It’s not for lack of sweets that I weep,
Not a bump nor a bruise nor a finger in the door.
Restrictions on TV watching aren’t on,
No concerns being raised if I’ve finished my chores.
In order to say that anything’s wrong now,
Or that I’m being hassled I’d have to lie.
Which makes all this wailing’o’mine a N.A.R.C.,
A good, old-fashioned No Apparent Reason Cry.
Click on the image above to see what a N.A.R.C. looks like up close. (Illustration by PaC)
Wherever I go
However I feel
My head spins like a wheel
‘Cause I got a heel.
Take my well rested feet
They both got a heel,
Or my new socks and shoes
That all got a heel.
My dog on each scampering paw’s
Got a heel
My friend’s horse’s happy hooves
All got a heel.
Lady Liberty’s big toe
Isn’t concealed,
But behind it in green,
She’s got a heel.
Mom’s heel has a spike
Dad’s spike’s got a heel,
And while I can’t walk on’em,
Both my hands got a heel.
Far from Africa’s horn
And Wrigley Field,
Jolly Louisiana’n’Italy
Both got a heel.
My golf clubs and ball gloves
All got a heel,
My brother’s ice skates
Got a heel made-a-steel.
So again I will say it,
This time with more zeal,
No matter how good I feel
I got a heel.
HEART SHAPED HEELS (Photo by PaC)
I know my Dad just loves
to put my toys away
because I see him do it
at the end of every day.
I can’t think why he’d do it
If he wasn’t having fun
Bending down and picking up
every ball block car doll clay clock truck bike book bell and drum
under the sun.
Yes, I’m sure there’s nothing better
For dear old Dad each night
Than to find and file and shelve
Every last plaything left in sight.
DOGPILE OF FUN – One peak in the mountain chain of Dad’s nightly handiwork, that lucky dog. (Photo: PaC)
Inspiration is like air
present almost anywhere:
music lyrics
hockey rinks
mighty rivers
kitchen sinks.
So for ideas,
don’t sit and stew
tune into the world
all around you.
“DIRTY WORK” via MakeBlackOutPoetry.com. Click the image above to go there, and follow them on Twitter @MakeBlackOuts
A winner
A whiner
A dinner
A diner
A rose smelling nose
A nose smelling rose
A mine of mint
A line of lint
A class
A glass
A mist
A mast.
By removal or swap
The change of one letter
Can transform the world
Sometimes worse, sometimes better.
A long lost pal
of Crazy Horse
was far less well known
Lazy Horse
Who napped most hours
of the day,
waking only
to munch hay.
When others asked,
“What is it, huh?
why are you so, Lazy?”
He said,
“’Cause this way I’m dependable,
which I reckon
sure beats Crazy.’”
(Illustration: PaC)
Today at the library
I perused The Odyssey,
The Iliad, Herodotus,
Jason and the Golden Fleece,
Pythagoras and Socrates,
Aesop, Metamorphoses,
Athens, Spartan, Promethean,
Zeus and Neptune, Peloponnesian.
So many options to devour
made my eyeballs hurt,
so rather than consume unwisely
I went home for a Greek yogurt.
Wipe up the crumbs,
Brush them away,
But once they’re gone, Mom,
Know our patrons won’t stay.
They come for the mess,
With their long walks they pay,
Knowing the good stuff’s
Here all night and all day.
Mom, you want a clean floor,
You beg and you pray,
But a clean floor will shut down
Our 24-Hour
Ant Buffet.
STICKY TILE SMILES: On last night’s fumbled dinner pea munches this morning’s satisfied customer at The 24-Hour Ant Buffet. (Illustration by Jane)
When B.T. Dubs
Had something to say
He’d start it politely with
“By the way…”
“By the way,
If I may say,
Perhaps skip the ‘Good Hair Day Contest’ today.
“By the way,
May I inquire,
Have you noticed that you’re on fire?
“By the way,
Tell me true,
Has anyone mentioned you smell like a zoo?”
