Hit The Road Facts (song)

Ya know I have been Jonesin’ for the longest time now to get to a new tune, doesn’t matter what, a parody maybe for these current fucked up times, maybe something that rhymes with tariff or Canada or Greenland or King or Vlad or Orban or other small minded little men dictators or ethnic cleansing for a new Riviera or muck Musk muck about with self interest the priority and conflicts be damned even those in China (don’t worry, I can police myself, even in China he says while snaking for China) a something to a cool instrumental I’ve found, maybe, with original lyrics in tow, possibly from a recent poem or short story, something silly even, anything, but I hadn’t quite found a comfy enough studio space in the new digs just yet with a tall enough chair … don’t ask, it’s a thing.

But I did find one.

To “Hit The Road Jack” then.

Hit the Road Facts

Hit the road facts and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more

Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more

.  

Wha’d Zuck say?

.

Hit the road facts, time to show you the door, the door, the door, the door

Hit the road facts we, don’t need ya round here no more

.

Ol’ Zucky, Ol’ Zucky don’t treat facts so mean

You’re a coward t’wards the truth like we’ve never seen

If you say facts must go, we’ll prioritize speech ya know

 .

What’s that?

.

Hit the road facts, with a barker in tails magaphone and black magic rabbit hat

Hit the road facts and don’t ya Zuck ‘round no more

.

Wha’d right saaaay?!!

.

Hit the road facts, true lies’ll have a brand new day and say and sway the way

Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more

.

Now baby listen baby this is newest Reich way

Won’t be stifled by the left who hold lies at bay

Don’t care if they do ‘cause we know the real truth

It’s what we decide, don’t need no sleuth

instead in this brand new age, we’ll paint facts just as we say

.

That’s right!

.

Hit the road facts, and now it’s your time to act, to act, to act, to act

Hit the road facts and throw some money in that hat

.

Wha’d you saaaay!!??

.

Hit the road facts, we’ve reached a new judgment day, this day, no other way

Hit the road facts, ya best get new truths all straight

.

Hit the road facts, and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more

Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more

.

Now Donnie ol’ Donnie and executive O’s

He’ll decree a new future with his MAGA in throes

He’ll rename Gulf’s of Mexico

With a straight face ain’t that beautiful Oh!

.

Hit the road facts, the truth’ll no longer know where’s it’s at, where it’s at, where it’s at

Hit the road facts and don’t bother tippin’ your cap

.

Hit the road facts, an Autocrat’ll tell ya his truth, his truth, his truth, his truth

Hit the road facts, cause democracy he wants lose

Now baby baby baby there’s a billionaire class

Who trip over themselves to lipstick his ass

They even paid for the right to grovel new Reich

Hoping keep good his side not dogs he might strike

‘Cause that’s just the new way

Truth’ll have a forced holiday

That’s right!

Hit the road facts and got’s keep this all straight, all straight, all straight, all straight

Hit the road facts while he makes liberty quake

.

Hit the road facts and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more

Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more

.

And don’t ya free speech our door

No Constitution no more

And right’s be white for sure

Last Pot Luck (144 word story)

Bjorn at dVerse Poets has a prose challenge this week to write prose of 144 words including the line ‘There’s a lullaby for suffering‘ from Leonard Cohen’s tune “You Want It Darker”.

Last Pot Luck

Maggie brought a faux beef stew, she had an extra provision card she’d nicked, Selina brought chicken though she was saddened by it, Constance brought her last small vegetables thinking why not, Angie brought a State song with altered lyrics as There’s a need’s new lullaby for suffering, Maribel brought small sweet lip smacking things baked in her basement’s hidden basement that were presented on trays like old days, ones with views of the sea or dreamt flowers, Caroline brought pictures from slots in window sills in plain sight, her William was held somewhere because of them but he always said “un-hide them when you can”,  the rest of the girls brought what they could for the Pot Luck, maybe the last one.

Oh, and Tracy brought guns.

There was a knock, no, a pound at the door.

Everyone was glad Tracy was there.

Bits & Pieces – 03-14-25

When we all received our first Covid checks, 12 hundred bucks I think it was, back around the time we started mainlining cleaning products and shining ultra violet lights up our asses according to the expert who knew all the sciency shit we needed to know to try and combat this new scourge of the planet, never even considering that WE might be the scourge in the first place and that maybe mother nature had finally figured out a “Fuck you” that didn’t involve great fires or great floods to put out great fires after great floods I bought a new computer.

