Gift

I have this
Weapon in my
Arsenal.
A .22 caliber
Walther pistol,
Black, sleek,
Potentially deadly, an
Unexpected gift
Given by someone
Who loves me, but
Does not always
Know me.
In the middle of the
Night after
Opening this gift
I woke up in a
Cold sweat;
Shivering from the
Weight of
Responsibility.

Now, I cannot bring
Myself to
Hold, or
Load, or
Fire, or even
Look at the
Damned thing.
Yet,
It takes up
Valuable
Space in my
Home.
Space that would be
Better served by
Books and
Poetry about
Peace, and
Love, and
Dragons, and
Rock and roll.

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http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/01/defensive-gun-ownership-myth-114262.html?ml=m_t3_2h#.VLhdIdS9KK3

Perspective

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Sometimes up is down
All depends on where one’s bound
Adventure awaits

I seldom attempt haiku, but there was a challenge circulating on WordPress, and I can never pass up a good challenge. Funny thing is, I’m not exactly sure what the rules of the challenge were. It had something to do with the picture of the escalator and a haiku. I think. Is there a prize???

The double feature

Thought provoking post from a blogger I follow–notesfromanarcissist.wordpress.com

A Narcissist Writes Letters, To Himself

Mission accomplished

The main difference
between predator drones
and commercial airplanes
is the number of people involved in the flight,
and how those people react
when they hear the cries and screams
of little foreign babies.

*

True story

My grandmother does things her own way.
She doesn’t pull weeds, or use weed killer
instead, she lays spare lumber on top of them
until they wither and die.
It’s eco friendly,
it’s not labor intensive
& at the end of the day, no one wants to question
a ninety year old Chinese woman who
this morning
smothered some dandelions with a door.

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A Visit with the Truth Fairy

The Truth Fairy flew through
My window last night
Flittered around and
Fumbled beneath my pillow.
Startled, I awakened and
Screamed,
“Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t mind me,
I’m the Truth Fairy,”
The intruder said.
“I’m searching for
Veracity. So far
I am unable to find
Even a trace within the
Confines of your abode.”

“I’ve found exaggerated
Prose, and pious poetry,
Inelegant phraseology, and
Insipid verse, but
Very little in the way of
Truth!”
He continued.

“Oh,” I replied.
“In that case,
Perhaps you are
Looking in all the wrong
Places.
The truth is Boring,
Veracity is dull and you are
Wasting your time.

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Hey, Good Lookin’! What Ya’ Got Cookin’?

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In just a week my “full time/part time” job will be at an end. Yea! I will continue administering assessments to 2, 3, and 4-year-olds at various preschools in the area, but I’m stepping away from the intervention arena.

My new gig won’t pay as much, but it will truly be a flexible, part time role. Studly is fine with me making less money, as long as, (drumroll) I take on all of the cooking duties.

I don’t cook. It’s basically against my religion. Twice a year, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I ignore the basic tenet (thou shalt not cook) of The No Cook Cathedral of the Coast and prepare a meal. This might not seem like a big deal to some, but in my religion it’s basically the same as ignoring the commandments against infidelity and idol worship.

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My culinary skills are pretty basic. I can boil water. I am qualified to operate a can opener. I’m surprisingly adept at microwaving. But, the stove is off limits unless I have adult supervision. And knives are a no-no. No–a NO-NO-NO!! If I had a dollar for every time I’d sliced into some portion of my hand I’d be able to retire comfortably to a remote Caribbean island, and perhaps purchase a prosthetic appendage.

But I’m going to take Studly up on his offer. I’m going to refute my no cooking religion and embark on a new adventure: Cooking for Studly. Heaven help us both. Speaking of which I’ll probably need to find a new religion, too.

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Peace, People!

Embrace Your Inner Beatle! Nowhere Man by John Lennon

Lengthy, but very good! Reblogged from Jackewilson.com on wordpress.

Jacke Wilson

nowhereman

THE SELECTION

Aha! This week we use the perfect randomizer: four spins of a Life board game dial. Szzzzzzzzz-tika-tika-tika…. and the gods of creativity have chosen!

NOWHERE MAN (LENNON-MCCARTNEY, RUBBER SOUL)

Oh, wow. Once again, the gods seem to have looked out for themselves. Here’s another divinely inspired song, or at least divinely delivered. More on that later.

