Month: August 2024

The Out Loud (songs)

by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments on The Out Loud (songs)

After re-visiting my Cujo the cat tune I thought I’d go back to a few other things. Some recent Never Trump & GOP things.

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We Want You To Be We

(to Cheap Trick “I Want You To Want Me”)

We Want You … To Be … We

.

We want you to be we

We need you to be we

We’ll force so please just a-gree

Can’t have you livin’ feelin’ free

.

We want you to be we

Not right to live to your own de-gree

We know what’s best as only god does decree

.

We’ll shine up our partisan court, the one that’s been godly bought

Parade them over your free thought, make sure that you are sin free

.

We’re tired of spending time feelin’ persecuted

We need able dictate how your lives are executed  

It’s not fair to watch you all go about your happy dailies

While we’re forced to fret and live with all your evil failings

.

We want you to be we

See country the way that it should be

Revisioned right light history

One white and straight you’ll all see

.

And shine up on all old hurts, of unallowed to convert

Bring handmaids to life, ‘cause we know just what is right

.

Will we neglect children after grabbing their first real air

Of course cause hypocrisy we’ve got plenty in spare

We’ll only find our end until it is that you all stop tryin’

Pursuit of happiness is up to us to do the decidin’

.

Ohhh!

.

We’ll work in a morality play’s future dire warnin’

But that future won’t know it from this backwards day future dawnin’

.

Ohhh!

.

We want you to be we

We need you to be we

We’ll force so please just a-gree

And gay marriage is soon next up on the tee

.

We want you to be we

We need you to be we

We’ll force so please just a-gree

You’ll thank us soon you’ll all see

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Minority Rule

(to Tears For Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”)

Popcorn anyone?

New GOP life

Where they turn their backs

On days of self-respect

Where party stood once

Principles of pride held nature

On their side of legislature

Instead now just a mi-nor-it-y rule

.

It’s par-ti-san times

No working cross the aisle

Instead just to decide

Against the will  

Of most of people

Fascist thoughts now

How they measure false lib-er-ty

Instead now it’s just mi-nor-it-y rule

.

There’s a rule of law once stood by

But abandoned in orange broke light now

In his light they will threaten shake down

‘less they get will of despot to own

All of you in his would be new town

It’s all about mi-nor-it-y rule

.

– break

.

They can’t stand your freedom’s visions

Where all could make their own decisions

It’s all now just mi-nor-it-y rule

.

They’ll tell what histr’y can be taught rewritten white now

Tell ya what books you cannot read now  

Maybe even start a fire now  

.

They’ll always lose vote in a straight up

Instead build guards to keep them on top  

To help them thrive in mi-nor-it-y rule

.

They can’t stand your freedom’s visions

Fascist thoughts false li-ber-ty now

We are all not created equal

Must protect king at all costs

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One White Leads to Another

(to The Fixx “One Thing Leads To Another”)

For those whitewashers and history revisionists

The deception some white folks

Is want present false history

State by state they pass laws now

To hinder what kids can and cannot read

.

Just to protect them they claim

From truths about black and white

But when some books shed light

Difference wrong and right

That aren’t white enough they balk and they say

.

We’ll teach history no mention of trees

(oh when)

One white leads to another

We’ll point out wrongs in history’s long stories gone and then

One white leads to another

.

The intention is to

Teach alternate washed whitey tales

Where there wasn’t a time then

Where justice judged with far different scales

It wasn’t baked into fabric since a father’s slave day

Where ownership was the way

But when an academic thought critiques that it’s never changed

They just ban CRT while they exclaim then

.

Teach history as only we can see

One white leads to another

We’ll point out wrongs in history’s long stories gone and then

One white leads to another

.

Yeah Yeah Yeah

.

One white one one white leads to another

.

Indoctrination is their fear into liberal ideology

That kids might fall not wanting them to  

To learn now how to actually think free

Hear opinions both sides even some they disagree

Can’t have them thinking that way

‘Cause if critical thought questions white supremacy

Indoctrinate instead with our own theories

.

We’ll teach history as only it can be

One white leads to another

We’ll point out wrongs in history’s long stories gone and then

One white leads to another

.

Yeah Yeah Yeah 


One white, one, one white, leads to another
(One white another)
One white, one, one white, can’t teach of others  
(One white another)

One white, one, one white, empowered white brothers
(One white another)
One white, one, one white Liberty mothers  
(One white another)

One white, one, one white, leads to another

(One white leads to another)

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Baby, it’s a Tax Scam

(to the Beatles “Baby You’re A Rich Man”)

“So what’s we got on the agenda today boss?”

