I Like Naked Women

Posted: December 9, 2016 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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(My Winter Poem)

I have to get one thing off my chest
I admit it, I like naked women
I know that surprises you
it is unusual
But it is a great revelation
that a man such as me
an overgrown child really
Adoring naked women
But usually only one at a time
So if you come knocking at my door in pairs
All naked and without a stitch,
It will raise an alarm
I probably won’t answer immediately
I might have to think about it for maybe
2 or 3 seconds.
So if it is cold outside,
It might be best that you wear a coat.
Both of you….
of course….
Very naked underneath

OC

Dark Angel

Posted: November 27, 2016 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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Life’s too short to just come and go
dive right in and join the show.
Rest your feet and cross your legs
delight your soul to green ham and eggs.
Striped orange hair and deep dark clothes
black vine tattoo and steel pierced nose.
Skinny pants and boots laced combat
black nail polish and backwards hat.
When she passed, she didn’t say a word
just puckered black lipstick and flipped the bird.

OC

(Man, she had attitude…)

Thanks!

Posted: November 24, 2016 in free verse, poem, poet, Seasons, writing
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Happy Thanksgiving! To all my friends and Followers!

May we all have nothing but redeeming joys and pleasures.

Thank you!

DSS, E, OC and John

Moonstruck..

Posted: November 18, 2016 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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The Moon displayed itself in glorious grandeur this week or so. The best show of the century perhaps. But no matter how you photograph a super moon, it either looks like it is the size of your fingernail or as in most cases it just looks like you took a picture of a regular full moon with the telephoto lens. You know the one, the one with the guy standing in the foreground and the moon behind him the size of Mt. Everest, covering half of the horizon. Sorry guys, the moon is never that big. The Moon is the most elusive subject to photograph. It should only be described verbally. Like “Man, that is one big and bright full moon!”. That sort of says it all.

I have to admit, a big full moon makes me a little horny.  Come on, you have to agree. You remember that night on a date after you both watched that James Bond movie. Finding the quiet isolated spot, parked in the Studebaker or maybe the ’57 Chevy or more likely, a Ford Taurus . Not a cloud in the sky, moon lit night. Staring up through that windshield or better yet the back window and seeing that big round shining full moon. Wow! what a night that was. You will never forget it, will ya….

I love full moons and moonlit nights! But that was the Moon you didn’t need a picture to remember it by.

DSS

Some people have a gift. They can recognize when someone is feeding them bullshit. In the same way that I learned very young how to swear from my old man, I also learned that he had that gift.  I could not get away with anything. And if I tried to lie my way out of anything the consequences were always worse than if I was straight with him. So after pondering the question for what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably no longer than 5 , I blurted out “I don’t know.” because I really didn’t have any idea what he was getting at. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to try to bullshit him into thinking I did.
But I thought about saying, “Well, there are sure a lot of creatures in there that have ears, and as long as there was even just one, they would hear the noise, if there wasn’t any ears in there the noise would just travel on without hitting anybody and nobody would hear it.” But I didn’t say it. I played it safe and said “I don’t know”.

“Johnny, that is the best goddamn answer I have ever heard for that question! I hope you always admit to that to any question that you don’t know the answer to. People can spot bullshit from a mile away, even if they themselves don’t know what they’re talking about. But now, between me and you, what do you really think about that tree?”

And I told him what I thought.

“You know, that’s what I think, too. The sun is going to get high and hot soon, we’d better be getting home, you’ve got fish to clean.”

When we got back to the car, I looked in the back seat and found my worn high top tennis shoes and old dusty stretched wool socks. I put them on, tied up the laces real tight and I haven’t gone barefoot since.

 

OC

 

 

 

 

From our row-boat, I looked across the lake and into the thick woods of oak, elm and hickory trees. The timber floor was covered with thick undergrowth of thorn covered gooseberry and wild raspberry bushes. Not a hospitable place for man. It was a southern Iowa jungle as far as I was concerned, full of all sorts of critters, spider webs, bugs and poison ivy. I’d been in those woods before with my oldest sister picking up hickory nuts and collecting berries from in-between those thorny bushes. After we trudged all afternoon through the thickets and finally peacefully back home, I was terrified to find a wood tick securing a home in my belly button! And I have an inner not an easily accessible outer. Oh, I knew that jungle well. It wasn’t a place for a young boy alone.

