O

my Only birds
sO far are crOw
they peck the snOw
for food belOw
[my Ode to O]
it's spring, you knOw
sO sadly thOugh
my snOw won't gO

zig zag [stunt poem]

I was thinking to myself [my favorite way]
that 'til a friend stopped by [to pass the time]
I could toss a few [drink some beer]
to help time fly [and make some rhyme]

Return of the Son of the Grass from the Past

like a slow tide
the snow recedes
across the neighbors lawn.
going...going...
but still not gone.

Looking Forward

it's a gloomy gray and dismal day
fresh snow adorns the boughs
a threat of more is in the air
while slush defines the roads
a crusty ice piled landscape
like a tiny mountain range
aligns the path that leads to town
yet none of this is strange
it's February (almost March)
soon spring will spread her arms
to melt the slush and snow and ice
with love and warmth and charm
the arctic winter landscapes
will be replaced with softer things
like grass and leaves and flowers
as the birds begin to sing
while fragrance fills the air
with aphrodisiac elation
and neighbors start to talk again
as they emerge from hibernation
that's something to look forward to
but it's still a month away
today it's cold and bleak outside
another winter day

into the void

I haven't left my apartment
for two whole days and nights
the world awaits me out there
the thought gives me a fright
I could stay in here forever
with my cat, tv and food
but the longer I avoid the world
the less I have a mood
I could waste a day with nothing
but plans of what to do
but when the day has passed me by
Ive still done nothing new
I could almost stop existing
with no proof that I was here
like Howard Hughes without the dough
just slowly disappear

sky

it cracked wide open from the cold
unburdening its pearly load
three feet deep it hid the road
and snowed and snowed and snowed

the wind then started its attacks
first on my face then up my slacks
around my neck and down my back
my poor chapped lips began to crack

the howling wind was not alone
its teeth sank coldly to my bone
I pushed through drifts like waves of foam
the journeys end would be my home

I was not bothered by the snow
or that the wind would choose to blow
it's only winter, plus I know
I've only three short blocks to go

That's Snow Business!

Faerymore Shore

Rainbows and bunnies with fluffy pink mittens.
Unicorns dancing with puppies and kittens.
Chocolate and whipped cream on strawberry flowers.
Marshmallow mushrooms and candy cane towers.
Sugar sweet sequins on red liquorish shoes.
A bright feathered hat like the band leaders use.
Or choose any costume that you'd like to wear
then join the parade on a fuzzy blue bear.
A monkey gives candy away on the shore
of the frothy green ocean they call Faerymore.
Children and music and everything fun
at a circus that floats on the rays of the sun.

Department of Youth

grovel at my feet you sweet and sweaty fiend that consumes the hearts and minds of children
tempting idle days of fun and mischief stretching time from weeks to years
when hours seem like days
when simple pleasures fascinate and imaginations overtake
from dawn till dusk till after dark until they hear their names
yelled out by moms from yards away to say the end has come for play
it's time for bed
not yet they say we've only lived a year today
the night and fun consume their souls like packs of dogs out of control
a lifetime lived in every day for twelve short weeks of endless play
around the corner the end doth loom
for autumn brings the summers doom
back to normal back to school that wasn't out forever
you children of the damned that ran a muck and held the village hostage of your fun can now return to the regimented care of strangers and leave the days to us for whom time moves too quickly now
oh to have once more the summer at my feet a slave to my timeless desires

another day (n.e. day pt.2)

sunny and sticky and muggy and hot
a cool day for jimmy like yesterday it's not
the grass and the plants and the green things will thrive
but I need the dark days to keep me alive

n. e. day

dark the day
still warm the mist
the drizzle lifts my soul
the fog
the waves
stones throw away
it's off to work I go

Shady Rest Motel

no tans for me this year
adventures in the light
will take a backseat with the sun
I only stalk at night

vampire proud
lay low all day
in darkness' cool caress
the heat and sun do both conspire
to feed upon my flesh

I can not grasp
in memory's past
how it was ever fun
to squint and sweat and lay all day
a minion of the sun