“I’m thinkin’ we get dem GOP folks to savin’ us some more money. Udderwise, we don’t be supportin’ ’em with any more of OUR money”

“We gonna play the country for dupes again?”

“You knows it Mugsy”

.

How does it feel to be GOP privileged people

Knowing they put you ‘bove the rest

Padded bank accounts will attest

Reward for support of who is best

A thank you with more in store

.

How does it feel to have recognized ravenous gre-eed

Know divide’s what they do seek

Wealth kept away from weak

What do you plan with your new gain

Hope keep ridin’ the money train

.

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby we know what we do

Ya keep all your money in your stock buy backs

It’s what ya do, country we’ll screw

.

(ohhohh)

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby we know what we do

.

How does it feel to laugh at the unfortunate people

Who we keep selling trickle down

Knowing you’re all just clowns

Blowing a big hole in the debt

One paid with folks safety nets

.

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby we know what we do

Ya keep all your money in the family tree

Hand down scott free, no tax ya see

.

(baby)

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Keep runnin’ it don’t give a damn

.

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Roll it back no way man

Avg Joe’s you’re also rans

.

Baby we’re all rich men

Baby it’s a Tax Scam

Baby laughing to the bank … 

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Mock It Up

(to Elvis Costello “Pump It Up”)

Jim Jordan feels import

Says this is of utmost

Importance of a sort

He gets to what is his real sport

Saying gov is weapon sent

While he’s Jim sweaty bent

Fig’ring new distractions

Nothing else matters

.

Mock it up

Even though we don’t need it

Fog it up

Distractions we feel it

.

Says gov weaponized

But not in the right right light

If you’re gonna weaponize

We want it with a left left prize

So we can order lives

Get “others” all in line

.

Mock it up

We’ll fake it and sell it

Fluff it up

Distractions fall for it

.

Hey!

.

Jims been a bad girl

Livin’ in his Trumpy world

Does what he can

To make truth go in a whirl

Living Trump bat ass unhinged

This’ll truly make ya cringe

Sycophant I’ll call you sir

Run through border walls I’m yours

.

Mock it up

We work in post truth now

Muddy up

Jim Congress waste time now

.

Now in a passion show

Start demanding DA’s show

Papers bout the real blow

To great leader you should know

We’ll keep him above the law

Not right to hold him account

He came to us from down the mount

We’ll make sure law for him don’t count

.

Mock it up

We work in post truth now

Fog it up

Jim Congress waste time now

.

Mock it up

There’s only our truth now

Muddy up

Making point to waste time now

.

Mock it up

We will make up the rules now

Fuck it up

G O P new false truth now

.

New post truth now

Different set of rules now

New post truth now

.

Call ourselves Ruth now

Hit homer for Trump now

Clear bases of truth now

.

Prayer call the lord and how

Charlatans gather up now

Cause god is Trumps cow

.

Call for pro-tests here and now

Insurrection again now

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God Made Trump – God: “Yeah, That Was In Error” (boogie woogie song)

“Boogie Party” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

So back in ’46 when God took a break

After world at war that had so much at stake

He blinked for second and before he knew what

A Fred had had a son who would think he the one

To lead his people to some new promised land

But a one where democracy could no longer stand

.

Well God said then I hope this ain’t a mistake

Just wanted take a sec and a little wine break

But future he could see at the hands of Fred’s son

Who’d find ways to rake in some new fresh coin

And adulation

From every sunup

From those just off a turnip truck

.

He’d think Prez down escalator to ride

A gold idol though behind God he’d try hide

He’d play up charlatans and God speaking Jakes

They’d get in prayer circles hoping then just to fake

His true Christian values that could be on the take

For just the right price

New discipes would buy right?

.

But then he got sold

On all he was told

And started to believe that God had foretold

That he was the chosen of new myth of old

Reality of course now it be on the run

At Rally’s he’d exclaim oh what such fun

To smite the nonbelievers

Who’d soon be cursed ones

.

Then God said oh me just what have I done

Can never take a Me damned break no matter the fun

Though that was fine wine worthy even of nuns

I must be on my toes truth it’s under the gun

At the hands of true believers who turn now to song

To praise an orange fraud they think’ll rise like the son

.

