Oct 19, 2017

No, You Don't Want To Argue

Don't you just love people who toss hand grenades into rooms full of innocent people but don't want to argue with anyone?

You know, figuratively speaking.

As far as I'm concerned only God is allowed to get away with that and you're no god.

Oct 18, 2017

An Unmatched Hardwood Finish

Bored Boards

Ingrained we sit
as we've always done;
line for line but always one,
we note the years with every stripe,
no complaints, no quips, no gripes.

Why We Still Ride

 650 Thump

The thump, I think it pipes so well
through rusted chrome so few could tell,
an antique now, it wins the race
slow as ever, it sets the pace.
And though it may not be brand new
it does just what it's meant to do--
satisfy my need to feel the roar
as all my troubles I ignore
to take me where I want to be
while others dream of living free.

Oct 17, 2017

Park 'N Meet Her?

Changing Metered Times

You say you want to replace us--
break us down, cut off our heads.
You say you just don't need us
and fill our hearts with dread.
It's happening in Chicago,
Oakland and Philly too
but for us there's no replacement
with which you can made do.

Tonight's parking meter poem has been made possible with private donations from independent and municipal parking meters everywhere, in the hopes that you will help save a parking meter near you.

Who would have ever thought that my first parking meter poem would lead to this? Okay, so I obsess a little...

Oct 16, 2017

Who Is The Man Behind The Curtain?

Fast Food Puppeteer

Yum! waits in the shadows--
the king nobody sees--
taking shots at the red headed clown,
to bring him to his knees.
Hiding out on Wingstreet
in a hut near KFC
plotting with the Colonel
and border franchisees.

And Kosher Delights hide from the Wiki.

And so it is, the battles rage on, as millions die and billions more are served agony. And only one mysterious blogging poet turned citizen journalist dares to tell the horrible story of the Fast Food War.

Oct 14, 2017

Vegan Missiles

My mother threw things at my Daddy for 20 plus years-- never managed to hit him. Daddy would always laugh and say, "Throw something with eyes on it." Momma would be disgusted.

One day while Momma was working in the kitchen, Daddy made a smart remark from the other side of the living room. In anger, Momma picked up a potato and beaned him right between the eyes. They were both so astonished she had actually hit him that neither said a word. Them Momma busted out laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Daddy asked.

"The potato has eyes on it," Momma laughed.

The whole family busted out laughing.

Oct 13, 2017

I Call It As I See It

Parents who won't control their own children have no business complaining about other parents not controlling their children; constituents who won't call out their own leaders have no business complaining about those on the other side of the isle doing the same.

Picking and choosing issues only lowers the bar.
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