Thursday, June 30, 2016
The Dying Man
tired of the etiquette
of Death.
Family huddled round
his bed,
and, a fractious bunch,
quarreled. At least
the males.
Hired a stand-in
over the internet,
competent old
actor
who did the expiring
bit with some
aplomb.
The women who shushed
the angry men away
were emotionally
taken
by this being who
had the verve and wit
the real passer lacked.
As Fate
would have it, actor croaked!
No living relatives, so
the primary leaving
man had
him buried as
himself.
Now in the interior room
of the wreck of
the house
how he
watches Jeopardy
in peace!
Panasonic painting
an oddly leer-
ing face.
Labels: actor, death, dying, etiquette of death, Family, fractious family, Jeopardy, proxy
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Legalistic Not a Good Look
Danley had tabbed her “piquant.”
The later Hortie, “one of Eddie Poe's
pale heroines.”
Both kind. Mostly. Deceased. Now she'd
try a bit of lipstick!
Some little color for the Board: likewise, kind.
Went well. Impressively. But, the old hurdle
again: TWO men.
The State had “proven” just one, she reminded.
And in an acknowledged weak case.
Couldn't, of course, stay with the piddling
legalistic.
Charm sincerely eased things, but not enough.
The warden brought the expected news later.
How kind of her!
Labels: Fatal Woman, Legal System, legalistic, murders, Parole Board
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Economics etc
Best to have one you mentored
give closing remarks at your
death or retirement.
Smithy could think of no one,
for those he had helped had fled,
and left no forwarding address.
He could find them on Linked-In,
but why? Feelings always a bit
distant...his personality mostly.
Oh well! Hire a professional!
Jocelyn was bright and chipper,
and, at the sparsely-attended
banquet, praised his guidance
for her present, solid career.
He had retired to an empty house.
His Beth finally departing to live
with her ill sister.
To help, ostensibly, but never
to return.
Did the same service have “wives”
available?
Of course! In the Gig Economy, you
could hire everybody but yourself.
Riella was sent three days a week–-
a pliant and lovely individual to
clean and screw--the rest he bachelored it.
Then, one day, she was sent on special
assignment to France, and the service
dispatched Bert.
Who claimed to be more than competent
in all departments!
Smithy was doubtful and reticent, but
gave it a trial run. The men argued a lot,
but that was really a plus: feeling more alive.
A year later, Riella returned, exclaiming “Merde!”
but Bert stayed.
They left the temp company then.
The three are working things out.
She wrote and sang a French song,
Ménage à Trois.
All very complicated, and French, but Smithy figures
that The American Way should probably involve his
returning to work.
And, could do better for his mates!
Labels: American, american Way, French, Gig Economy, Ménage à Trois, relationships, retirement, temp
Monday, June 27, 2016
Life In a Vulgar Proverb
With the totally great day finally here,
Malcolm doesn’t know whether to shit
or go blind.
On a sort of health kick, chooses former.
Has a frozen blueberry waffle then.
Hasn’t read the label carefully:
blueberries not real.
Finds out later. Careless!
A hungry mob now throngs the cold street,
ruining it for everyone! You can’t have
celebrations with them!
Clashing shouts and yells, and muffled
collisions. Soon followed by fist upon flesh.
Since the car charged, he decides to leave.
Doors and windows placed ajar so the
thin malcontents won’t smash in. Blindly.
Has recorded a message on a loop:
Blueberries artificial.
Labels: artificial, blueberries, celebration, mob, starving
Sunday, June 26, 2016
He was a Rusky or Alien, or whatever he was
but just into the outbuilding her deceased mother
had long ago stored 50s movie magazines in.
They mostly burnt up--no great loss. The garden hose
enough to put the rest, and him, out.
She’s strong, you know, and carried this smoky one to the
other outbuilding with all its wood, and equipment unused
since her daddy left this orbit.
That’s a joke! My husband says I can’t make 'em.
Anyway, by some miracle, his burns not that serious,
believe it or not, and she was nurse’s assistant before
the lumber mill left.
Since the one part of him amazed her, she wasn’t about
to let him go!
Before you say folks’d find out, and the government, well
Harkey’s Knob the absolute loneliest part of this county.
Of course you’d notice the new fellow around when
driving by, but we mind our own business.