It's A Shame About Ray

I'm wondering where you've been my friend
we used to meet on the kitchen floor
my mornings aren't so bright and warm
now at my favorite hour
I used to catch you coming through
the windows from the east
those windows don't exist no more
well not for me at least
I lay here like an empty sponge
I miss your friendliness
I want to soak up all you have
your gentle warm caress
I know you're out there
I can see
your light across the street
it's not until the afternoon
now that we get to meet
my morning's dark
since we have moved
and you stopped shining through
my friend the Sun
my morning Ray
oh what's a cat to do.

stunt poet

experimental poetry
a challenge for my brain
I type the first thing in my head and try not to refrain
it may not have a meaning
it won't be about love
they're just a bunch of words I happen to be thinking of
I could try something different
like make then not to rhyme
but they always seem to anyways it happens every time

bondage

they do not know what's stranger
between the list of three

• cat on a leash
• my black toe nails

I'm guessing though, it's

• we.

coffee

the school bus should be here soon
the kids out side my window loom
their mothers taught them when to use
their outside voices
(well in tune!)
there's action on the road outside
jackhammer blasting
I can't hide
from workers yelling
machinery roar
the hole in the road grows more and more.
three neighbor's lawns are being mowed
one at a time
sound overload
one mower stops
the next takes over
no gaps in noise
now here comes Rover.
Spot and Fido join the fun
the barking trio on the run.
road work and mowers
kids and hounds
it's morning in my quiet town.

Deborahdeborah

Deborahdeborah,
Deborahdeborah,
the stars are in your eyes.
When you look at me
calm comes from thee
and floats me in the sky.
The angels flock around me
they want to take me home.
When Deborahdeborah unfolds her wings
I know I'm not alone.

Requiem

How far had the body traveled before its final rest stop in this silver urn?
How many lives had it touched, sights seen, foods tasted, time wasted, sounds had it made and heard?
Is this grand finale a Bastille or a reprieve for time served in life?
And what of its companions? Empty shells unceremoniously scattered nearby?
And their souls.
Were there souls?
Are there souls for these few?
I doubt it.
They were hated and hit. They lived only for them selves.
To touch and to see and to taste and waste, and the sounds that they made and heard were their only designs in life.
But what of art and compassion and love and sacrifice. Were none of these virtues on their list?
Genocide!
Death to them all, I say!
Let them all die!
They are a bane to my solitude.

I heard a fly die as it buzzed
the web around the cup
was like a ladder hanging down
still it could not
climb up

Kerouac and Me

From East to West Coast
From North to Key West
For three days I spent three years on the road with Jack
Me in a dog of a bus ($55.00 any destination)
For He
the adventure of lifetimes.

Layover
Chicago
I stretched my legs and napped on a bench in the bus station
Underground
Like an empty tomb after hours
Jack had apple pie
I kicked a broken vending machine
From here we went our separate ways
In separate times
Together still
(or, Me with Him)
We witnessed the country we crossed
Albeit out my window for Me
and in His pages for We
The pages I turned as I rode
as I read "On the Road"
On the road.

assonantal ejaculation

do poets dream
is lust obscene
that so unclean
the magazine
that soiled the jean
deprived of cream
the in between
that swam upstream
as flowers scream
at the machine
from the ravine
of poets dream

Burn

when will I write to me
for me
not to you to whom you see
you think you see
not me
to me
you drunk
you poet
you selfish ass
what secrets fester in your booze drenched sponge
flesh heart soul
tainted tempted rotting
speak to me don't lie
share purge confess
lonesome lonely loner
master slave of man
friend to beast and beat
savant servant
repent or hide

Another Damn Poem?

Welly, welly, welly, well. What does Dandy have to tell?

Last week I made some B.L.T.'s
with double meat and cheddar cheese.
Green leaf lettuce and 9 grain wheat.
Hot house tomatoes, great to eat.
They taste so good I made some more.
Then feeling stuffed, layed on the floor.
I love to cook, I love to eat.
My cat does circles 'round my feet.
This wasn't meant to be a poem,
weird thing just happen, home alone.
I put the blame on Dr. Seuss.
I'm more like him than Mother Goose.
That's all I have to say this time,
I hope you liked my little rhyme.

PROSODY

I have not written much of late.
At prolific poetics
I'm not so great.
But still you check me every day
to see what wit
I toss your way.
No words of wisdom
have I for you
like, "Brush your teeth when you are through.
Wipe your feet outside the door."
or,"Quoth the raven, nevermore."
I'm cooking breakfast as I write.
I should have written this last night.
I'm most inspired
when out of time.
That's why this verse
will end this rhyme.

