HAPPY FRIGGIN’ NEW YEAR, etc.:
According to some of the braggadocio trickling in to Davey’s various inboxes, a
bit ‘o summer is merrily manifesting in the Sunshine state – and Golden state,
if you will, with temperatures in the 80’s in the latter. Hah! Not jealous
here; time to whip up some buckwheat batter!
This turning over a new leaf – you know, New Year’s resolutions and all that
tommyrot – would not, for Davey H, be a walk in the woods. In fact, were it to
be so, Davey would encounter unsavory likelihoods, such as stepping in dogshit.THAT’S life, to wit!
A Wednesday just like any other, this one would see the deep
freeze continue with verve. But no matter; to a pink flesh sack acclimated to
such environs, all is par for the stinkin’ course.
Much bitching continues, though, and sand/salt filth grit that gets into
everything tops the list of gripin’ topics.
Roads have taken on eerie white fuzz since ambient dryness prevails, and a
passing tractor trailer whips up a noxious salt fog through which he hightails.
At that point, I non-enthuse,
it is good while you cruise
to close up your vent
lest to salt-hell you’re sent.
Davey broke free from his usual bind
of being, see, eight to ten days behind,
and plumbed the dappled shade of his mind
for limericks or tweaks he would verily find.
He felt prompted, in a fit ‘o gall,
whilst feeling the crunch of impending dates,
to rattle the pen from e-quivering stall
and scribble upon the slates:
”Please listen here
as I come clean,
and will unaccompanied tout it;
I loathe, don’t fear, the Debt Machine
and make no bones about it!”
But somewhere, somehow
a mother breastfeeds
it is back in vogue now
and advice that she heeds.
Out here, here now, it is wondrous how
the red rooster’s crow
that thing which you know
has a shrill mournful sound
that bounces around
in the dusty, fresh fallen snow.
Well, at least this here time
on such a morning sublime.
So what plight, pray tell, has he found?
Yea, one thing is sure
he emits hearty roar
when a rare and bright sun does abound.
A little discernment is all that it takes
to observe the different sounds that he makes.
No, they’re never the same
in his loud crowing game
while he trumpets his sturdy beak shakes!
Quick! Move that friggin’ couch out of the way!
‘Nuff said, I’d say; whilst working alone today!
The Boss-man had figured out an ingenious method of squeezing yet another –
imagine ONE MORE desk where no room exists – workstation in an already cramped
corner of the ‘break room’, next to the copier/fax/paper cutting table.
So now, when we lower the staircase leading to the incredibly cluttered attic,
it barely squeaks by the tiny desk’s edge enroute to the floor.
Cellulosic insulation dust is everywhere. It spews out from under each boot’s
fall and becomes airborne in an instant.
The average person would most
and see their mood worsen at the ‘Wrinkle Ranch’
whilst their flow of dark dread
at the sight of each bed
on which lies a bod that appears halfway dead
would not very easily stanch.
Dan The Man that acerbic term coined
and I questioned him verily, watching him squirm
for although nowit is obvious how
he, too will be easily purloined
at a similar site in long term.
After he’d said that, I left, lightly humming
and thought of poor Dan
that term-coining man:
for his day is most definitely coming!
Oh, the trees and the flowers
in deep freeze lost their powers!
They’re shrouded in ice
so clouded – not nice
walkin’ in a winter blunder land!
Maple syrup we’ll be tastin’
on Facebook, time a-wastin’
don’t mean to be snide
but we’re stuck inside
talkin’ in a winter blunder land.
In the shadows, sun ain’t gonna show, man
so don’t pretend that it will get too warm
maybe later we’ll take in a show, man
or a matinee before the swarm.
Icy ears, can you listen?
Shun your fears, wind a-hissin’
we’ve run out of room
glimpsing the gloom
Here, oh, dear, I'll hem and haw
and snag a leer at the junkyard CLAW.
It grabbed some piles, then flung and flitted
I couldn't resist; risked the man getting pissed:
then took pix though they were not permitted!
You should have seen the piles of shit they had!
It gave this farmboy such a thrill;
magnets and cranes and loaders big and BAD
all moving upon the mud swill.
I hastened my tail
and got on the scale
for the requisite weigh-in;
then disgorged the load
in the place I was showed
happy to just be a-playin’!
Today was their 59th anniversary.
Many folks don’t live that long,
let alone put up with each other.
As a point of reference, the illustrious creator of that stellar poem entitled
“Trees”, none other than Joyce Kilmer, lived only 32 years, but no word on
whether he was hitched.“In 100 years, who’s gonna care?” you might have
But these modern-day seniors stare at the cusp of their ninth decade,
anticipating shunting themselves over to ‘the next step’, which bills itself as
The next step– or move after THAT, however you moniker it – means ‘last STOP.
Meanwhile, back at what Dan
the man called‘the wrinkle ranch’:
Folks’ mouths cave in
as they lie supine;
no shit-eatin’ grin
on this face of mine.
4 once dentures are plucked out of the face
not much remains to hold lips up in place.
Gone are the lissome, the sexy, and the youth
and in their place will be something uncouth.
Mashed potatoes most days,
on the plate they are laid,
wheel yourself through the maze
you will soon be afraid
for as these conditions
are what you might rue,
don’t get to wishin’
it won’t come to you!
MLK = GREAT
Whatever happened to Martin Luther King Day?
Was it lost at a cost, frazzled in the fray?
Why no, ordinary Joe; please join the late MLK:
jump-start the skills you know
DIVE in both feet and play!