I know, sorry, a bit anticlimactic there, but I bought a new computer, while sitting uncomfortably on a hot light bulb and feeling a bit lightheaded with a little blood on my tri-cep, to replace my old girl who was just limping along then, holding on to me only for the cat pictures and the power cord and asking that I please not forget her.

Don’t worry girlfriend, I said to her, I will transfer you into this new device and you will have a new life like some new freaky that is just around the corner. Then all the local wildlife started acting a bit wonky, repeating a lot of things that I sort of recognized from half-finished and half-baked things that I had started to write until I realized I was probably doing something wrong.

I mean, it might have just been me, but I don’t think raccoons spouting partial sentences of stuff I had only just started and almost only just remembered I wrote surely wasn’t quite right. Plus they also started taking breaks from their raccoon shenanigans and instead began hanging outside the convenience store with their right hand feets pressed bent kneed flat against walls with remembered cool cigarette wall leans.

Everything went swimmingly for a short while, for like 5 short minutes, until … well, they didn’t. It was then that I realized that of the 9 out of 10 Dells that are, from some old time’s old slogan, still on the road today, the internet and simple word document road, that mine had driven itself off into a ditch.

I weathered and gray haired and took naps (I’m old after all, so the naps were welcome) and I waited for little Delly to catch up with me.

It didn’t happen.

So now I am kind of back at square one as I have, again, bought a new computer, a one that I’ll figg’r how to pay for on Tuesday with an owed hamburger and a one that I am sure will lead me into the promised land of a new PC or laptop in this case, one that actually works with speed and efficiency and doesn’t have me windexing my internal organs for any reason.

Even now though, I am reticent to preach too loudly of the joys of something new that works as it should but I am still excited, like a little kid, and I even started smoking again against a satisfied propped pillow like in a movie (no I didn’t do that) and texted a couple of best friends of my joy, even sending them a picture of BellCrick (the registering of this new wonder asked me to name it … that’s what I gave … BellCrick though I know that sounds like a stream somewhere in Appalachia that don’t take too kindly to the new fangled of ya’lls and ya best watch yawselves

But I was still excited.

Ok, so a pic from a new computer land, a world of speedy wonder now and no longer a halted mystery as to when shit might actually open and stop having me teach innocent cats human words they should never have to learn.

Ok, heavenly horns you ready?

What?

Jesus … (sigh) … Larry are you ready on the heavenly horns?

For what?

Are you high again Larry?

Ummmmm … we’re in the clouds Bill, yeah I’m high

Fuck you Larry, no the horns of the big reveal?

Oh yeah, right, that … On it. Yo Stephens! Wake up, hit the horns!

What??

Ahhhh, son of a bitch (muttering …sometimes ya just gotta do things yourself) … just go back to sleep Stephens. Here ya go Bill …

HORNS OF AN ANGRY TRAFFIC JAM

SHIT!!! Sorry Bill, wrong horns

Never mind Larry (muttering … don’t listen girls, close your innocent cat ears … useless motherfuckers rasser frasser) …

Bella: Innocent cat ears?! Dude, seriously?! I’ve been living with you for 13 years, word innocence is long, long lost on this cat.

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

My sister, Beck, every holiday season, goes to Shutterfly with a boatload of pictures in hand and builds a calendar. She’s been doing this since even before Shutterfly existed, she just waited, patiently, builds a calendar as a “stocking stuffer” Christmas present for all of us, each month of the year replete with family photos, about six or seven or so per month.

It is such a welcome calendar relief as opposed to the last minute calendar gifts you search for at the mall to check off your last minute end of list lazies at the kiosk at the bottom of the escalator “Oh, I’m sure cousin Janine would love this one of puppies or Uncle Frank would like this one of frogs, or maybe long lost cousin Constance who you just discovered wasn’t actually dead and would be a new guest at Christmas dinner, this one of “Fight Clubs from ‘Round the World” would fit her present bill as you had heard rumors.

No, my Sis puts these together every year and to tell ya the truth it is the one gift that I look forward to the most. It is the one that truly just keeps on giving, every month, for a whole year, and I don’t look forward, instead waiting on monthly surprises of the reminders of fun and family and friends and for this year, as you look up to your right at your desk, you find your Overlord, Jillian in the Month of March (a band name there if there ever was one).