Vincent

Star light so bright

I Peed in my yard last night
Peed to the left
And to the right
So cold I could have got frostbite
I stood too long
In ten below
So many stars it seemed to glow
My yard so white
Last night 'twas so
Now all that's left Is yellow snow

The Tree Verses Me

ME

I'll not be raking leaves this year
I'll not be raking leaves
The wind-
It blows
And then it snows
Soon winter will be here.

They've been hanging 'round all summer
And next spring-
They'll still be here
Why should I rake
And do today
What I can put off till next year.

THE TREE

The icy breath
Of winter death
Surrounds my form so old.
My naked limbs
Scratch at the sky
And frolic in the cold.

Peep Show

in and out. in and out. in and out.
just a little game the sun is playing with me today.
clap on. clap off.
oooh, it's dark and rainy...no, wait a second, it's bright and sunny.
either I'm going to mow my lawn, or I'm going to watch TV and cook all day.
oh, what a bother!
I'm going to light the charcoal, open a beer, and grill chicken.
rain or shine.
eat, drink, and be happy.
the church of Jim.
grilling for Jesus.
oh...the lawn?
let it grow.

Afraid

I'm afraid of the future,
I'm afraid of my past,
I'm afraid I'm too happy,
and happy don't last.

I'm afraid for my job,
it's too good to be true.
Good things don't last,
then what will I do?

I'm afraid to get old,
I'll be all alone.
Who gets my stuff,
when I'm stuck in some home?

I'm afraid of my truck,
I could run out of gas,
or not make it home,
if I drive it too fast.

I'm afraid of freedom,
it can be taken away.
I'm afraid of a world,
that could make me afraid.

I'm afraid you won't like me,
if my verses don't rhyme.
and now I'm afraid,
that I've wasted your time.

New Math

Still Raining...nice.
I thought that I drank alot of beer last night. Then I found all of the bottles around the house this morning, still half full.
I guess I only drank half as much as I thought.
That's o.k. Today I'm only drinking half as much as I had planned. (plus the half that was left over from last night)
That should put me right back on schedule!
Right?

The Succubus

Almost over night it happened.
The change occurred.
The yellow came.
Something is sucking the green from my lush jungle, leaving in its wake a wounded forest.
The trees that stood so proudly all summer guarding and embracing my hilltop paradise are now withering and wearing the rags of fallen warriors.
Orange and yellow adorn these proud giants where only yesterday their emerald armors gave shelter to the creatures of my land.
They may still stand strong.
But soon, they'll stand naked.
These molestations seem to coincide with the chilling of the night.
That's when "she" comes to prey.
To rape the honor of her victims and suck their life into her cold belly.
The only witness, a full, but silent Moon.
I am safe in my castle, for now, but it is a rude awakening.
A subtle reminder of what must be done.
Time is running out.
There are still things I must do.
Preparations to be made...
If I want to be ready for winter.

Creeping Death

These last days...
The view from the tower where I reside has been consumed by an eerie mist.
The wooded hills and all that is in them, shrouded by the spectral fog.
Sol, a hostage of the elements.
I enjoy the grey serenity. There is something calming about it.
Haunting, yet beautiful.
I watch it make its rounds.
Gliding in and out of the edges of the forest.
Like wraiths on patrol.
Guarding the perimeter of Avalon.
My home.
Planet Dandy.

Slugish

I wish I could remember something that I never even knew.
I wish there was a secret about me that I never got to know.
Some fantastic story so amazing that it would change my life.
An epoch revelation that I was never meant to find out about, but did.
A truth that I was suppose to learn when I turned a certain age but was lost.
Something that would make me question my very being.
What's it like to wake up one morning to find out you were never even who you thought you were?

I suppose it's any poets dream to remove themselves from their own reality to seek inspiration from somewhere unknown to them.
I should just be happy knowing that I am who I am, where I am and enjoy my phlegmatic existence.
Besides, humans are far too complicated and fragile of a species to emulate.

Still...What if?

