Tuesday, 31 March 2009

Sunshine Girl

With a beaming smile that could warm the tile
She came flying down the corridor
the sun was setting, so i asked her heading
and she said, "I'm going to Florider!"

Well she seemed to like to talk
and I really love to listen
so I pressed her for the details
and her eyes began to glisten.

"I been staying in this rest home
since I lost my dear departed"
and I asked her when he died and she said,
"No, I meant my leg".

So we stood there, well I stood there and
she sat in her new wheel chair
I asked her what's her hurry.
and if she's gonna get a peg.

And she said:
"Maybe if I lose this weight~
Gotta get down to 220
but the trouble is I love to eat.
I know it's not that funny."

"I've had my share of heart attacks
and twice I had a stroke
Buried my husband and lost the house
and gee I love to smoke"

"I can't move these three fingers
but I manage in this chair
on nice days take it to the road
for excercise and air".

She went on to share her story
was from somewhere up in Queens
married twice without children
and lived well within her means.

She talked about her childhood home
and how chemicals from the pool
splashed onto the strawberry patch
and the fruit was the size of a stool.

The best of all of her stories
was one about her dad
who had worked for Sunshine Biscuits,
but once fell into a vat.

no sooner had she told me
that I knew I'd have to write
a lymric for this lady
whose smile brings such delight.

The folks at Sunshine found him
pulled him out but hound him
was one lucky catch, 'til he met his batch
when those lady fingers done nearly drowned him.

Monday, 30 March 2009

I Listen

Once owned a Ford Taurus though often it's said
a Ford on the roadside is probably dead.
I never let stuff like that go to my head
I know how it is to be down.
Ran my hand over the gun metal grey
if it was a horse we'd have galloped away
but the oil was blackened and so that fine day
I decided to take it to town.

My husband was known for mechanical skill
took pride in his work, though I battled his will
I knew he was right about everything, still
I wanted to have my own way.
It was his contention that I was a pain
he often made comments that seemed so inane
resenting him then, though I'm less of a brain
at the technical end of the day.

He said he would change it the next Saturday
but I thought to myself there's a much better way
at Jiffy Lube, service is good and I say
that it takes them no more than ten minutes.
Five minutes to get there and five minutes in
they offered to clean up my dirty engine
I gladly accepted, and paid for the gin
or whatever that mixture had in it.

Back at the house feeling quite satisfied
a little bit nervous on account of his pride
but the Taurus can't wait, cuz what if it died
and think of the money we saved.
Well he wasn't at home, so then I could relax
Got dressed for work while rehearsing the facts
I drove up the parkway and in one hour max
the Taurus it bucked, and then caved.

Squeaked into the place where my money was earned
I called him and naturally he was concerned
we had it towed out, I felt angry and burned
now I needed a brand new transmission.
I try not to dwell on the past or roadkill
we all have our issues, they bother me still
I'm often quite stubborn, and always a pill
but once in a while now, I listen.

Crooked-Finger Rant of the Embittered Housewife

Golden words penned long ago
when I was young and zesty
occupied with lofty things
perhaps a lot less testy.

That which clouds my vision
tragic losses which destroyed
sweet perceptions
dark deceptions
left me underjoyed.

Of boyfriends unattainable
rejection would then smite
the hope of finding love,
which left me
just a bit uptight.

in the stretch to earn a living
well my boss is kind of rough
In trying to say something nice I'm on ice
cuz she's hard-headed, driving, and tough.

The high cost of living and then there's the tax
puts a strain on my old bank account
but that backbiting backriding queen battleaxe
can jump from the ground to the mount.

and every day's the same old thing
like a hamster on the wheel
the same old thing is feeling old
and I’m looking cold as steel.

but still I ignore the passing of time
and balance hard work with clean fun
and believing that this is as good as it gets
I'll settle for less than the one.

seeking distraction from everything dull
and attracted to that which you are
I read self help books while you eats what I cooks
and I’m lost in the Harper's Bazaar.

My cellulite was ill replete
and disappointments grew
and long before the smog moved in
it choked the thrill from you.

and out of this stress comes the need to digress
so we sleep and we play and we drink
and we drain our desires and screw up our wires
and leave our sex life on the brink.

Simple amusements, the clutter of things
common to man and his beast
from the pretense of knowledge and so many things
to the Thanksgiving holiday feast.

And now we're blown out, you lie and I shout
there's a palpable distance that's haunted
I long for the day when you'd hold me and say
that I'm just the one you always wanted.

But now mediocre, you opt to play poker
and run with a sweatpool of stink
and hoping to find something good on the street
in the morning you feel like a fink.

Left to your own devices
sleeping soundly, your heart's one desire
for passion it waits, while the office debates
and will do so until you expire.

Displacing my anger I'm less satisfied
and will never see straight, as you'll see
my own crooked finger was put through the wringer
and now it points straight back at me.