After a couple years, he taught the Cedar Crest United
Bible Sunday School. Started using her father’s
woodworking shop too.
They married around in there, he’s Mr Thomas from Cincinnati.
Uh huh? If Cincinnati about a million light fears away!
Well, they did just fine anyways.
But...every ointment gets a fly. Hers was a tumor
like a bowling ball.
So, left us.
He didn’t miss a beat, marrying the bookkeeper
at the hospital.
She has persuaded him to leave his body to science,
though he says with a straight face that he’ll never die.
Good thing. In a hundred years or so, he’ll get to see
the furniture he makes, on Antique Road Show!
Labels: alien, furniture making, rural, rural humor, Russian, Space
Saturday, June 25, 2016
European Popular Music
He Liked His Easy Listening Channel
Except when they snuck in Eurotrash.
Third-rate from the lands of fifth-rate.
Where homeless immigrants piss on
the crumbling History remaining.
And in which the Poles masquerade as Poles,
Italians as Italians etc.
As they entertain with tinny renditions of
instantly defunct songs on an endless line
of grimy cruise ships.
And “Cafe’s” too.” So...very...quaint!
He can’t contain himself! with this final thought.
Labels: "talent", cheap imitation, Europe, historical ruins, imitative, Italians, Poles, popular music, ruins, shoddy rendition
Friday, June 24, 2016
The Free Market and God and Adam Smith!
The Respectable Firm
"Another Hopaloo Victory like that and we're outa
business!"
The Old Man always said that, his nurse whispering
assent.
They had returned from the hospice to administer
loyalty oaths concerning The Free Market and God
and Adam Smith!
"Don't need Uncle Sammy's Rule-Boys!"
If Mr Presser had bothered asking, he'd discover
that Hopaloos were a tribe of foreign competitors the
old man's ancestors had once wiped out at a very great cost.
So he showed off by saying it really was a “Carthaginian Victory.”
The nurse immediately fired him!
Too bad. If he had learned anything about the company he'd
have discovered it was possible to know too much.
But that’s a Universal Maxim, no? However eccentric our place
of employment.
The Pressers of this world are too intent on intellectual display
having nothing to do with real business!
Later, Chupsey-the-Survivor wisecracked. “Will one discover
an Invisible Hand under the rugs over that wheelchair?”
“Not usually,” young Hobart sneered, “it’s too busy going
up your ass!”
Labels: "Free" Market, Adam Smith, Capitalism, Invisible Hand, Libertarian
Thursday, June 23, 2016
The Man Who Failed at Failing.
Others wrote tomes
as to learning
from it.
He had no desire
of reprising stinks,
and had learned...despair!
Mostly.
Oh well, they’re leaders,
and he's judged one also: Just
going very much easier on the bs doth
comprise his most distinguishing feature.
Labels: bs, bullshit, business bullshit, business myths, failing, failure, inspirational literature, learning from failure, self help
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Encompassing
Rich happy
with The Party of the Rich–-
aka sneered “Republican.”
Dems pipe
Worker’s Rights.
Well and fine,
fearless, even,
but it’s really
One Big Party
for two! Truly,
The Money Party!
Cast your votes for it.
How can you lose?
Labels: corruption, Democrat, money, money in politics, parties the same, Party of Rich, Republican, rich, worker
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Trump as Kaiser Wilhelm
approaches every question
with an open mouth. Riot!
So...he’s making up for shy ones
like you, who didn’t speak out
multitudinous times. And Rout!-
ing such Respectable Quiet.
Labels: fear, Kaiser, political speech, post truth, Post Truth Politics, shy, speaking out, Trump
Monday, June 20, 2016
Up There Zip
The richest man in our affluent zip
has passed.
Pause for hallelujahs from Left!
Resume, then, for Senator Runcie to
speak glowingly on the legislative floor.
His cut continues from the Estate.
Treasury and FBI are digging up
the extensive gardens. Billion so far.
Uncle Sam, that kowtowing waiter, will
finally get a share.
Not off the top, of course.
That goes to Prophets of Profit, and other
“Conservative” Greed Avatars.
All high-tone, religious even, but not a worry
that grimier hands won’t mix in.
Under the Big Tent.
