ALL FIGURED OUT

Want in on my Master Plan?
Come closer and listen to me.
Because the blueprint of it’s now taking shape
Oh so satisfactorally.

When’s it start, my Master Plan?
Well don’t worry it won’t be long now.
Just know by the end life will be so sweet
We’ll sweat candy bars from our brows.

Before that part, the Master Plan middle
Involves espionage and boats,
Action car chases, exotic horse races,
Fine jewelry, machine guns, fur coats.

What’s the Master Plan Step 1, you ask?
Simple: win the lottery.
Huh?
Well….
…..guess what…
If you’re gonna’ roll on the floor laughing at it,
Then out of the Plan you can be.

Lighting in a Bottle – New Orleans

ON DR. SEUSS’S BIRTHDAY

Grab 100 candles
Add a baker’s dozen more
For what happened this day
In 1904:

Little Ted Geisel
Arrived on the scene
Who could know at that time
What he one day would mean?

To the Doc who still keeps
Brains and funny bones fed,
To a Cat like none other,
Happy 113th, Ted!

Screen Shot 2017-03-04 at 6.47.19 AM.png

To see more like this, go here, where it originally appeared on 3/2/17.

SKIN DEEP DIVE

Studying the dictionary,
Johnny Corkforbrains
Got stuck up at the top one day
Then down his knowledge rained:

“Avocado, alligator …
skins not not the same …
and an A resides
at the start of both your names!

The gator grows in swamps,
The ‘cado grows on trees,
But trees are FOUND in swamps …
How different can you be?

How leathery you feel,
How deep dark green you look,
Like pictures of each other
That I have seen in books.

Of course in person, no,
I’ve never met your kinds,
But don’t see how not doing so
Could put my views behind?

The chance you’re NOT related
To me seems mighty small,
No two such similar dermises
Could not be connected at all.

For further proof, consider:
The gator’s alias, ‘Croc’,
Which just so happens sounds just like
The ‘cado’s alt-name, ‘Guac’.

If you must, pretend they’re not the same:
Avocado, alligator.
But trust me there’ll be evidence:
Birth certificates released later.”

CLOVERDEALED

So you found a 4-leaf clover.

Well, I hunt bigger things:

Like five and six leaf clovers

And the extra luck they bring.

And the highly coveted clover

With leaves that number seven,

Legend says those who find one

Will go straight to heaven.

The eight leaf clover doubles up

What a plain four leafer brings

The 9-leaf clover isn’t lucky at all:

Touching it actually stings.

Ten leaf clovers are what I’m really after

They’re the best it gets.

So you’d like to come hunting them with me?

Hmmmm….well, ok…let’s.

I’ll bring you along for the low low price

Of that old 4-leaf clover you’ve got.

What’s that? I said 4-leafs don’t interest me?

I said that?!? Well. I must have forgot.

cloverdealed_edit

Field Notebook Renderings of Members of Genus: Polyleaf – (from upper left corner) The Basic aka The Four Score ; The And-1 ; The O’Six Pack ; The Stairway to Seven ; The Octclover ; The Stinger aka the Paul Newman aka The Henry Gondorff ; The Big Time aka the Green Whale aka The O’Derek

CAN’T BE LICKED

All day I could eat ice cream

Then still have more at night

To say there is a time I can’t eat ice cream

is not right.

That’s why in all my belt loops

I hook on sixteen spoons,

It’s why at my house there’s

Ten freezers in each room

And toppings stashed inside the pocket

Of each coat I own

And why I’m working on a way

To eat ice cream through my phone.

Ice cream may not be perfect

But it’s very very close

So to sundaes, cones, and chipwiches,

Let’s raise an ice cream toast.

licked_edit

WHAT IF

I asked,

“What if I blew my teeth?

What if I brushed my nose?

What if I ironed the leaves?

What if I raked my clothes?

What if I clipped my ears?

Pierced my nails?

Flossed my shoes?

