Blood lingers in everything that I am,
staining my desire with a feather quill.
I grew from apprentice to madame
with practice and sheer force of will.
You may ask what spell would allow
propane words unwavering and hot?
Embers tend to catch a bit faster now.
With pure intention don’t be concerned,
what is sent out will always be returned.
Witchcraft is a class with no cram,
just harm none and let the rede fulfill.
The black cauldron will burn any exam
that replaces knowledge with a kill.
So much simmers below a silent vow.
You never share all you were taught,
keep close just a bit of that know-how.
Make no mistake, my magic is earned.
Know this, I respect what I have learned.
The concept is crazy. It's entirely insane.
Thanks for suggesting, but I will abstain.
No way, I'll never do that.
I'll drink rusty water from a wagon left in the rain,
mixed with boiled fat and a tank of propane,
but I'll never do that...again.
Ninety five degrees
standing poolside
on the wooden patio
in the backyard
orange Androsia print apron
hugging my torso
propane grill
propelling fumes
hot as a steamroom
at a suana
Tendered rib eyed
and porterhouse steaks
seasoned in high salt
like abstract paintings
brushed in A1 sauce
and finally
a side of
friench fried potatoes
spruced in liquid tomatoes
from the essence of my garden
served to my darling party guests
with a golden heart of culinary perfection
The Police wrote a song called Roxanne,
About a boy in love with a “woman of the town,”
There are times when life’s circumstances,
And the loneliness of isolation drag you down,
When you’re lost in youth and beguiled by the exotic,
When prone to temptation and the need for the erotic,
But what happens when the other's humanity is glimpsed,
Holding hands in the silence of a pitch-dark room,
Smoking cigarettes above the propane tanks by the light of the moon,
When relationship turns into obligation,
When one believes the other depends on them for salvation,
But the deliverance from one situation,
Leads to guilt when you grow apart in your new station,
The outcome of those days was never my plan,
Looking back I lived Roxanne,
JEV
menthol cigarettes / messy journals / propane torches / unfinished poems /
broken promises / black bandana / clock rings /
thrift shops / candle wax / stolen books / peach nehi /
poison ivy / nicotine gum / ripped overalls /
leyland cypresses / junkyard blues / gutted cigarellos / abandoned houses /
tin foil flowers / gatorade / starburst / diabetic insulin syringes /
toy boats / vix vapor rub / red nose pitbull / lemon balm /
cutflowers / river stones / wooden crosses / cluttered bookstores /
broken pocket watches / bad behavior / birdsong / bantam chickens /
spare tires / cartoon band aids / unread voicemails / black ink /
ripped dollar bills / friendship bracelets / dirty laundry / vinyl /
chopped firewood / inferno / 70's model trucks / heart locket /
fave pen / soda slushies / free verse poetry / lana del rey / god jesus /
I wonder what is the cause of so much pain
The pain that drives me a little more insane
I worry if its the truth or just my brain
Makes me worry if the world has a lot to gain
As my dreams wash down the drain
I hide my tears by crying amidst the rain
I fear as I keep walking in this solitary lane
That my pain is something I cannot explain
That this hurdle isn’t a link but a long chain
That my life is always a turbulent hurricane
That my cries wont echo if I beg or complain
That my prayers are treated with utter disdain
Facing my kin, a facade I need to maintain
I swallow my pain and constantly refrain
I need you, where art thou my Jane
I cannot bear this pain till I need myself a cane
What should I choose?
Propane, train or letting go off a mountain
Oh yes I am. I am in so much pain.
Plowshares and Oilrigs
David J Walker
It was a windmill made of wood
With a metal rod coaxing the
gold standard from the ground
it was cold water held captive awaiting
its calling fulfilling a promise made
many millennia in the past
it was a lost civilization
of propane prose
and profane memories
it was itself a treasure
awaiting the unpacking
of plowshares and oilrigs
it was a land of vast nothingness
awaiting the ending of an evolutionary
transformation from a mountain to a grave
Afternoon Delight!
Lookin’ forward to a little afternoon delight
Turn! Turn! Turn!
There is a season turn, turn, turn
A time to every purpose under heaven
A time for neck rub, a time for kiss, a time to unfold 70’s clock radio music
Peter, Paul and Mary
88.7
Bob Dylan, Donovan, Neil Young
A time to borrow propane tank next door
A time to swim in ocean of stars
A time to Yale at Jose – the gardener
A time to country
two left feet who never promise a rose garden
A time for Chopin piano concerto along with a time for COVID models
A time for Mahjong and Gin rummy
Without winning or losing
Whopping Leap of faith: A time of homemade haircut
A time for Prosecco and strawberries; a time for Instacart
A time to Mystic Hills; a time to Top of the World
Oh, my beloved lemon thief
A time to dream –
grateful dreams – tasty dreams – To Have and Have Not dreams
Today and always
The greatest radio station in the world!!
When our traveling's up, it's time to fire it up
Propane!
Since that sunshine has passed, it's time to light the gas
Propane!
It's all right, it burns bright, when you light
Propane!
When the camp is cold, you don't have to be told
Propane!
You must open that valve but don't go past setting twelve
Propane!
