Hi! Well, I
just got to thinkin’
on the first of July
how to type without blinkin’.
But five hundred words
milk with vinegar curds
on my work assigned.
So tardy, oh yes
but one surely can see
with no need to guess
no one’s watching but me!
Can I keep these here digits
a little bit spry
when they’re twisted midgets
in this torrid July?
I’ll grasp what this hundred words
thing is about
and clasp simple pencils
when power’s gone out!
Then turn in my work
with a shit-eatin’ grin100 WORDS IN THE ASH BIN!!
Those brave soulscooked in foil tents
now wisps of ghouls
of crisps and coals
in present tense
and flame-licked shoals
beyond all sense.
Yes, we only get to hear
of those who brave the flame;
calling and hauling heavy gear
and battling to tame
a wall of fire without fear
the ultimate perilous game
their big courage will endear
those sheltered just the same.
This tragedy will underscore
our truly puny size;
the fires rage just like before
and blacken many skies.
Here’s a big shout-out to the first responders, those indubitably aptly-named
‘Hot Shots’ who perished!
Getting well past the end of June
and I need to call that Mike.
Is he stalling
or playing a tune?
Just hope it’s a song we all like.
He had some oak trees
on a hill
and said: “Cut them, oh please
if you will!”
So I estimated
‘round what it would cost him
then got belated
and thought I had lost him.
Having driven by his place three times in three months since the initial
estimate, I, or even the most imbecilic observer could plainly see that Mike
should rethink the removals due to erosion issues.
Hot as a friggin’ firecracker,
this Fourth of July
under bright sunny sky
saw Davey an indolent slacker!
So try as he might
he’s a pitiful sight
and neglected his hearty out-backer.A hot fuss to deplorethus this seven/four:lemonade for tart/sweet lip-smacker!
But regarding the heatDavey won’t weep and wail
Polar® seltzer’s so neat
hey, looks like it’s on sale!
So grab me a 12-pack
and let me go guzzle
when my butt gets back
pull this can from my muzzle!
Dusk update: the customary incendiary consumables fusillade decreased this
year, with John’s annual bash well attended.
Today Davey H once again trots out a commemorative paean to his late acquaintance simply named ‘Tuck’.
Who knows where he got that nickname?
But no matter; he was remarkable in his own right, and Davey will chronicle
some details in Davey's own write.
Gunned down while running for his car – no doubt to escape the bloodthirsty
cretins chasing him – Tuck perished from small caliber gunshot wounds to head
and body on July 5th, 1985.
The pieces of shit who murdered him were never brought to justice, though
police had a pretty good idea from which sewer they had crawled.
JR was a strong man, though he smoked. Perhaps that was his
only permitted weakness.
Even now, in his darkest hour, he would no doubt maintain a stoicism unequaled
in the world of hominids; a rigidity well-honed through years of
knuckle-bustin' working class ardor.
He had handed over all her computers to the cops – a curiously trusting act in
these times of hyper-surveillance – hoping against hope that they would find
some clues as to M's disappearance, but nothing turned up. Nothing at all. It's
as if she had been whisked away by extraterrestrials or some such.
JR will slowly recover.
I would love to write to JR but he hasn't done email – ever.
Friggin' amazing for a guy that once fixed the shop's computer when nobody else
Which leads to the following tangent: JR’s dormant skill – indeed discovered
quite by accident and forged in the crucible of urgent necessity – led to a
side line of sorts, and now he overlooks almost an entire division's worth of
So yet another mailing is in the offing, replete with pricey handcrafted condolence
cards, but more than likely no flowers, and another memorial to attend, being
proposed and slated as we speak/write.
Some final entries in what could have been JR’s personal
diary – had he been so disposed:
A day of existence
as I turn and toss,
and keep on with persistence
despite the huge loss.
An ex-wife with ex-life
such demons removed her
so she severed her strife
as she thought it behooved her.
What anguish reduced her?
As a fool such as I
had so failed thus to boost her
and maintain her so spry!
Family, yes, oh we never will part
but always be together
sewn by blood and heart:
an eons-long tether!
Pray tell, where did it start?
Back to the grind, oh yes we find
and the heat, so beat, leaves us falling behind.
I bleat, wipe a sheet, peel a grapefruit rind.
Must Do List
(not to be confused with the ‘To Do List’:
Clean and oil the trailer hitch,
then preen and roil – hey, life’s a glitch!
House, part 2 – for me and you:
It’s looking like we have to wait;
booking a hike toward closing date,
but it must fit in, despite sputter and spin,
for we’ve way too much on our plate!
That’s all well and good, we keep the wood!
Head for the ice cream stand?
No, please wait!
First, it’s off to Walnut Hill Farm so grand
without hesitation and with jubilation
for that variety they call 'Temptation”®
Yeah, that would be great – a grand stand!
So on with the seat belt, off with the blinders!
Your windshield the stones pelt
Hah! Keepers, finders!
Oh, w-Hell, that’s the whey of the whirled,
so fine vegan non-dairy a topic to broach
as we come upon that ‘CORN’ flag unfurled
a delectable thing to approach!
Yet in summation, we may find
that they’ve sold off Temptation®….
So what’s the next kind?
Another Splay In The Shed
An arduous day to play, I guess
Scrub up the splay of awful mess.
Weeds with seeds, grass and red clover;
which tools we needs? Those we trip over?
Alas, a trip out to the shed
No need to flip out, though I dread
The aforesaid mess I so abhor
Tools lost, I guess, tromped ‘cross the floor.
Things really needed, so get fishin’:A shed spelunking expedition!
Skulk and sulk amidst the mire
Exult in the hopes that it won’t catch fire!
Piss and cuss, complain and shout
Longing thus to straighten it out!