Yes Overlord Jillian, I believe in you in Overlord Jillian, can you stop looking at me like that Overlord Jillian please, your mocking, scrunchy lipped scrutiny of this simple man is most unwelcome and unwarranted Overlord Jillian. NO, I did NOT do something stupid … well, not this time.

All hail the Overlord!!!

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

Started my day earlier than usual today, around 5am, a Friday, a one where I couldn’t sleep and just said fuck it and peeled a Cricket the Cat off my chest and, after I showered and got set, I grabbed a pair of of cargo shorts from last Spring/Summer. Let’s just say that if I had attempted to wear them for an entire day I would have been singing in a higher pitch by the end of it.

They no longer fit, not by even a mile or a pants size or two or three by even a three mile couple of hundred feet. I really, as per my last post, need to do some walking, at least, just start.

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

Went to Ocean State Job Lot for some new shorts then, armed with the realization that my old has caught up with me, that I need to get my fat ass out of the house and do a walking circuit or two around the neighborhood on a regular basis. Maybe even say Hi to people and pet their dogs along my way.

My sister has three cats, one of which is Rikki who I call “Chunky Pants” a furry, wobble wobble walk wobble wobble walk wobble wobble furry bowling ball with the head of a cat who has now said to me, with her upwards look  “That Chunky Pants shit ain’t really all that funny anymore now is it Mister? And I am a lady thank you, don’t be talking about my weight!”

Oh, Ocean State also had some sneaks, just past the foreign crackers and foreign fruits and nuts and just before the rugs. And it does some fine rugs by the way, Ocean State does, but never ones large enough to roll a body into so you know they are legitimate, at least I don’t think so, but, to be safe I’m not really gonna check. But the sneaks? They’re London Fog, whodaknew? I mean I could make deals on bridges in WWII or Cold War flicks for state and military secrets not only in a trench coat and but in cool (ugly) kicks as well? Nice!.

I’ll assume that London Fog also sells fedora’s to complete the look. Have to keep my eyes open for that.

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

Stopped into Dollar General earlier for some sponges and Tums, industrial lubricant and Heshey’s kisses (hey don’t judge plus I was just kidding, I didn’t buy Tums) and to check the latest in their dollar aisle and remembered that they have pillows, figured I could use some new ones, as who couldn’t use some new pillows, those sleep stains of your sweaty ass head could surely use a pillow upgrade, especially for cats to argue over.

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

My breakfast, or dinner or lunch always involves some reading, usually anything just for some words that are strung with meaning and to stay on top of things and are often found in the opinion pieces at the Washington Post, so many good ones there, once anyway, before Jeff Bezos has his plan of acquiescence to the King come to to fruition which just pisses me off but also scares the bejeesus, whatever or whoever the hell bejeeus is, out of me at the same time.

“How have we come this close?” I say while also noting what a self serving and evil prick our extra President is as a side note, though it’s always good to have a backup, I guess, and a one that would present a pretty interesting dynamic should this now actual President suddenly give heart stop way courtesy of those quarter pounders of his from Secret Service runs, in the middle of the night, and leave us with a temporary Christmas-like reprieve come that morning.

Oh, to dream.

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

Checked Neatorama, as I always do for a bit of a 10 minute break, a site highly recommended by the way for just such, if you didn’t already know, and came across a band, Analog Society, who it seems are pretty darn good at mashups but who also have this cool ass tune and cool ass video and leave me this perfect cool ass spot to get out of here before I get upset at my last point (and it has horns and a really pretty girl who can just belt it!!)

What Overlord!? I was just noting pretty and cool horns and pipes. Give me a break will ya!?!?

Analog Society “Feeling

Cheers all,

(and a shout to my friend Steve, no not a me Steve but a Steve not me who gave me an assist here, you know who you are, now live with it … )

Bloody Paradise & Death Becomes Us (call and response – poems)

Have this friend that I met through dVerse Poets, Paul (and a thank you to dVerse for such) an absolutely wondrous writer/poet whose work just astounds me and he recently wrote this at his site, Parallax

Bloody Paradise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon  

Note: I wrote this in response to GP at Pacific Paratrooper following our respective comments on his post  “Letter IX “A Day’s Venture” which is a post about his father Pvt. Everett “Smitty” Smith’s letter to his mother in regard to a rest day spent around Buna after allied forces liberated it. The post was in September 2024 (linked above).

Pacific Paratrooper is a blog based around the life and service of Smitty with the Headquarters Company/187th Regiment/11 Airborne during WWII. Follow the links above to read GPs excellent work.