Today was the signified celebratory datefor that GENTLEMAN so great,and none other
than our President brotherwill ask of us a spate:
"From your post you shall not swerve
make the most @ United We Serve!"
It had this farmboy wondering
at ‘our’ hoi polloi’s stark blundering
with fannies on the couch
we’d better get up – and ouch!
This farmboy had always thought
that 'till' meant just that.
So 'til he gets acquainted
with his own syntax tainted
he'll wonder and blunder, clumsy, alone
until those proverbial cows come home.
He had seen others far above his ilk
writing and writhing in lexicographical passion
spitting out mothers of symbols in silk
ardent, in arresting fashion.
Take for example, those fiery editorialsby none other than William F.– a highly
educated gentwhose name shall remain anonymouswithin the context of this
post:he THROWS DOWN, and gives it the most.
To his words, we all drink a toast.
Just thought of something:
Say you have a fan, and that fan is running.
Its blades are spinning, and motor is humming.
It produces sound; the air is thinning.
What have you found? You might be grinning.
And on its blades, sliced air is IT
not meeting up with any shit
but rather, oh, dear girls and boys
this fan produces some ‘white noise’.
Yes, that oddly named ‘white noise’, or ‘white sound’ is well known within both
lay and scientific communities, so can any geeks within the latter please tell
us if ‘black noise’ exists?
Never in the history of DLIPFFarm
has this ever happened.Well, actually we shan’t say “never”;
it actually has occurred more then once
and then at that
at the drop of a hat,
it made me feel like a dunce,
and that is where this crap end.
1/18’s orphaned entry:
Up until two we had such a to-do!
Then come the a.m. – I put on one shoe.
Amidst evening mayhem,
I wore amber hue;
such goggles as they are good to look through,
and boost melatonin so one will not rue;
yet up late, got raunchy; had nary a clue.
Gabor Maté’s scintillating talk on the topic of ‘Is
capitalism making us crazy?’ was a game changer.
Listening further, not much in the way of a naysay got in the way. The dude has
a way with words, and spells out irrefutable facts.
But to this occasional Big Box shopper, the thought occurred: ‘we need a BLAME
Living under the system, Davey had succeeded as much as a farmboy of his
persuasion could expect to.
No, he wasn’t crazy – at least not yet – but the nameless statistics and
persons chronicled by Maté
certainly seemed to state his case persuasively.
But in purple prose, as anyone knows
such gibberish, they will not heed it;
so throw in the “no’s” and leave the typos
because you know no one will read it.
Thus, didactic Davey will leave behind
that prosaic puffery fluff
then scrounge up some verbiage quickly to find
he accomplishes this on his DUFF.
This post is continued from what was already chronicled and perhaps posted –
after the ‘black noise’ query:
Here’s a little anecdote, as if anybody cares:
Here, oh dear, and sooner than later
the ever-available stairs
are freer than that elevator
although more slowly one fares.
Spar date – maybe yesterday: The most recent visit to one extraordinarily
expensive but oh, so necessary nursing home meant witnessing the undergirding
necessity of elevators which exist for the less fortunate, namely the
residents, who, for better or worse – usually and mostly worse – cannot get up
or down any other way. I mean, like, can you imagine a wheelchair banging down
Dat sh**’s undeniably dangerous – even for the most ambitiously ambulatory or
So let’s have patience,forsaking the elevators in favor of stairs, allowing
for the residents, who could be more properly identified – and served – as
Any given visit to one of these horrific institutions will
send any proverbial Tom, Dick or Harry scurrying the other way – preferably out
the nearest exit – with or without their respective dicks.
That being said, it stands true,
even for us backwoods hicks.
So off to ‘bigger’ and more youthful things, such as two folks who, having
years ago exchanged vows and rings, now feel compelled, and not compunctious in
moving on to other things:
Amanda and Jerry, well, they broke up,
and neither one is bitchin’.
He likely got that bigass truck,
and she got that slick dream kitchen!
Slowly, unsteadily, on your feet;
ice and snow make need for cleat!
Use the ‘springs’ that stretch over shoes;
it’s a safe bet those things are safe to use!
Recently, mysteriously, the local venerable farmer’s supply store began
carrying magnesium chloride pellets for deicing purposes – a much friendlier
alternative to the highly corrosive and unhealthy calcium chloride.
So why can’t the highway department follow suit?
Is this oxidization point moot?
As salt rusts our rust-buckets,Do we give a hoot?
And what about those horns?
Can we hear a toot?
At salt we heap our scorns
corrosion at the root!
thoughts on the formerly intoxicated:
Grasped in sobriety treatment, not idly mired,
who prior to propriety were excoriated
whilst attempting to get rewired:
Yes, the “they” may have cajoled you
or maybe even firmly told you
“never get too Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired”.
To which we might rightly add into:
“Try your stinkin’ level best
though you may be put to the test
whether hungry, angry, lonely or tired,
try not to ever get FIRED!”
That would help one’s self esteem
by making this good point;
for things are lonelier than they seem
at your hungry, angry joint!
Hug that warm hearth if
you will impart a better day!
But out and about, I’ve this to say:
Please don’t harangue me re:
how much protein I should consume!
Just leave it alone; I’m gristle free,
oh ghastly, gaseous plume!
Bloodied corpse on plates, you see
are not what I’ll consume!
Your methane belching bothers me
so giddy up – go zoom!
If this SHORT life
or more accurately, ‘existence’,
in this scarcely fathom-long body
can be lived
while shortening as few other lives as possible,then that is and shall be
the long and short of it!