It's a family beer hall

He's the
Paw Paw,
the Grandpa
this hap-hazard guardian
of a family beer hall,
this tree.

Many hands have
worn him smooth,
shiny.

Generations
have leaned on his
sideways trunk,
stroked him with
beer-bottle-cold fingers,
starched pearl-snapped shirts
clinging to
dance-sweaty backs
have leaned against
him for support
as farm boys
charmed round-eyed girls,
and clammy palms held
him to still their trembling.


He leans
towards the
horse shoe pits
tough, gray,
bent and scarred
as a
South Texas Farmer,
his few remaining
branches
combed over
towards the
music.

He remembers
Willie Nelson
with short hair,
and has seen
me dance in
the shadow of
a full moon
to a medley
that included
Izzy Pop
and
BB King.

This Tree,
guardian
of the
Shiner Bock
and
the
Budweiser.

Makes me
happy,
on a night
when
I'm tall and
proud
in my
brown cowboy boots,
standing
beside the cement pond
with a
Man who can
two step in
flip flops
and understands
"context".

Wild Flower Pincushion#atuid-4ac15f0e11de9769

Wild Flower Pincushion#atuid-4ac15f0e11de9769

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Mark it for posterity

Today: as we were discussing Life, the Universe and everything:
Thus Spoke the WP:
"Mark My Words, The Religions of Abraham will be the end of this age of Man, they will destroy the Homo sapiens ones and twos that currently comprise most of the world's population."

Bill Kirchen & Too Much Fun

Today:

Spent most of the day in Middle Earth: Good news, Frodo has cast the One Ring into Mount Doom, cost him part of a finger, but the world was set to rights. Much relief that. (OK, I may have read the book a time, or seven before, but hey, it's a damned fine read)

And this evening? We went to Guene Hall (for free I might add) and Saw Bill Kirchen & Too Much Fun. For anyone who's ever heard "Hot Rod Lincoln" well, he's THAT GUY. I can't say he's the best guitar player I 've ever seen, but he's one of the top 5. And I had a damned good time.

And I didn't work today.
And I didn't have a head ache today.
And I didn't sit and worry.
And I didn't have an upset stomach.
And I didn't have any blinding rage.
And I didn't spend a moment of my day depressed or paranoid.

I did however break out in song 4 times
and do the
I'm-not-at-work-dance,
twice
[it's mostly butts and elbows, because as any 5 year old boy knows, butts are funny]

So I may be fired, but from where I'm sitting, Looks like
I WIN.

What you should have said.

What you should have said.
January 23, 2008 - Wednesday

She was my sparkler girl.

Made of whirly gigs

and sprigs of kindling.

They twirled in the curling

of her dying pyre

dwindling

from bonfires,

struck from the

flint -glint in her eyes.

My lies didn't surprise her.

But it was just too
tough

to shoulder

this weight,

of a

water brigade

that I never made

the effort to start.

Like most of my

best laid plans.

I was too afraid

to douse her

smoldering.

Her ashes,

fell

from a lopsided smile.
she

would have

gone

miles to really mean.

She keened

cries

I studiously ignored

while she grew bored

of trying.

I saw the

flames

in the crackling of her

cracking voice and the drone of
her
perfectly rational tone.

She thought

she was

Atoning for
those sins

she's been

so foolish

to commit

in the name

of rising above

love.

Our many friends

and I

our loving complicity,

our kind duplicity

and
all the other lies

we told ourselves

at her wake.

Were just the fireflies

of

her blown fuses.

Now

She's Used up
the allotted wattage.

And called it“wasted”

at all those supper tables

she laid for us

laden with feasts fit for kings.

She knew way before the end

her pearls

were cast before

us

smug-faced razor tongued

loved-ones

more deadly than the kindest vipers.

She saw us,
Wiping our loving feet

on the meat of her

chrome-plated heart.

I can't say who stared her fire.

But I damned sure wasn't

any help.

She'd been casting off sparks

for so long I sold out

for a song

to loan sharks and drifters

grifting for a dime.

I know I'm guilty,

and filthy with regret.

I'd sing my part

If I could find a tune

over the rhyme of her

neat little death.

Beating to rhythm of a blaze

she's played so long

I've forgotten

the tune of the

song

and the lover's

melody

she used to sing

just to me.

Back when we were meant to be

more than this miser's parody.

Of lost causes and cast off dreams.

But damn it to hell

I remember her smell.

Before the shell-shock
of our passing

shook her foundations.

And Me?

I let it be.

Our friendly fire

took the suit of skin she used to dance in.

Traded it for a bested jester's suit

of ill-fitting Armour.