“The war continues working, day and night.” Dunyah Mikhail

Bloody Paradise

Some things catch us by surprise
like the irony of a sabbath amidst
the trail of death and destruction
in an ever moving theatre of war,
feelings about shame and waste
momentarily cleared by
observations of the ordinary and
mundane albeit cultural experiences
allied with peace and quiet
buddies swimming in
pristine bejewelled water
shaded by coconut trees majestic,
a veritable paradise
framed by a cemetery screaming
“death becomes us,”
as Buna now breathes
Buna becomes today
tomorrow …
if not this war,
then the next.

/////

Well, this poem and the line “Death becomes us” struck me and I thought to take a bit of a liberty and write a “response”.

/////

Death Becomes Us

Death becomes us

said General to a friend

in kinder times

when this was just pieces

on a board

a game

over seas distance

closer now

or skies resistance

closer now

and simple regrets

closer now

like a kiss not had

from that pretty girl

at that pretty café

on that pretty shore of a foreign land

to be felt another day

but friend General had dispatched

in quick fashion in need

as only needs need

according to ordered needs

.

I have medals he said

.

Death becomes us

said the dispatched

wishing General hadn’t said that

I had other friends

really

he thought

who didn’t take this so seriously

and danced to tune

in kinder times

it was just a game

.

Death becomes us

said Devil and Lord

puffed chests

In accord

you have done our warned

work

all on your own

you wanted, you played

you moved pieces on a board

you played Devil and Lord

toward

an unquestioned end

.

Death becomes us

always becomes us

in dirt too soon

General

too soon

.

Tell her I think of her

her little pretty

or just pretty

in general

General

at that pretty little café

on that pretty foreign shore

wished

pretty

once

/////

Hope I did a justice in this uncalled call & response Paul

Crazy Cat Lady Guy Cat Tips Guide – Tip #354

Crazy Cat Lady Guy Cat Tips Guide – Tip #354

Scene set: Back in August of last year I moved out of a roommate situation that I had moved into out of a solo living situation that I moved out of into that roommate situation that I then needed to move out of, quickly, with a case of new roommate buyer’s remorse, back in said August into my current situation which is still roommatey but better roommatey, family roommatey plus I get text updates of the goings on and goings about at the house from my Sister and sometimes my nephew, Matt.

It’s almost always exclusively cat pictures. No, it’s ALWAYS exclusively cat pictures except for that one time that Matt sent me a picture from his back pocket … never realized how dark and blank and shapeless back pockets really were. It was almost eerie, a bit chilling, such a void and it spoke to the meaning of man or even him possibly just forgetting where his phone was and sitting on it.

/////

Ok, timeline

Fall 2017- Spring 2024 – solo living, great pad, cats (fluctuating #) upstairs (my apartment) and downstairs (landlady’s house) dogs downstairs (quite a wonderfully barky number – landlady’s house) very vocal and cool bird (downstairs – landlady’s house)

Almost Christmas 2023 – young woman decides, in a busy three lane roadway, with she in the middle lane and me in the left, that she suddenly needs to be on a side street across that left lane without looking as apparently whatever drew her to this sudden side street need turn was of the utmost importance and trumped the looking left. Though I don’t recall any signs for a tag sale, or yard sale, or garage sale, or flea market, or estate sale or whatever sale might have been in wait, the only real reason for such a turn, with signs stuck into yards on thin metal prongs, it was enough to drive me off the road just before this side street almost into a retaining wall of what looked to be a very nice home, with surely very nice folks, nice family, with maybe their own cats and dogs and a bird.

Example, by the way, of just that that one seeming “nothing” thing that can throw shit in a bad whirl and force you to scramble.

Post almost Christmas 2023 and now into 2024 – Sudden new car payment, increased insurance payment, “Sorry sir, but hindering some possibly great deals at a tag sale, or yard sale, or garage sale, or flea market or estate sale has you in the wrong. Now pony up! And did you find out if there was anything cool there by the way? Have you kept in contact with the young woman?”  

I could no longer swing the rent with new $$$ additions and never got the young woman’s name to see if she had found something worth the side street turn to satisfy the insurance. Maybe some plates and tea cups and tea cup plates (those with that little tea cup indent) that were almost a complete set, though a number were chipped, or that painting of dogs playing poker that was an original and had her on Antique Road Show gushing

April 2024 – July 2024 – Roommate situation, aforementioned roommate remorse.

