A Ways To Go

We have come so far, yet have such a long ways to go.
We have filled endless books, and yet so much we do not know.
We laid at night as kids, grew up to drink together in bars –
All along thinking of the end of plagues, and of flying cars,
Of pneumatic tubes, of automatic doors,
Of instant worldwide laughs, and of the end of wars.
Some of these things we have – others not so much;
Give it time – there is nothing quite like man’s touch.


His soul patch is explicit, it exclaims his lower lip.
A dot to the line that he draws when he opens up and realities rip.
A man of another time who is timeless for all.
A man of limitless spunk, of overflowing gall.

He said he wanted to annoy until we took note;
A prod, a prod, a prod again to rock the boat.
Mr. Zappa, you were a treasure over flowing –
Casting out your debloons for our enjoyment and our knowing.

Avocado Melon Baby

To the cadence of Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver:

These ‘cados are sized like watermelons – they fill days of needs.
But like the watermelons you don’t want to swallow any seeds.
You don’t want a melon ‘cado growing up inside,
Making you one of them guys who’s good fat double wide.

I knew a man who grew a ‘cado in his tummy for some years –
He couldn’t give birth naturally, so they pulled it out to his tears.
Named the little thing Jessamine, wanted to raise it as his own –
Doctors wouldn’t have none of that, got the National Guard on the phone.

The guard came down to lay the law, saying “it ain’t natur-al!”
Don’t want no army of ‘cado daddies in the shadows, on the prowl.
Took lil ‘cado Jessamine to Oak Ridge National Lab,
Told the egg heads to monitor her vitals and with hypodermic needless stab.

Jessamine the ‘cado grew up tough and mean,
Chewed tobacco, fucked biker chicks, and chugged gasoline.
Still she had a soft spot for her dear old dad.
Cause having a freak melon ‘cado baby was the kind of heart he had.

So when you’re down just think of the ‘cado Jessamine.
Work hard, love each other and try to keep your nose clean.
It could always be worse – you could be riding a hearse to your final resting place.
That is what could be for you but for God’s loving grace.

Ideas and Actions

Its not that we are out of ideas – we have plenty of them.
Executing just takes a lot vigor, pep, and vim.
I know that over there on your armchair things seem like a breeze –
Palm imprints in your lap, pushing pins on maps as you please.

Fold your TV tray and walk this way – mind the crumbs on the floor –
The crumbs from the last time you tried to help; nevermind – ignore.
That’s right! one foot should fall before the next!
Oh look at you, you’re walking now without the usual pretext!

Ah, I understand this is all a lot for you to take in;
And I am so glad that you are with me taking it with a grin.
Oh never mind, looks like you’re behind, now that’s ok.
Have a seat and think about it, I didn’t have my hopes up any way.


A lass begins buxom, and a lad burly –
But given time they will all surely turn surly.
Waistbands migrate to pits;
From Fruit Loops to grits;
From up-all-nights to early-rise days;
From blondes and browns to shades of Grays.
Cradle to grave, life is a journey –
End to end, gurney to gurney.







Now me

Grew out to my fingers

Had my first grasp

Felt around and undid a clasp

Fell forward and tumbled onto my ass

Looked up at the sky that it was vast.

Hugged the world, it told me its lore

What it was and what I was for

Wrote myself up and out of a door.

Only to come up to knock on one more.

Oh that I would have died

Oh that I would have died –
For the longest while I have tried.
The first step is to have been born
The next is to cast off the life you’ve worn.

So many ways to go –
Some in peace, some in woe.
Some in anger, some in haste –
though those, I think, are a waste.

Make a splash in life, not when you die –
Leave them wanting more, not asking why.
Have a really great impact.
And leave yourself mostly intact.


It’s memes all the way down, Jason –
Gutenberg’s been atomized.
The ship of outer context has set sail, then capsized.
All the bits made to fit aligned into the form,
A narrow form to catch it all is now the norm.
Our minds have gone to Pokemon, the Japanese have won.
You gotta run to catch em all – run run run.

A Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night,
The children packed in for a fright
From a musty old black cassette
Which dad had put in the TV set.

Buttered air from popcorn smells
Forebode the depths of the hells
That were forbidden from them to be seen
As it was rated PG-13.

“Nevermind it’s between you and I
To not tell Mom is not a lie
I’m sure your friends can keep zipped up
For the princely price of a Reese’s cup.”

Sugar’s power is overrated –
Two asleep by the time the movie’s teens debated
Whether to drive to make-out point
While passing what looked like a joint.

As the teens decided to take the drive
Not considering they might not stay alive
Becky’s mouth let out a snore
Which hid the slight tap-tap at the door.

Gently father took Becky’s cue
To lay them to bed and find something else to do –
He settled on the late show and a rum night cap
The crackling ice of which hid the next tap-tap.

The late show gave way to a test pattern
“Which in eighty minutes more might reach Saturn” –
An aside that dad had learned as a teen
From his popular science magazine.

He took the final lingering sip
Of the nightcap across his lips
And as he pulled the blanket off his lap
The test pattern tone obscured the next tap-tap.

Shuffling he turned the TV off
And scratched himself and let out a cough
The only sound other than the softening rain
And then the tap-tap which happened again.

Half asleep he took half note
Before noting next morning they should go out on the boat
But as he went to lock the door
He heard the tap-tapping once more.

There were no branches there for the wind to blow
And it suddenly dawned on him he did not know
What could be at the door at this hour of night
Though he did not muster any fright.

Still, to be safe he got the baseball bat –
There were children here and that was that.
It could not hurt to be safe as he opened the door
To the tap-tap which sounded once more.

He reached out for the door knob
Hoping someone was not here to rob
But found nothing in front of him
Until he looked down at something grim.

The little dachshund’s rib cage shown
As it was all skin and bone
The poor thing had not eaten for weeks
And could hardly muster a whimper from between it’s cheeks.

He took it to the warmth inside
And fed it shredded tuna and towel dried it’s hide
Her little eyes sparked to life as she gave a gentle lick
And when he called her “Lucky” her tail wag meant it would stick.

Twelve years she stayed in their home
‘Til she was buried under the watch of garden gnomes.
They loved Lucky who fell into their lap
Who would have died that night but for dad catching that tap-tap.