Pussy

It's Sunday morning. I woke up a feeling little hung over, but then again, I always do, no matter how well behaved I've been.
Not much point in behaving I guess.
Before opening my eyes I stretch my arm over to the right of me and feel her warm body.
I knew she would still be there. She always is, and I take comfort in that.
She is so beautiful in the morning with the sun caressing her body and warming her hair.
I snuggle up to her for a few kisses then sluggishly wander down stairs to start the water for my tea.
Most days she would be right behind me, but today...Not even the sound of the television or the smells and sounds of breakfast tempt her to join me.
Should I have stayed in bed with her? Did she think I would come back? It's hard to know what she expects from me some times.
I prepare my breakfast.
Just as I'm setting my hash and eggs on the table she walks in and sits down. I should have expected this, her timing is impeccable.
She just sits there and stares at me, expressionless.
Now, am I supposed to feel some kind of guilt for something? I hate these awkward moments.
I put a little food on a plate for her. She just looks at it, then walks outside to sit on the back porch which is right outside the kitchen window.
She watches me watch her.
Whatever.
I enjoyed my meal alone while watching some romantic drama unfold on the television.
Now, all that's left, is for me to do the dishes.
Her food will stay on her plate.
She went out for breakfast.
I know this because I can see her from where I sit as I write this.
She went to her usual place. Her favorite place.
She loves sitting in that path that goes through the tall grass in the yard.
She'll sit there for an hour if she has to.
She always gets her mouse.
She's good.
I love my cat.

The Mirror

Gaze if you can
through the mirror to your mind,
in search for a soul
that you can not find.
A distorted vision
awaits you there,
a face that no longer
can seem to care.
A life without meaning,
a means with no cause,
transgressions of years
scrawled with blood on the walls.
Surreptitious existence
evolved in your head.
Your questions unanswered
till too late,
you are dead.

(A little ditty I wrote during my Jim Morrison phase back around 1980.)

WONDERFUL

I went to a Circle Jerks show at a small club in San Diego back in 1989. To avoid the mosh pit and still enjoy the show up close, I sat on the edge of the stage. When I heard the bass line intro for the song 15 Minutes, I yelled "15 Seconds!"
Kieth Morris, the singer, looked at me and said, "It's 15 Minutes, man!"
Oops, my bad.
At some other point, another fan handed Keith a quarter. Between the next few songs he would pull the quarter out of his pocket and flip it a couple of times saying, "I've got a quarter." Then he would put it back in his pocket.
So, I got an idea.
While he was singing in front of me I handed him a dollar and he put it in his pocket.
Then, after the next song, he pulled the dollar out of his pocket and said, "I don't need a dollar, man. I've got a quarter." And he handed the dollar back to me.
At the end of the show I got to shake hands with each of the band members as they left the stage.
I was in heaven that night.
The Circle Jerks were my favorite band back in those days and I still love them.
I even have a tattoo of their skank man logo on my leg.
I still have the dollar, too.
I wonder, though, does he still have the quarter?

Nothings Shocking

While laying on my lawn with my cat, enjoying the perfection of a summer day, I observed how much life was in the air just above the ground. Grasshoppers, mosquitoes, pollen, and all of those seeds from plants that float on the air. Dragonfly's, butterfly's, and winged things that I can't even name. So much traffic going every which way. Some of it was landing on me looking for it's next meal. The blood sucking insects kept me busy swatting in self defense and also made me appreciate something that I had never thought of before.

What if jellyfish could fly?

Can you imagine if they were filled with a lighter than air gas (like helium) that would enable them to float on the air? Living dirigibles of death! Visualize a floating Man of War with silky electric tentacles drifting into you as you sun bathe in your yard, getting caught in your hair and sticking to your skin!

On one hand, they would be a wondrous sight to see. Imagine the luminescent ones glowing in the night like alien angels. Beautiful, but deadly.

Having pondered that, I feel fortunate now. All I have to worry about are the mosquito's and black flies. That's not too bad.

Therefore, the next time you find yourself running from a harmless bee or swatting an annoying fly, pause for a second to put things into perspective. It could be alot worse, but it's not.

Jellyfish can't fly!

