just a man
drag off a cigarette smirk
a walking shell game
snake in a can
so backwards in life
one questions
reports of his death
yet
he would crookedly smile
calling it
legend
Category: Uncategorized
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Juicy Rationalizations
Sugary justifications,
& candied white lies
once satisfied, however,
I no longer feel full
from such high calorie
low content diets.
It’s teeth gnashing truthy meats
I have in mind.
if i could have anything back
any part of his essence
i would want
his laugh
as life without it has been
no life at all
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the coffee scoop
It’s ordinary…
mundane, absolutely nothing special.
Part of a set that was purchased in the late 80’s
or early nineties would be my guess.
This brown, plastic 1/8 cup scoop
that came to symbolize our every morning
spent sharing coffee
no matter if we were 12 inches
or 1,200 miles apart. We always had coffee.
It is special because he sent it to me
in a care package when I was aching for him.
I still ache for him,
so it’s my coffee scoop until my dying day.
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Distelfink (Haus-Segen)
The first distelfink was carved into the side of a church in Athens, Greece in 1453. A double rosette. The stained glass rose window to be seen in modern churches to this day.
In the later Byzantine Cathedral double headed eagles were common adornments.
Haus-Segen
This day
I’m making a hex sign for our barn.
To quilt together
what remains of my family
this turn round the sun
clover for luck
rosettes for love and romance
tulips for faith hope and charity
the sun and rain
for abundance and fertility
a horse to protect the livestock
oak leaves for strength of body and character
stars for success and happiness
birds for good fortune
unicorns
for virtue and piety
and the four seasons
summer, autumn, winter, spring
so that
all who see it
may know blessings
borne of thee.
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Y’all, we’re gettin’ hitched proper this time!
Categories
American Tune
Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I’ve often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I’m alright, I’m alright
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home
And I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to its knees
But it’s alright, it’s alright
For we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
Road we’re traveling on
I wonder what’s gone wrong
I can’t help it, I wonder what has gone wrong
And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying
We come on the ship they call The Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hours
And sing an American tune
Oh, and it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some rest
lyrics by Paul Simon
Hosted by the hilarious Eric Lawson, Make Your Own Fun is a series where writers of every ilk are interviewed, but mostly freegin’ poets.
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Ha!! Me, too…
Categories
Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals Anne Boleyn astrolabe astronomy baseball writing battle beauty belief bibliophilia biology books botany California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence drawing ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fiction film food forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude Halloween happiness health Hell history holidays human behavior iconography Jazz journalism kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse museums Music mythology nature non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing seasons self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings women words writing
Poof* Take MY water