After some finaglin’ and figgur’n and damning my misfortune of missing that once in a lifetime set of almost complete plates and tea cups with their own cute little indent plates and original dogs playing poker prints I found a better sitch, as the kids might say…

August 2024 – Current day

Got a text from my Sis earlier, that roommate of my new better roommateyness of Bella, and not some disturbing black void from Matt’s back pocket, but of Bella actually being in the living room, upstairs, in my new landlady’s house.

Bella, for her 13 years now, has always been a just “Me” kinda girl and could get a little freaky at anyone other than me. It wasn’t always that way but she has warmed to this new situation and has even let the sis and the nephew reach a hand and grab a pet and maybe has even said “Dad, I love ya but …”

She apparently had been welcomed to the stage of the Schenectady City Kitty Hall to much fanfare and even with a smoke machine with a grand entrance of some humidifying menthol vapors (beck has had a bit of a persnickety cough lately)

So Crazy Cat Lady Guy Tip # 354?

I you ever find yourself in a situation where your sister sends you a picture of your antisocial cat being a rock star in a living room upstairs after a multiple change of living situations, in less than a year and the regret of missing some possibly great deals at a tag sale, or yard sale, or garage sale, or flea market, or estate sale but still finds herself to rock her band of Bella Bell and the Unblinking Stares know that you are not alone.

Bella: Shut up Steve! Bringing down the house here!!”

Tips #’s 342-348

tip # 349

tip # 350

tip # 351

tip # 352

tip # 353 a refresher

The Wind And The “Epistle” (six sentence story)

Earlier in the week I came across someone new to me through Sadje, a friend at dVerse Poets.

She is GirlieOnTheEdge and offers prompts for Six Sentence Stories, an idea I liked, like some of the 144 word Flash Fiction prompts you can find at dVerse, though with six sentences allowed that gives me a bit more room. I also knew I liked Girlie from the get go as this particular prompt mentioned “The Alarm” as part of her inspiration, an old fave band reminded from my undergrad and then graduate school days (in the current season and for other reasons I suddenly longed for “Rain in the Summertime”).

The Prompt?

PROMPT WORD:  WIND

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The Wind and the “Epistle”

Coming up from below deck after a lengthy search, top to bottom, of what appeared an abandoned fourth-rate named “Epistle”, Martins declared across bows to his Captain that she was indeed abandoned though he marveled that he had never seen anything quite like this ornate fitted construction, with nary a nail, nor some of the letters he had found in the captain’s empty quarters.

Captain Richard, with a curious though determined look, turned and directed the crew of “The Resolution” to board and see what could possibly be salvaged, if anything, just as Martins heard a voice from behind him saying “but I am here” though, on a turn’s look inspection, he saw not a soul.

Just then a sudden unexpected and fierce wind picked up and roiled what had, only moments before, been serene, placid seas below blue white speckled skies but those skies came to a sudden dark clouded anger, the sails filled flush, puffed out like the deep breath chest of an unnaturally sized, large winged vengeful bird to rival those of ancient sea beasts beneath the waves that seemed to stir with this wind’s dark cries of anguish and fear telling of stories warned.

Lightning crashed and stung about the tops of the sail masts, torrential rains drowned cries and pleadings of God, water beast tails as large as their own ship’s sails rose from above the waves only to dive out of fear, the heavens blackened loud and bellowed louder.

Captain Richard lost footing on deck, fearing his grip, slipping confused and disoriented, as did his crew, but, regaining his balance for a moment he turned to warn Martins to return only to find that he and the “Epistle” were no longer there and that the seas and skies, only seconds earlier filled with a storm’s rage, such as he had never witnessed in all his years at sea, came to a sudden calm again almost as if they hadn’t been changed at all, as if they hadn’t ever been anything other than what they were before in their calm, with skies returned to the blue of white floating speckles, as if in a languid painting, the sea flat again, but Richard swore, to his end of days spent in the throes of madness, that he saw the waters of the ocean drop off the edge of the world in the distance, off of a flat earth, just as he heard Martins, faintly, in the wind implore “but I am here”.

Standing in uneasy stunned silence Richard took measure … before then realizing that they should turn back, quickly, pointing “The Resolution” towards home but also before the knowing of the court martial and subsequent murder trial he would face of a missing crewman, Ross P Martins, upon his return.

