Rambo

Before he wanders through the wood,
The knave knows not of the beast,
Except for details loudly sung
In the safe warm halls of a feast.
Until an answer can’t be found
The brain knows not how much it grows
When forced to search for methods new,
Opposed to those it thinks it knows.
The body hums an easy pace,
And seems a simple system, sound.
The strength of each component part
Unknown until it comes unbound.

And as it’s breathing down his neck,
The knave remembers those he loves.
He turns and stares at beastly eyes,
His hands fly forward, true as doves.
When answers lie just out of reach,
And all used paths lead to an end
The brain remembers more than facts,
Creative thinking is its friend.
When beaten, bruised, tired, and sore,
Immunities against the ropes,
The body soldiers on and on,
What flows in veins is blood and hopes.

* Inspired by my dear, brave cousin, who is battling cancer.

Advertisements

Some Things Come with Age

Before zookeeper, astronaut, athlete, or teacher,
I had another idea of what my future would hold.
It was less of a career and more of a feature
I decided I wanted before I grew old.

When I grow up I’m going to be tall!
I’d announce as if I had the means.
Turns out I grew up to be quite small.
Picking pants is not the same as genes.

I Blame the Cheeseburger

I had a large dinner at quarter past seven,
It rendered me too full to sit.
So I laid on the hammock to stare up at heaven,
Thought I would rest for a bit.
It was a peaceful two minutes, supine outside,
But the little stringies beneath my bum,
Silently screaming, surrendered to my backside,
And submissively snapped, one-by-one.

*Based on a true story, whose events took place a mere few hours before the posting of this rendition.

Instinct and Extinct

Stanley

Stanley

Maybe the dirt under his toes,
The million-years-old grains of sand,
Sparked the ancestry of his fine nose
Set off a chain reaction, demand

To hunt, to chase, to set his gaze
Upon the horizon and scan
For preys to raze and bring forth praise
From his best friend, his master, man.

His muscles twitched. But not so fast,
Fowl was sparse in this urban land.
Jays parted ways, larks did not last,
And the city had chickens banned.

But his stance was firm, his jaw set,
His tail was as stiff as a mast.
Paused his duties as a house pet
As he spotted something fly past.

The hound in him snapped back with ease.
Adjusting to much smaller kill,
Domestic dog settled for bees.
Wild pup just enjoys the thrill.

Miles Per Giggle

My great grandfather owned a gas station,
The first fuel pump in all of the nation.
Well maybe not nation but first in my town,
Well before laughter fueled us around.

Perhaps ingenuity skips a generation
Because my father ignited the transformation
From cars using gas to giggles and hees,
And laughter, not gas fumes, filling the breeze.

It happened one day when we ran out of gas,
Began telling jokes to help the time pass.
We burst out with laughter, the car it roared
With laughter too, and the gas was floored.

The rest, is history, as you are aware,
Each somber drive now a jolly affair.
And if you are alone and can’t conjure up laughter,
At a station buy bottles of hearty laughs – captured.

And now more folks plan on driving together
‘Cause laughing with two or more is much better.
Travelers are not alone in now feeling sunny,
The economy is thriving, and embracing funny.

Love Is A Many Aroma-ed Thing

Most people are reminded of
Their loved ones by flowers,
Wanting to sit in a field,
Sniff and  ruminate for hours.
The scent of roses, daisies,
Fragrant petals and such,
Mimic their love for another,
But for me – this is too much.
When I walk by a swamp,
A dump, can, or a bog,
Or smell air filled with
Acid rain, smoke, or fog,
Or when I walk by a tooter,
Or a dog squatting on grass,
Or if Cupid is kind,
By a cow farm I pass:

That’s when I think of you.

Most people upon hearing,
Melodious music and sounds,
Daydream of wonderful times
Spent in their lovers bounds.
The sweet sounds simmer
In a soft spot in their heart,
And remind them they mustn’t
Spend a second apart.
I must admit, sometimes
I slide into this state of mind,
But for the most part I
Consider myself not of this kind.
When I hear music that
Makes my bones rattle,
My muscles tighten & flex
Jams that are a battle
Between thirty-two instruments,
With words that usually
Make little sense.

That’s when I think of you.