Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time
The priesthood of the red robed Lobster cult in charge of the Inquisition said, “It wasn’t cruel to break someone on the wheel.” With a labyrinth of pious accusations and rationalizations they would soak the ground with the blood of the yellow robed Crab cult. This ushered in the rocking age of Blue Oyster cult.
Went out for a pint
Back to mine for a nice pant
Sweet pent up release
With a satisfying punt
Over a pont to a dream
Wedge
A simple machine
Used by early humans.
To do
Useful things for all
Still used today
To do
Useful things for some
Control.
Divide.
Conquer.
Sow distrust
Of those you should trust
Buy solutions
From those you shouldn't
Just keep on buying
What they're selling
Then fight each other
Over leavings.
So people
Stay in their place.
So people
Know their place.
In the American scheme
Or maybe I’ll just have another slice of the pie. I remember having long discussions with New Yorkers, I was working with, about pizza. Not about virtues, quality, or flavors; but about presentation. Many thin crust pizza around here are cut into squares, which incensed the New Yorker contingent, because they’re felt a pizza pie should be cut into wedges. They felt that it was the telos of a pie and not the logos of pie eating. Or some such nonsense. Keep in mind these were advertising pukes.
As long as I inhale
I shall continue to inspire
Inspiration
Hold on to the aspire
To soak in the
Aspiration
Living with the knowledge
That my unreasonable
Expectations
Have often led me
Down the path
Of irrational
Exuberance
As long as I can
Stay immune from efforts
To yuck my yum
Until I expire
Expiration
On my last exhale
My current yearly aspiration is to write a ….
Be there in a
Just a
Wait a
In a
Gotta a
Be back in a
Second
A primary lie
To the penultimate lie
It'll only take a
Minute
That's why my preferred unit of time is
Shakes of a lamb's tale
Oh, you mean that time. Not to be confused with this time, out of time, Miller Time, or Hammer Time. Not to mention Morris Day and The Time.
It was a different time
So excuse me while I take this time to do the ramble. I miss the arbitrary reckoning of big hand is here and the little hand is there; as opposed to the empiricism of the digital display. Or the solidity of everything happening everywhere all at once hypothesis. Times arrow. Time slip. How many times has this happened before. Déjà-vu all over. So many hypotheses, so little time. Or too much time? Time is what you make of it. If you spend that much time counting, or making time, it may leave too little time for anything else.
Do you remember the past?
Do you remember the future?
Forget it!
But there is always time for Pink. But which one is Pink this time.
Time for me to give my brain a time out.
P.S. as a child my mother would talk about punching out of work. I imagined a first fight everyday at the time clock to leave the factory. 🕓
Caught in a web of vendetta;
The fly knew more struggle.
More enwrapped.
This sort of spider wanted one recourse.
His narcissistic reflexology squeezed this way.
More dough for him and his.
Less for you and yours.
“Stay cool.”
Said the spider with a wheeze.
“It’s for your own good.”
tall boy
day drinking with geezers
one too many and forgot to mosey
yakking memories sweet and rosy
tall boy
Tossed one back and stumbled out
grabbed another for the ditch
made the patio wall in a pinch
tall boy
stretched out passed out
old timers slipped him a mickey
now play poker for his kidney
the anatomy
of an anomaly chops
reality norms
to tiny pieces spread out
on life's charcuterie board
A Scroll Threw Life 