Category: Uncategorized

All Over The Place

Better to be sure they know,
Than let them speculate,
So what if through their narrow-minded sight,
You’re no longer great.

How much,
Does one good man cost?
Count it up,
Maybe it’s good he’s lost.

The black and white,
Covered is small,
It’s the grey areas,
That apply to almost all.

Little does he know,
She knows his deepest knows,
It’s practically transparent,
The way to her,
The unseen flows,
So good luck tryin’ to hide it!

Why does the rain,
Have to bring joint pain?
When it can wash away all else,
From golden grain,
To an enormous freight train?

The fat man,
Who thinks he’ll win,
Judging others’s sins,
Is about to see,
The outcome spin.

When all else has failed,
A dog prevails,
Friends ’til the end,
No matter what,
Comes next around the bend.

Broken,
And never again,
Will believe words spoken,
At any rate,
None from hinting men.

But in the meantime it sucks,
‘Cuz in the meantime there’s the waiting,
And in the meantime there’s the not knowing,
Oh yes that’s fucking irritating!

Hi, it’s me,
The one always cast aside,
Like a seashell stuck in sand,
After the high tide.

Do you think that maybe,
The sun has a smell?
And it is actually possible,
For it to be hotter than Hell?

The color of chocolate brown,
Should be warm and inviting,
But they’re cold and icy,
Even when they’re spicy,
And looking at you nicely.

The match is worn out,
And the embers are dying,
Yet all throughout the air,
A fire is flying.

At the bottom of the ocean,
Many treasures lie,
But is the risk worth it,
If it’s just going to make you die?

A big fat waste,
Of our fucking time,
But somehow us people,
Keep being just that blind.

Coming home,
Such a joke,
All that’s there is you,
The one whom deserves to choke.

It’s not the person you miss,
But the emotions that were felt,
From their essence,
While you were in their presence.

Just expect it,
The sweet will soon,
Melt away,
Like cotton candy,
Overtaken,
By a rocky road,
Then be on its way,
Leaving you shaken and forsaken.

If there wasn’t snow,
I would go,
Reckon,
I’d be there in a second.

Made Possible By Snowmen

A Christmas wreath,
Flying through the air like a frisbee,
Grabbed by an unseen hand,
Settled on top of,
A pudgy snowman.

The snowman shook her head,
She was confused,
Feeling something around her head,
She reached up to unseat it,
But it had become fused.

Her head began to tingle,
Where the wreath sat,
And then the bells attached,
The wind made them start to jingle.

Every year,
The very same wreath,
Floats down from the air,
And picks out a snowman,
To help with Mrs. Santa’s Plan.

Someone at the North Pole needs a snowman,
One that isn’t made,
Of their magic snow,
So Mrs. Clause sends out this wreath,
To gather one that she can’t reach.

During Mr. Clause’s,
Christmas Eve run,
Mrs. Santa has things,
She needs to get done,
For something in particular,
She’ll need the help of this one.

You see snow from the outside,
Is the only thing,
That can make things go unseen,
And she wants to hide.

No!
It’s not like that!
She’s not doing anything shady,
But those elves are nosy,
And she wants time to herself,
For a cozy evening,
Like a regular old lady.

So up and away,
Flew the snowman,
And when she landed,
In that Far North Land,
She was greeted by the twin,
Of Santa’s famous deer Vixen.

“My Lord”!
She exclaimed,
Upon looking around,
“I’ve never seen,
So many like myself before”!

“Ah, but they’re not like you”,
Said the twin of Vixen,
“Ours are made with stuff magical,
And cannot do the job,
We’ve collected you to do”.

And so in the short time it took,
To deliver her,
To the Clause’s door,
He provided swiftly,
A brief North Pole history.

Mrs. Clause heard them coming,
And threw open the door,
Calling out a merry greeting,
Around the mouthful of Christmas cookie,
She was eating.

