Saturday, April 27, 2013

A Bug's poem

I grew up with a father terrified by spiders. When he was very small his grandmother used to lock him in their root cellar (basement) because he was so hyper. As a result we were whipped if we thought it would be funny to throw a piece of lint on him (or anything really) and say "spider".  After a couple of whippings here and there, we learned there were other ways to tease daddy that didn't hurt as bad. This is one small poem to honor my father.

A Bug’s poem

A little bug of the hive,
not a Whoville who
Called me on the phone one day
But all I said was “shoo”

She buzzed around my living room
And lit upon my shoulder
“Scram you little mighty Mite”
“Take off’ is what I told her.

The little bug, small and blue
Did not become too vexed
Instead she girded up her might
And hid her thoughts perplexed

And then she brought me tender sweets
Like honey fresh and new
And aphid-suckle fruity drinks
And sugar from honey dew.

She caressed my shoulders softly
And tickled me on my ears
She whispered sweet little words
And soothed my buggy fears

She is my little baby bug
A texting chatty dork
Who finds and soothes my woes away
At home or when I’m at work. (c)


One of the hardest lessons I have had to learn as a adult is the philosophical statement "Just because someone is nice to you, that doesn't mean they like you". I've always been so honest with my feelings about others. That, if I didn't like you, I ignored you, didn't talk to you and avoided you rather than talking to you. Yet, I was so blind to others lies, pretentiousness and deceit, I never knew how far it could go until...

Tell me why I gave a damn, or wonder if you care
Tell me why I needed you, or ask if you are even there
Is it your acceptance that I seek to gain each day?
Working in your shadow hearing the things you say

Is it the loyalty you’ve earned, or my mistaken grace?
That flowed from me freely as I sat here in my place
You’ve really not done much, but listen as I cried
You offered a kind word now and then. I wonder if you lied

Tell me! Who are you now? I see through your poor guise.
Your Midwestern conservative robe has fallen before my eyes
The sun is setting quickly cold sets across my land
I am seeing more clearly now. So, I will take a stand.

You may not know you betrayed me and I may not tell you so
You may not even notice me gone. But still, I shall go
I will not be the butt of your jokes, or the one to scorn silently
Instead you’ll find another one to mock diligently

My character is all I have to show or dictate what I say
But instead I’ll wear a frown, withdrawal and quietly walk away
You’ll be left in your position missing just one friend
Quietly, I will retreat and you’ll never remember the end

I now can see your frailties and know the truth I see
You no longer hold my heart; I’ll no longer stand with thee
It’s funny how we hid our truth and wear robes of colors bright
But yours has fallen from my eyes and I bid to you, “good night”

Friday, April 26, 2013

Screaming Rain


The other day I was just mindlessly scrolling down my Facebook news feed when I read a very interesting statement from a girl in Germany who subscribes to one of the pages I also subscribe to. And, she used the phrase "screaming rain". I wasn't in a mood and honestly was rather numb, tired and needed to sleep. But that phrase; those two little words hit a nerve. Why? What was it? An oxymoron maybe? Nonetheless, I couldn't leave it alone. I had to write it. I had to click over and write. Within a moment I had one of the best poems I've written so far in life.  Tell me what you think.

Screaming Rain

What could this be? Who am I? Oh My!
I’m rolling. I’m falling. I’m wet.
My family is clustered around me now
Tis something I’ll never forget.

The jet stream is busy, it pulls me about
It’s scary and noisy. I’m tussled.
I grab my breath I cannot hold.
My screams cannot be muzzled.

Rolling and turning about with my family
I reach out to hold those around
We are all screaming pitifully now
As we plummet onto to the ground

Agitation is my quandary
As we fall on the land again
We are all just a family that falls and falls
We are the muted screaming rain. (c)



Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Should I thank a slug?


Have you ever had one of those days when the birds are chirping, the air is fresh and it's so beautiful outside that you think you are going to die from cabin fever. So, you look up anticipating it being close to go home and it's only 10:00 in the morning. Um yea. It happens to me. I couldn't stand it another minute. I needed a break from the slug's osmosis.  Outside the air was brisk. The birds were singing in the trees, the sky was clear and work was the last place I wanted to be. Cold or not - I wanted out.

So, who do I thank for the inspiration to go outside? Who else? My favorite slug.

Get your coat on (c)

Setting here, feeling flustered
Thinking of stuff and yellow mustard
Wishing slugs slept in winter
You think it’s time to go outside.

She’s a pisser, yep that’s right,
There is no one here more uptight
You can re-assign my cubby
I think it’s time to go outside.

How much bad can one beotch find?
Before she leaves us all behind
To descend below the fire.
I really NEED to go outside.

Now she rags on other kin
And gets deep beneath their skin
Her fangs are hot, overworked
Get your damned coat on!


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Sunday, April 21, 2013

Consider the Slug (Maybe the easiest manager to work under)


I had a manager once that I once compared to a slug. She was slow, sluggish and had nothing but a slimy personalty.  She was a pitiful human. Having nothing to do most of my day but close cases and put with her, nothing left to do in life but write about her.  

If all management was this fun to write about.  

The Slug

My manager de-personal
Is know to me as “slug”
Not a normal situation
Ne’er animal nor bug.

On the phone most every hour
She's very hermaphroditic*
Her silky body is so slimy
She really makes me sick

Grab the salt my fair co-worker
There goes the apophallation**
We will do-in the wretched queen
We’ll watch the hot sensation

Now my mother's calling me
Ill be gone for just a time
Me thinks of how we'll do her in
And making up this rhyme.

If now my dreams could just come true
I’d get a better leader
When I get back from my house
Perhaps its then I’ll meet her.

A footnote: 
*having both genders
** A commonly seen practice among many slugs is apophallation, when one or both of the slugs chew off the other's penis. (Wikopedia)