Shined my hair?

Climbed my bike?

Rode the stairs?

Took a bed?

Went to bath?

Added letters?

Read my math?

Swam a jog?

Ran a swim—”

“Well,” Mom cut in,

Eventually folks might ask

‘Sooo…..What’s up with him?’”

teeth_edit

A MAN IN A TREE

Look Hard To See The Man In The Tree

Look hard,
Do you see?
The Man in the tree?
Way up high
Looking wee
A bark scaling flea.
Saw in hand has he,
Hanging from two or three
Ropes, hooks, pulleys,
And the squeeze of his knees.
How he must feel free
Part man,
Part leaf,
Like a branch in the breeze:
Breathe in sky,
Exhale glee.
That is, at least,
Till he gets company
In the form of some bees,
Who appear suddenly.
Nothing about them
At all unfriendly
These makers of honey
Always aiming to please.
To the hive they’re returning
As they do normally,
But that’s not what the Man in the tree
Thinks he sees.
So he waves and he flails
And he clings nervously
Contemplating a way he can
Flee gracefully.
From here it appears
(perhaps you’d agree)
he cannot speak even
a few words of Bee.
If he could
It might change things,
Presumably
The Man might agree:
He does not need an
Exit strategy ;
That the bees are no bother ;
If he’ll just let them be ;
And enjoy the beauty
At the top off the tree.

THE GIRL WHO CRIED POTTY

One day we were driving
When Sister yelled, “Potty!”
So off-road Dad drove,
Then Sis whispered, “Nah. Sorry.”

One day Sis cried, “Potty!”
So Mom hit the brakes.
At the next gas station,
Sister giggled, “Nope. My mistake.”

Then one day Sis screamed, “Potty!”
This time Mom and Dad both said, no.
Only that time, we soon learned,
Sister really did have to go.

RADIO QUESO

On my Milwaukee Talkie
I can hear Racine,
And Green Bay and Kenosha,
And all the points between.

I can keep up on the Badgers,
The Brewers and the Pack,
And if for the 10000th time
Brett Favre is coming back.

On my Milwaukee Talkie
I love to talk up Pabst,
And how I don’t like the first name
Of Minnesota Fats.

The Bucks, Laverne and Shirley,
Alice Cooper, Happy Days,
and Marquette have
made the world chat
About Mill-ee-waugh-kay,

But if it’s not enough for you
To only hear about it,
If you need a special way
To celebrate and tout it

Then get and keep an old
Milwaukee Talkie by your bed
And before you sleep each night
Tune it in to Channel Cheesehead.

Artist rendering of a Milwalky-Talky, produced by SONY subsidiary WISCONY.

Artist rendering of a Milwalky-Talky, produced by SONY subsidiary WISCONY.

NO EXPRESSION

Working so hard
That his days had no end
Dear old Alex Zandle
Burned his candle at both ends.

He worked in his shop
Then outside he toiled
He used hammers, and griddles
And extractors for boils.

In every subject
He mastered his lessons,
Well, all except one,
The Subject of Expressions.

We learned that one day
When the poor chap looked tired
And after his physical state
We inquired.

“What say you, Alex,
Are you feeling alright?
Your breathing sounds sniffly
And your steps don’t look light.”

“Why thank you for asking!”
Said dear Alex Zandle,
“It seems this time I’ve
Burnt myself down the candle.

But you know what they say:
Drown a cold, parch a fever,
And soon you’ll be purring
Like a Golden Retriever.”

On his head cold, soon after,
He did get a handle
But a grip on Expressions
Still eludes Alex Zandle.

THE WAY YOU LAY THERE FLAT

One time Sinatra laughed so hard
He fell right off his chair,
Then looked up at the gathered crowd,
and said, “Ringy dingy, I don’t care

If your whole rooty tooty friends and family
See me here ;
Pop your cameras, if you please,
And keep a snapshot of my cheer.