Now Vixen’s twin plodded off,
And the non-magical snowman,
Was left with just Mrs. Clause,
Who explained she needed a night to relax,
A total break,
From the whole Christmas act.

“The elves would take this as a sign,
Of great disrespect,
And my husband would worry,
I wasn’t taking our job seriously,
So year after year,
I bring one of you here,
For the snow you’re made of,
Gives off a poison shine,
And if elves look upon it,
Their eyes go temporarily blind”.

So the non-magical snowman,
Was asked by Mrs. Clause to guard,
Posted right at the property’s edge,
So the elves’ views of the place,
For the next twenty-four hours,
Would be barred.

All throughout the coming day,
That woman had a ball,
She had,
After all,
Waited a whole year,
For this day to fall.

Half was spent lazing about,
Watching un-Christmassy things on her telly,
Then she cooked and ate unhealthy cuisine,
Like sausages with sour kraut,
Before taking time out,
To read a book,
Instead of being,
The elves’ cook.

Peeking out her front window,
She saw the non-magical snowman,
Was still there keeping watch,
But the time was up,
On this trick,
She must get ready,
For the arrival of St. Nick.

It would be another year,
Before she would again be clear,
Of dear Mr. Clause,
And before he showed his face,
The evidence of what happens in his wake,
She must be sure to erase.

For of course Santa Himself,
Would be able to see through,
The non-magical snowman,
As he’s much more powerful than an elf.

Let me tell you gladly,
It does not end badly,   
For those flown in to assist,
Mrs. Santa makes damn sure,
They are compensated for helping her,
She turns them magical,
Rather than returning them,
To where the first sign of warmth,
Would have them die a death most tragical.

Can Trouble-Free, Be For Real?

Just where in the mother-fuck,
Is easy street?
It’s a confusion I guess,                
Because something for one it might bless,
But put another in quite the fucking mess.

If I’m fortunate enough to make it,
To easy street,
Will I be given gracious greetings,
And presented with treats?

Maybe it’s not here at all,
There’s a possibility,
It can’t be uncovered,
Before we cross over.

Wherever it may be,
I wonder what’s to see,
And what’s waiting for me,
When I reach easy street.

What does it even mean,
To find easy street?
Is it time to kick back relaxed,
And stop being overtaxed?


Do you have a clue,
What there is to do,
Upon reaching easy street?
I assume there’s constant fun,
Because everything’s already done?

Are worries washed away,
When you set foot on easy street?
Is forgetting misfortunes,
A side effect of finding that place?

Maybe easy street finds us,
When we’ve all but given up?
Must you be invited to go there?
But by who……….
And could that be why it’s so rare?

Is easy street,
Even a factual place?
Or is it just fictitious?
Of this I’m suspicious……….

Love, Be Gone!

********************
I don’t like it,
So if that’s what this is,
Its hold on me,
Has got to give.
********************

Oh yes,
You bet it’s true,
Heart disease,
Is a most deadly killer,
But it’s not about that organ failing,
On which I stake my complaints,
I’m meaning more toward,
When it’s bruised and torn,
And makes us want to wail,
Because someone else,
Has made it mourn.

Such a deadly disease,
That eventually,
Befalls us all,
And sad but true,
If it hasn’t yet,
It’ll get you too.

Its fatality rate,
Is not known,
But if I were to debate,
On if it’s high,
I’d push to the affirmative,
As even though,
You may be alive,
You can’t really live.

Though able to move freely,
You’re paralyzed,
From a brain swirling,
With flashbacks of lies.

A smile that,
Goes on for miles,
Suddenly replaced,
With a wan face,
Brought on by nausea,
From that tormented mind,
And now your days are trials.

Years of torture,
Had fucking well better not be my future,
Knock on wood,
That it doesn’t take,
Much time to heal it,
Because I’m sick to death,
Of feeling like shit.

********************
I don’t like it,
So if that’s what this is,
Its hold on me,
Has got to give.
********************