Labels: buried wealth, death, greed, hidden wealth, money, rich, Right Wing, right wing greed, tax cheats, taxes
Sunday, June 19, 2016
The Perils of Writing Anything
-Well...ill chosen phrase!
-What I was getting at in blog:
the protracted end of an affair,
when things...get small, fleeting,
unimportant, excruciatingly trivial etc.
-And you call that Dwarf Sex?
-Maybe I shoulda thought more?
-Knocked web off a bit, and some
bitter complaints. Folks looking for
"Dwarf Sex" seek stills or vids of
dwarfs doing it. Couples or groups.
-Groups? Even I find that disgusting!
-Matter of Opinion. Besides, they like
to be called “Little People.”
-Roses by any other name, etc.
And Dwarf Varieties therein? Of dwarfs?
-You have actual humor in you?
-Only when it comes to cruelty.
Labels: blog, dwarf, dwarf sex, internet, little people, pornography, sex, writing
Saturday, June 18, 2016
The Town, Jan 2, 1967
They thought the year
would never arrive,
but toasting it presently
with sparkling cider
mid the steam of
Excelsior Laundry.
Mr Randall, Lillian
from the bakery,
Shy Ray from Deese
Hardware. He
didn’t stay shy,
which is why
you’re here.
Labels: merchants, New Year, sex, shy, small town, toast
Friday, June 17, 2016
The Grouping
When Moore found a table
and chair, it completed him.
Trio from then on.
Makes no difference what he did.
His own clever solitaire with a
wildly shuffled deck?
Or laying out a newspaper in
patterns?
Or staring through his seven
inch tablet in meditative moments?
As if his eyes were nails down to
the Center of the Earth.
Did think of a woman, but another
chair seemed sacrilege.
The present grouping having an aesthetic
coherence as it stood.
You might feel he would die there, like that.
He had that thought too, and it comforted him.
Labels: aesthetic grouping, arrangement, art, contentment, grouping, Life as Art, solo
Thursday, June 16, 2016
The Man Who Worried Incessantly
simply gave it up before the barbarians
swept through.
What was the use? Most would be beaten
and/or raped.
And the killing would be entirely random.
As Fortune would have it, he was packed
into a truck, heading for a upland meadow.
And firing squad.
When! The Leader spied him grinning insanely.
“I have such mud turtles around me!”
Thus became he a kind of Man Friday,
fetching drinks, and dressing him
for battle.
In the moment, though, helped roll
the bodies downhill.
The leader had volatile moods, but Friday
kept the smile pasted on.
After a year, they invaded the small kingdom
bordering the chaotic one.
A girl brought in after the day’s carnage.
She spoke in monosyllables. Pliant, yet somehow
defiant.
The leader rejected her. “Still water runs deep!
Give me the dizzy, shallow one always!”
But then thought it a Capital joke to give her to Friday.
“The Fool and the Mud Turtle!”
He often asked about the couple, but didn’t like
Friday’s replies. Not funny enough. Broke a pole
over his head one time.
As a result, Luonga and he plotted an escape
to a village so poor no one would ever bother
taking it.
Presently they reside in Gwandenka. That low place, and they, forgotten by God.
The Old Fools is their designation. Even the children and grandchildren call them that.
Labels: barbarians, children, Family, firing squad, grandchildren, invasion, irrational leader, old fools, perpetual war, poor village, survival, war
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Why the Women Love Mr Andre
(or Her Shoes Were--formerly--a Terrible Disgrace)
When Melana finally got the big promotion,
she went to Mr Andre’s for the works!
She had a week to report, and this the
first step.
The second, to “Mr Andre’s Brother”--
the actual name of the store in the
same building.
Who closed a few minutes early and they
sat on the thick rug like Indians.
“I have brought you a great beauty
who needs shoes urgently!”
The brother arranged for the new shipment
of Hal Hastings to be brought in and opened
in front of her. Melani ended with a dozen pair.
When she presented her Visa, Andre’s look
said discount.
It prevailed, though Hal Hastings never,
ever, discounted.
Tomorrow would be boutiques, but,
once home, she got ravenous.
Off to the Showbiz Deli, a block away,
wearing her lowest slung Hal Hastings,
with their little colored beads for fun!
Micksey Dell awaited the bus in front
of the restaurant.
