she became the best.
The moment she stepped into the real world,
She realized,
The tutu she wore was nowhere near the fairy gowns.
The praise and love she once received had faded into lies.
Maybe the tutu she wore was the best tutu, but not the best gown.
Carrying the weight of sudden change,
She still chose to enhance her tutu’s grace.
She rushed to the fashion store and cheerfully exclaimed:
"Get me the Cancan underskirt, fabric and shimmery pearls packed!"
The seller shot her an irksome look,
and Demanded fifty golden bricks.
The helpless fairy turned hopeless,
For she could have earned those bricks—
Only if she had a fluffy gown dress.
A decision had to be made
Would he be in on the mission or not
Weighing the risks versus the possible rewards
Peril at every twist and turn, the path was fraught
Zero hour fast approached, but he was torn
Many had bitten the dust, he was warned
Yet others did not merely survive
They swore to a man that they were reborn
At the last possible second, he exclaimed, I’m in ~
"God protect our holy love, keep us from sin”
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