To deliver them a hero in a new paradise

Devoid of immigrants just gotta call ICE

He’d be the caretaker of their righteous white world

Where enemies in fetal poses they would be curled

He’d fight off the Marxists and the fascists to boot

His projections of the enemy would be such a hoot

.

To call them fascists while he’s making such plans

To make democracy a now also ran

He’d have his true believers seeing future in sight

Whatever he says conservative on the right

Not on the far left where the vermin do land

They need be threatened dead now that’s a good plan

.

They say he’ll be a guy who could shape and ax

But also wield a sword though that’s quite a task

He was brave in North Korea while stepping a foot

Thankfully no bone spurs de-ferred his look

But he gloried love letters of he and an Un

Such a nice fella who could take a sweet turn

.

But then he got sold

On all he was told

And started to believe that God had foretold

That he was the chosen of new myth of old

Reality of course now it be on the run

At Rally’s he’d exclaim oh what such fun

To smite the nonbelievers

Who’d soon be cursed ones

.

Then God he sat back and just shook his head

He’d said look what I’ve wrought in the U.S. of stead

I’ll surely face my wrath for what I’ve let done

And that wrath being mine won’t be as fun

I’d like me as God show discipes the real light

But they’re lost now don’t even realize their plight

.

That in a den of vipers he’s the head one

Leading all the rest to follow his red forked tongue

He’d offer Eve the Apple saying speaking of tongues

Leave that loser behind I am your one

Like the naked look that you got goin’ on

Now drop the fig leaf and let’s take the plunge

.

Adam … go away will ya? … busy here

You’re messing with my tiny mojo

No, God ain’t looking

D’ya think he cares?

.

But then he got sold

On all he was told

And started to believe

That God had foretold

That he was the chosen of new myth of old

And his discipes he continues to mold

.

They gather at his rally’s put together fan schlock

That God gave us Trump the one who’d care for the flock

A shepherd to mankind they say without jest

And surely damn you libs don’t put us to the test

He speaks of retribution he’s a man of his word

Unless you call him on it then he’ll say that’s absurd

.

So God sat back in a comfy cloud chair

To look at what was happenin’ down there

And orange idol thinking he was sent by me

Disciples feel the same but just for a fee

That’s when God said I think I’m done

Back to that glass of wine yeah that would be fun

Cause though he knows he dropped the ball in ‘46

He is still all seeing and likes his kicks

Maybe kill the bottle then for even more fun

Don’t know what could happen when God gets drunk

Maybe a something to get him out of his funk

.

Yo!

Angels?!

Yeah!!

I need another bottle!

And somebody, get me my files on divine retribution!!

To Pee Or Not To … I Didn’t Pee (Cujo the Cat song) – A Revisit

by Stephen J Frankenberry12 Comments on To Pee Or Not To … I Didn’t Pee (Cujo the Cat song) – A Revisit

The other day as I was checking out my Blog stats at WordPress, the platform I use for the Attic and one of the cool things about WordPress, the ability to see your sites “traffic”, I noticed that an older parody tune of mine had recently gotten a couple of unexpected downloads/listens.

Now I am always curious as to how some viewers might suddenly discover something of mine (a tune/old post) from some time ago. I mean it’s not like I’m any good at remembering to add tags to my things because I’m not, hell, tags to me are just the things I always forget to take off of new pants or shorts or T-shirts until around three in the afternoon the first time I wear them, so I can’t chalk it up to that and other than doing a dive into the blog (which has happened where someone, maybe the first time visiting the Attic, will check out a number of things all at once before running away screaming with their hair on fire) I don’t really know how they may come across the older stuff, pretty randomly it seems.

Another older post of mine, from April of ’22 for example, even pops up on a regular basis, regular enough that it has become my most viewed effort, a fun thing I wrote about seeing the Angel of Death in the middle of Route 9 in Poughkeepsie that I also did an audio post of (here, I’ll save you the trouble of randomness or deep dives, Angel Of Death: End Of Days, Route 9, Poughkeepsie??? )

No complaints mind you, I don’t care how folks come about it or them as long as something is maybe getting a new eye or earball or two. I mean that’s why I do this right? Why I have a blog in the first place? Other than the sanity saver that it is?

The older parody tune, from March of 2021, was a tune I did for Celie’s cat “Cujo” and from an idea of hers as a matter of fact. I have written of this often but when I first moved into the one bedroom place above a three car attached garage back in November of ’17 (though I moved out recently) I was immediately astounded and overjoyed by the sheer amount of fur that were furring in and around Celie’s haven of said fur and even feather as well.

