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.

From a Writing Prompt 2018-06-14, #2

Those things that we must learn
Are the things that must be earned
Of when to sit tight
or to stand up and fight
Whether to be the Salmon or the Stream.

Few from cradle to the hearse
Master the power of the purse
which bears their esteem
From self and their team –
Of when to spend or save at the bank.

There is an art to disappearing –
To being cool but not dis-endearing
And there is standing out
Without having to shout,
And walking the line is what we must earn.


The Prompts:

The art of disappearing
Spending Our Social Currency Wisely
Those Things we must learn

From a Writing Prompt 2018-06-14, #1

Oh my mittens would fit a child
And my drop sexy panties are shot.
If only I had gone to that party –
I would have more than I’ve got.

Instead of new friends,
and bedroom eyes at my crush –
I only have shredded lint
to shove over my feet into puppies that hush.

As the keg fell below half full
And the witching hour bled to dawn.
What music were they dancing to
And what did Becky shout at Ron.

Things fall apart
when you do not spring for Tide –
When you fail to prepare
prepare for a bumpy ride.

People are the reason
that all of us want to exist
So next time I’ll check off earlier
the chores that are on my list.


The Prompts:

the party i Didn’t go to
dissolve into something
doing my laundry
if instead

I Will Keep Writing

I will keep writing until the words are gone,
All throughout the night – until the break of dawn.
I’ll write to the end of cities, where there is no sound –
And there is nothing of this Earth but a ball of round.

I will write until Atlas shrugs, dropping Gaia in his lap.
Let them snuggle up together so they can take a nap.
I will fill for them the sands of time and the sloshing seas.
While hunched over my glowing screen crunching at the keys.

I will never stop writing, but for a writing exercise –
To see if the act of stopping frees me from binding ties.
This shall be me until I cease to be.
Sharing it with you is what sets me free.


Sometimes you are at your best,
never missing a finesse.
Others your mouth is filled with sand
As you look to play the hand.

Never mind those days –
those days where you make horrible plays.
Wear your finest from hat to socks,
Look good behind the bidding box.

Follow the lead, win or loss.
Sometimes it is a coin toss.
After all it’s duplicate –
You’re not the first to deal with it.

Maybe you partner will pick up the slack –
where you run foul they have your back.
Or maybe it is your time to shine –
And then to talk hands over some wine.

Oh My Diamond

Oh my Diamond in the rough –
Do not question that you are tough.
No wind nor sand could wear you down –
You’d be fit atop royal crown.

Your prism separates truth from lies –
the colors cast before our eyes;
The space that separates the blues
from warmer, lesser honest hues.

Gently rest within my palm
With me there is peace and calm.
But know that if you ever dropped
You will be whole, and not be stopped.


She buttered me up like a potato,
And mashed me into my skin –
Slathered me all with sour cream
And tossed her chives in.

She’s the main dish –
A porterhouse steak.
Marbled, grassfed –
A Kobe, not a fake.

She has me as a side,
Along with Mac and cheese.
What can I say, she likes her carbs
And I aim to please.


This is what I’ve been told –
Fortune lends favor to the bold.
However, many don’t grow old –
They grow deceased stretching for gold.

Yet if you take the well-worn path
You will never see Neptune’s wrath,
Or break Kings bread to hearty laugh,
Or with his queen share a bath.

This is your choice, hold it dear –
The time to strike is always near.
Either way harbor no fear –
For the choice is never clear.