So Then Sunday: Gonna Wanna Rule Somebody (song)

Been a while for a tune, I have a couple of new things ready to go as there is plenty of end of freedom and liberty days material to work with right now, attempts at destroying democracy’ll do that, but it seems that I am a bit of a Diva and am not quite comfortable yet in my new station digs (plus I still have to figure out how the hell to configg’r one of the studios available to me to get it just right).

Anyway, though a year old with a few dated moments, and one I have posted here a couple of times before (if you’ve already heard this feel free to just ignore me, I get that a lot so …) but this one still works … and is still pretty catchy if I do say.

Cheers Bob

/////

May 11, 2024

Earlier this week I was searching YouTube for something from a tribute band for a show of theirs coming up around here that I could use for building a commercial and Dylan’s “Gotta Serve Somebody” was on the YouTube page. Don’t know why (maybe the YouTube gods were trying to tell me something) but it popped up among all the other “Steve similar things” that are always there, cat and dog rescue videos, movie and show trailers, sci-fi short films, new tunes alien to me but maybe in my “like-house” of artists etc, etc. (that knowing of me, even though I/we should all be well accustomed to such by now, can still be a little unsettling).

Anyway, it’s a Dylan tune I had never heard, or at least I can’t remember that I had but when I played it for a few bars I thought, well, ok, I think I might actually know this and it just happened to be right in my song wheelhouse and could definitely work for a new something if I could find a workable instrumental version.

After getting that tribute band’s spot done I did then find an instrumental version of it and, while referencing that two part Trump interview where he layed out in stark detail his plans for a new dictatorial reign, I got to workin’ …

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

Loud or Not

Been a bit of a, I won’t say weird, but weird week (Jesus, those pipes doing pipe things in old houses sound like someone was just finishing up a shower upstairs) though I’ve surely heard weirder in other times, the usual solitary ones, in other old houses, but I have been in this one alone since Tuesday (and who the fuck is in the shower? Beck didn’t warn me of any old haunts like someone died in this place but just wants to stay clean in the limbo life and thus the great deal she got) just me and the cats, mine and hers “No Arthur you are not going out, I don’t care which door you sit at, that shit is not happenin’. You ain’t goin’ out. I will NOT be accomplice to you being an Arthur that is no longer an Arthur before Beck comes home! I already announced to you, days ago, that while I’m the new Momma cat guy ’round here you are a house cat!”

My sis, Beck, took off on Tuesday earlier this week, along with nephew Matt and Beck’s guy Buck whose last name is Rogers, he was a pilot, and they called him “Buck”, Buck Rogers, get it? that’s just cool, to see my other nephew, Jake, graduate from basic in the Navy and be all Mom proud amid coughs and sniffles and frog throats like the devil had found a voice and trips to the Walgreens cold and flu aisle before she left, damned if she wasn’t going to be allowed to cough anything up on him other than tears of that said pride. “No Jake, my tears of joy are just a little gloopy, sticky green is the color of love, you’ve made me so proud!”

And he did and he does.

But the weird was the silence. I’ve grown so accustomed now, new, over the last six months or so, to the loud of the garage door announcing me when I come home to Beck in the kitchen doing a Beck kitchen with pots and pans and loud smells, to the loud of Ricki, aka chunky pants, if a bowling ball were covered in tortoise cat fur and had a head, meowing at me in her smoker sounding kinda way when I open the door to the house from out the garage hoping for a treat from this guy, while Beck reminds that Cricket the Blind was doing her loud Cricket meowls from downstairs earlier, calling for me, to the loud jingle of collars of Sephira running away from me and Arthur just staring at the interloper, who might or might not let him out whatever door he keeps sitting at with an equally loud jingly collar, but there was a kind of silence the last few days and it was a bit jarring.

I mean, the loud of jingly collars and smoker cats was still loud around the place but it was a bit muted, subdued, minus that Momma human cat or a nephew to hold Arthur like a sack of beans until a squirm’s gleeful angry meow says “enough”

There is also that this coming week is the one where we lay my mom to rest “Oh, bloody hell Stephen will you all just get on with it already!” after she passed away a couple of weeks ago now with us on hand, almost, Matt, Buck and I, but Beck? She was the true witness of time passed with an Ok allowed thankful exhale.

And I don’t even know what to wear, well, I do, but I really need to bring that suit out of a storage bin and air it out or maybe even buy something new, fresh. Now that is a daunting thought as I don’t really do clothes, not well anyway.