I'm not always this happy. 'Crooked finger' is just another fantasy of mine which helps me cope with singleness. I try to imagine the grass being all burnt out on the other side of the fence and find it elating. Not really as I have enjoyed some good things in my previous married life. Funny I was googling crooked finger and found Eric Bachmann I think his name is. Anyway, it's just a mood. If you like dark, drunken, folky music, I highly recommend checking out Crooked Fingers. http://www.crookedfingers.com/flash/index.htm
THis song by Crooked Finger actually reminds me of Dylan's 'Spanish boots of Spanish Leather'.

Guy's War Story

(A true war story as recalled by Guy, a retired Marine, and presently a resident of a convalescent home in New Jersey)

He liked to say he had some shrapnel in his head
but I'm afraid that's not the only thing he said...

With his working arm he wheeled his broken body down the hall
pushing buttons of the nurses, you could say the man had gall.

He said, " Hey, you little blond, I don't believe I caught your name,
but I could shoot my AK rifle", then he talked about his aim,

"I'm not kidding, were it fitting, I could take you out right now,
and you'd never see it coming, 'Special Ops' ", and I said, "Wow!"

He said " I could tell you stories that would spin your head around,
cause I've seen a lot of action, 'fore the shrapnel took me down".

Then he pointed to the helmet, that sat high upon his head
" I'm an invalid, disordered, yes, but surely not brain-dead".

Had I met this man some other way, say walking down the street,
I'd be running for my life because, you know, he'd pack some heat.

A greater man, but nonetheless, a shell of what he'd been
not to listen to his story, would have truly been a sin.

I believe I caught the glimmer of a hope within his eyes
that I'd ask to hear about it and be shocked beyond surprise.

So I smiled at him and said, "I've got some time to kill here, Guy,
do slay me with your story and in detail, please don't lie."

"A Marine I am. I served in 'Nam, sent back to guide our men,
I knew the lay of Jungleland, and believed that we could win.

I would teach 'em how to stay alive and get it done
without a leader, they'd go down before setting sun.

I led my troops in battle and I kept them all alive
taught em everything they'd never learned in boot-camp to survive.

And everything went well until one night it went to hell
when on a mission I was ambushed and this story I will tell:

Taken prisoner, beat and blindfolded, then forced to walk for miles
they took their turns at night guard, while we tried to sleep a while.

But all along I waited, for I knew the stupid one would
look away and turn back looking~ down the barrel of his gun.

And sure enough it happened, that the Doofus looked away,
but I was there, right on trigger, and I took their lives that day.

I broke out of the darkness and ran south for several days~
although I'd learned the landscape well, my head was in a daze.

When suddenly I heard them, distant voices, English speaking,
and I came upon a hedge in which I hid, but did some peeking.

And what I saw, believe me, was the best dream of the day
I burst right through and ran to, waiting arms~ the USA!

That was not the last time, I came back to 'Nam again
caught some shrapnel in my head, you know, and here I am, the end".

I do believe this soldier is just one of countless men
who spend their days in nursing homes confined, without a friend.

For years before and years to come, there will be guys like Guy
who need to share their war stories with folks like you and I.

And when we stop to listen, to appreciate the cost
we honor not the killing, but the living and the lost.

We validate the struggle, and the things they've overcome
encouraged in the battle, 'til the final war is won.

He liked to say he had some shrapnel in his head
but I'm afraid that's not the only thing he said...

Friday, 27 March 2009

Forgive me for not saying so but...

I'm keepin' all these things inside
yet saying so, guess I can't hide
but you don't really need to know
so what's to talk about?
And it's early to bed and early to rise
and what I keep back, well that's no big surprise
just one less thing I'm offering
the world to think about~

it's better for you that I've saved you the time
and kept 'em as drafts 'cause they're privately mine
well I'm not always open though often I find
in my heart that I'm secretly smitten~
but who really cares what I've got on my plate
and who'sit said what about what's her name's mate
and before I can write it, it's yesterday's news
and the views, none are wise that I've written~

so I'll pick out a few since I can't take no mo
and read all you've got, like you're some kind of show
a daily soap opera I'd rather not miss
save the kiss and the bliss or be dissin~
And though you tube is boobery, still I can choose
what I'd rather be hearing without any dues
if I need a good cry, I can tune into blues
and bawl my eyes out or just listen~

Hang onto your hat, you can meet me for lunch
I'm easy, but don't get your briefs in a bunch
it's true and you knew that I rarely say much
but somehow I can make myself clear~
just give me a call, you can drop me line
I'm better in person, when feeling quite fine
my knickers are twisted, at times in a pinch,
I'm a wench but I'll always be near~

I'll wrap up this poem with a quaint little line
it's good to say nothin' with so little time
then maybe the words that I use though they rhyme
will be ones that your wanting to hear~

or not.

advice to the mid to late- life geezer ( AKA sooner or later)

Sooner or later
you come to the place where it's
later and still you've got nothing to lose~
consider your life
and decide if there's something
that house on the hill or a wife if you choose~

but if it's much later
and maybe you're feeble,
a geezer, unlikely to dream, nevermind~
just look to the children
help when you're able
encourage the ones who are lagging behind~

cling to the present
and make the days happy
do what you can to bring someone a smile~
sooner or later
you'll come to the place where
it's later so better make sooner worthwhile~

Wednesday, 25 March 2009

of curds and whey

About that starting lineup,
well I think I missed the gun
but just as well
took off for other places~
I longed for mountains majesty
and all those things I hoped to see,
while others stayed
and loved familiar faces.

