Birthdays.
What a dubious way to celebrate the imminent proximity of an epilogue.
A concept I have found myself familiar with, as I wait for its darkness to breathe my flesh into an eternity of condemn.
It’s so monotonously profound, rousing my revulsion into a cavern of numbing ecstasy.
The hallucination of confetti blinds me in a disdain of joyous vibrancy I beseech for a defrauding.
A joyous vibrancy I elude in a hope of inevitable invasion.
A joyous vibrancy I hunt until the trail of its scorn boils with the distraught of my blood.
The mascara pours down my face; a river of infamy, coercing the heft of my obscenity.
The lipstick smears down my chin; a sadistic endeavour to ravage the dereliction of my leeches.
The highlighter gleams; a grotesque jubilation of a fibbing mockery.
And the fundamental rigour of my perished rot derides in a soul prompting conjecture;
I hope this is my last birthday.
Yes, it happened, I saw it for myself the liar said
He is fibbing if his mouth is open said cousin Ned
he claimed he saw a dairy cow jump over the moon
I watched a naïve teenager flutter and swoon
the rest of us knew this con artist as kind of a chit
we walked off into the sunset, not believing it a bit
the teenager was asking him questions about the cow
We rolled our eyes as only non-believers know how
I love mushrooms
with eyes peeping out
under their caps, their hats
I love broccoli
with curly green tops
Curly green hair
I love asparagus
with their long slender bodies
and pointy heads
and they don’t taste like grass
I love Brussel sprouts
Little bundles of joy
Bathing in buttery sauce
Lots of buttery sauce
I love carrot juice
Very orange
but they don’t taste like oranges
I love blueberries
in yogurt, cereal or cream
They go good with just about everything
even by themselves
One by one I pop them in my mouth
There’s no singing the blues with blueberries
Blueberries are absolutely my favorite
Not like all those I listed before
'cause I was fibbing
Don’t tell my Mom
‘cause I only like them a little bit
Or not at all
Yuck!
What is a land line? I asked twenty-seven third graders.
None of them knew, it was an antiquated term in 2022.
I told them that if they had phones that stayed in one spot…
That is a landline, we used to have them all over, believe it or not.
They did not believe me. They thought I was teasing them.
They could not imagine a phone attached by cord to a wall.
She is not fibbing, we used to have them in homes said Jim.
They are pretty spoiled, these eight-year-olds, three feet tall.
Animals came alive on my new Christmas tree
In a vintage blue car from about forty-three
I heard the zebra first, he yelled out, “Whee!”
Elephant was coaxing them to go to New York City.
I know that you think I am fibbing or being witty.
My imagination is not that great, it’s not pretty.
A chimpanzee grabbed my chin and was kind of spit-ty.
I was so irritated I encouraged them to go to New York City.
Honesty is my best policy or is it; I ponder
so be truthful, not to later have to pay a plunder...
fore some consequence, after told your fibbing,
see another do as myself; Charitably, donating...
OR
I've seen both sides now fore looking back...
nor lose sleep over anything said to anyone...
Or your dear spouse
everyone expects you to be honest; Watch their back...
while fallacious, that little white lie, may...
Save Your Life
Have you seen the new curly red haired girl?
Cannot say that I have, he replied, wondering.
Why was everyone saying this to him?
This was the fourth person who had asked.
There she is! Four people shouted, watching his reaction.
The minute he saw her, he understood why.
She looked like his mother had looked when she was young.
She had died when he was six, but he remembered her face.
Her hair was a bit darker than this girl’s but her eyes were the same.
Everyone wants us to meet, the girl told him, except she was not a girl.
He invited her to lunch and they talked; she was a terrific listener.
He felt he had regained a tiny bit of his mother, which was soothing.
I guess I remind people of your mother? She suggested.
She looked a lot like you, he admitted, but she was not a great listener.
I prefer speaking to you.
And he was not fibbing.
Shadows are stiff
hard-edged,
all telling,
not fibbing
nor forgiving.
The mind's eye is blind
to the shadowy-side
we carry in ruck-sacks behind
our backs.
Shadows are brutally honest,
dark and gloomy,
sketches of self in outline,
that we would rather lose
'cause they can't be
colored in.
Sing this to an Old Sea Chanty
Remember the old song
My Bonnie lies over the ocean?
My Bonnie lies over the sea?
It would not leave my mind alone yesterday, so I changed it up.
Feel free to sing this:
My body lied with such a devotion!
My body lied to him, you and me!
Rumors were put into motion.
Oh bring back my fibbing to me!
Bring back!
Bring back!
