WORD MARCHWhen in the course of temerity-tainted time-wasting
human events it becomes imminently plausible, even mandatory, to
respond with poise yet with appropriate tinges of vitriol to
outlandish, extortionate criticisms of those less fortunate, one of
the responsive persuasion verily shuffles up to the proverbial yet
tangibly felt soapbox, grasps her/his respective, non-proverbial
bootstraps by the proverbial short-hairs, gives them a resolute tug,
and ushers forth impassioned streams of well-intentioned and
determined expostulations which, by their very resolve-backed nature,
are well suited to the occasion at hand and audience-at-large,
however minuscule the orator may at that time be.
was the day in '91that we remembered our cousinwho tried with
great painsto blow out his brainsbut then lived 'oer the
monthssay, a dozen.Why, pray (or don't) did he pickthis
date of March 6th?What could the reason have been?He
had a young cousin'twas born on the 5thbut he had
rarely seen him.When we saw cousin She had languished, I
guessand was fitted with giant thick glasses;as the staff at
the homedidn't leave him aloneand sure didn't sit on their
waylaid, no tag, no hash.In the shade with this radio
trash!Indeed, how many timeshave I turned that thing on,only
to find this mind'sfunction thus gone?Now that is a good
question, with no need to shout it;but here's a
suggestion:do something about it!Next time, oh rabble,when
you hear psychobabble,rather than trying to tout it;don't
piss or scoff; hey, just turn it off,then you've no need to
reroute it!For of a difference it makes not one whit,so
keep up resistance:you don't give a sh**!
“Opinionated – it's such a bad feature;
you're desecrated, oh, gas-spewing creature!”
Moreover, he railed on, himself opinionated:
“Snow again in the forecast, my friend,
and it will be soon blowing in;
so you'd better get working
and cut out the shirking
lest the snow be on my foreskin!”
Thus ends yet another highly impolite expatiation of the Andymeister, whose
exhortations have not previously been chronicled by the grate Davey H for 100
And as a point of reference, Andrew's streams of irreverent carbon dioxide
emissions were rarely appreciated by the snowbound frozen munchkins of this
Scribblin' with wandering mind
China mine a giant Panda
You won't mind some propaganda.
And what a grand, uh, story it was!
Give 'em a hand-a just because.
But that story was a mere distraction
from the gory lion's action
whilst zookeepers' prompt bloody gaffe
did bring sure doom to young giraffe.
But then, as per this
we scurry from that lion's den
plod and scribble here once again:
the distracted cat laid
down his hat
whilst hastening not to drop it;
then took a piss
on the floor like this,
and wouldn't even mop it.
“Do not,” they say, “Mix fruit and
“Screw blot.” I bray; won't take great pains.
Because that mixin' is what it takes
Yum! Blueberries fixin' with hotcakes!
So lots of things are common knowledge,
with or without flings of college,
but it won't matter what you eat,
your endless patter incomplete
and no matter what you bleat
surely, adder, the clock will beat
The foregoing food philosophy was no doubt proffered by a neatnik who, in
her/his scrupulous efforts to organize a hopelessly disorganized state of
affairs in the outside world, attempted to paste such meticulousness on her/his
Continued: the rail regarding
it should entail imparting knowledge.
But is that four years' recompense
a substitute for common sense?
This one should be oh, so clear;
so listen up, my fledgling dear:
We know 'foil wrap' as 'tin foil'
though it should be noted here:
it's actually made of aluminum, goil,
and has been for many a year!
A four year stay to thee I bray
should sharpen up your schnoz;
and grant you skills you'll use today
no shills, and just because:
You'll work and earn
that's a sure requirement
for funds to burn in your 'retirement'.
“Whatever IS will be a WAS.”
– Bhikkhu Bodhi.And yes, 'Bhikkhu' is a
Venerable, that Bhikkhu Bodhi!
And to him I listened intently
because indeed, well would bode he.
All that is will pass away
and become the 'was',
not here to stay
and no one need remind you, 'Cuz:
You and me, us, them, and they.
I will pass, as my trees and grass
those rusting tools and shattered glass.
I will go and not come back
the same, also, for machines in the shack.
And implements tucked in the shed?
Gone to thieves or otherwise DEAD.
Blank Page Somewhat Untitled
Here's yet another blank space filled:
will it get first place? 'Oer that we’re thrilled!
We'll continue this pace thus having shilled
whilst saving face with minds soon stilled.
We're compelled to tell you that's
a standard practice in the flats
and from society's gaggle of brats
were rescued many dogs and cats!
But what about turkeys, chickens and ducks?
The thought of them evokes “Aw, shucks.”
They deserve better than rides in trucks
or to be slaughtered for a few measly bucks.
Thus to finish this blank page
our hearts go out to that outrage.
An obstinate spammer and Internet slammerhad discovered what hitting 'SEND'
'Compose' did comprise
rancid prose we despise
though protected by our First Amendment!
But rather than hurt he
could query of QWERTY,
but for me:
I saved some 'Spam Classics',
and raved “they're fantastic!”
