Please,be Careful


Far below where the common-folks go
Are basements and caverns and holes
Barred and chained at the top
Meant to keep prying eyes out
For the safety
of the wives and children

But curiosity kills the cat
So crafty minds pick and pry
Try to loosen chains
and unlock locks
And attempt to peek
behind the walls
That forbid the seeing.

When the maelstrom rises
And dismay abounds
When the dust has settled
And order resounds
The clear eyed sleuth
Can then clearly tell
The abyss was secured
From below, from hell.

Oh ! really?


Out the door I bounced ( and I do mean bounced ! )
For my ankle the night before had apparently been trounced
It was swollen up twice its normal girth
It fairly seemed ready a new foot to birth !

But this fact to the story is secondary
Fresh air was on my mind; now I would not tarry
So off the porch and onto the walk I fairly flew
(fairly flew because my windmilling crutches ; new

Generated enough lift for me to enter the wild blue)
Till I settled down and found my steady pace. Whew !
Ambulation with some degree of comfort I had found
When the color of money shined from its hiding spot on the ground !

Wheeling about on my planted brace
I stood looking tall over that presidential face
And my smile grew large as I imagined
All the bootie I’d buy with the executive ransom !

Quickly then I pinned the note to the grass
Lest the morning breeze carry my quarry away, alas!
And bent at the waist while reaching full out
And compressed air from my abdomen blew out with a shout

And my fingers clawed at the empty air,
I could not retrieve it; it just was not fair!
I composed myself for a moment then
And considered my next best option.

Across the way, walking up the street, a likely young kid
With his mother this morning, could surely aid me in my bid
If I could somehow grab his attention…
“Hey Mister, Whatchya doin over there ?” it seemed that now my mission

Could soon be done with the aid of my new accomplice
“Young man can you please come over here ? There is something we can accomplish.”
“Now I will raise the end of my crutch and before the wind tears away with the cash
You will have captured it in mid flight and we will have the last laugh !”

No fault in the plan could the young man see
I freed the bill and he made the grab look easy.
He jumped up with a grin and ran off to his mum calling
“Look what the “gennelmun” give me !”

Clearly !


It amazes me sometimes just how simply and directly a young mind works. I have memories of my self as a preschooler {No, I do not remember EXACTLY how old ! } busily filling the pages of a coloring book. I recall trying very hard to “stay in the lines” so that the pigments would not run together. I wanted to fill all the space on the page; I wanted to expose the air !. I recall ” wondering why ” the Crayola company did not include a clear crayon because after all, a white one wouldn’t do. [I know because I tried it ! ] Thinking back I wonder if the company did include one and I simply could not see it !

When


When did this happen ?

I do not understand what it is like to be eighteen?

I do not understand what it is like to be , my age?

I do not remember what it was like to be a teen?

I do not remember what is like to have a wife and a child ?

I do not remember what it is like to have a child grow up and enter the world “at large” ?

I do not remember what it is like to help raise a grandchild and a son-in-law?

I do not remember that I am not supposed to have an opinion ?

I am not supposed to have an opinion about anything ?

I do not remember.

i deserve a cadillac


When i hear the cries of hungry souls

the noise rips into my heart and leaves these great big holes

that i cannot fill with comfort or food

I can only wonder why the balance is so askew

when So many feel a sense of entitlement

To more than they can need or use

Why are some so overly fed

when others could use a bit of that bread

Just enough to not wake up dead

threehundredandsixtyfivedaysandsomehours


I have carried with me for the past few days a feeling that I was forgetting something.  I have been checking my pockets, Searching through my pickup, Looking in my drawers, [ My dresser drawers ! ], etc.  Today I realized that one year ago I dreamed up a name, filed a password and wrote my very first blog.

One year in the life of a man is a very short time so making a big deal of such a minor event seems to me a bit pretentious. So why is it that as I write these words, right now , my eyes well with tears and all the memories of the blogs, and the feedback and the sharing, overwhelm my senses ?

Could it be that the folks who have read me, communicated with me, disagreed with me and smiled with me are really REAL people ?