Spiders From Mars

I hesitate to mention this. I don't want to sound paranoid or anything but I think my spiders are ganging up on me.
So far we have lived in relative harmony. I see them in all the corners of the castle and I let them be. I don't see any sense in killing them just because they're there. Yeah, so they can be a little creepy when they jump out in front of you on the bathroom sink, or hanging in front of your face as you walk into the bedroom, but hey, I'm willing to share my space. I also assume that we have common enemies of the annoying flies and mosquitoes and that my spiders are doing their best to keep these pests in line so that I am less bothered by them.
As of this morning I am suspicious that they are stepping out of their corners and feeding on me. Besides all the huge bite marks on my arms, legs, and elsewhere, I found myself walking through spider webs that spanned my hallways and even across my living room. Now are these guys working overtime to keep up with the pest population or am I dinner?
I don't plan any rash retaliation yet. I am willing to lay low and let them work, as long as it's not on me. I will, however, have my guard up.
I may only have two eyes but they are open.
One spider looks at me sideways and it's...
Bam Bang, to the the Moon!

SPORE

Aliens are trying to take my body.
This happens every year around the same time. It must be the alignment of the planets or something.
It takes all of my energy to resist.
They come at night and try to poison me. Once I am completely sedated, they will assume control of my body and become a host. I can only thank my sleepless nights for surviving as long as I have.
Somehow, they spread a fine yellow dust all over my house and surrounding property. Sometimes in the morning, I can see clouds of it floating down out of the trees. My truck is covered with it. Do they think I don't notice?
The space dust dust gets into my immune system and shuts it down. I can feel it surging through my sinuses and throat.
I can't breathe without coughing, my nose won't stop running, my eyes are watery and I am overcome with fatigue.
If they have their way, I will drift into a dreamless sleep and awaken as one of them. A mindless zombie that drinks light beer and rents Ben Stiller movies.
Well not me, mister! I would rather die first!
I will fight for my planet and for all that is good!
Viva La Resistance!
Long Live Planet Dandy.

The Nothing

There is something really relaxing about doing nothing.
Doing nothing right is easy. To do nothing properly is an accomplishment.
I think that could be why I get up so early everyday. It gives me a few hours to do nothing before I go to work. If I have too much time to do nothing, inevitably, I will wait till the last minute and it's not as satisfying.
Doing nothing involves keeping your thoughts on the present. Not planning anything or thinking about what you will do, want to do, or should be doing. Simply being. Not doing.
The trick is to make yourself think that you are doing something without actually doing anything, and not thinking about what you are or are not doing.
I can spend three hours doing nothing before I go to work and be totally relaxed and feel like I've already accomplished enough, so the rest of the day I can feel mentally unchallenged.
I hate to be rushed. I have been rushed and hurried most of my life and only recently realized that I was the one rushing myself.
Many years ago, a former employer complimented me by saying that I have, "A sense of urgency to every thing that I do." I don't need that stress any more. I want to be the opposite of that. So what if I ain't doing much. Doing nothing means a lot to me.
With that thought, I have to go.
I have nothing to do and I am running out of time to do it.
If I waited till the last minute, I would have to rush.
--and that would be something!

Blood Sucking Freaks

It's not safe outside.

They are waiting for me.

Waiting for my blood.

I thought that if I was quick enough, I could do some work in my garden without being noticed.

I was quiet and discrete, staying close to the ground.

Wearing camouflaged coveralls and mask, I attempted invisibility.

That was vain.

They could smell my fear.

They crave the meat under my skin.

My meat is life to them and they devour it without hesitation.

I am cattle to their slaughter.

It is their purpose in life, their only thought, their passion, their job.

I managed to get my garden planted in short intervals.

I could only stand the attacks for so long before running back to the safety of my castle.

Summer is in bloom on my mountain top and I long for the peaceful walks through the forest.

That pleasure will have to wait awhile.

They are out there. Waiting for my blood.

In time, they will die.

Die from too short a lifespan? Die from lack of feeding?

I don't care as long as they die!

Then it will be my time. For now, it is their time.

The vampires of Maine.

The winged carnivores.

Oh, how I hate the Black Fly.

Sunspot Baby

Like a dust mop with feet, shirking her duties, she's grounded in the corner entertaining the sun.
"Shirk what?" She says nonchalantly. "I'm a cat. It's what I do."

A wisp of chimney smoke frolics outside my window like a lost spirit trying to find a home.

"I'm not lost." It says insouciantly. "It's what I do."

Why do I ponder minutiae and impose significance on the mundane? I ask myself ostentatiously.

"It's what I do."