Just be warned of one thing,
From Ol’ Blue Eyes on this deck,
If you’re nearby orchestrating
How you’ll tap dance on my neck:

Don’t yews guys get wise and think,
‘Hey look, he’s down, we’ve scored.
Finally an opportune time to
Go do something untoward!’

Rest assured that even laughing
On my back flat as a board
I can hold my own from here and be
The Chairman of the Floored.”

floored

For more inspiring photos from @HistoryInPics where I found this one, click above on the image of floored Frank.

DEAR TOOTH FAIRY

Dear Tooth Fairy,
Wherever you might be,
Take one good guess
Who it’s time to come see.

If you are not near by
My apologies
I know sometimes your work
Takes you overseas

Or maybe this is your week
To be on holiday
Either way, with all respect,
There’s no more time to play.

Because another tooth
At eight-oh-four this morning
Leaped out of my mouth
Without any warning.

Now I’m sure that no one knows
The tooth business like you
Or appreciates how teeth can
Fall out out of the blue.

And while unexpected calls
Must make your life tricky
Just imagine how they help
Spur the economy!

Just what would happen if
No one ever called?
Think of the horror: poor you!
At home, watching the walls!

But at least for one more day
There’s no danger of that.
So stop what you’re doing, check my address,
And this evening, be here, stat!

AN ARTIST RENDERING OF THE TOOTH FAIRY ON VACATION - Seen here (silhouette, at center), riding her Vespa in Cinque Terra.

AN ARTIST RENDERING OF THE TOOTH FAIRY ON VACATION – Seen here (in silhouette, at center), riding her Vespa in Cinque Terra.

DAYS CRAZE

Some days I want a hammock
Some days I want a smock
Some days I can find all the keys
Some days I lose the lock.

Some days I’m good at sleeping
Some days I cannot rest
Some days I know the answers
Some, I forget the test.

Some days I’m dreaming big
Some days I read fine print
Some days my eyes are clear
Some, they have their own tint.

Some days feel different at the start
Some days feel much the same
Some days I take too seriously
Some too much like a game.

Some day I’ll reminisce about
Some days and how they were spent.
Some days I won’t recall by then,
When I’m wondering where all of’em went.

shemcreek_edit

SUNSET – Shem Creek, SC

THE PERFECT FOIL

How I love fall foilage,
How its colors are grand,
How they make a painting
How it revamps the land.

How I love fall foilage,
How it lights up the trees,
How it falls into piles,
How they reach my knees.

How I love the foilage,
How it scatters like sprinkles,
How it’s earth toned confetti,
How when crushed, it crinkles.

Oh, how I love foilage,
If it had its own song
I’d know every word
And get none of them wrong.

foil_og copy

BOBBER

Dear old Johnny Corkforbrains

Was “Bobber” to his friends.

He loved to float ideas but

Didn’t always think through the ends.

He thought, “A Tin Man suit would shine

In a Halloween lightning storm!”

Thought he needed to speak French

To listen to French Horns.

Thought “Swap that sugar in for salt,

They both look the same!”

Thought “What could be so different

Between a wild horse and a tame?”

The meanings and looks of things and words

Into the Bobber never sunk

That’s why he claimed that chocolate chips

Were related to chipmunks.

But despite his errors, he was a nice fella’,

So nobody complained

About sweethearted simpleminded Bobber,

Aka, Johnny Corkforbrains.

“If there was a bottle, yo’, I’ll stop it.” – Mantra, J.C.f.B (Photo by PaC)

LID-DLE RIDDLE

Nothing causes more kitchen angst

Than Tupperwars,

Prompting battles for cupboards

And skirmishes for drawers,

They start out above

Then spill onto floors,

Hazards to those

Opening cabinet doors.

“There’s a bowl for every top”

is popular lore

but the day it comes true,

wild elephants will soar.

Till then the curse continues,

In kitchens rich and poor,

And all mankind must pray,

For an end to Tupperwars.

NARC’ing OUT

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)