Category Archives: July – September 2012

The Gravity of the Situation

The Gravity of the Situation

Written by Lilith Raymour

No one owes you happiness
You have to find it
Prowl for it
Some days that’s all it takes
to cast a smile on your face

Happiness plays hide and seek
That’s part of the adventure
The challenge
The joy

Some days
You’re the Road Runner
Some days the Coyote
And no day
No matter what the planning
Is “safe…” from hard landings

The darkest days
Can provide mirth
If only in the mind
“Seek and ye shall find”

For happiness hides
Under the floorboards
In
Or out
of your bed
On top of the house
Occasionally must be fed

Too many people starve happiness
Then wonder why it dies

Beep, beep
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©Copyright 2012
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

Courtesy theartwallstreet.com

An Inability the Empathize

An Inability the Empathize

Written by Ye Olde Scribe

Thinking
what Trayvon
thought:

“Fe Fi feh Fo
Is causin trouble just for fun
Fe fi foo who?
Who are ya, mon?
Is smells da smell
George Zimmerman’s
gotta gun
Fe Fo Fu glue
Is gonna beat dis turkey
Look at him da run!
Ei, oh, ow, ee
George went n shot
punk ass me”

So hard to argue
with simplistic minds
of racists
_______________________________________
©Copyright 2012
Ye Olde Scribe
all rights reserved

Courtesy vkb.isvg.org

Don’t Pick Up Hitchhikers

Don’t Pick Up Hitchhikers

Written by Ye Olde Scribe

I’m beneath your pocket
Bouncing around
You picked me up at…
a motel
a fair
who knows where

Itch
Scratch
Burn scrape
For my ability to irritate
I wear a super cape!

Some call me…
a fungal infection
Where lotion is sold
But in microbial world
When my name is told
They just call me…

“A nasty old ‘Skin Troll'”
__________________________________
©Copyright 2012
Ye Olde Scribe
all rights reserved

Courtesy skinrashespictures.com And Scribe adds: “They sure have websites for EVERYTHING, don’t they?”

I Miss You, Josh

I Miss You, Josh

Written by Ken Carman

Where did you go? I miss our long walks, jumping in the pond with you, sitting together under a tree during the summer. Waiting for you to come home in the cooler afternoons of fall to spring.

You were my best friend.

Oh, your parents try to cheer me up, but they don’t understand me like you did. They don’t throw the Frisbee like you did. They don’t pet me as they feed me, or ask me to roll over and rub my belly like you did.

I remember laying by your bedroom door, you parents wouldn’t allow me in to jump up on the bed like I always did. The few times I saw you I nuzzled your hand and you weakly caressed my head… how unlike you. I was hoping for that firm scruffing to the top of my head from your strong, young, hand. Or to be invited out for another adventure: looking at bugs, skipping rocks, watch as you climbed high into a tree.

I wish I could do that. Maybe the squirrels wouldn’t tease me so.

I remember the last time you climbed… higher… higher… you came down so fast. How did you do that? Then the people came and they took you away.

Then they brought you home, but the last time I saw you they were taking you away. You said nothing. You smelled odd. It was as if you were no longer there.

What does this mean?

I don’t understand.

Please come back.

If you do, I’d gladly lick your face over and over while you hug me. You always loved that.

I miss you so much…
______________________________________________________
©Copyright 2012
Ken Carman
all rights reserved