“Are THOSE Hal Hastings?”
“These?”
Labels: beauty salon, obsession, promotion, shoe obsession, shoe store, shoes, women's shoes
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Twos
-Reminds me of the biblical story of
Rudolpho and Eck.
-Whoa! No such duo! I had the whole
book screamed past my ears, courtesy
of insane uncles and aunts.
-During your formative years?
-They rendered them gnashingly formless!
-Anyway, you’re right. Rudolpho and Eck
were interpreters. Forbidden to have
their own story.
-Queer too?
-A few called it that. But that was merely
half the time. At any rate, they toured with
light crew, scabrous musicians, and a
phalanx of whores.
-I'll take whatever comes to my own phalanx.
By the boring bye what became of...?
-One night in Allentown, both went completely,
irretrievably mad! Totally a-babble!
-Was the torch taken up?
-By the local Republican Party. It's the Cal and
Edgar Show now. They're makers, not takers!
-Fakers!
-Live and let live!
-You can't do that with cutpurses!
Once they do their thing, you'll starve
by the side of the road, no matter how
many clowns parade by.
-I'm amused though. And have purchased
a lifetime of dried food.
-Arf!
Labels: Bible, cutpurse, dried food, fakers, Interpreting Bible, makers, pickpocket, Republican, survivalist, takers
Monday, June 13, 2016
about to...
“We, who are about to die, salute you!”
From Bellefleur, who could be scathing and
loyal at once.
“Let’s not anyone die!” I admonished him.
"We’ve trained for this!"
But it was pretty much a suicide mission.
He complained at the meeting to which I
and Associate Commander, Rendon,
were not invited.
Too ethnic for our tastes. Massively emotional,
and real tears when Marins went on about not
seeing his little daughter again.
The more complex Bellefleur persevered about
missing his slick litle Audi. He made its redness
poetic.
We knew these things because the secret meeting
is secretly recorded.
The following Four AM, Tellemon, the Afro,
laughed “A black man putting on blackface,
to advance the racist state!”
My Associate Commander ordered him to stop.
It came to me to tell him that next time he should
join the Army of Utopia, if he wanted purity.
My job was to treat him decently, and he admitted
that I had.
Well, off! Rendon and I resembling complacent larks.
Our happiest time!
Officers of our responsibility have never been killed.
Some Angels protect us.
I see them with wings enwrapping each of us upon the terrible battlefield.
While troopers walk past towards a blaze.
Labels: army, emotional, ethnic, loyalty, officer class, suicide mission, troopers
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Med Nutz
-“A duck just slid over our filthy lagoon,
quacking loudly!
So I quacked back!”
At that point in the interview, my “Committee
of Doctors” whipped out notebooks and scribbled
a full five minutes.
Then they conferred. Then, quacked discordantly.
But...the Docs aren’t supposed to be nuts. That’s my role!
-It’s everybody role here. We’re all nuts and we’re all doctors.
You included. It’s an experiment.
-I’m...going back to religion!
-Was that your Rock?
-It sunk me, the way it does folks today.
-Well, what’s so bad about being crazy in the
secular sense? The food is good.
-Chef Otto. He came straight from the Waldorf,
after bursting his screws after a diner’s compliant
regarding a pistachio flan.
-He’s also a physician! Dusseldorf!
-They won’t settle for less than perfection here!
Labels: asylum, crazy, crazy doctors, doctor, insanity, psychiatric treatment
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Hit Refresh
Both Jick and Corey had slight builds,
so no possibility with Jick’s Darcy.
Big-boned woman.
But with Corey’s Jill, as slight?
They try on things from her closet as the
women cook and gossip.
Dance together finally. That proves awkward.
As if the chosen clothes didn’t like movement.
More comfortable at Dinner, wives flushed
and jolly. They’ve picked her favorites!
claims Jill.
Labels: behavior of couples, body build, closet, couples, cross dressing, sex
Friday, June 10, 2016
The Voice of the Patriot
is heard in our land.
Give that nig
a chance
& he’s flippin’
disaster! So y’
expect
me to vote
for god-
damn woman?
Labels: Hillary, Obama, patriot, prejudice, Woman, women
Thursday, June 09, 2016
Short Enough For You?
-How long have you been irrelevant?