 

Now I was confronted with that question. I really did want to answer it to my father’s satisfaction. But was there a right or wrong answer? That damn question was my entrance into manhood and I didn’t want to screw it up. I was trying to think but now I had just learned that trees and branches can just fall in the forest, eer jungle, I hadn’t even thought of it that afternoon I was tromping around in there with my sister. The one chance for me to listen for trees falling and I was wasting my time picking and eating raspberries. And providing ticks with lunch from my belly button. Ticks! The bastards! (I didn’t know what a bastard was but if my dad didn’t like ’em, a tick was surely one , too.)

OC

(Con’t on next post)

 

All about us may be lost
and time will continue,
but it will live only in the minds of those who remain. E

The old question, “If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make a noise?”

When I was a ten-year old child fishing with my father one beautiful spring morning and he presented me with that question, I seriously pondered what he had asked. It was possibly the first philosophical question I was ever confronted with.  Perhaps it was cruel to ask a young impressionable boy such a thing. It may have hinged on the edge of child abuse. The most difficult questions he had ever asked me before were “where’s your shoes”, “what’s that on your face”, “have you washed your hands”, “did you put gum in your sister’s hair” ??

And that day I was asked a question that I had to think about, I could not lie about and how ever I answered it, he was willing to discuss it with me.

” Jesus Christ!, what the fuck?” I thought. (I had learned from my father to quietly swear to myself years earlier).

OC

 

(Con’t on the next post)

It is 7:35 AM, I have been up for about 35 minutes. I have been reminded three times, so far, to set my clocks back before I go to bed tonight. There is so much wrong with that statement. First why am I watching TV this soon after waking up, (I like chatter in the background when I write). Second, why do I have to be reminded to set the clocks back, it’s the 21st century, all of my clocks, computers, microwaves and coffee pots can do it automatically. Three, and most importantly, why in the hell are we screwing with our time twice a year anyway? It is obviously very important or why would the manufacturers build it into their firmware? Or is it?

I bring this up twice a year also, everyone in my family is as tired of hearing me rant on this subject as I am tired of all in this country that are playing with my time and schedule. It is uuuuunn-necessary !..

As far as this saving energy, that is a myth in the 21st century. Daylight Saving Time, goes back to when we were using candles, kerosene lamps and burning firewood and coal. Perhaps, if you are living a frontier pioneer life without electricity, or natural gas or other modern heating and lighting devices, DST could possibly save you a candle or log or two. But chances are if you are living that life, you are working simply sun up to sun down anyway. And I doubt if you are in love with the modern conveniences with automatic clocks anyway.

Daylight Saving Time is the most old fashion event or brainwash that truly plagues us each fall and spring season. Yes, it is a myth that plagues hundreds of millions of people more than most realize. Here’s a few facts:

Two internal systems interact to regulate when we sleep and when we are awake. These systems are the sleep/wake homeostat, which monitors our need for sleep based on how long we have been awake; and the circadian system, which regulates the cycling of numerous functions, including when we sleep and wake, every 24 hours. These two systems usually work with each other. But if they slide out of sync by an hour, for a few days or sleep cycles, we are affected both mentally and physically because of the disruption of needed sleep. Everyone has different tolerances for this imbalance. Obviously, I am affected more than most. It takes weeks for me to re-sync.

The human body bio-rhythm is adversely affected with changes of sleep cycles for a few weeks after time changes.
Due to that traffic accidents rise after time changes
Accidents at work increase
Work production decreases
And some simply feel ill for a few weeks

A serious reconsideration needs to take place on the subject of DST. My solution is to simply move the clocks forward one hour in the U.S. or the entire North America and leave it there. It makes sense that if we need 1 hour more of daylight in the summer we certainly need the same one hour of daylight in the winter.

In other words, don’t screw with the time. Leave it the hell alone and help everyone get a good night’s sleep.

E.

Silent Watchman

Posted: November 3, 2016 in poem, poet, poetry
Tags: , ,

What a Watchman I am
Standing by to catch the slightest glimpse
of night-time movement or sound
Listening for the weakest disruption of the night
By scurried feet or blind thumped heads or noses
Alert to any flapping wings or echoed squeaks
Creatures of the night  and I alone
come out from under the stealth, forced by daylight
to thrive in the darkness
to smell and eat, feed of what’s found,
living or dead, six-legged or four
the remains or living bounty left of the day.
What a Watchman I am
A blind and silent Watchman

DSS

Candles

Posted: October 19, 2016 in poem, poet, poetry

Thoughts of burning candles
Bright candles that will soon lose their wicks
Each stared into with wonder
Movement of the flame watched as if alive
Flame so hot but too weak to resist the slightest breeze
or puff of an old man’s breath.
Lighting the way or burning the hand
Reminding us that long shadows can be cast
from the light of very small flames

DSS