Sooner Or Later, It’s Inevitable

I feel a storm’s brewing,

Bye-bye to rainbows and unicorns,

Trust me now,

Trouble’s coming.

 

Things have been going far too good,

To stay like this for always,

I’m betting soon,

My mind’s happy song,

Will sound instead,

Like a troubled gong.

 

I should wonder what this trial shall be,

And how long it will linger beside me,

But I’ll try not to give a damn,

Or let it ruin what I am.

 

Everything’s smooth sailing for me now,

Too much to spell out here,

Now I wonder,

If I had to choose,

In which area of my world,

Would I be willing to begin feeling the blues?

 

Maybe it’s for good,

That we don’t get much for clues,

When a storm is on the move,

Because for real,

Who knows what we’d do,

If we could  better sense,

When rough seas were due?

 

Let’s hope the winds aren’t too wild,

And that anything not easily resolved,

Is not at all involved,

As I don’t want to smother,

Before I have recovered.

 

When it finally shows its ugly self,

And carefully laid plans,

Start whirling and twirling,

I’ll refashion things,

Into a new and appealing pearl,

Using just good old brains and hands.

 

Think Before You Speak

Earl was an eccentric little rabbit,

About which,

Everyone made quite a racket,

He was as ordinary as you please,

Really a lovely fellow,

But there was always talk about,

Him wearing a long black jacket,

And his strange love for eating jello.

 

Some squirrels say his jacket,

Is to aide him in black magic,

He’s not normal,

And he must be up to tricks,

But the otters believe,

It’s just his blameless lucky charm,

And fits naturally to him,

As much as his own arm.

 

The rest of them,

All have their own view too,

So I feel I ought,

To clear things up with you:

He’s a fuckin gem!

 

His many weird habits,

Make him unlike the other rabbits,

Like when he ventures out of the woods,

To stock up on people goods.

 

While he is gone,

Others quake with fear,

As their minds produce some crazy thoughts,

Of things he may be getting up to,

He just buys innocent things,

Like spinach and whiskey,

And lugs them back,

In a big black sack,

But he keeps his doings on the down-low,

So they get freaked out,

By what they don’t know.

 

He’s quite the early bird,

Each morning he happily wakes,

Then after putting the coffee on,

Heads outside,

Where he does a wild dance,

And the onlooking deer deem him absurd,

As they look on in a trance.

 

It’s not totally that tragic though,

See these deer don’t know,

He’s saying some words,

That encourage their meadow grasses to grow.

 

He won’t partake of his coffee,

Without first reciting a good-luck phrase,

That his mother used to hope,

Would be just a phase,

As it made her hair raise.

 

I’ll give you that,

Yes this could be a tad odd,

But it has done things amazing,

Like preventing a carelessly tossed match,

From setting their whole wood ablaze.

 

He grows alfalfa and carrots,

On all sides of his cottage,

And enjoys watching their progress,

During an evening sit,

On his wrap-around terrace.

 

It’s said he does strange things,

While out there each evening,

The Old Owl is always watching,

And says supposedly his lips move,

But put forth no sound,

And his crazy hand motions,

Have been told of for miles around.

 

In reality he’s just humming,

Relaxing himself with a merry tune,

While tapping his arm chair,

With his ice cream spoon.

 

Today he outwitted a tiger,

And stopped him from terrorizing a spider,

The truth’s still being sorted out,

Of just how that came about.

 

Orlando the Owl swears,

That last evening on his porch,

He saw him do a dance,

While swinging ’round a torch,

So it must have been a spell,

How else,

He asks,

Could he have made a tiger fell?

 

Truth be told,

If he could have done such a thing,

He’d rather use such excessive powers,

To fill his pockets full of gold.

 

Sunday is his fun day out,

One week he’ll go here,

And meet an old school peer,

For a game of solitaire,

Another week he may go there,

In search of a new cologne,

To spray upon his hair.

 

Sandra the Sparrow speculates,

That he does evil on these dates,

Why else,

She says,

Would he wander out so far,

Without taking his flashy car?

