Eight Days Out

It was on a day all quiet as night
That I thought I would take a fair walk off the site
The sun was all shining with blue birds in song
I hadn't a care, not a thing could be wrong

I passed the old gard'ner, my way out of bounds
'Stay out from the west, they's en-trapment grounds'
Of what called my self? Of goods, buys and wears?
'Of something like that, but more somethin' like bears'

Well, I'm not a bear nor its shape nor its like
I have ancestry from the first honest reich
I've got kinship galore, three hundred so dozen
And not one of those kin a distant bear cousin'

'All the same,' said the man, 'if you go let me say
It was nice to have known you on such a fine day'
'He's out of his gourd, I thought, making fun
He's too old and he's been too-long out in the sun

When in thought I was stopped by an young passer-by
My-friend, take care where you walk, -here is why
Stay off from the way, stay off from the path
It's tenaciously deadly, yourself do the math

This day, at 10:20 we lost Eddy Brock
He was sitting, just sitting, by the path on a rock'
'What ho? Did it jump up and bite the poor kid?'
'As bear traps do oft, yes this bear trap it did.

Five others were taken in stretchers from there
Last week as they're mauled in the traps of the bear
Then on into march were lost thirty six
As they cleared up the path of weather downed sticks'

'You're crazy my friend. But fine, I'll just go
And take my out to-wards the mead-ow'
Not too far adjunct from that "paved place O'death"
I met yet another, a jaunt from the heathe

'What on earth are you doing?' cried the woman in terror
'Turn out of this place, you must be in error
I've-been standing here for ninety two days
All sick with the croop where the deer come to graze

This place is not safe, especi'lly for saps
Not wary of bear-catching-deer catching traps'
'I don't seen an one' 'Oh come now you fool!
What good is an en-visaged bear-trapping tool?'

'Why don't you go home to a place warm and dry
If you stay, trapped or not, you'll probably die
Wait. I'll help you get out. I'll give you a lift.'
'And get us both killed! Please leave me adrift!

I know you can't see them all hid in the grass
But you cannot imagine the ones you now pass
Let me alone, get out of this way
Remember yourself and live out this day'

So alas, I will say, I left the poor dame
I don't even think that I asked her her name
I made a b-line for the heathe and the shrubs
Stepping large strides but looking like Bubs

Upon reaching the bush, then did-I hesitate
Some bum will pop up and warn me of my fate
There I waited,             and waited, there wasn't a noise
So I took took a step forward with new gathered poise

Then 'Pssst' came the sound from an underlain bush
'Don't take one more step or your leg will be mush
All mangled and gnarled inside of that steel
You'll be left to die, yes, a worm ridden meal'

That's a pleasant hello, I thought to myself
Especially come from an half naked elf
The guy must have lived in these bushes for years
He smells of grey cheese and de-corned cobben ears

So I took a step further, still on in the bush
When he tackled me down with a vio-lent push
'You will not believe the horrors I've seen'
He whispered, 'The bodies rot ripe with gangrene

'Get the duece off of me you crazened corned creep'
I yelled as I jumped-up and ran further deep
On into the brush with its yew and scrub oak
I had to escape from that fomenting bloke

Of a sudden I stopped in my tracks all afraid
What-if the next step was the last that I made?
I cannot escape what I cannot see
I've no metal detector or specter-al chi

And shivers began to crawl up my spine
When I realized myself standing next to a pine
And pine upon pine were next to pines on
I perceived that myself had from the bush gone

'Clever you are,' good sir you are right
But who said it I thought no one is in sight
'Up here' said this lad from a high lofted bow
'But where, in jive's name, will you to yourself now?'

'Well in honest to be I haven't a clue'
'The forest ain't safe' '...And that's something new?
I ought have stayed home with the cats and the sheep
And read a good book or had a nice sleep.'

'But you don't like sleep, and you don't read books
And you're here in the forest, 'least that's how it looks
Now you could stay here or you could go on
But go-back you can't do,' he said with a yawn

'So where do I go where the traps no more are?
Do I leave from the west to a place east and far?
How should-I guard myself from these death laden traps?
Should I eat lighter lunches, take shorter naps?'

