Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time
Every four years we add a whole day to our highly inaccurate timekeeping facade so our notion of a comfy ordered perfect universe won’t be shattered. Let’s make it a day to reflect upon the fact that the universe doesn’t behave as we’ve told ourselves it should.
Great Expectorations
The thing about corridors
You want to be sure
You are on the right floor
Before you knock on one
Of the corridor's doors
But no matter which one
Don't spit on the floors
🎵
Corridor
Be on the right floor
Please use the cuspidor
That's what it's for
🎵
🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵
Once upon a time
it was
scribbles in ink
scribbles in ink
Now
I no longer waste
paper and ink
Make all
my scribbles in bytes
scribbles in bytes
Still
making more
scribbles in bytes
💻💻💻💻💻💻
I'll see your tad raise
bet you a trifling
for the tidbit
in the pot
without giving
a tinker's damn
about your attempt
to trump
threadbare reasoning
with thoughtful
thorough
discourse to work
through these timorous
tumultuous
times
I realize
I have to reconcile
all the bounced emotional checks
that are stacked up
in my past
like planes
making a final approach
to O'Hare airport
on a holiday
having landed
I meander through
my conscious concourse to
where they have been placed
on my baggage to-do list carousel
to circulate around procrastinations drain
till the last possible moment
as overdraft fees take their toll
on my psyche
I was less of a boat anchor today than I was yesterday.
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So I anchored myself with a check in to Obscured House
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After a brief visit
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To the big lake on my doorstep
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On my way to the Jewels;
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Where once upon a time I used to cash checks.
An absence can be
Painful Scarring Horrendous
Or very welcomed
I sometimes plug my haikus into this graphic engine to see just what it makes of my words and to give me insight into the world we are making aided by A. I. output. The results can go from sublime to horrifying. When I plugged this haiku into the engine it produced such disturbing results I chose not to subject the world to this A. I.’s algorithmic nightmares. After four batches of nine results it finally gave me this one, in my opinion, usable option. The first set was produced by entering a more user friendly woo woo trope, but even that put some A. I. darkness on display.
me
I also sometimes wonder how my words are skewing the data set.
In the mid 1960’s my Aunt and Uncle bought a house near where we lived. Maybe one or two social classes up from my neighborhood. Quite literally the other side of the tracks. I would have been nine or ten at the time. So of course they invited their poor relatives over to tour their new home. Actually, they had always been in the rotation of family holiday get together locations so much time would be spent visiting for the five or six years they lived there. That is until they took another step up to the burbs leaving us real Chicagoans behind. It was a nice two story home with the best bonus in the world for a boy my age. The second story bathroom top row of tiles had delightful naked blonde cartoon women, ala Marilyn Monroe, discreetly hugging bubbles in various provocative but still tasteful poses on alternating rectangles around the whole bathroom. Just a little above my pre-puberty eye level. But what an eyeful for me in those clueless days of the mid 60’s. I didn’t know why I liked ’em. But boy did I. Even to this day the memory makes me smile. Best of all nobody else seemed to pay them any mind and I knew better than to remark upon them. So that particular decor choice by the previous owners stayed and I had many inspired visits to that lavatory as the revelations of puberty over took me. I think I hold those tiles responsible for my life long penchant for blonds.
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I still wonder what the people who bought the house from my aunt and uncle thought of their choices?
When I sit to meditate
I carefully try to radiate
Without words to intimidate
In spite of where I situate
Careful not to over inflate
Verbiage merely to saturate
Animal magnetism will infatuate
And unintentionally infuriate
Making it necessary to mitigate
Without appearing to subjugate
Intentions merely to intimate
That I'm just trying to relate
To precursors of my current fate
I finally
scraped the last
bit of gumption
off the soles of my
inflatable shoes
to follow the
moving yellow
line to board the
Dutch Elm Street
bus but I’ve
fallen into my
shadow and
I can’t
get
up.
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A Scroll Threw Life 