-Seems like forever.
-You’ve lost out on a lot!
-Easier on the nerves.
-I’d think harder.
-Product of Brainwashing!
Labels: anxiety, Brainwashing, cynicism, prevailing thought, relevancy
Wednesday, June 08, 2016
The Movement
the Work For Nothing Movement.
Most wonder why it doesn’t stop, though,
since practitioners have made their point
of absolute freedom from unions and
interfering laws.
Many had no money going in, and
they’ve died for the cause, Southern
Legislatures declaring them heroes
and martyrs.
Remainder not listening, either, to the
merciful car manufacturers proposing
half the going rate for Pakistan.
No money desired. None! Thus, no
charity either!
Man and women of principle have
always shamed the rest of us!
Labels: Martyrs of Right, pay, pay scale, perverted principles, Race to Bottom, South, Southern Labor
Tuesday, June 07, 2016
Working At the Sawmill
Carly, Accountant and owner’s wife,
always passed your check with some
remark.
With me, always the same. “Some overtime
in there. Maybe you can start on your
falling-down shed I pass each morning?”
Getting the materials! I promised.
Actually the shed was used for the Saturday
Get-Together featuring The Banjo Maniacs
with Delsey-Do!
She carried a keyboard and sang.
Mix in some moonshine and marijuana and
harder!
This whole part of the county looked forward
to it.
Well, it did eventually fall down. No surprise.
And firemen dug us out.
Mostly scrapes and bruises, but I, your funny MC, missed a month at the sawmill.
Carly sent a card, original name scratched out.
Labels: drugs, Fate, sawmill, Southern, Southern worker
Monday, June 06, 2016
Hillary,
after the requisite
selfies shared,
eats an ice cream cone
entire. So Right goes
bananas! Such gall impinging fair
Mom and Pop emporium on lake
or ocean shore, or pocket
shop in truly rural digs. Their
formal hate propelling Patriots
to deny the normal everyday
re those despised. Tempest
in a teapot? Nay!
Evil in a scoop!
Labels: "Patriots", extreme politics, Hillary, ice cream, Right Wing Hate
Sunday, June 05, 2016
Learning the Game
-Markey is responsible, but it gets weird.
-Gentry girl?
-You heard?
-He claimed papahood.
-She didn’t know who he was!
-Rap and I decided that being that sick
meant terrifically lonely. So we put him
on the ginmill softball team.
-How’d that work out?
-Since he’s brilliant, the theoretical part
of the game gets grasped. But has no
athletic skills. None!
-His parents like the first part: quarter mil to MIT!
But...hafta throw him off team?
-Harp Costello used to be assistant baseball coach at Oney High? Took him on as a project. Hours!
-Pretty good now?
-Not bad! But he truly shines in the apres game! When we lift our flabby arms to fill our hollow legs with beer.
-AND inhale Bent Jo-Jo’s four-inch thick bloody cheeseburgers?
-Mais oui! fellow gourmet.
-With raw onion?
-All the girls are the raw onion!
-And is Markey shy in the face of such overt femininity?
-Takes a different one home every night!
-Sounds to me like you’ve added an ir before responsibility?
-Beautifully!
-It’s a Class Thing.
-Several classes, though.
-Just one in THAT dive!
Labels: beer, class, dive, dive bar, nonathletic, romantic temperament, softball, women
Saturday, June 04, 2016
The Edge of the Moon
-So pretty! And yet what a tragic flaw!
-How would you characterize it?
-Gas!
-Gracious!
-She could really rip 'em. Industrial Strength!
Emptied rooms.
-How embarrassing for her! Sought medical...?
-Every Gastric Mavin from here to...!
-New Haven? Romance must have been a problem.
-You think? You'd think! But she met a guy
at a Gas-X display who hugely admired her.
Looked forward to a contest!
-Some sort of roughneck longshoreman or something?
-Librarian.
-Li-BRAR...!
-But, not a rival in the sound department, fortunately for the profession. Mostly SBD, him.
-Silent but Deadly! Even so, for decorum in the
hushed precincts...?
-But, the library in a new building with good
odor handling capacity. Though hardly perfect.
Occasionally the custodians did a sweep, believing some critter had crawled in and died.
-Did they marry? There couldn’t be rivals.