Like fat in pastrami well-marbled;
whilst in grammar so lax
and with wretched syntax,
they're a pastiche of nonsense that's garbled!
Oh, do they conspire us
to throw down a virus?
Or is it a bit more benign?
I won't detect
but will rather protect
this system that so far is fine.
Of the PATH taken by the
holiest, 'thus-gone' arahants, and particularly the SAMASAMBHUDDHAS, it was
noted by a fellow modern-day householder that, contrary to erroneous,
inexplicably popular belief, such aforementioned attainments, let alone the
extremely difficult sacrifices and penances required to bring them about, would
not be possible, because, in her words:“you wouldn't want to.”The PATH and
FRUITS obtainedare exceedingly rare in this world.
Thus, Davey notes the following quotes:
“I venerate and do not fake it;
no ifs ands or butts;
whilst admiring the path
that he mustered to take it;
man, that took some GUTS!
Bad habits, detest
and late hours working
yet that's when the best
seek to come out of lurking.
Thus putting the best to the test, we gorge;
now at your behest,
hey, I just saw old George!
And this George I just saw
he has very few teeth
dull pink gums in his craw
this to you I bequeath:
George, he works all his days
yes, he’ll never be done;
lost his teeth in the craze
indeed, soon he’ll have none!
So under George
I could have apprenticed
and on sugar gorge
whilst en route to the dentist.
Got up, slurped a cup,
to the creak of the chair.
Didn’t go out, couldn’t go anywhere.
Yup, had to get up, had to go take a breather,‘cause the book I was writing
that was NOT exciting
though pages were turning
not much was I learning.It wouldn’t go anywhere either.
Things roll along, though, albeit not so greatly;and we sing a fuel song
amid engine’s throb-throng,
have you seen those damn fuel prices lately?
Yeah, we’re doing okay, but not, say, “fine”;
as diesel today was $4.39!
Oh, that green dye?
It goes in the tank, guy.
TALK. Yes, that is correct.
And it is all we do.
To this one might object,
and they have a right to.
But one thing’s for sure, oh, and may I implore?As the words rearrange,
it is at base mere chatter,
for nothing will change
so the talking won’t matter.
But talk if you will
and yap if you might;
cuss and spew swill
morning, noon and night.
You jaw-jacked in the past
and could well do so forever;
hey, not so fast – it’s a useless endeavor!
Homo sapiens has easy reach
as the only animal capable of speech.
Hurry up! Don’t wait!
But don’t worry, slurry, you are already late!
To hear that debate
you would think it just fine
with no need to berate
some damn Keystone pipeline.
It was just a plain tiff
that the tar sands operators
could spill that tar stiff
not to trifle with the ‘laters’.
Yet, as one snarky climate change denierwould likely prompt us to cogitate about
“The emissions from all mouths involved in this contentious imbroglio could
very well dwarf the aggregate CO2 emissions of such tar sands, should their
transport and eventual cumulative combustion come to fruition.”
Clove hitch dove ditch, windlass
Nobody reads, nay, let alone heeds,
so let’s just pull weeds – life’s a glitch!
But here’s a story I would like to tell Kory:
“There once was a man named Goddamnit
who waxed so defamed as to slam it;
though he was hell bent
on this message he sent
it meant all who saw him said “RAM IT!”
But that was now and this is then
I’ll show you how to piss again!
Thus it brings to mind for you
a scene that happened in ’82:
In the next post we will continue.
As for that tale I was telling you
that garnered a wail back in ’82:
Davey cussed and pissed
all over the place,
and be certain of this:
he sure had a red face!
He took thirteen piss tests in one year
lest he be drugged as per their fear,
but Davey, cocksure with each whiz,
did soon endure – with piss not his!
and ace flame tamer Ed R.
made it a pointto put Davey on the hot seatwhere he could be made to sputter.
A master of brazing,
Ed could get away with that nonsense.
Mom was in Die Fledermaus
oh, yes, that opera droll.
Much later, I saw a later mouse
that had scurried through a hole
behind a wall inside my house
it couldn’t have been a mole;
like any rodent, ‘twas a LOUSE
I wouldn’t soon cajole.
With no mouse concurrently
I patched a hole behind the sink
whilst all the while a-bitchin’
that’s where they had come in, I think
makes sense, hell, it’s the kitchen!
Now this mouse’s tale unwinds
with squeaks and creaks and roars;
that house will be no longer mine
and neither is it yours.
This phenomenon was possibly written about previously,
say, in February’s batch,so unless any reader would be willing to collate,
culminate, locate, extricate, and disseminate said possible errant redundancy
from past expositions, here goes:
What came but a knock upon the door,
a wholly unexpected knuckle-bound roar!
Then behold, to bring me ostensibly
good friggin’ tidings, yo, couldn’t I see?
Hence, a well-dressed cadre predictably,
whom whilst filled with goodwill,
often generate ill,
but, hill, they are WITNESSES, see?
Their literature with familiar features
but sadly it must be concluded:
we’ll exonerate these faithful creatures
for being, sometimes, so deluded.