'Good sir, you will find that none of that goes
Nor can-you rub a lamp or just follow your nose
The traps will get you, whether rusty or cute
Whilst eating at lunch or playing a flute

They're out on the cliffs and the sand washen dunes
Amidst the shipwrecks full of Spanish Doubloons
Upon the escarpment in hand-holden cracks
But rarely alone, they oft come in packs

When you are not ready, when you think you are
In the bright of the sun, in the dim of the star
Though a problem I've found, they're more oft in the dark
No night will be one as a walk in the park

Those too you will find are more littered than clean
Which itself is quite clever and itself, quite mean
But the dark like I said makes the jazz hard to see
Which is why cometh dusk, I'm up in this tree

You must learn to see them through bushes and bogs
Beneath tall grown grasses and masses of logs
But now it is dark and sleep comes my way
I hope you're still limbed at the coming of day'

And then with a snore he fell into dream
'Cool.'
I hope you wake up when I'm trapped and I scream.
Then with a loud sigh I let out a breath
Which now could be seen in the shiver of death

Myself it is time that you make up your mind
Do-you stay here through night or walk around blind?
And in doing so get yourself caught out there
In the jaws of the mouth of the trap of the bear

No.
No, I will go home for this day is mine
I'll not be awash by their false dakine
Their fears won't be mine nor what they suppose
I'll have my own fears and fight my own foes

So then with a grin I turned and I ran
Full speed and full tilt like some dude with a plan
Bear traps, I thought, now what could be stranger.
When I stopped. Don't know why. But just in-time for danger.

For then there I saw it, down out past the thatches
An rusty ol' iron with what up an bear catches

Get My Head in the Game?

You may have noticed me warming the bench today. Call it what you will, it is some manner of chair. And honestly it fascinated and fascinates me how well some people can do it. As if everyone can fit. No, as if they can have any chair they like. They forget their place. The entire chair/sitter interaction is taken out of context. You can in reality only fit so many people on a chair. A few more on a couch. Countless on a bench. The warmer is there for the people playing. He is a place holder. That is all. Ironically what he forgets after finding his calling and election in warming every chair known to man is that of the fact that in reality he is not a preparatory place holder, he is in fact just that. None will replace him. They have their spot. The only difference is that he...  he will never have a chair with his name on it. Bench warming is his career, not play time. His life is not a FIFO but a priority stack.

Bloody? Yes, Bloody.

I'm not ready. And I can't quite get this right. If you'd just... just a little higher. Oh mother of Pete. Meriwether and William. Really? Thinking about it won't save you. All you want is sleep but your blankets are still half gnarled at the foot of your bed wrapped in some manner of rolled noodle soup. Say the air's too hot? Heck, say you got a ground hog in your shorts and you need to find a way to Crab Cake Land before it closes. Third Friday freebees you know. They won't believe you anyway. Fine. Fine. Suppose so. What then? Another ten dollars out your pocket? For what? Another twenty? You can't explain it away. The beaver lodge. Impressive? Yes, but unless you really believe all that jazz that there is no difference between physics and english then don't give me any crap that they know math. They don't. You know it. I know it.

Suit yourself, maybe only I know it.       But I know it. Does that matter a bean? Well, sadly for the both of us, not really. You can take your kids to the ocean the entire week, even make a sand castle...        ...hmmm a castle. Perfect really. So what now? Well, from what I hear tell there be an stampede in the gorge and I'm sure it'd be safer if you take on the gangs entirety by youself. I mean they'll only attack one at a time. The director will make sure of that. And I'm sure you underestimate thinking you couldn't take on more than ten. So how's 'bout we just stay in our separate corners. Cause at least one thing I know, I don't fly like a butterfly. And if it's a horse? Winchester, all bets are off. We're off to the future then. Strange thing is I don't recognize it. There's a smile on all the faces and also like the past, it's missing a Sacagawea coin. Jam Dane Dames. They can find their own way. Or yours. They'll think it's the same. Or maybe it's rosemary.

All a farce? Sure. Believe what you bloody want to.

National Bear Trap Awareness Day

It may be in the bushes or out in the grass. Placed with care next to your blueberries bushes. There may even be some manner of salmon dangling above it. Make no mistake. It is piled in so much plain site you'll probably lose it.
So careful where you step, if you're lucky you'll only lose a leg.

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.