And I am a coward

I Clamored our platitudes,

faked our good attitudes,
but
We're all foiled

again my friend.

And in the end,

she still burned .

So we, her good good friends,

her long lovers,

found a nice place

up on the hill,

and laid out the blankets
so we could watch her go
up in smoke.

It was a good show.

We all should
lie in our guilty guile
and know.

We waited too late

and never thought

of
calling the fire-trucks

It's a coward's justice
that we were

stuck watching her amazing
blaze from street- side.

So give a wide sweep
and keep your liar's mouth shut

as the trash-collectors

take away the fairy-fay snow

of her ashes.

They came

raining

down so pretty

and so

sad-clown sweet.

If anybody asks,

you better at

least be man enough to

say,

We've let her burn away,

and
She's come

to lie once again

at our feet.

Today

Had Job interview w/ Scooter Store: Didn't get call back today, but maybe tomorrow: Will take it if offered as the position seems really interesting.

Spent the afternoon w/The RangerBanger. I never laugh as much as I do with her. Old friends from when we were 13. When I hit people and she was too shy to talk. Man have we changed. She's a worse driver than I, though to be fair, I give total crap directions. We found the only Thai resturant in town, it was grand. The waitress was so cute my mouth watered. Beck looks great, relaxed and smiling and happy. She's in love, which is also grand. She and I discussed some projects for the upcoming Art Show we'll be working on together. I'm excited as hell about that.

I found out a few minutes ago Star's memorial is tonight. I guess I wasn't invited. I'm trying super hard not to have my feelings hurt about that. I'm failing a little. Ok, I'm failing more than a little.

Wp is making roast beast. Smells devine.

The pink flowery vine we've got growing on the fence is apparently Queen's Wreath.

Commando

After a Summer of watching the heat slowly wither and shrivel our best laid plans of a bountiful harvest...we've just discovered we have commando lettuce...growing happily in the ruins of our garden, and oddly enough in places we did NOT plant lettuce. Let's hear it for serendipity.

Fud

Dinner:
Spray oven save pan with non-stick spray
Slather both sides of two chicken breasts with HEB brand Cesar salad dressing
cover both sides of the chicken breasts with grape nuts
place in pan
bake in 435 degree oven for 45 minutes

open one can of HEB brand green beans
season with REAL butter and almonds
nuke in microwave till hot

serve to the WP
REAP eternal rewards.

Afternoon

I've accomplished all my goals for today. It's 3:17, I feel great. Nothing to do but read me some Tolkien and comtemplate putting away the Laundry, which isn't really my job but might be a nice thing to do for the WP. I may change the sheets, cause I think I'd like to spray down the bed with some Lavender. Sue Me, I'm a Witch, Remember? We do shit like that.

Love and Light.

S.

Wednesday Am

It's Morning: Late Morning:

I'm Up, I'm Breakfasted.

I slept. I slept WELL!

I do not have a headache. I do not have even an indication of a headache. This is a very good thing.

My To do List is as follows:

Deposit Paycheck.

Go to gym and suspend membership for the near future. (sad but necessary)

Go to Goodwill and pick up interview clothing that actually fits me.

Get car inspected.

Google Map route to job interview tomorrow.

Change sheets on bed.

Put up laundry, if I damned well feel like it.

Finish The Two Towers. ('cause one can never read Tolkien book often enough)

Post a poem on this blog, as I have a goal to do that every day.

Life, she is good.

S.

I dream of poets

I dream of poets…
those seductive things,
ringing,
bringing
me hypnotized,
sensitized,
for for me,
see
there is no such thing
as an ugly poet.

Even the ones who are.
When they
open those whirl-twirl mouths,
are transformed
into hematite sun sets
by swirling rhyme
into potential mazes
of crazed,
raised fantasy
cum and sweat.

Those words of blood,
mud and mostly beer
give me
carnivore eyes.

I can not help
but slit my gaze
into a haze of
tantalized gray.

Even if I don't give a shit
what they say.

I am magnetized
by the moving soothing
bell-toll of lips,
and holy-roll of soul.

And Always,
I dream of poet tongues.

Fired:

Yea, I got fired. I got fired from San Marcos Surgery Center. I got fired from San Marcos Surgery Center, because Linda Johnson and Chris Bowman decided I wasn't "sweet". Duh, when did "sweet" become a job requirement. So they trumped up some accusations about "mistakes" which I asked them to prove. And they showed me examples and wow, guess what, they were on cased I did'nt even schedule. Interesting. So I'm fired. Of course the Unemployment office says my first check comes in on October 11th and all is well. SO I get a vacation and they get to suck it. This is karma, this is them reaping it. This is me laughing. HA. Ha. Mother Fucking Ha.