Thank you all from the depths of my very soul for inviting me and my ideas into your den. I refer to the blog as my den for here I am free to acknowledge my every whim, to vent my every frustration, to match hearts with some of the most giving REAL souls I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

Fellow READERS, and I say this because anyone who writes must therefore read, Thank you all for sharing your feelings, thoughts , fears and celebrations with me ! I am a better person for having met you all .

BTW    I do not intend to go anywhere that I cannot climb into the ‘net, so You will all have to put up with me for the forseeable future. [or not] Damned philosophy!

 

Happy holidays


I find myself looking forward to the coming holiday season with fantastic expectations demurred by the experience of experience. [ I only wrote that bit because I could. Poetic license is really cool ! ] Really, I sense a sort of gathering of the human spirit I have not before experienced, a sort of grasping for straws, but with the realization that the straws are within reach. Could it be that the monstrous acts around the world of late have succeeded in accomplishing a goal always dreamed of , but never reached in the memory of mankind; a simple united front against the powers that strive to tear societies apart in search of their own malicious goals?

I do strive to be a poet of sorts, a philosopher of a kind, if you will, and I think I am generally the eternal optimist over the long haul. [ though that bit of me MAY have been overshadowed by my anger as witnessed in some of my more recent posts ] So, what do I perceive the holidays to bring?

More atrocities and crimes against human kind, tempered with a continuing groundswell of people, determined to live lives, solidified in their inherent strength and abilities to overcome any forces intent on ruining the lives of the many in favor of the “privileged ” few , and a warm breeze of comfort and solidarity once the tempest is past. [ All right, perhaps not THESE particular holidays, but relatively quickly inasmuch as the world remains a very large place]

Patience IS a virtue, but the consensus may be that the time for patience is waning, and the time for the peace loving folk of the world to stand and be counted is drawing near.  May the holidays bring peace to the peace loving peoples and strife to those who wish to witness only division .

May God bless us all !   [Not just a few!]

Autumn in the Ozarks


Bittersweet season approaches the Ozarks, that is , bittersweet emotionally for me. The leaves have turned and mostly dropped from the deciduous trees , leaving only the green of the eastern cedars , and the few pines and other evergreens native to our forest. While the landscape is decidedly a bit forlorn though, the forest creatures pop into view , [ especially into the roads ] creating the late autumn – early winter mosaic of what many of us hillbillys call “the road kill cafe”.

“Look there,” calls little Billy from the back seat as Daddy swerves to miss the carcass of a big buck whitetail lying halfway in the road. ” Man, I bet he had at least a ten point rack ! Look out for the broken glass, Daddy ! Do you think that car had to be towed from the ditch? ,” he remarked excitedly upon the sight of the skid marks crossing the lane of pavement and ending in the dirt shoulder of the road. And so the afternoon ride through the woods proceeds, with the children [ and adults , too ] remarking upon the various fauna of the forest lying at various points in the road having met their match on the highway and thusly left in ignoble, frozen, various poses for the wandering eye to see .

Along the twisting, curving way drivers might see squirrels flattened or armadilloes rolled and lying with their four feet pointing up to the heavens. And some of them, the armadilloes, will have a carefully placed beer can or bottle placed between their front paws, making it seem that they had drunk themselves into a stupor !  Skunks abound, and careful manuvering should be taken in avoiding these little stinkbombs of the journey, lest in death they accomplish what they were feared for in life and leave an unpleasant reminder of this journey in ones automobile for awhile !  ” Dad ! ” yells little Susie from across the car. ” You hit him on purpose !  Whew ! ” she screams while Billy laughs and chokes from his end of the seat.

After some miles and waning smiles, when the setting sun shines through the windshield blinding Daddys’eyes and causing him to swerve into the opposite lane of traffic and swear, the end of the roadtrip draws near, and the recollections of the buzzards lunching, and the coyotes wolfing the remains of the roadkill cafe , [sometimes becoming dinner themselves ! ] begin to fade with the grins of the sleepy children , Daddy pulls in to the end of the driveway and says to Mommy, “What’s for supper , dear ? “