Rainy Day Dream Away

"Rainy day rain all day

Ain't no use in gettin' uptight

Just let it groove its own way

Let it drain Your worries away

Lay back and groove on a rainy day

Lay back and dream on a rainy day"

---Jimi Hendrix

Perfect words for a perfect day. The weekend is upon me and it will rain all day today and tomorrow. It's darkly tranquil on my mountain top. The field is turning lush green. A hint of the summer that approaches and a fitting contrast to the charcoal skies above.The trees almost seem to form leaves as I watch. My world is in slow motion.

The fire in my woodstove is like the last breath of a dying friend whose company I will soon miss. For now, though, the comfort of the heat on a cold rainy day is a guilty pleasure.

Music assaults my senses from all directions as the trees outside slam dance to the wind.

The forest is alive.

Neither happy or angry.

Just moving.

Moshing.

[WITH_TEETH]

Night of the Feeders

They're back.

The snow is almost gone from the field.

In the forest it's still deep.

That could be why they're back.

When I get home from work at night I feel their eyes all over me.

I can't tell how close they are through the darkness.

The thick calm.

I walk from my truck across the yard to the back door.

I know they're out there.

I walk slow.

They watch me.

My cat sits at the window.

Cats have a keen extra sense.

She knows they're there.

Some times I'll shine a flashlight around the yard and their glowing eyes are everywhere!

All eyes on me.

My cat can see them too.

They are out there!

It is morning as I write this.

The sun begins its journey to the night.

I can see them at the edge of the forest that surrounds my yard.

They are coming.

Yesterday morning there were six of them right outside my window.

They are definitely back.

I took pictures.

Proof.

They don't care if it's day or night.

They've come to feed.

They like it here.

They are safe

for now.

Safe for the summer.

At least until...

Deer Hunting Season!

Soul Sacrifice

I feel so groovy, man.
Watching the Woodstock concert on my T.V.
Burning a candle that I made myself.
Outside my window the sun... slowly... sinks...looking like a red water balloon flattening out into a yellow aura that hugs the top of a nearby mountain as it fades from pink to purple to black.
The light shifts from the horizon to my table where the candle now seems brighter than a few minutes ago.
I embrace the night.
Now... 'scuse me... while I kiss the sky!

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

I am the classic All American Boy!

I want it all!

I want this and I want that.

I have more than anyone could ever need.

I have rooms full of electric guitars, amplifiers, comic books, stereos, collectibles of every genre from Rock n Roll, to Famous Monsters.

New York Post...JOHN LENNON SHOT DEAD.

Autographs, Photographs, phonographs.

Posters and Coasters.

Cookbooks and Matchbooks.

I got more shit than a two seater outhouse!

Guitar Picks, Drum Sticks and Backstage Passes.

Leather Jackets and Old Ripped Jeans.

Concert shirts from back in my teens.

Now there's DVD and Internet too!

There's no stopping

the shopping

that this kid can do!

This isn't a poem,

so I'll End it soon.

It seems though,

that no matter how bad I want something,

as soon as I get it,

I want something else!

When is enough enough?

If they would just stop making stuff,

I could stop wanting it,

and finaly

have it

ALL!

Time Machine

If I had a time machine...

I would go back in time to when there was no electricity and open up a video store. No one would no what a video was, so they wouldn't know that I wasn't selling them a video!
Instead, I would describe a movie to them.

It would be in elaborate detail.

It would be a story that they could take home and share around the fireplace after dinner.
That's how folks entertained each other back in the olden days!
Now, I doubt that everyone was a born story teller, so it could get pretty boring around the ol' fireplace with no new stories.
Face it, they couldn't regale the children with stories about the olden days because the olden days were just beginning!
Yup, I can see it now...
JIM'S VIDEO, STORIES TOLD FOR A DOLLAR
The best thing would be, No Late Fees!

"Gather 'round the fire, children. Gramps is gonna tell a new story!"

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."

Why Be Normal

One fine day while applying a bumper sticker to my van...
The bumper sticker read, WHY BE NORMAL, so naturally, I was applying it upside down for maximum effect.
An elderly woman that was watching from the passenger seat of another nearby vehicle called me over to her.
"Young man", she said, "People have told me that all I need is the letter "L", and I could be NORMAL."
Then she smiled and said, "My name is Norma."

DEAD HEAD

I woke up laying on my arm in such a way that I lost all feeling in it.
It was like it wasn't even attached.

Not that tingley kind of asleep, either.

