Notice What?

Now and again, I have scaled back on my blog's apppearance. Or have you noticed? With my luck, you won't notice this question!

Solitaire

I have been destroyed, I know that. I have turned sharply wrong Onto a long eroded beach, Coming too fast from the skyway, Crashing through trees like some fat leaded falcon Who crossed the ocean all at once— More like a shot put arriving than a migration, Some might say. At any rate, I went so far, I went so wrong, I cared no longer for birdsong. I was determined at all costs to avoid pain and discomfort, But it got completely out of hand; I guess I could wait here and kill time As I always have done, Or I might glibly run away To some estuary or island marked Nowhere On my flightless aviation map, But that’s a place The Dodo and I have already been. You know the place, perhaps, It’s that borderline state Where all possible sense is just pretence, An antique form of nonsense, Torn feathers on a boarded fence, And all the waste of time involved In this Solitaire’s slow revolving prance— It’s here bad girls who dance and bad men without any pants Have always been about as good as it ever gets. rcs Created on 11/5/2009 8:41 PM

More Big Whoop

I keep having to delete items from the "discussion" at my Rat-Squeaks Google Group. Some of them are definite sex ads or spam. Some may be from actual humans wanting to tell me where to find great jokes, but I can't tell for sure. If they'd say something that sounded human, I wouldn't remove or mark their discussion items as spam, but if it isn't clear that it's a friend or other real human, I'll cut their nuts--it's fun, whether you are boy or girl! So I'll keep doing that. If you were trying to be friendly, but just seemed obtuse to me, I'm a little bit sorry, but not very much. If you read any of my posts, you'd know I'm not much inclined to politeness or giving a sucker an even break. I send this explanation blindly out into space; some day it may encounter intelligence of a sort. Won't that be a big whoopee?

It's Pitiful

Even "the Ammurican people" (as LBJ liked to call them) eventually turned against the Vietnam war. You know, in modern parlance: Joe Six-pack? I think President Obama is fucking up big-time. I hope that he turns out lucky, but I don't expect it any more. I don't think his recent war decision to send tens of thousands more soldiers was the goal that he was elected for and it will all go against him. He may be under the impression that he is again being "noble", but I don't believe that belief alone will help him avoid the quagmire. Soldiers, especially generals, like to fight, to continue the conflict, regardless of how much it's going to require to win. How many other administrative goals the war will sink for Obama, I don't know, but I expect other disasters. I am very sorry that the sonofabitch decided to be "presidential", just like Bush. Once again, a President from Texas has handed off a losing battle to the next guy to actually lose. They just turned the political parties around, that's all--otherwise it's the same stupid fucking dance.

For Sale

Everybody is deformed, Or so I've been informed, And though most think I’ve been very still so far, I was slightly ill, so I think I'll just keep tripping. Dogs will dream of puppy drugs And cats will catch a mouse named Fire And burn right to the ground, And nothing will call us by our names As truly as we would hope, As truly as in our youth that’s lost. Things are over. Life is done. Some of us are already gone, Though many are just doggedly alone— Those ones of us still in the scythe-man’s path Doubt not that all the devil’s dowsings will be done. Everybody is for sale, That’s what the sad tale tells— The ads I hear on midnight TV, The same I hear on daylight cartoons: At some level we are all bozos and all for sale, cheap. rcs Created on 11/8/2009 12:57 PM

In Need Of A Phone?

It's hard to say what kind of mobile phone I'd buy if I was looking for one. There's not even that many phones that I've seen in use close up or that I've borrowed to use. I don't know many people to call when I'm not at home, so I just use the house phones--there's 4 or 5 of those! I don't know if it's some or most of the cell phones that are starting to be so small that they look like toys--you know, some equivalent of the plastic cash register they sell that four-year-olds can play "store" with. I used to love gadgets--component stereos, Casio watches, Walkmans, etc.--back before every soul on earth had pocket gadgets in their possession. Now it's just me who doesn't have one! But I'm not sure what the point would be. Would I just call home to find out if I'm home or not? I could do that. I could answer all the crap phone calls from strangers and from the wretches who dial wrong numbers until the day they die. Yeah, I really have a great need for a goddamn cell phone.

She Comes

She comes in when she comes And not before. Men wait in the wild teeming streets And tinker-toy with whores of their own invention. They win nothing more, however, Beyond the torment of being wishful for a tramp Who won’t come home until they’re dead. We kill the time with kisses While she waits for her carriage to arrive And everything gets creamy And much of our nightmare is dreamt of, Forever and a day. For certain none ever kiss much better Than what has been before, Not even in these dreams; We glimpse ourselves in tandem with the famous tart, But no matter how we may aspire, it is all illusory so far As we lift our lids and cuffs and drift discretely apart. rcs Created on 11/12/2009 9:54 AM

All Kinds Of Weather

In all kinds of weather I see you take my measure Just as if I were not there. There must be some way around all that, But, of course, I haven’t found it yet. No, I haven’t got a clue, Not even a stick to stir it with, but It doesn’t matter much from minute to minute Now that times are bad— Anyway, it’s Saturday night again And there’s no one else around. I’ve always found it easy to be alone If I just stay at home With my pistol cocked and britches on And never offer any resistancc To the higher Law that’s seldom blind or balanced. Oh the charm of alarms in my soul, When it goes, never goes off only slightly! So at the start of flu season such as this, We watch the rusty weather vane And are all pretty much alone And are all alike on a nervous track, On the nervous lookout For anyone who might sneeze or cough Or touch us or laugh and force us to decode them Before we end up in jail with their twins or worse. rcs Created on 10/31/2009 8:52 PM

I Get Worse And Worse!

None of this Site Meter shit makes any real sense to me.  I might understand that I got worse each month since last November, but I surely didn’t get better in October of this year and then worse again in November of this year!  That wasn’t true!  I’ve been doing OK lately, I thought.  So much for me bothering to think…

Helpless

Words go out like a candle flame in a breeze, Never failing to amaze me until the moment I get bored. I think of all the lights that I’ve adored but I’m not like, Whether Nasty Dylan or Saint Joan Baez Or lustful Joni Mitchell or musty Neil Young, And it makes me feel helplessly dark And small and imprecise Like I’m lost and out of control in the faraway Of some daybreak horizon I’ve never seen Or on one of those streaked gray highways Out of a dreadful dream where it’s endlessly Sticky and clammy and black-devilled night And there’s no one here but me until the resurrection. rcs Created on 11/21/2009 9:28 PM