But he is not at all about Hell,

She does not know what it is she tells.

 

Here’s the truth:

He’s out there having fun,

Dodging busy noses,

As they’re trying to find out,

Everything under the blazing sun,

That he’s ever done.

 

Do you maybe have an Earl,

Somewhere near to where you are?

Are you maybe being less than fair,

While you sit there judging,

From your high and mighty chair?

 

 

 

 

 

Some Different Views Of A Shoe

Different eyes,

Light upon the same thing,

In one it ignites joy,

While it makes another’s world spin,

Boy oh boy,

Have you ever considered,

That what’s good for the digger,

May be bad for the chigger?

 

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

 

I found some new soles,

They are so awesome,

They make my soul sing,

Did u just say something?

I didn’t actually understand a thing,

I was just doing some imagining.

 

Oh,

Yes I do know,

I’ve a closetful already,

But I must make these beauties mine,

If it costs me my last dime.

 

Shoes,

They are so exciting,

You must have some in every style,

And each style in at least a few colors,

Buying these will make me smile,

If I run out of space,

I’ll just start putting them in piles.

 

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

 

A hole tunneled in a crack,

Of a busy sidewalk,

That is my front door,

I like being in the middle,

Of the daily hustle and bustle,

But there is one thing about it that I abhor.

 

They scare me,

And no matter when,

I need to come or go,

I am greeted by them,

No doubt one day,

One will be the reason for my end.

 

Some are fast,

And some are slow,

But they’re always going past,

These shoes that encase people’s feet,

Ready to squash a bug like me,

Who dares reside on their main street.

 

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

 

I’ve made a nest,

In the corner of a cupboard,

I really like it too,

But I may have to move.

 

Apparently the lady of the house,

She is scared of me,

A teeny-tiny mouse.

 

She was up early today,

And saw me doing,

My morning dart across the kitchen,

She screamed at me so long and loud,

I clearly saw her pearly whites,

Who knew the little woman,

Could be such a chicken?

 

Now I’m on one side of the room,

And she is on the other,

I see her taking off her shoe,

To try and bash my head in,

I hope I make it past,

That horrifying thing,

As I make a mad dash for cover.

 

I made it,

And she had a hissy fit,

I’ve now got an enemy,

And she can whip them off pretty fast,

They are a definite danger to me,

So until I move,

I guess I won’t be sleeping very soundly.

 

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

 

A big comfortable house,

Where I’m the one and only dog,

I have many toys,

And a bed with lots of blankets,

I’m allowed to make a lot of noise,

And I eat foods fit for a fancy banquet.

 

I enjoy all of these trappings,

But what I really love to do,

Is chew on a good shoe.

 

I miss my people when they’re out,

So I sniff around ’til I find something,

That smells strongly of them,

Very good!

They’ve left more shoes lying around,

I wag my tail,

And go to town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think I’d Like That

I’d rather be a tree,

This way I’d not be everyone’s focus,

Probably the animals,

Would be the only ones to give me any notice.

 

I’d rather be a dog,

This way I could laze around all day,

My biggest worry being,

If I’m in anybody’s way.

 

I’d rather be a dollar bill,

This way I’d travel ’round the world for free,

Going from this wallet to that hand,

I’d see it all from sea to sea.

 

I’d rather be a horse,

This way I could use my hooves,

To beat up my enemies,

And no one would disapprove.

 

I’d rather be a sea shell,

This way I could live on the beach,

Without the beach house mortgage,

Yes that would make life just peachy.

 

I’d rather be a parrot,

This way I could yak all day,

And people would laugh not be offended,

By the truths I’d say.

 

I’d rather be a Christmas wreath,

This way I could go in hiding almost all year,

Rather than deal with people,

Not as rosy as they appear.

 

I’d rather be a dairy cow,

This way I’d have no responsibility,

Except for giving you cream and butter,

With a mood of docility.

 

I’d rather be a television,

This way I could portray the bad news,

But since it would not affect me,

I’d not have cause to worry or feel blue.