Now besides, when I was first there, usually being greeted in the driveway by “Blue” the big intimidating looking blue pit of all soft dogness after the big chested intimidation passed and amid the din of all the other dogs, I was also greeted by cats, four in particular. Bruce the coolest of cat fellas, the Big Lebowski, or Big LeBruceski of cats if you will, who ran the cat yard and house, Handsome, a cat with no more apt a name, Honey Bob Tail (who I would come to call “Boo”) the sweetest little rolly polly of a calico with, indeed, a bob tail and Cujo, a funny name for a cat I thought until he proved himself worthy of it. The first proof of worth for me? When I went to say hi with a pet and a rub of an ear after one of my arrivals home from work early in my stay while he was cat rolling around in driveway dust, as cats are wont to do, and he welcomed me with a bite of my palm halfway through my pettings of “hello”.

“Ok, Cujo … gotcha … and I get it now.”

Instant friends.

But Cujo, like Bruce, had a coolness about him (Honey Bob Tail was all sweetness and a bit of weight on your shoulder for the pick up and Handsome was just damn good looking so much so for girl cats to swoon) and Cujo and I became pals, sometimes with a new band aid or two like sharing friend wrist bands. He was also a bit of weight on the shoulder for the pick up but not because of the rolly or the polly like Honey Bob Tail, Cujo was quite lithe and long, but from the sheer fear that could accompany it (dude could take an eye from my shoulder I thought) but he liked shoulders, even stretched upwards on a knee for it … though briefly.

Anyway, Celie had mentioned to me a few years into my time there that someone, somecat, was peeing in the house and NOT properly, not in one of any number of litter boxes placed about the spot and that she had discovered through some fine detective work (cameras and an even caught in the cat act) that it was Cujo. She then said, and she knew of my parody tunes because I kept sending them to her whether she wanted me to or not, actually she probably would have preferred the “Not” because now you are just annoying me Stephen, especially the political ones, that I should try the chorus of Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” because “It Wasn’t Me … I didn’t pee” had come to her when she heard the tune on the radio in her truck.

Brilliant I thought. But well, I also thought, I can’t just do something with only the chorus now can I? No self respecting song parodying guy would stop at just the chorus right? No, I don’t know the answer to that as I don’t know any other of these self respecting song parodying guys but, for the one I DID know? ME? That shit just wouldn’t meow. Gotta work the whole tune.

Now I miss Cujo and did for the longest time, still do, while I lived in that house of fur and feather after he, one day, just wasn’t around any longer, he was a dear friend lost and well, ’nuff said on that, and I didn’t want to revisit this tune of his for the longest time as I tried not think of the what may have happened (that’s a rabbit hole no pet person ever wants to go down in such a case). I just remembered the welcome homes and the pettings and the band aids and the kitchen counters helping me with the feeding of he and all his cat brethren on occasion (another story entirely, though one, ones, already well told) as he was just a really cool cat, a really smart, snarky, talky cat who I bonded with over hello’s and ear rubs and those occasional loving band-aids.

So thinking of Cujo again now, I thought to revisit some fun and some cat pee silly.

Cheers old friend.

It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee

Yo, Handsome … Open up man

What do you want Cujo?

Mom just caught me

Seriously?

I don’t know how

Where?

In the shower, you know

Man

I don’t know what to do

Well, say it wasn’t you

—

Alright

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

How could you forget that Mom’s the one who owns this villa

She’s got sixth senses that snap up on her pilla

You keep this up she’s gonna be your killa

She knows it’s you even got ya on camera

Before you were dumb and strolled off into the shower

These humans got tech to catch you any hour

Yeah that’s video your ass up on stovetop

You gotta say it wasn’t you to save you from the next stop

—

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
Heard her screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Act like nothing happened, that it’s no big deal  

Walk your Cujo walk, denial in your cool

See if you can sing another cat’s fault song

Maybe Sunny with who you don’t get along  

You’re gonna be banished from house for real

You’ll be pushin’ daisies soon for just this deal

You’ll be out garage, house life won’t last

Get caught again and 9th life will pass  

—

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
I heard the screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Gonna blame some other

For the smell that I’ve caused

Gotta be some other cat who goes and pees against doors

I will tell her that maybe it’s because of the dogs

I’ll just make sure they don’t catch me

When they figure mad cause

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Celie came in

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me I do say

I didn’t pee I will say

Celie came in then

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me

Meow

So Then Sunday: Oompa Loompa Bob Song: An Oompa Loompa Cautionary Tale/Eulogy

by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments on So Then Sunday: Oompa Loompa Bob Song: An Oompa Loompa Cautionary Tale/Eulogy

Thought to just a little fun for a “So Then Sunday” today.