Pure Dead Weight!

When I tried to roll over, it was like an anchor.

I touched it with my other hand and tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. I didn't have the leverage. I couldn't even feel my hand on it.

It was so weird!

After wrestling with it for a few minutes it slowly regained feeling.

It got me thinking, though...

What if that happened to your head?

I mean, you wake up and your head is just hanging off your shoulders like a bowling ball that some maniacal scientist had grafted onto you in your sleep?

You try holding it up with your hands, but you can't feel it well enough to get a hold of it.

So, now your trying to get down the stairs to get to the bathroom mirror to see if in fact your head is still there, and this bowling ball is just flopping back and forth knocking things off the wall. You slip in all the drool and fall head first down the steps!?

I guess I'm lucky that this time it was only my arm. This time!

If it ever does happen, though, I'll be ready.

I've set up some bowling pins at the bottom of the stairs.

That One Thing

This is only a test.
I have nothing to write about.
It is late.
It is twenty degrees outside.
My cat is sprawled out on the floor.
Next to the wood stove.
Here in my kitchen.
Next to me.
As I type this.
The radio is playing trance music.
I am enjoying my beer.
(Magic Hat "Blind Faith", I.P.A.)
The candles are burning.
Ambiance.
Atmosphere.
Peace.
There is nothing that could make me feel any more content with my world right now.
Almost nothing.
Almost nothing.
The music is hypnotic.
The fire is comforting.
My cat is my muse.
I am happy.
But for one thing.
If I had that one thing.
Just one thing.
Tonight.
...yeah.

Fatso Pussycat, Kill Kill

My cat is staring at me.

I am casually enjoying my evening at home,

but my cat is staring at me.

I have a comfortable home. It's a cozy castle heated by fire.

I don't work tomorrow, so I am enjoying a few cocktails tonight.

And, she stares at me!

Sitting in my lazy-boy recliner is my fat little Cayo.

She always gets the good seat.

I would sit on the floor before I would make her move.

She knows that.

And still, she stares.

Intimidating me.

Waiting for me to fuck up.

But, I am her primary care provider.

My wood stove is blazing, the outside temp is plummeting, and even tho she is sprawled out luxuriously in a cozy nest of blankets in MY lazy-boy, she stares at me.

"What!?"

"Jesus! "

"What!?"

She is waiting for me to pass out. I know it!

You should see the size of the mice she brings home to eat in front of me. She is working herself up to something bigger...

O.K. I may be paranoid, but...

Well, I really can't talk now.

She suspects something.

She is staring at me.

I am here for her.

Do YOU have a cat?

or...Does a cat... have YOU?

I, MONSTER

I was sitting here watching a horror movie a few nights ago. (You know the type. Where some lost travelers make a wrong turn, and the unseen local psycho gets them, one by one.) Then , I found myself looking over my shoulder a couple times in response to the surround sound on my entertainment system.
Now... I know... that there is no one behind me.
I live in the middle of the woods, on a mountain-top, at the end of a dead end road, and I can plainly see if anyone is even remotely near.
Still...
I jump at the heavy breathing of "I'm gonna get you."
hehe,
at this point I laugh to my self when I realize, hey, the middle of the woods? The end of a long dead end road? The middle of nowhere on a dark night?
If there IS anyone out there, THEY are the ones that should be scared!
...I ...am at home
... I... AM the MONSTER!
... "I ...am going to get ...YOU!"

TERRITORIAL PISSINGS

As I look around my castle, I notice that many of my possessions are adorned with stickers.
I just realized that they are my territorial pissings.
Objects that I've always had, and always will have, are meticulously decorated with stickers (mostly of a rock n roll theme) and have been dubbed ...Rock n Roll Trunk, Rock n Roll Stools, Rock n Roll Blender, etc... They keep me safe.
Whenever I relocate, they are around me, and I know that I am at home.
My pissing is done tastefully, and I never waste a sticker on something like a stereo component, or doors and walls. Those things are temporary objects in my life. They will die or I will leave them, and a good sticker will be with me forever.
I like my stickers, they are memories.
I also save special stickers by putting them on magnets. Now I can have a Rock n Roll Refridgerator where ever I go.
They keep me safe. I will always treasure my stickers.
I will always be safe.
Safe in my castle.
My Rock n Roll Castle,
here,
on Planet Dandy.