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?

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

Turkeys Hate Thanksgiving

Tucker Turkey here,

And I’ve just learned that people,

Have a funny way of showing they are thankful,

And I think that it is dreadful.

 

They must be mad,

I hear a feast is had,

And turkey meat,

Is the main fare on to eat.

 

Who decided we are good to eat?

Who came up with stuffing us,

And calling it a treat?

 

I won’t accept this fate,

I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!

Sorry Mr. Farmer,

If your plans are shattered,

But I won’t be being roasted,

And presented on a platter,

I don’t care if you starve,

It won’t be me you carve!

 

I thought I had the good life here,

I am so very fond,

Of my lazy days spent by the pond,

I’d not have guessed,

There were plans to kill me off,

Like one of the poison pests.

 

In one week to the day,

Light will dawn,

On their holiday,

So I must fly away,

To prevent becoming prey.

 

I think I’ll be a city bird,

In a paradise,

Where the weather’s always warm,

And killing their own meal,

Is not the people’s norm.

 

I’ve been told Miami’s marvelous,

And L.A. is lovely,

I wonder if the Sahara,

Would be satisfying?

To which of these places,

With year-round sun,

Should I run?

 

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

 

I ended up in Vegas,

Where I soon became famous,

So shove it farmer,

‘Cuz it looks like it is certain,

That for me it’s not yet curtains.

 

I like the casinos and the shows,

And how at night,

Everything glows,

Each day I feel excitement,

Here is so different from the country,

Where it was mostly silent.

 

Yes this city’s full of charm,

And I do not miss the farm,

But yes Mr. Farmer,

I most definitely do,

Wish you harm!

 

 

 

 

 

A Re-Written Fairy Tale

Today I must,

For you re-write,

The story of Snow White,

As you read it through,

It may indeed pale,

In comparison to the original tale,

But I swear to you,

Each word is true.

 

Inside a vast forest,

Deep inside and to the North,

Lies a comely cottage,

Inhabited by a beauty called Snow White,

Who lives a simple life,

Happy and at one,

With our Mother Earth.

 

Each day is different though the same,

She wanders out,

And navigates her way about,

Picking herbs and berries,

Until she has all that she can carry.

 

Often she will spy,

A pretty bird in a tree up high,

Or an interesting flower swaying to and fro,

In the valley not far below,

But nothing could prepare her to see,

What she saw this morning,

They were a seriously scary,

And ugly thing to see.

 

A midget and a skeleton,

From the back yea sure,

They only looked like a couple of gentleman,

But upon them hearing our Snow White,

They stopped and turned around,

And there her heart nearly stopped,

Yes it plummeted to the ground,

And her scream was heard,

For quite a distance around.

 

You see she was used to,

Conversing with the animals,

And the occasional passerby,

Normally those out and about this early,

Were nothing like this evil looking,

Spine chilling crew of two.

 

Once her heart beat settled down,

She looked to them with a frown,

And though their words then were polite,

When they walked away,

She could hear them laughing about her fright.

 

Unused to interruptions such as these,

In her commonly calm grove of trees,

Since normally the type to pass through,

Were friendly and sincere,

She went to see Queen Aimee,

Knowing she would lend an ear.

 

After a talk and a drink,

Snow White was calmer,

And made her way back home to think,

Then at some point she fell asleep,

And awoke knowing just,

What to do to these creeps.

 

She had to bide her time,

Not just execute her plan on a dime,

She decided she would wait,

For Halloween to come around,

Then for sure this midget and this skeleton,

Would fall victim to her bait.

 

Her daily routine now has her on edge,

Never has she been so uncomfortable,

In what is normally her element,

The birds are no longer as beautiful,

Nor the flowers as fragrant.

 

Still though she powers through,

She must,

As the things she gathers,

Are her livelihood,

So she deals with these two daily,

While out on her strolls,

And the things she hears from them,

Are never very good.

 

What used to be so pleasant,

Was now nerve wracking and stressful,

There were still the lovely encounters,

With forest creatures and neighbors,

But no matter how much good was present,

Seeing those two would add a touch of dreadful.

 

While picking berries with Queen Aimee,

At a crossroads near her cottage,

Snow White could see the midget,

He was going about his business,

A slight scowl on his face,

She wished then that she could drown him,

In a pot of piping-hot porridge,

Especially when along came his skeleton,

And together they started speaking of her,

The lies they spoke were so vicious,

There was no way now,

For them to ever earn her forgiveness.

 

As the summer wore on,

Fall settled upon Snow White’s woods,

And for her plan,

She began to gather,

The needed goods.

 

She could see without a doubt,

That the midget and the skeleton,

Needed to be taken out,

They always schooled their face,

Into a friendly mask,

Until the unlucky one was gone from their space,

Then insulting talk and mean laughter would commence.

 

These two evil boys went out of their way,

With snide comments,

And nasty looks,

Their despicable behavior,

Made them many enemies,

Amongst this lot of trees.