Yes, that was B.T. Dubs’ way,
Morning, noon, and night:
Everything he said,
Started out polite.
It started in our family room,
then into the kitchen it seeped,
taking the front closet and hallway
before up the stairway it creeped.
What once was my bathroom it conquered,
it moved boldly through Mom and Dad’s room,
every space in our place was exploded
by its life-changing clutter kabooms.
It’s been so long ago since it started,
this unyielding advance like no other,
that by now it’s become fact there’s no stopping
the Invasion of Our New Kid Brother.
LITTLE BIGFOOT – Our kid brother’s invasion was not bloodless, noiseless, or unsuccessful. He now controls all or part of every sector. (Photo by PaC)Dad was painting
our fence brown
when halfway through
he said, “I must run into town.
There’s not enough brown paint
in this old can of mine.
I’m off for a new can of brown,
Then we’ll be fine.”
So later when
one can was empty
Dad finished the job
with the other.
And now Mom says
our fence is sweet,
I guess ‘cause it looks
like chocolate peanut butter.
–Pray, can you tell me
–Yes?
–Where was your favorite
–What?
–Place to get away
–Onewordanswerland.
–And how was your stay?
–Bliss.
Bring something to the table
in all of life’s dealings
unless that something’s squealing.
How I long to work
as a Baconcierge
‘neath the grand marble stairs
of a fancy hotel.
Where guests would consult me
on where the best bacon
is shakin’
and I’d say, “It’s swell
at the Pork Butt Saloon,
from Ye Olde Backfat Inn,
to the burger joint ‘Double the Fat, Hold the Thin’.”
How I’d smile
To spread far and wide
the gospel of bacon
and who’s killing it makin’ it
’round here, for miles.
**For more on the most inspiring and u-bacon-quitous of breakfast meats,
check out Fast Co.Create and Paste Magazine**
Masters press wine
But water’s drunk by everyone.
Verse chorus Verse chorus Bridge chorus Done.
Keep it simple, silly.
Have more fun.
Verse chorus Verse chorus Bridge chorus Done.
Spaceman: zoom it
Catman: boom it
Starchild: sung it
Demon: tongue it
Keep it simple, silly:
Have more fun.
Verse chorus Verse chorus Bridge chorus Done.
SIMPLY YUMMY – While you’re ordering a scrumptious bialy at Victoria’s Bagel Bistro in Mt. Laurel, NJ, check out these KISS portraits hand crafted by one of the Dough Divas’ loyal patrons. (Photo by PaC)
Ethylene the Apple Queen
Has had more apples
Than greenery has green
Than scenery has scenes
Than jeaneries make jeans
When it comes to apples
The girl’s a fiend.
Green, Golden, or Red
To her they’re all delicious
And when it comes to sampling
She’s orchard-big-ambitious:
Ethylene churns
Through bushels of Braeburns,
Pink Ladies, Honey Crisps,
Cameos, Granny Smiths.
On her Jonagolds
Never grow mold,
About the Empire or Rome,
She could write a tome.
Sweets, tarts, for baking,
For biting into’em,
For cinnamon sugaring,
Or chocolate fondu’in’em,
She gives parties for Sonyas
And Galas to girls:
To her around the apple
Spins the world.
No mountain of Fujis
Could be too high,
For Ethylene the Apple Queen
who needs apples like kites need the sky.
NO BIGGER F.O.E. – Happy Apple (above) is one of the oldest known Friends of Ethylene. (Photo by PaC)
“What’s it look like, Dad?”
“Well, that all depends…
On the side you decide
To make the end.”
An Igloo in Candyland
A Hockey Stick Rainbow
A Woodstock Watermelon
The Ultimate Warrior
“So see what you see
When you turn things around…
There’s no telling what’s
Waiting to be found.”
An hour ago Kid Brother
wore booties on his feet,
till, we thought, the Baby Sock Bandit took’em
and snuck out into the street.
So we found a second pair of booties
and put’em on Kid Brother,
but, again, without us seeing him,
the Baby Sock Bandit made off with another.
