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,
Floated down from the air,
And picked 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……….

THANKS•GIV•ING

November again, huh?
It sure doesn’t seem like it,
But the month of tricks and treats,
For this year is deceased,
It’s time now to prepare,
For the famous,
First-class November fare.

It seems to get less attention,
Than October’s demon playday,
Or Christ’s birthday,
That’s just one month away,
But if we tried to pass it by,
It’s guaranteed that wouldn’t fly.

Silly it seems,
And even dumb to some,
But it is tradition,
And most people follow it,
Of their own volition.

Tearing into turkeys,
And wrestling for wishbones,
The biggest worries being,
Whose closet skeletons,
Will come out for seeing,
And will we gain a pound,
After this meal is downed? 

Luckily the meal has evolved,
It now includes alcohol,
Which is a perfect something,
To round out the apple and the pumpkin.

Pilgrims there may not be,
But we will have friends,
We’ve formed into a family,
And really nothing’s better,
Than an excuse,
For us to have a get-together.

Hey Little Kitty-Kats

In this classic case,
Of being in the wrong place,
At the wrong time,
They picked up their pace,
When the Strange One,
Opened up his jowls,
And let out a heinous howl.

Being so much smaller though,
The cats were too slow,
And the stray wolf,
In need of a pack,
Turned them,
And now there’s no turning back.

Basic house cats,
They were out on a stroll,
For some Halloween laughs,
And sad to say,
That was the last time,
They’d have a normal-cat day.

It was a fun time,
People watching,
And clawing jack-o’-lanterns,
Until they were unrecognizable,
Until a dog walked by,
Who was quite sizable.

Weird vibes emanated from him,
But they paid no mind,
Until it was too late,
Now running was out of the question,
They were out of time.

*************************

That was last year,
And now it’s been a whole ‘nother year,
Halloween,
Has come ’round again,
It’s been accepted all around,
Although it still feels foreign.

Now they’re wolves,
The Strange One,
Couldn’t find a pack,
His magical abilities,
Made others of his kind stay away,
As though he were overrun with fleas.

Due to lack of fans,
The Strange One took matters,
Into his own hands,
He made his own pack,
Out of house cats.

There’s no way out,
For him now,
Though he’s happy to have a pack,
There’s one thing that,
He cannot stand,
And this is when they meow.

All the other wolves,
Howl and bark,
Sometimes in the daylight,
But mostly when it’s dark,
His mostly talk,
When the sun is up,
And each time they meow,
He wishes they’d just shut up.

*************************

Strangely enough,
The pack is content,
You’d think they’d be upset,
But they’ve got a silver lining,
Because to them,
Their master is in debt,
They’re spoiled rotten,
And they’ll never let what he did to them,
Be forgotten.

Just Some Inspiration

The entire universe,             
Runs on intention,                  
It’s up to each individual,
Whether for you it comes through,
As faith,
Or hope,
Or magical incantation.

You must not only think it,
But actually feel it,
Believe it,
Only then can you receive it.

Reach out with your whole being,
Mind, body, and soul,
So you are fully seeing,
Whatever needs to transpire,
To make your river smoothly flow.

Through your mind’s eye,
You must create a picture,
Take it and project it,
Into the universe,
And in the name of whatever or whomever,
In which you stake your trust,
Demand that this coming to pass,
Is a fucking must.

Everything runs on energy,
But it’s not necessarily electricity,
For us humans,
When at full power,
Determination is potent,
And the reaped results show it.

You must expect,
Be thinking like it’s already here,
Or the blessing will get checked,
And your needs and hopes,
May as well,
Be written off,
Yep………. shot to hell.

Don’t ever let your will power waver,
Have staying power,
Until it’s your hour.

If you doubt it,
Rather than shout it,
Your reward,
Will never match,
What us with open minds and hearts have scored.

Godsend

A flood of peace,
Swept through my soul,
It temporarily patched the hole,
And made me feel,
Almost whole.

I was able to sleep,
More than a wink,
Like I hadn’t,
In almost a week.

**********

But let’s back up,
To when thunder struck,
And every imaginable,
Type of hurt,
Made me wish I was under,
Six feet of dirt.

There were hot spots and cold fronts,
But I must be a dunce,
For I held out hope,
That this time I may be taken,
As more than a joke.

The hot spots did not last long,
They were like maybe just the first bar,
And the cold fronts were endured,
As long as the rest of the song went on.

**********

So back now to present time,
I could not think,
There was every negative emotion,
Swirling through my head,
Like a storm out in the ocean.

I tried to calm down,
But as no definitive dreams came,
My mind continued to drown,
Then I remembered a trick,
That can solve any problem,
And the only thing needed,
Is a certain book about two inches thick.

Without a doubt,
It was time for supernatural help,
Answers weren’t coming on their own,
I’d have to conjure them alone.

So out came the giant purple volume,
And I closed my eyes,
To ask about the burden,
Eating me up inside.