 

Inside her cottage,

The cauldron smoked and bubbled,

With a brew so potent,

It would take only a moment,

For them to go under,

And leave Snow White and her woods,

Again untroubled.

 

Before long the day arrived,

Time for the annual Halloween bash,

All the forest folk were invited,

Even those two known as,

The neighborhood trash.

 

A great array of gourmet dishes,

Prepared exclusively by our Snow White,

Were set up on a massive table,

Bathed in colorful flashy lights.

 

There was a name card at each seat,

And two had beside them,

An extra-special treat,

A piece of her famous apple pie,

With just enough poison,

To not quite make them die.

 

First there was casino card games and some dancing,

Then to the food tables,

Everyone started advancing,

While they all filled their plates,

Snow White snuck off to hide,

To watch the midget and the skeleton,

Devour their food,

And then her bait.

 

Soon it was time for everyone to go,

All were so buzzed and full,

No one noticed the two troublemakers,

Had been brought down,

By their resident baker.

 

She dragged them inside,

And left them to a lifelong nap,

Where Karma could complete the work,

Their princesses never showed,

At the humble abode,

And as their lips never received their kiss,

They were forced to stay,

Forever like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

Good Riddance, Mr.!

Mrs. Wolf’s husband was a liar,

So she ran from him,

Like he was Hellfire,

She ran off to this awesome place,

The Enchanted Forest,

So I’m told,

He says she’s disappeared,

And left without a trace.

 

I hear she’s set up with a prime lot,

On the corner of Riding and Hood,

Come what may,

Happen what would,

She’s the Baddest Bitch,

For miles around,

In that little enchanted town.

 

She knows life will get crazy,

And life will get hard,

She also knows she’s better off,

Without that retard.

 

Mrs. Wolf got a pet called Ted,

A tortoise who usually hangs out,

By the garden shed,

He helps her through the tough times,

He’s much better for mental issues,

Than a stupid box of tissues.

 

One day was undoubtedly going to be a scorcher,

Too hot to bake the bread,

So she got in her head,

A notion to visit the mall,

She fetched her purse,

From down the hall,

Then got in her Wolf Car,

And blasted the air,

To keep herself from torture.

 

Mrs. Wolf knew,

The mall was a danger,

As it was built on the border,

Of the Enchanted Forest,

And the Real World,

Here’s to hoping she doesn’t see that gossip,

Mrs. Morris,

Or her ex-husband,

Whose name is Boris.

 

Mrs. Wolf had quite the exciting day,

Like any lady,

Enjoying retail therapy,

And for the record yes,

She did see the enemy,

Mr. Wolf was also there,

But she managed to dodge his nasty ass,

And came home with a hott new dress,

And a record clean of a felony.

 

Mrs. Wolf likes to take Tortoise Ted,

For walks along the forest paths,

Every day about noon,

As a wolf and a tortoise together,

Is one weird sight,

She was thought by some,

To be crazy as a loon,

But she did not care,

What they thought,

She was free,

And could not wait to see,

What other wonders,

The single life brought.

 

In Mrs. Wolf’s Enchanted Town,

Time is frozen,

While she stayed young,

It is told,

That Boris got old.

 

Days went by,

Then weeks turned into months,

And months flowed into years,

Finally Mrs. Wolf ran out of tears,

And try as he might,

That lying Boris Wolf,

Was never able to find,

Her sexy behind.

 

Mrs. Wolf has no regrets,

Life here is as good as it gets,

Freedom to choose,

Her every move,

This is easy street,

Yes life here is a treat.

 

Mr. Wolf never did get happy,

Though he tried his best,

And in some situations,

Even got a little sappy,

He was forever the neighborhood outcast,

For his treatment of Mrs. Wolf in the past.

 

Mrs. Wolf is still alive,

But Mr. Wolf has long since died,

Good riddance to him,

She thinks with a laugh,

As she and Tortoise Ted,

Once more skip down their favorite path.

 

 

 

Run Along Now

It’s time to let it go,

Turn the lights out on that shit,

And just get over it.

 

Hopefully you’ve learned a lesson,

But now you need to,

Get to steppin’.

 

Better things await,

Beyond the next gate,

This was never meant to be your fate.

 

It seemed meant to be,

At the time,

But already this thing,

Has passed its prime.

 

There’s a whole world out there,

It’s time to see beyond,

This doomed affair.

 

Something new,

In its own time,

Will find its way to you.

 

The beyond right now seems scary,

But this toxic situation,

Is saddling you with burdens,

You should not have to carry.

 

Just leave,

Go about your business,

There’s nothing here to grieve.

 

There will be fun,

After you’ve found,

The courage to run,

You will see,

Times bright as the sun.

 

Your true destination,

Will not leave you bumped and bruised,

Not even figuratively,

You are not meant to be abused.

 

Until you are satisfied,

It’s not the end of the line,

It’s only a stepping stone,

Do not let yourself,

Be confined.