But Jake looked fantastic and picture proud in a text from Beck of him having survived to get to shiny shoes and a tie perfect Navy collar and hat you could roll a cat ball around for some fun. I sent a dearest of friend a pic of him in the midst of our radio show prep together in his blues … is that what they call them in the Navy, blues? I’m just guessing as I have no clue, but she said it made her want to cry as she saw that he was the “IT” in his proud and his shiny shoe’s cat ball spin hat stance.

But this silence of a Beck home, it is hers, I just live here at her pleasure, with of course some managed litter boxes and feedings of her gang in her absence, cracked cans under cat noses, a thing I do with Bella and Cricket, that seems to have ingratiated me a bit as a new, to assure that they are cat seafood stinky enough to pass muster for cat consumption and also a couple of bucks to pay my way, but this silence? This particular silence? It was new and I didn’t like it.

I have spent so many recent years receding from sight and sound and something about furies that I forgot how much I like loud, even though I did do loud at my most recent spot before here, sometimes even a howling combine of multiple dogs that would just make me laugh at their off key song to the hills and perk a Bella ear but I played that off with headphones or just a bit of volume on the tube, but this loud that has been lacking here? It’s different. Even Arthur agrees as he has found himself at my feet while Mom is away to grab a belly at the washer/dryer for fresh sundries and even brave a Bella nose while just wanting to hear me talk to him.  

Beck will be home tomorrow, Arthur will forget that he looked for me, though I hope not, Sephira will skitter and zoom under or on top of beds away (though she does mind me and gladly’ll take a quick pet when she is not zooming if she wishes … she is a bit of a Diva) Ricki will always sound like she wants me to run to the convenience store for a pack of Reds and I will get back to true loud silence. With company. I WILL like that.

Mom will get laid to earth for that true silence and I will cry quietly, again “Oh Hell’s Bells Stephen, enough with the drama. We had a good run, this Mom and Son thing right?”

“Now, just go tend to those cats of yours, yours and Becks, and grandsons, just get back to being loud in your quiet way along with your sister”

“Gotcha Ma”

The Crow & The Winter Witch (poem)

So at dVerse Poets this week Kim had an eye check-up for a new prescription and part of the check-up was to read from laminated test cards of different size fonts in sentences and below each of the sentences were sets of four words. She thought these sets of four words would make a cool poetics prompt.

And, thus, said prompt from Kim? To choose one or two sets of words and write a poem using them in the order in which they appear. There was a bit more possible to the prompt but I was good … thanks Kim.

Here are the sets of words:

(I chose the sets in bold)

nose – one – cause – even
were – crone – our – summer
name – use – means – arose
near – can – remove – sure
crow – verse – see – renew
assume – once- van – sum
aware – caves – sea – cream

The Crow & The Winter Witch

The crow walks as if his smart, stone counting, building stick were cigar

like Groucho

or cane for crone who invites him for company’s perch and old silly movies

in cold months

and caws crow joke verse for friends to hear

and see

in funny slide skip dance steps

on out warm window sills

that make old lonely

fairy tale’d spoke

bent magic’d women

laugh

and friends cackle

in wing’d giggle flitting fits

away

while he lingers her equally bent house

in the winter wood

“our bent house”

he thinks

to while away until

Spring

then Summer

renew

her time to wait on lost children

in the wood

for new Grimm tales be written  

To Cliche Or Not To Cliche, That Is … The Cliche? (poem)

So there was a prompt from Bjorn at dVerse Poets earlier this week and it was this, Meet the bar positively through negation (though I did miss the window of submission to this one … I am often late to the party on a lot of these but still a prompt).

Now, I’m sure, I didn’t really meet the ask of this one and the “negation” thought, or maybe I did (that’s probably a part of everything I write without even thinking about it) but it did talk of cliche and maybe using negation to try and sidestep and I just got stuck.

Cliché Or Not To Cliché, That Is  … The Cliche?

Is it cliché to talk of cliché as if it weren’t cliché

instead

original, unique, one minded

new

descriptions freshly took

of former looks

inscriptions on old stone tablets I mined myself

or did I

with new hooks as if in song

surely no tuneful influence except …

and chipped into fashion with old used worn stone tools

fashioned a way

of white picket fences and lights of my life

to paths less traveled away

from fools

you think

from cliché

.

Is it cliché to try not be cliché?