From back in the Spring, my version of the Oompa Loompa song for an unfortunate guy named Bob.

I know, you’re saying “Damn Frankenberry! This is just what I didn’t know I needed today!”

You’re welcome.

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April 2, 2024

So a friend, Drew, recently posted to the Facebook this meme …

… and I thought well, what if the Oompa’s showed up at the funeral of this meme guy, a fella named Bob maybe, whose ‘last mistake’ was actually his LAST mistake.

Now, if anyone was wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve had a girlfriend, probably not, well, this is the kind of shit that I think about and do for fun which goes a long way to explaining said singleness.

I don’t date, don’t go to movies, or dinner, or events, or play pickleball, or go “clubbin'” and whatever that might entail (sounds expensive and I don’t have the wardrobe for it as I’m sure sweatpants ain’t gettin’ me past the bouncer) I don’t nature hike, I’m not a regular at any monthly game nights with friends, I don’t Church, I certainly don’t go on retreats (“retreat” – it sounds so white flag defeating), I don’t go to family get togethers with anyone new and pretty in tow to make Aunts happy (Oh, “finally” they would say in small Aunt klatches quieting any busybody speculation), I don’t gym or bike or jog or even walk briskly, not that some exercise wouldn’t hurt, I don’t do anything in groups though the one’s I am not in might sometimes remark unfairly of such, no, I just do this sort of stuff and other writing things silly and not silly, oh, and I have full blown conversations with cats.

It’s amazing what you can learn about a cat’s daily by the way, if you just take the time to listen. “Really? You meditated in a window in the sun (napped) while contemplating the mysteries of the universe and then woke up and went to the litter box?!”

Yeah, that ‘single’ status ain’t changing anytime soon I don’t think.

Anyway, for the dearly departed Bob, who took one final, unintended, bus ride to the sky.

Oompa Loompa Bob Song

Oompa, Loompa, doompety-do
I’ve got a little story for you
Oompa, Loompa, doompety-dee
it’s about Bob so please listen to me

What do you get when you’re walking a street
Lost in your cell “hey, that video’s neat”
You don’t pay attention to what’s in your surrounds
Including that curb’s last mistake to be found

I don’t like the look of this

Oompa, Loompa, doompety-don’t
Step off that curb Bob please tell me you won’t
Oompa, Loompa, doompety-please
Lift your head, look around at that bus bearing down


… Ya big dope!

… You really dead dope!

… Oh, Bob

The Troll Under The Stairs

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on The Troll Under The Stairs

Beck: Dammit!!

Me: What?

I had made my way upstairs into Beck’s kitchen which then leads into the dining room where she was sitting at the dining room table with her dinner.

Beck: You’re supposed to make a sound, any sound!

Me: What? The steps creak a bit, and that handrail just lost a screw that fell to the floor. You didn’t hear that?

Beck: (glance – glare)

Me: Ok, I’ll step harder … and find that screw (ahhhhh m’fer, I need a flashlight).

Beck: You’re supposed to sound like the troll that lives at the bottom of the stairs under the house (downstairs) like you’ve said. Can’t you grunt or something? I mean, you’re old and always breathy grunting anyway, or at least that’s what you tell folks. Don’t be getting’ all ninja-like suddenly.

Me: Sorry (though a little proud of my newfound Ninja).

////////////////////////////////////////

I’ve been living in my new found digs for more than a couple of months now, with my sister and my nephews, Jake and Matt, (24 & 18, old enough to discern for themselves that this uncle Steve thing may have been a mistake or not and I have found myself to be quite happy with such, whatever the determination). Circumstance called for a change from an old untenable situation to instead be the guy who lives at the bottom of the stairs “under the house”, in a basement, in what amounts to a pretty cool studio apartment replete with two cats, my beloved Bella and Cricket, waaaay too much shit for a single guy stored in the room next door (with a washer/dryer/clean underwear bonus) and space that that untenable situation didn’t allow.