“Nowhere Man,” from the album Rubber Soul, was written in what John later called his “fat Elvis” period, when he was unhappy, bitter, isolated, troubled, uncertain. Oh, you never knew that? You never knew he was suffering? Here’s Paul:

I think at that point, he was a bit…wondering where he was going, and to be truthful so was I. I was starting to worry about him.

(Gee, Paul, you think? I mean, the guy only wrote a song called Help!)

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Ocean

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Ocean

Messages of anger,
Hate, and despair
Tucked in blown glass
Riding atop
Waves of arguments:
He said!
But they were!
You should!
All rebuffed with
Words of hope,
Love, and peace.
Wrested from the
Brink of anguish
Cresting swells of
Sweet, sweet
Acceptance for
Ourselves and others,
Our lives and loves,
Without a care for
What any might
Think or say.

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Here Deer?

Some weird hunting season must be in full swing here in the Florida panhandle. My friend Lee Ann, visiting from Indiana, and I discovered this on our return from Apalachicola on Saturday afternoon.

We’d driven down to eat lunch at a little restaurant called The Owl (I highly recommend this charming place where the waitress said she’d be back to ‘water us’ before taking our order). After our wonderful meal–Lee Ann had a grouper sandwich; I had a crab and shrimp salad–we wandered around the quaint downtown area spending money and making witty repartee.

No trip to the Gulf would be complete without a visit to St. George Island, so even though the temps were in the mid-40’s Lee Ann and I walked on the beach for a bit before heading home.

Instead of taking my well-worn path back to Tallahassee through Sopchoppy and Crawfordville, I turned towards the tiny burgs of Sumatra, Wilma, and Clio. All three are one-blink towns: blink once and you’ll miss them. This road is almost completely enveloped in pine forest, with occasional glimpses of swampland.

Just past Sumatra we noticed a trio of 4-wheel drive pickup trucks being driven erratically on the grassy area beside the main road. Lee Ann and I both wondered aloud just what was wrong with those um, knot heads. A little further along we realized what was wrong: Hunting Fever.

Hound dogs, armed camouflage clad men, and pickup trucks abounded. The testosterone glimmered all around us, like hairy legged fairy dust. We even spotted one hunter standing on the tool box of his truck, rifle at the ready. Instinctively I ducked thinking we would feel a bullet whiz past at any minute. It was madness, I tell you, madness!

After stopping for a bathroom break in Hosford we turned north towards Tallahassee. Not far beyond the Hosford city limits sign we came up on a group of pickup trucks parked next to a bridge. A man wearing a bright orange hunting vest over the requisite camouflage ensemble stepped into the road and began gesticulating wildly. Even though his intended message wasn’t clear we slowed down just in case he was attempting to warn us about a large herd of elephants on the highway.

A reduction in our speed must have been his goal since we received a cheerful thumbs up from Mr. Orange Vest. We soon saw a hunting hound apparently hot on the trail of some prey, nose to the ground heading off the road and into the brush. Had we not slowed down we might have hit the little guy. Thanks Mr. Orange Vest!

Lee Ann and I never did figure out what was being hunted so exuberantly yesterday. We did see deer placidly grazing along our route, so that didn’t seem likely. Whatever it was I hope most of them successfully evaded the hunters, and that no dogs or hunters were injured in the process.

Peace, People!

Third Person Love and Laughter

A friend challenged me to take one of my more poetic posts and rewrite it in third person. Here’s the new version with the original at the end.

Love and Laughter

The market on love
Has been cornered
By those who know that
Sometimes the clouds threaten
And the sky goes sunless
Day upon day
And all that holds the storm at bay
Are the winds swept aloft
By shared laughter.

So what if lovers can’t live
On love alone?
Better that they never even try.
Some days they may
Forget to remember
The grace of being saved
By a smile, seeing
The world created
From no more than a pair
Of long ago I do’s.

And here’s the original:

“Laughter and Love”

The market on love
Has been cornered
By those of us
Who know that
Sometimes the clouds threaten
And the sky goes sunless
Day upon day
And all that holds the storm at bay
Are the winds swept aloft
By shared laughter.

So what if we can’t live
On love alone?
Honestly we never even tried.
Some days we might have
Forgotten to remember, though
The importance of just looking
Into a smile and seeing
The world we’ve created
From no more than a pair
Of long ago I do’s
.

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