 

I’d rather be a tiger,

This way I could be so scary,

No one would dare laugh,

Just because I prefer a life this solitary.

 

I’d rather be a book,

This way every day would be relaxing,

I’d just sit in a little nook,

Instead of doing things that prove taxing.

 

I’d rather be a flower,

This way I could be pretty always,

No more taking time for makeup,

And covering up greys.

 

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

 

No one’s wholly happy,

With who or what they are,

If we all were,

No one would get far,

It’s not complaining,

It’s knowing damn well what you’re worth,

Don’t just take what you’re given and smile,

If all you ever have,

Is the hand you’re dealt,

You may as well keel over,

And become just more dust for the Earth.

 

 

That Is Not The Reason For The Season

It’s not about eating candy canes,

Those were created to signify,

He who died.

 

It’s not about whose tree is prettiest,

They’re all wonderful,

Without a doubt,

But that’s not what,

The day is all about.

 

It’s not about a fancy feast,

You should be thinking rather of those,

Walking through your door,

For whom you cooked it for.

 

It’s not about the presents,

Yes the Wise Men gave,

To show their appreciation,

But this Santa thing has been blown,

Tremendously out of proportion.

 

It’s not about the lights,

Those too signify Christ,

And it really would not be a plight,

If you forgot to plug them in one night.

 

It’s not about the carols,

The day really will go on,

If you choose not to hear those songs.

 

It’s not about expensive ornaments,

They are simply,

Unnecessary adornments.

 

It’s not about the stockings,

They solely arose from a legend,

At that First Christmas,

They were never even mentioned.

 

It’s not about the Elves,

They came about,

Just to fill,

Your entertainment center’s shelves.

 

Would not our ancestors,

At that First Christmas be surprised,

With the way the day,

Has been commercialized?

People need to think on,

How and why the Season came about,

Before they go ahead,

And pull their wallets out.

 

 

Mid-December 2018: A Short Summary

Merry Christmas my ass,

There’s nothing holly-jolly here,

It’s a fact I wish,

I could just disappear.

 

Christmas parties just bring problems,

Not worth it to conquer,

At first they’re bright and merry,

Then out come the monsters,

Some hide within themselves.

 

Kill me now,

Why don’t you?

It would be better than dealing,

With the after-effects of this evening.

 

The food was fine,

As was my whiskey,

And probably your wine,

But then the complications come,

Proving that many are just dumb.

 

I’d rather just go home,

Maybe,

I should have come alone,

By myself it could be nice,

No one would be close enough to me then,

To start an undesired fight.

 

Some things cannot be fixed,

Things said,

I know were not misread,

And now,

My “friend”,

I wish I could hit your face,

With a ton of bricks,

Just remember the things done,

Are eventually gonna,

Make me run.

 

 

The Finer Things In Life

Whiskey and rum,

Made for having fun,

And getting frisky,

A magic potion,

To give you courage,

When normally you can’t budge,

Also a substance,

To help you relax,

When it’s time to kick back.

 

Lazy days,

With naught to do,

Other than feel the sun’s rays,

Settle in with a good book,

Your mind will sprout wings,

And allow you to overlook,

Shitty everyday happenings.

 

Morning coffee,

To grant you energy,

For dealing with crazies,

How it works is a fascination,

Let’s just call it,

A legal addiction.

 

Puppies and ponies,

So full of unconditional love,

When given the chance,

They’ll stick to you like a glove,

Much better are they,

Than our fellow beings,

Who are often phonies.

 

Money,

We are taught that it’s,

A bad thing to love it,

It is exchanged though,

For everything one needs and wants,

From lavish vacations,

To your breakfast croissants,

So see without it,

Life could not amount to shit.

 

Comfort foods,

It depends on the individual,

As to what they are,

But sometimes they are critical,

To float you past a bad time,

They’re like a miracle.

 

Cardio and weights,

Doing those,

Should not be a debate,

It’s great to make,

Your body hott,

All the while,

Unraveling your mind’s knots.

 

I’m sure you know,

This world is shot,

Try not to get caught,

Without the time,

For the activities you find divine.