And I can write in comfort.

Now, not that that old situation stunted creativity, it didn’t, I wrote some pretty good stuff then, but it was more of a just get it done now if you can, quickly, as you still have to wake up in the morning to the reminder of NOT comfort so get some furtive sleep.

////////////////////////////////////////

Buck, Beck’s guy, and a brother of mine from a long time gone if he and I had known each other years ago, in a different life for me it would have been, flying planes and high fiving ourselves in passing on the tarmac, had some friends over for the weekend. I had plans to not engage and just be that troll under the stairs, doing what I do, had a new poem to work on as a matter of fact, but, well, I am no good at that in the face of new people as my mother would be so disappointed in my lack of cordiality if so … so I engaged and told a few stories (yes Dad, you would have been story proud).

Hopefully they were able to sleep easy without any concern of that guy under the stairs who might somehow invade their dreams

////////////////////////////////////////

I just thought now to some new things.

Blade

Blade looked about the sea

“Now that is such a sight to see, an expanse not matched for any land lubbers who aren’t me”

The newbie, (that was me) exclaimed “what is it that you see … Blade?”

“I see Pirate dreams but you, young Harley, are not ready”

“Why?”

“Because my scabbard could have diced you just now ya see”

I stood on deck at a fine point just at my gut

“Don’t ask questions, just be, just be the sea” he said “or you will soon find yourself dead”

I took his name as he looked about then under the sea

Novice pirates may not have scabbards, but they can still have knives also pointed at the gut

Ya see

////////////////////////////////////////

I just shoehorned that one in there by the way. It has no connection to the story at hand. I just like it.

////////////////////////////////////////

But I have quieted myself even more than normal, no one needs to know that I am here, other than a couple of cats and an uncle, and hopefully friend, who is just that and Buck’s friends don’t really need to know of the guy under the stairs. Just in passing.

I know this sounds all very dramatic and really silly and I am sure there are those that wonder of a 60 year old dude who is living like he is still in college, a mattress and boxspring on the floor, which is not a change by the way, years, single and a not care of what may be but I am not going to constrain myself to bedframe convention, it is what it is. I like beds on the floor, plus it’s important to be proactive on possible monsters underneath. Beck has just nodded her head at it with a quizzical look and I will just go with it, as I always have, plus, I really am kinda quiet …

… though not quite quiet enough for some in my new part-time work locale.

Seems I have the ability to make a really strong first impression and drew the attention of HR in emails about my language and my just regular going about my day.

M’fr what is that shit all about?!

Now upsetting an apple cart of oranges is not really my concern nor my intent, I can’t control the overly sensitive nature of those that would probably find apples and even their own oranges to not be to their liking so …

////////////////////////////////////////

In the Moment

My head lolls like a blind cat

Yes I know

Cricket

On a swivel

On a bobble

On a swerve

On a Stevie Wonder

On a pillow if your head can loll such

.

Its way too early for thoughts like these

Though

I nod on that pillow

.

V (Victoria) noises above my head

At the top of the steps

Doing simple human things

The sink

The phone

The garbage with a clink

Routine

Maybe even the recyclables in a non recyclable bag

Being alone in her thoughts

Other than the phone

Which talks into the way

Of a V day and what it may bring

Or maybe has already brought

Though it is early

.

I feel comfort in the small noise

Of V

As I am an old man now

Have been for a time’s time it seems

And have found a new stead

Listening from under my head

My bed

At the bottom of the steps

To others attempts at a day

Start

Maybe toast

And butter

A little jelly even

.

I discover a new world in an ear

From under the stairs

That tells me things I didn’t know

////////////////////////////////////////

Beck: Seriously, make some freakin’ noise will ya? Ya old troll

Me: HeHe. I just did … I think.

Exit 21B

by Stephen J Frankenberry4 Comments on Exit 21B

There is this spot, what was surely a vibrant truck stop once, that I pass in my to an fro’s in my new commute along the NY State Thruway. It sits vacant, boarded, graffitied, among all the other alive spots I pass where you can grab some gas, a bit of shut-eye or maybe a bite to eat.

An anomaly

A dead spot

.

Exit 21B

It was raining dogs and devils

a night as thick as pitch but there was light …

Exit 21B

a promise of respite from the drive

that took so long to not quite survive   

just yet

our destination

.

it shone, shimmered, sparkled,

harkened

Exit 21B

brighting our way

with promise

“Oh, that’s a place we could stay”

in this dark and stormy cliché

.