So another pair we fetched
and then another then another,
before finally realizing the Baby Sock Bandit
was none other than Kid Brother.
S appears crooked
but it’s a straight line
that separates many and one:
The tall fence between
a taste and a lot
of cookies or pieces of gum.
Take a singular thing,
tack to it one S,
and instantly there is more of it ;
That’s how this two-turned
pluralizer divides
with skill that most barriers covet.
(Drawing: PaC)Because complainin’ is easy
Ned was always happy
because Ned wasn’t happy
if he was not complainin’.
TOWER of GLOWER:
Starring Complai’Ned
(Drawing by PaC)
I was at the Café Genie
Late at night one Halloweeny
When over at a table teeny
I spied Izzy Rossellini
And her pal Rico Fellini
Washing down some hot crostini
(featuring local zucchini)
With what looked like ice cold bellinis.
Suddenly to their table teeny
A fan approached in a blue beanie.
I can’t say what was said betweeny
Them but it became a sceney:
Off flew Rico’s velveteeny
Coat, revealing a bikini
tee while Izzy Rossellini
Rolled a film camera machiney.
POOF! came smoke to form a screeney
Like something blown to smithereenies.
When the air cleared like martinis
There with Izzy and Fellini
was Harold Horatio Hank Houdini
(Known to his friends as H-Quadrini).
And gone now was that old blue beanie
That made him look like a fan weanie.
Together, H-Quad, ‘Lini, and ‘Lini
Debated flavors of spumini,
Until deciding spearmintini
Was tied for best with rum raisini.
It all happened that night indeedy,
Yes sir, it sure was a sceney
The Halloweeny at Café Genie
When I spied Izzy Rossellini
“THE SCENEY, INDEEDY”
Doodles made in tempera on paper from across the Cafe Genie, that Halloweeny.
My writing would be neater
If my thumbs weren’t fat,
My vision much worse
If I were a bat
Though then I could fly
And hear really well
And hang upside down
And that would be swell.
(Photo via Behind the Scenes)
Mother reads the paper,
meanwhile Mary climbs the stairs.
Sister rides her bike,
meanwhile Mary plays with flares.
Father’s at the store,
meanwhile Mary has the phone.
In the tank the fish are swimming,
meanwhile Mary dials Rome.
While Mary never says it,
We’re pretty sure that she means well,
Even if when no one’s looking,
It seems she’s always raising – “Hell-hello?….Roma?”
(Drawing: PaC)
Billy’s a Rule Guy
but a happy guy, too,
That’s why “Have fun doing it”
is his Rule #1.
And since, “The more the merrier”
is Billy’s #2,
he made Rule #3:
“Invest in mutual fun.”
FABILLOUS – The real “Billy D.” surrounded by two strong-arm members of his film crew that “he blithely called his goons”, once wore this custom made helmet-camera into a mosh pit to capture the special intimacy of a Slayer concert as it had never been captured before. Not once in the dozen years that I knew him did he respond to the question, “How you doing, Billy?” any other way than with a smile and a single word: “Fabulous.” The world lost a little sunshine this week when Billy left us, but to those who knew him, his image – let alone the images he captured – will never fade away. Here’s a video tribute to Billy Driber: NFL Films Legend, a New York Times profile of him, and the story of his part in the rock’n’roll history of America’s Football Movie Makers. (Photo: Richard Owens)
He combined cheese and sauce,
Crust yummy and hot,
Then Pete held a contest
To name his new pizza spot:
The Mush Room? Too moldy.
Aunt Chovee’s? Too lame.
Pepper Ronnie’s? Sir Serge’s?
Pete sent’em all down the drain.
O’Nion’s? Too tavern.
On Ions? Too charged.
Black Olives? Green Olives? Blue Olives?
Too “martini bar.”
Frustrated, Pete sighed.
And that filled his face
With all the aromas
Inside of his place.
The contest ended
The moment he exhaled
And the perfect name hit him.
So onto the wall the sign
“Pete’s Ahh” he nailed.
Tweed Typewriter 