It's all right, it burns bright, when you light
Propane!
If you feel a chill, you just get close to that grill
Propane!
To get warm just rove till you're up by that stove
Propane!
It's all right, it burns bright, when you light
Propane!
They will look at you to host a barbecue
Propane!
It's just really neat, the way foods cook in that heat
Propane!
Have a bash, without ash, use that gas
Propane!
Winter is over and we're ready for Spring,
for flowers and bees and the birds that sing.
Today, in the garden center, I saw our first nest.
Watching the eggs hatch is Spring at its best.
But Spring on the coast is a fickle little mare.
One minute its warm, the next a bite in the air.
I worked outside all day, freezing off my a**.
Turned on the propane heater and look , out of gas.
The customers all commented, " You look rather cold".
"Yes", was my answer, but if truth be told,
the flowers, the colours, the scents and more
make the garden center the best place to work in the store.
So maybe tomorrow it'll warm up a wee bit
and if the sun peaks through that would be a big hit.
I love the garden center, especially in Spring.
More than the summer with the heat it will bring.
So even though today I'm chilled to the bone,
tomorrow I'll go back and try not to b*tch and moan.
~~~~ 25/03/2019 ~~~~~~
for the " Spring is in the Air " contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
You know it is cold
You know it is darn cold when the woodstove is going
But the propane furnace just keeps on blowing
When your nostrils freeze outside in the winter air
Ice is curled hanging with snow from the roof everywhere
You know it is cold when smoke bellows from chimneys all around
Everywhere you go there is crunching on the ground!
The dog needs a sweater and winter coat with a hood
Refusing to wear doggie boots, then waits to be carried where she stood
You know it is cold when vehicle struggles to start, taking long to warm up
Then the coffee you hope to have, starts to freeze in the travel cup!
You know it is cold when the driveway is a pond of slippery ice
But, the sand to cover it, freezes as hard as a rock, not nice!
Then you start praying for the temperature to please rise!
And when it reaches above zero you start to celebrate the surprise!
But, this is winter in the Northern New England heights
Just make sure you have warm blankets to get through the nights!
Heidi Sands
1/14/19
Suddenly September reveals itself
steel grey clouds and dreary rain;
it’s twelve o'clock, but the sun is hidden.
I lean against the damp deck railing
a Brown truck’s backup horn pierces
the distant din of traffic, but at least
it isn’t one of those damned drones.
Too wet for the Hibachi but
the propane grill will work.
Chicken roasted on the rotisserie,
beans, late summer corn and
apple crisp with vanilla ice cream.
I can taste it now.
A feast for the return of
a non-prodigal son, briefly back
from the Arctic before he’s off again
this time to Berkley, leaving us alone
again but at least there won't be leftovers.
.
I sell propane and propane accessories and my name is Hank Hill.
I took Ladybird to the veterinarian today and I may have to kill.
That vet is scum and he's a creep.
He wants to put Ladybird to sleep.
He wants to put her to sleep because of old age.
I'll kill him if he tries to do it, I am truly enraged.
I love Ladybird and when everything is said and done,
That dog means the world to me, I'd rather lose my son.
He has arrived at my house, he is making a house call.
I won't allow him to kill my dog, I won't allow it at all.
I've jumped on my mower and I mowed over his feet.
He is calling 911 and soon I'll be arrested by the heat.
I'm going to have to make a run for it in my truck.
But the damn thing won't start, I sure am out of luck.
I'm making a break for it and I'm running as fast as my legs will go.
If I steal a car, I wonder if I can make it to Mexico.
I just carjacked a man but his car is a Geo and it won't go fast enough.
The cops could keep up with me on foot and now I'm wearing handcuffs.
Just the thought of putting my dog to sleep has caused me to come unhinged.
If ladybird is euthanized, I'll break out of jail and I'll be coming to get revenge.
I came from a land of redneck drinkers, who mounted deer heads on walls without sheetrock. It was a simpler time. You shot or hooked what you ate. A wood stove heated the whole house. It ran on bottled propane when wood was scarce. I can still smell the blackening butter and hear the purple-red deer meat sizzling in Gram’s cast-iron fry pan on that day. I can see the knife gash in the imprint of flowers on the homemade butter. Its beauty marred to lather the pan as mine had been. Each day since then, as I knelt on the chair staring past the potted violets toward the house next door, I'd shiver.
whispers
breach the bedroom walls:
chain-locked door
I came from a land where, through a picture perfect window, a little girl could see rows of candy-colored gladiola’s growing beside the home of the neighbor boys. The boys whose Father liked to flash his private parts to little girls. No, this was not the end of the yellow brick road, but the land of bullies, beer, and ******** pedophiles, far from picture perfect.
I am a man who loves Sears and tools a lot.
But if you're wondering if I'm happy, I am not.
Something happened that drove me to tears.
I have been permanently banned from Sears.
I visited Sears one day and I tested a propane heater in the store.
There was a big explosion that propelled me to the above floor.
I haven't been banned from just that Sears, I've been banned from them all.
They won't let me return even though I wept like a girl and decided to crawl.
What happened makes me so upset that I cuss like a sailor.
They banned me even though I'm Tim the Toolman Taylor.
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