Some married and they bore their young,
or college-bound for work and fun
or tragedy,
well sometimes God just loses me~
The question of my failure
to connect with just one sailor,
what the heck, but strangely so,
it still amuses me.

I ponder of a hope,
that it's still possible,
within your scope,
and grateful for eleventh hour breakthroughs~
Still don't get what you wrote to me,
I bungled at the spelling bee,
you say the thing I'll get, is what I choose?

My mind it travels to and fro,
the world it feeds the input though,
and we must press the whey out from the curds~
And so I speak in vagaries,
of things to come which I can't see
but speak into reality,
if only by my words.

The power of the word,
to mezmerize and heal the hurt,
your eyes are beautiful
they've looked into my soul~
The wonder of your gaze,
it touches places, Dear,
I'd rather not be writing of,
our love, like epic poetry,
too much to share in whole.

Field and Stream

where you are
in the outback, and
the middle of nowhere, but
y'all like callin' it "God's Country"
cuz it's a place which is tended by God
where businessmen have yet to overrun and ravage
to fell forests,and clear the land for pretty developments
and it's a place where you are dangerously closer
to the wild elements and are self-reliant
comfortably near to the natural
free of the 'pressures' who
could encroach upon
your space and

Tuesday, 24 March 2009

breathing room

She turned her mind toward thoughts of God
and pondered on this thing called 'Love'
and how it felt was rather odd
to have the thing you're dreaming of.

and not to say that much had changed
from all of what she'd felt before
but just her movement towards the thing
that gently rapped upon her door

and opening, the air was clean and drifted
into darkened mess
and brought with it the scent of spring
and promise that would lead to rest

the angry pride from early age
and pain she'd buried in the deep
once heated into molten rage
had turned to steel in her sleep

and stirring up the settled dust
the softest breeze swirled room to room,
the filtered light fell on the crust
the window sill, the broken loom

the cool fresh air, she breathed it in
which fanned the flames of hope again
but woke the sleeping child within
the bitter pill, the urge to sin

and where were YOU when love was lost
and dreams were killed and hope was tossed
and where were you when I was nine
and lost my way and... one last time

I need to know where Love was when
the waves rushed in, and buildings fell
when kids were shot and parents grieved
and everything had gone to hell.

She could have slammed the door right then
He would have left, that's just His way,
she had to have it out with Him
and screamed and cried, but let Him stay.

I just don't get your kind of sense
which lets a man do what he will
to take away the innocence
to mock your name, and steal and kill.

And then the air stirred in her face
and quiet came to sandy shoal
he spoke of Love's abiding grace
and water flowed into her soul

For what is better for your strife
and what is Love, to pull the reign
to force a man to choose the life
or nudge a man to use his brain?

And what is love to steal the bride
and drag her right outside the gate?
I set you free, you run inside
I chose you then, you chose to wait.

I hear you well, I understand
the breath you breathe, your rotting tomb
I died for you and every man
to give to you back your breathing room.


Your life is beautiful
Your life is holy
your life means everything
everything to me~

You were created
in secret places
and only God knew
the best was yet to be.

and when I found out
I was quite nervous
but when I heard your sweet heartbeat
I smiled.

'cause I was made for
this very purpose
to be your mom, little one
and you're my child.

I'll always love you
You'll know you're wanted
and in our family you'll know
you belong.

I'll help you grow up
and teach you everything
and baby, someday
you'll write your own song!


art nouveau

Tuesday, 17 March 2009

A St. Paddy's Day Poem- by Scott Kent, aka 'Hammy'

Jigglin' with seniors and shaking her can
All the while eating her green eggs and ham
When asked what's your name, it's Gina I am
Wearing green earrings with green eggs and ham
I could keep on writing 'bout Gina I am
But just now I noticed it's green eggs no ham!
Happy St. Patty's Day Gina I am
Happy St. Pat's from this man who's a ham.

Friday, 13 March 2009

The New Urkel


gives me gas.

it's just clazy!

Beautiful, just beautiful.


front roll, fat back!

Tuesday, 3 March 2009

Power in the Word

Feeling now as if I'm going under,
and it's like waitin' for the other shoe to drop~
and though I know, God, still it makes me wonder,
how a simple prayer like this can make it STOP.

Psalm 23:

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,

3 he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.

4 Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, [a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

6 Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD

Thank you, Lord.