I call this my magic eight ball,
And it always answers when I call,
My hands were guided to the exact needed excerpt,
And I was prompted to pay attention most especially,
To the one numbered as twenty.

Oh I don’t know why I was even surprised,
The response was just what I had surmised,
And that night I was able to close my eyes,
And sleep for the first time in ages,
Soundly until the time came to rise.

**********

Now if the patch can hold,
Until the conclusion,
At what’s bound to be,
One hell of a reunion……….

Downfalls

We’re usually blind,
To our own failures,
So if you don’t mind,
I thought to be so kind,
As to give you some hints,
That may save you from a bind.

If your weakest link,
Isn’t very strong,
You’re gonna have problems,
The rest cannot fully make up,
For what is wrong.

Maybe it’s a part of your being,
It could be someone you’re seeing,
But if you don’t cut it loose,
There’s a guarantee,
It’ll be your noose.

It’s time to take the bull,
By the horns,
Instead of keeping the wool,
Pulled over your eyes.

Who’s that person,
Toppling you over?
They’re a rusty link,
That you should rethink,
Nothing but,
A fair-weather friend,
On which none can depend.

You have a choice,
To use your voice,
Silence isn’t always golden,
It will leave you beholden,
To your own mind,
Which should be a crime.

Leaning too much,
On that tasty crutch,
Has made you feeble and fat,
And a slave to that,
It’s as easy,
As the words ‘hell no’,
But it seems you choose,
To self-abuse.

Always talking a big talk,
But seemingly unable,
To follow it up,
With walking the walk,
Whatever it is,
Causing this mental block,
Is a plastic link,
In a chain made of rock.

All of that arrogance,
You’re so full of self importance,
In the end your conceit,
Will equal defeat,
Your chain to you,
Might seem sturdy,
Too bad though,
That this trait makes it,
A tad less hardy.

I Sit Here Contemplating……….

What if people looked to their holy bible,
For their sole means of survival,
Instead of giving up,
When on a stroke of bad luck?

What if grass grew pink,
And with lots of kinks,
Would the animals still want it,
For their main cuisine,
If it were not straight and green?

What if there was no sun,
And there had been none,
Ever since the world had begun,
Would there still be such a thing,
As the dark being frightening?

What if people could fly like birds,
But it was normal not absurd,
Would airplanes still have been invented,
Or the idea not have even been presented?

What if the weather were more even,
And there was no such thing as seasons,
If that were so,
Would Earth be mild, hot, or cold?

What if people were not progressive,
And didn’t desire things impressive,
Would we regress back in time,
And if so,
What exactly would be on the line?

What if the pants of a liar,
Truly did catch on fire,
Would the world turn into a great big blazing pit,
Because it would catch everything around it?

What if everyone got along,
And stood united and strong,
Would the world be one big affair,
Or would people still form pairs?

What if the world were colorblind,
And colors had never been defined,
Would it become less challenging to choose,
Things like clothing and shoes,
And could said articles,
Still reflect one’s personality and mood?

What if more people would fight,
For what they know is right,
Instead of following easy street,
Though they know it ends in defeat?

What if coming home,
Were a better option than to roam,
If people were comfortable,
Sticking to their roots,
Would this not prevent,
Quite a bit of disputes?

What if blue did not mean sad,
And red did not mean mad,
Could anything else describe,
These emotions to which our brains subscribe?

What if money,
Wasn’t everyone’s honey,
If it had never been invented,
Would the world be less demented and tormented?

Random Reflections

Things that could never happen,
Like a tree falling down,
And skinning its knees,
Or the sunrise,
Making the world appear to blacken.

Things that are a given,
Like a tropical cloudburst,
Causing flooding,
Or a vehicle gaining mileage,
Each time it’s driven.

Things that could never happen,
Like a laceration,
With blood that bleeds blue,
Or a cow dancing around,
Singing and clapping.

Things that are a given,
Like a stuffed animal,
Being full of cotton,
Or a loved one’s murderer,
Being unforgiven.

Things that could never happen,
Like an African elephant,
Squeezing through a doggie door,
Or a runaway animal stopping,
When the reins slacken.

Things that are a given,
Like Christmas decorations,
Bringing thoughts of cold and snow,
Or you pushing the door labeled out,
While trying to get in.

Things that could never happen,
Like life not changing,
As years fly by,
Or the stars rearranging,
To mend all misfortune.

Things that are a given,
Like hair growing back,
Each time it’s cut,
Or an asthma attack,
Being an actual brush with death.

Things that could never happen,
Like a fan,
Being enough in summer,
Or a marching band,
Providing good entertainment.

Things that are a given,
Like a dog,
Being the most loyal of beasts,
Or a rotten log’s,
Heat being brief.

Things that could never happen,
Like complete silence,
Bringing on deafness,
Or absolute reliance,
On a sworn enemy.

Things that are a given,
Like making it home,
Bringing a sigh of relief,
Or needing a comb,
For your morning routine.

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.
********************