Friday, November 29, 2013

One Rough Life

I leap, I crawl, I cling. Made it again.
Make purchase on tangled branches, barely.
Persistence pays off. Soft pink meal ahead.
I arrive and sink fangs in – delicious.
Earthquake! My surface shudders,
giant digits swipe and pick at me.
I crawl deeper into the thicket and hide.

Made it. After a few more hit-and-run bites,
it is time to exit this food source. I wait for
who knows what, then feel an urge, and jump...

Land on another, similar surface. Another tangled thicket.
Another land of undulating pink underneath. This time
I travel up and down, reconnoiter my area.
The blood-scent of hunger wins out, and I sink
fangs in once again, once again, feel the world shudder.
Leviathan surfaces clutch and scratch, but miss.
Time to leave. I tumble onto a sterile yellow surface.

I crawl and crawl, and then must rest. Then crawl some more.
Encounter moisture of some kind – enough to slake my thirst.
Suddenly a hairy surface plops down nearby, my prayers answered.
I leap on, and look for a thicket to hide in. This surface is bare and vast.
The giant hand swipes at me, and I am hit!
As I fall, mouth and legs reach and grasp for anything to break
the fall, and finally find a curled black branch to grab.
Barely saved, I cling and clutch and grasp, and claw my way up.

Now am in a thicket once again. This time I wait <*indeterminable time x 2*>
The hunger, the scent is too much. I move close to pink food,
sink hungry fangs in. The shudder is less perceptible. Good. I eat more.
The food-land moves about, but not too bad. I keep eating and drinking
the red juice that suffuses this food. Life is grand for me. Until

It starts to rain, a deluge, a waterfall. This rain is pungent,
and it contains poison. As soon as I become aware, I try to run.
My limbs are already sluggish. The world goes black. The land moves,
I tumble off into space. This will be the end of me.

Damn Rid-X.

- end

Sunday, November 24, 2013


      Stories surround me. Science-fiction splendors jump out of the movie screen and amaze. Dark mysteries captivate my interest, engrossing until the twisted, bitter end. Religious stories charm and enlighten, and fill me with hope. Sitcoms bring a laugh, or a groan. Superhero movies are popcorn-chomping funfests. Get the bad guy! Rescue the hero from near-certain ruination, and have them come out on top. Save the world, get the girl (or guy), live happily ever after. Or if it is a horror flick, get unceremoniously hacked to death. Freddie always comes back, and Jason never dies. A sequel is always in the works.

      Filled beyond my capacity, I leak one out of my own on occasion. Perhaps some day one of them will be good enough to sell, become a novel, or even a movie.

     And that would be a story wonderful to tell to my family and friends.

     Here is hoping all your stories have happy, or at least tolerable, endings my friends. Peace and out, until next time.


Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Two Minutes

A "Minute" is a poem consisting of three stanzas of 8,4,4 metrical feet or beats.   They are supposed to be rhyming couplets as well - and make some kind of sense.  Here are two attempts at them  :)

Breaking Bad

A television show got made
Cook Meth, for trade
Was Breaking Bad --
Made critics glad

old Teach offered the best deal
not rob, nor steal –
just sell to kids,
they hit the skids

Until his troops removed his self
Put boss on shelf
He had to hide,
then saved his pride.

Avoiding strife

I just wanted to have some fun
under the sun,
a time of cheer,
no ills nor fear.

My friend political depressed
me with his mess;
though I agreed
with his loud creed.

Intending he end with week's dose,
cut off my host;
Now I steer clear
if he is here.

- end

Thursday, November 14, 2013

We Earned it

Baby Boomers
paid into Social Security and Medicare all our working lives.
Queued up in line from the first day of school to the last day at work, along with our fellows. 
Some of us invented Personal computers, I-phones and various other conveniences.
Others went out into the streets and challenged government policies on everything from the Vietnam war to globalization.  Still others went on civil rights marches, bringing an end to segregation in the deep south.  You are welcome, youngsters.

   So now I see some posts out there, claiming we are bankrupting the government, and hogging all the resources, etc.  Social Security was supposed to be self-funding, and would still be if Congress hadn't raided the trust fund.  We paid into the thing all our lives, and by golly we deserve every dollar of benefits promised or "entitled" us. 

      We may not have been the "greatest generation" and yes, there was a lot of drug experimentation and partying.   Just like there is today on college campuses across the country.  We were young once, just like modern college students are now.   But we are entitled to the benefits we have paid for and accumulated.  So you can call us irresponsible, self-centered and the like.  But don't you dare steal our benefits.  We paid for them, we earned them, they belong to us.   You would want your property rights respected?  So do we.  Thanks for reading.

Monday, November 11, 2013

An Extra Helping of Spacetime

My empty wallet made me a nervous wreck,
eating dinner at Perkin's one fine evening;
I summoned a wormhole to pick up the check,
and it took all my friends before leaving.

There I sat, sprawled on the restaurant floor,
since the wormhole also swallowed the table;
Even a black hole could do little more,
scooping up all the matter it was able.

In some distant galaxy are a few perplexed diners,
their angst at picking up the whole darned check
overshadowed by the need to breathe air, a minor
problem on Earth – not so out there on planet Gechhh.

Thanks to the commotion I crawled out and escaped.
Made it home and kept my delicious free meal down;
From now on I will make my own strawberry crepes,
avoid pesky wormholes and making diners frown --
make sure my wallet is full at the grocery store,
after all, they just renovated it a month before.

- end

Saturday, November 09, 2013

Under Thier Noses

Nocturnal creatures not vampires so feared,
We creep in high darkness to roam,
feed on other entities our usual way,
seek food hidden under forest loam.

We hunted bandits must avoid two-legged gods,
their onslaught of technology and proliferation;
Must crowd lairs into shrinking habitats and try
to maintain natural rhythms, not made to cry.

Dawn soon approaches, a time to hide.
Rumbles, whooshes, clangs and bangs
inform lesser beings to take cover now.

The mighty ones are stirring, the world-shapers
who take so much, leave only crumbs and scraps.
One last four-legged meal stolen on the fly,
Before we retreat into hidden lairs to savor our prize.

Daytime siestas underground become populated –
Monochrome dreams of better days gone by.
Soon darkness brings renewed vigor for the survivors.


Architectural salvage

Went into a place I had often heard about but never saw.  A four-story building full of all kinds of treasures from the past.  Giant signs, ancient typewriters, every kind of chest, bureau, dresser one can imagine.  Dolls, glass bottles, doors and wall murals.   A photo bug's dream.  So I looked and snapped, and marveled at the things yet unseen in the ol home town.  What a find.  Good to meet up with Central Iowa Photographers group there too.  Was a fun thing to do on a Saturday afternoon in November.