Truckers drank coffee at a counter

ogling Mary’s offers

to refill a cup before return to their trucks

dreaming in back bed sleep cabs

of another mug

.

We shook off the rain

just a wet stain

at our feet

in a puddle

.

Do you have a room,

to escape soon now this horrid swoon

of weather?

.

Of course, just sign here Sir

.

There were tables of chance

to win without even a glance

it was easy

night was day

peasy

.

There were family and friends left to the wayside

justified

besides who are they

really?

.

We sang in bright neon lights

our day’s night might

wonder how we could have been so lucky to have lost our way

in a night dark as stark

to find this haven

Exit 21B

.

When we woke we stood to shake off the yoke

of another day’s side step

then just to skip stop to our next next  

to the coast

but exit 21B made us stay

.

We are here today

boarded up behind wood nailed windows

long dead highway signs

long dead neon

long dead Mary

to fill a cup a mug

of coffee

for trucker dreams

the coast always so far away

it seems

now

at exit 21B

The Scrapbook And The Man In The Black Fedora (flash fiction)

by Stephen J Frankenberry16 Comments on The Scrapbook And The Man In The Black Fedora (flash fiction)

So another prompt at dVerse Poets …

It’s Monday and, at the dVerse Poets Pub, we are writing Prosery, the very short piece of prose or flash fiction that tells a story with a beginning, middle and end. It can be in any genre of your choice, but it does have a limit of 144 words; an additional challenge is to hit 144 exactly. The special thing about Prosery is that we give you a complete line or two from a poem, which must be included somewhere in your story, within the 144-word limit.

The complete line or two in this case are from Leonard Cohen and his poem “Take this Waltz” with the lines being …

And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss

.

The Scrapbook And The Man In The Black Fedora

“Hey Jaimie, check this out, just found this covered in moss behind a tree”

Presents a tattered book with dead flowers pinned to it and a warning “DO NOT OPEN”

“Well, let’s see what’s in it”

“It says not to open Billy”

“C’mon, probably just a note left by the 11 year old girl who lost it. It looks like a scrapbook”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right”

Billy opening the scrapbook finds it filled with photo’s of people and notations of the date/time of their deaths and scribbled inside the cover …

And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss

At that moment a man in a black fedora appeared.

The air stilled.

Then Billy was gone and all Jaimie caught as the fedora’d man closed the scrapbook was a quick glimpse of Billy’s picture.

Her Name Is Kelsay (apparently)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on Her Name Is Kelsay (apparently)

I know, all these years of me being single and not caring of such, and then Kelsay came along. I realize she seems a bit out of my league, well actually in another league entirely, like a completely different sport, but if you are going to dive back in let it be the deep end and hope you remember how to swim … I mean, look at the, those ummm, shades!! Ya don’t quibble with cool shades and true love.

And the turn ….

Now to not be catfish and be catfish and ask for money.

Gonna Wanna Rule Somebody – Revisit (song)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on Gonna Wanna Rule Somebody – Revisit (song)

So back in March I did a version of Dylan’s “Gotta Serve Somebody” and thought I would re-post it here now. That’s it.

Gonna Wanna Rule Somebody

You may be a wished dictator who’s scripting a dream

Of what to do in year 25 with a right’s loyalist team

Who’r mapping out a dire plan where democracy it seems

Is no longer a real player in the grandest of red schemes

.

And you’re gonna wanna rule somebody, yes indeed

And you’re gonna wanna king somebody

It may be those already on the devil’s dark page

Or those forced to take new stage

.

Body vessels are the targets in this new SCOTUS age

The ones who stand up try prevent women in a cage

The ones who had temerity to think body autonomy

But in this new world order legislating you’s the rage

.

Yeah, you’re gonna wanna rule somebody, yes you are

And you’re gonna wanna lord somebody

You’ll make women understand that they just don’t have a say

Instead monitored by state

.

You may be undesirable in this grand U S of A

An invader less than human is all he will have to say

To rile up the base while he drives all you away

The military will be called upon slap down to make point’s sway

.

Yeah, you’re gonna wanna rule somebody, yes you are

You’re gonna wanna lord somebody

You’ll make those who just don’t belong go back to where they’re from

Yeah, you’re gonna wanna king somebody

.