Bring back my fibbing to me, to me.
Still, in my pajamas, cold, ‘tis Winter.
Purple and gray wool socks, and still, cold feet.
Yet i’d walk down into the oaks, with sun’s
light be soaked, at the Summer-plumed heartbeat.
Into the glowing moss and down the hill,
like my grand, who’d make glorious foothold
into the street. Still, alone, basking in
happiness, woolen feet waltzing, toes cold,
knuckles chapping, clapping of my steepled
fingers. dry and joyful lips, arising,
Dizzy, I'd survey the amphitheater -
steam of cold-heat, underfoot apprising.
O my soul, the crooning blue signature,
expansive, inexpensive, pensive sky.
Behold God’s goodness directed my way.
Though fibbing from inside, I do not lie.
The arms of my chair, still, caring, hold me
or i’d jetty into my imagination.
There the birds stir up woozy fairyland
with tea and serenity’s coronation.
2/10/2021
Contest: All Yours (Feb 10)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
This year Santa's requests come by Zoom
And a flat-chested Miss full of gloom
She asked 'please do your best'
I'd love a double D breast
He obliged and she's now in full bloom..
Another asked for a new nose
'Cause the one I’ve got just grows and grows
Truly I am not fibbing
And I take so much ribbing
You should hear the din when it blows.
Santa soon became really depressed
He'd had so many awkward requests
He felt so fool of doom
He got rid of his Zoom
And concluded a letter is best.
9th December 2020
Mightier than fibs and sharp swords,
Manacled truth will with time prevail
Against high peak and gigantic vale,
And glossed lips' deodorized words.
Sharper than lucre's nectared studs
Stabs tested truth's right-driven nail;
Till all wrong-worn tongues wax frail,
And fain betray old veneered guards.
Unfettered truth predates olden floods.
Earlier than Noah's Ark and hasty hail
Unbowed stood her long-tenured trail,
Defanging vibes of fact-twisting nerds.
Unbent still won truth's candid cards,
Outlasting every knavish fibbing tale;
And justice bespectacled favored jail,
Where oft cool heels of reptiled duds.
Why not tell it to blank wingless birds:
If stoutest truth's tempest-tossed sail
Long neutered was by wealthier gale,
Over gold's Monsoon-storming girds?
~~~Magna est veritas et praevalebit~~~.
April Fools is on the new horizon
When the next time the sun rises
There will be innocent fibbing and lying
Is it a prank, a joke?
Or just a forum for one to stand up to insult?
It is a whole day dedicated to giving
Laughter an opportunity to make a better living
Hopefully the day will be relaxed
And nobody will face the issue of being sacked
Beware of the pen
With the exploding ink it could send
Then there could be an alluring call
That rings inside the working stall
Look at things closer
Especially if the reading is off the informative poster
All in all a good little spook
Could end up as a romantic hook
And as time carries on
From the flirty spring fling con
He could walk down the aisle to say ‘I do’
Allowing her to reply, “April Fools on you”
My mom lets me roller skate in the house, the new boy said.
Liar! I thought, but I kept it to myself.
She lets me paint murals on the walls of my room, he added.
You are a fibbing fool I thought, but I did not call him on it.
My mom lets me swear upside one wall and down another.
I watch for his nose to grow, not realizing most of this was true.
I thought all Mom-rules were the same.
But when I became a mother,
I attached swings to the rafters of the basement
so my children could swing inside.
I also let them skate in the basement for it had a smooth cement floor.
When my daughter was thirteen, I let her paint murals all over her room.
Figuring she could not do a lot of damage with the approved pastel paints.
Not realizing her best friend had sneaked in a can of black.
Mistake.
don't count
on me be
cause odd
ly enough
though i'm
one of the
ranks i've
always
stunk
at be
ing
one
to
actually say
grammatic
ally not ma
the ma tic
ally why
when i
add up
the sum
of us as
some
thing
i am
all
ways getting
oddly even
after doing
it with you
twice i still
come up
with a to
tal of one
though
on a
calc
you
later
it reads
two but
that's
one
too
man
y so
i use
bi nary
be cause
counting
your fin
gers gets
bet
her
aft
er
we
get
past
ten an
d need
to use
your toe
s to get
the prop
er tot all
e qual to
a mount
of one
of me
and
one
of
you
to add
up to
two
th
ough i'm
go ing
down
on you
i'll sub
tract my
self and
gladly
allow
you
to
ri
de
me bucking
bronco style
so you go
cow girl
moo ve
me use
me butt
do n't
for get
to brand
me as be
long ing to
you
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