-Outdoor ceremony. Windswept. More than a few
passed out, even so. And they wrote some raucous metal cauterwailings into the proceedings, courtesy of Jan, John, and the Smashgods!
-Extraordinary!
-Was that! Is!
-How they getting on?
-Not bad! He still admires her greater gifts!
Two years have passed, no pun.
-Any blessed event?
-Oh yes! Pregnancy magnified her problems,
of course.
-I can imagine!
-Not really. No one could.
-At any rate...?
-Staff muscled a fan used in
mining into the Delivery Room.
-Enter Junior, or Jasmine?
-Junior. And already a virtuoso of rear
musicality.
-Someone should write an opera!
-He's on his way to that in performance!
-Christening?
-Father Mike chose the high school ballpark.
-Worried about Stations of the Cross disintegrating?
-How’d you guess?
Labels: fart jokes, gas, gasious marriage, gastric
Friday, June 03, 2016
Jesus In a Suit
Scene: Small inner room of
Back Door Tavern, where
Bloody Marys being concocted,
adding secret ingredients.
ART
The Army of Ecuador just marched
through my mouth.
BARTENDER MORKIE
Merry Christmas! Drink slow.
JESS
(reprising his sketch role as
last night’s Little Miss Innocence)
“Your largess doesn’t impress me, Sir.
I’ve seen bigger.”
ART
I can’t even visualize Mr Completely Good
with his pants off.
JESS
But you played him well as a raging hypocrite.
ART
Easier in the old days, when the Board sent us
fallible CEOs. Now we got Jesus in a suit!
JESS
Our sketch last night is the first step in his
destruction!
ART
I’ll drink to that! But he’s been singing all
morning.
JESS
His goodness is a slap in the face!
ART
Just another in a line of today’s utter frustrations.
JESS
We can’t really hurt him?
ART
Not a way!
JESS
It’s a Class Thing.
ART
Yeah, he’s got it and we’ll never have it.
JESS
Must pray to the Devil!
ART
HIS plate is full of the real world!
JESS
Maybe Jesus in a Suit will transition
to a skirt.
ART
Then we’d just turn all PC!
JESS
Or be shot?
ART
World’s gone to shit!
JESS
Drinking’s last White Privilege!
ART
Can’t pry that from our...
JESS
dead pale hands!
Labels: angry white men, Bloody Mary, Christmas Party, drinking, NRA, office, PC, Political Correctness, satirical sketch, White Privilege
Thursday, June 02, 2016
At the Addiction Shop
it's Let’s Pretend. I’ve combined a few ingredients,
and try to fake I’m experimenting.
Of course, my Old Harrower still rules!
But, they’re not to find that out!
They do, of course, and I’m at The Committee!
Led by the triply-sweet Jennifer. Who digs at
the raw parts with efficiency!
Finally my nerves just can’t take it, and it just fires
out of me! “How many men have YOU ruined?”
“No, no. A frank exchange!” she answers those
who wish to expel me on the spot.
Her tack changes then to slow seduction. I’m promised
The Harrower forever if I go along. Implicitly promised,
naturally. Jens is nothing if not slick.
Well, grating story short, I’m ruined by her. And, by
the way, I make seven, three who committed suicide.
Then, tossed from Addiction Shop altogether!
I must put myself out with the trash the following
morning.
Sounds more terrible than it is. The guys just
put me in a separate compartment in their
huge truck. Lefty-2 brings coffee. Nice of him.
We shout over the rumbling.
“How can you be sure this is not my addiction?”
“It’s everybody’s!” He adds cream to his and
it shimmers.
“That's beautiful!” I tell him.
Labels: addiction, Fatal Woman, garbage men, social control, trash
Wednesday, June 01, 2016
Subject
The new rulers even more perverse
than the last ones.
As a result, dogs now walked people.
With my Spud, chaos, as he drops my
leash from his mouth and goes running off!
But he’ll return, of course, and we’ll resume.
Law supposed to humiliate me, but my neighbors
prove nice. And bring treats for me as I wait.
Mr Kensill lingers. Has a question he has
trouble getting to.
Would Spud walk him also?
“We can try when he comes back.”
Labels: dogs, insolence of office, perverse rule, perversity, tyranny, walking the dog