You may be a protester on campus wantin’ say

You hate the inhumanity that you’re seeing day by day

That you’re not an anti this that or even a pro that  

You just hate women and children wearing dead pawn hats

.

But they’re gonna wanna rule somebody, yes indeed

They’re gonna wanna use your naivete

To gain an in ground against hated college elites

They’re gonna wanna rule somebody

.

And you may be example of future disputes

To quell freedom of speech tear it out by the roots

Teach that protest is only what they will agree

You are no patriots like Jan 6 ones who would see

That he gets chance to rule somebody, yes indeed

Gets chance for a new autocracy

That there will be no dissent that doesn’t come with intent

To help him rule somebody

.

You might like use projection to describe your enemies

Accuse them of harboring fascist wills and dreams of tyranny

You’ll even claim reverse discrimination of dear whitey

You’ll say that anti-white feeling can’t happen in this great country

.

And you’re gonna wanna lord somebody, yes you are

And you’re gonna wanna take us back

To a time where white man ruled

And others minded their P’s & Q’s

You’re gonna wanna white everybody

.

You may call yourself disciple of the MAGA ways

Protect yourself on his good side fearful of vengeful days

You may even say that fascism’s not that bad just give it play

As we’ve heard too often now from MAGA’s praying new Trump day

.

Well, you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes it’s him

You’re gonna have to serve somebody

Well, it may be the devil, while the lord sits this one out

You’re gonna have to serve somebody

.

You’re gonna have to serve the orange

You’re gonna have to serve prostrate

You’re gonna have to serve not the lord       

You’re gonna have to serve new devil’s day

A Repost From Last Year On International Cat Day (Crazy Cat Lady Guy Cat Tips Guide – Tip #351: When It’s International Cat Day You Post Accordingly)

by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment on A Repost From Last Year On International Cat Day (Crazy Cat Lady Guy Cat Tips Guide – Tip #351: When It’s International Cat Day You Post Accordingly)

Though the surrounds have changed it’s still a Bella and a Cricket and a Me.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Cricket the Blind: Hey Bella? Where you at?

Bella: I’m over here on my chair, to your left.

Cricket: Ok cool … ummm, where is my “left?”

Bella: (sigh) the direction you always do your weird little Cricket circles in.

Cricket: Right!

Bella: No, left … wait, ya know what Cricket? Just say “correct”, gonna stop this now before it turns into some some sort of annoying comedy routine.

Cricket: Right! … sorry … correct!

Bella: Now, just sit there, point your head forward and use your nose.

Cricket: My nose? why am I using my …

Bella: ‘cause I just ate some Tuna Fancy Feast for dinner, like you.

Cricket: (a head loll, nose up) Oh, there you are!! Whoa, you could use a cat tic-tac or something girlfriend, sheesh!

Bella: Shut up. Whattaya got?

Cricket: (excitedly) did you know today is International cat day?!

Bella: Yes, and I’m annoyed.

Cricket: Why?

Bella: Well, why do all those fancy schmancy ‘international’ cats with accents and stylish hats and snobbish attitudes get a day and not us, you know, us regular ol’ Continental U.S. cats?

Cricket: Well, and I’m usually not one to correct you, forgive me, but I think the ‘International’ here is meant to cover all of us, all of us cats on this big blue yarn ball.

Bella: You mean it’s not just for those overseas cats in their hoity-toity international cat places?

Cricket: Nope, the whole bouncing bell ball of cats.

Bella: Ok, well I feel a bit better now. Do you think Steve posted some pictures of us then, you know, in honor of us and our day?

Cricket: I’m sure he did, plus it would be a little strange, with all the pictures he posts and stories he tells of us on all the other days of the year, that he would forget a day as important as this one.

Bella: You’re probably right. Plus, I like when he tells us he made us famous again today.

Cricket: Me too.

Bella: We should though try to figure out a way to get him out of the house a little more. I mean it is a LOT of pictures.

Cricket: Good point.

The Miscellaneous Jar – (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry8 Comments on The Miscellaneous Jar – (poem)

So De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, brought the latest “Quadrille” idea to us at dVerse Poets, that dVerse invention 44 word poem that asks just that you include a particular word.

This time around from De? That word was “Jar”.

.

The Miscellaneous Jar

I tapped the lid with a butter knife in evenly spaced indents

hoping this intent would somehow suffice

but still couldn’t unscrew the top of my head

and my thoughts remained bent

instead

like miscellaneous nuts and bolts in a jar on a workbench