Follow Through

Imagine a time back before the advent of band wars when that law wasn't so well understood. It only takes once. Or should anyway. But now that you're here you can finally see how deceptive one little white flag can be. And as they raise up all around you...  well. Then if you aren't careful it'll be gotten off by a squirrel 'cause you're too dang concerned about shankin it to the fishes, who honestly are likely busy with the man fitted with cement shoes. Not that you shouldn't mind the carp-goldfish hybrids but if that's all you can see then even #247 won't save your carcass. You have to know the drop. Really know it. As nice as the rest of eternity looks, all of that is a facade. A distraction.

And then some.

The Hydrophobe

Why, you ask?     why...   somethings are better off at most as hints and allegations. Things like, -careful, that knife is sharp- or -canada's a country?- among other less caustics. You know jive that just... propagates. Not for the silver let-us-never-call-it-a-charger, but there's a he-eck of a lot more in there than you see. Funny we should always think the glass as half full. I believe the real problem is a complete imperception of the corning. Battle in your mind between dawn and ivory for the rest of your life and your failure will be complete. Even if you do come to a correct answer. They don't need more than a few dandelions where they're off to. Jazz son, they don't even know it yet but they don't need an one. So maybe the sun on a groundhog isn't such a bad thing. We both hate it...     ...just for very different reasons.

Beware of Pride, Boy

Oh I try my friend. Betimes. I find that is what makes this old grand master play the harmonica a little more like the popper, at least a tid-bity more than I can hope he might on any given day in the 22nd week. ...nearing the end of the 21st, of course, and on into the 22nd. And as for those who have their lives awash in the stars? I do say, they may as well read your palm as an bit of paper caught up thirteen months in the sea. Mind the fishes, you know. The area to them is a thing entirely different. It may look impressive...       ...but maybe that's QM working its magic. Fore to the end, I know not whether the steak is edible nor perchancy, but it smells good and is quite nice to look at.

Whose Bonnie?

As you walk out beyond the meadow on the path, you come to a small wooded area. While continuing through the woods on the path you come to an obstruction of some kind. Describe it.

It's a bunny.

A bunny?

Yes. A small pinkish fuzzy rabbit.

Can you describe what the rabbit is doing? How is it obstructing your path?

Well... it's pink and it's fuzzy.

Interesting.

Very, I'm sure.

Can you tell me anything else about this rabbit?

I've known this furry critter for the past two years or so. Nice rabbit. Tastes less like chicken and more like rabbit. Rabbits aren't in the chicken family you know. Many people misunderstand this which often, in truth, leads to other common snake-chicken, frog-chicken and chicken-chicken misaquaintances. The problem I suppose is the common -I know what it tastes like because I've seen it in the store- conundrum. Closely related to the -I'm an english major- problem. If you'd stop looking at the news about the trees being wasted maybe you be less informed but at less we wouldn't have you talking about it all the time. Which would decrease global warming. And we'd save trees. As we delve further down into the abyss of Allen's mind I am sure to all that we will find a couple of old crumpets that went down the wrong tube. Which, if they detach...         ...is it really that simple? and if so, hows the devil are there so many of us in the breathing shoots? I mean honestly, at least in these parts, it worketh itself not an problem.              Proboscis!   pueblos.  cub scouts.            national honor society and, well, no loss here, the joke of a lifetime. Sorry Buddy 9.
...that about covers it.

Only If You're Color Blind

Few things my friend. Few things are as good as grapefruit. Surprisingly un-grape-esque. Not like other pansy sweet fruit. It's sour. It's cold. It's dark, when eaten late in bad lighting. If that's not reason enough...   here's another. It bes pink. Like a pony.  Only this one's not carrying a polly pocket but one of the four horsemen. Probably Mr. Rogers.

Curl Up and Die?

There is nothing really to complain about as long as you remember a couple of nice things in the woods. The trees are tall. They fall like they mean it.    And what do you mean? Well, as the riff starts one thought begets. Hockey, some manner of blood sport and biking. In that order. Why? Ask billy. And forget what kind of a name that is. Things look up as long as you keep your eyes toward the sky. You needn't bother yourself with all that other jazz around upon the dearth. The weeks come, the weeks go and when they are gone you will miss them, like one misses an orange. Possibly an apple. Depending on the season and what your propellant is.

Oranges disintegrate at speeds well below mach. Sadly. Bar your doors, cover your windows and stick to the woods. Then the world's possibilities of options will unfold to your confined domicile. It's like imagination in isolation. An entire week filled with the best things life can bring. The squirrels come pouring from off the trees and the bunnies shoot out of their woodland hutches all to wish you a happy birthday.

Problem is it's...     not real.

Cut Off

What's there to abscond yourself all about? It happens. Twice. maybe three to five more depending on the month. And so, though they say no news is good news, I'm sure they forgot that your major war correspondent and all of his camera men dying from a blast doesn't mean everyone decided to go home for crumpets. You just got introduced a little more personally to what the shooting's all about. Forget what you think it looks like, I'm smashing. Tap out on that.

Like Elvis and His Mom

It may make you sick or it may make you deliciously happy. The problem is, you really would have to put forth a lot more effort than is horribly necessary to find out which without presently getting there. It's not like flying to the moon or grabbing a wonka bar off the shelf. There is no precedence. No supersedence. Only consequence. And consequences being what they have been, the best you can in all your ways legitimately hope for is both.

Bite down.

Used Again

A funny thing really. The slightest thing can upset it. A crumb of mustard or a bit of an under done potato. And yet it's like a bad penny... combined with a better than realized communal farm; you know, the kind with denzel? I actually do wonder upon the ficklicity of her majesty, for she must of odds be an woman. Quite unlike interest, however, a pleasantry indeed. Like a warm cup of milk and two sugar cubes. Almost as nice as I remember. No. Better. Forgive me, but she's bigger than just your oncy. Even so, and though you may not give a bag of beans, I thank you.

Put On Your Dancing Shoes

The season is back. And some might say with some sort of a sorted vengeance. Of course some say it is no worse than at other times, but then some may really be out past the left field stands concentrating on how well dirt grows upon old rusten coke cans. Dropped by the nobility. talk shows and mob rule. lay it all aside buddy and let me help you find your dad. Because there must be a reason that seven is not as good as eight. It ought and be inherent. and no it isn't the tool itself, the tool is but that. see it for what it is. So I say, come out. Let's see you alive.

Welcome Back to the Dark

It returns and with it so many other things. Like it all never happened.

The Pond of Dreams

It's like nothing you've ever done. It's like everything you ever dreamed of doing. Who cares about busted ear drums or getting janked in the most inopportune places. You'll have plenty of time to think about those things in the air.  But wait you say, I forgot the sack lunch my mom packed for me at the top... You weren't ready. But there's no going back. The dirty midgets who chewed through the now severed break cables made sure of that. ...five minutes would have been enough.  With the hill behind you and the jump in front of you there's only one option. Suck it up and really learn to fly.

Staring You in the Face

Right there in front of you. It has been there all the time. Just ignore it. Forget about it. It's only the screeching of metal and the picking on strings. And you dive in again. Which makes you wonder... is it tenacity or just plain old garden variety lunacy? Well fortuition isn't really in the holster and you're jammed in the back between the shovel and some manner of cloth big enough to wrap a body in. So forget about the spinning table, someone is out to steal your lunch.