No Repair

I guess I always failed to prepare for it Just as I equally could not repair it So that in the end I was at a loss And damned to hell Without a care and despite the cost of it!

Your Fault

I'm sorry, but it's too damn quiet around here. This MUST be your fault, as I am as noisy and provoked (inspired?) as ever!

SPRING AND SUMMER

Oh the blood-red rose is trembling, Trembling in the palm that broke the branch, And the heart-red gash is throbbing, Throbbing in the flesh these thorns have rent. Spring is gone, and summer’s come, And all seems right within— But who knows what is right When all is wrong within?

LIKE A FEVER

“It is this,” she said. “This loss of romance, That kills me every time.” She placed his hand, hard-pressed, Against her breast and sighed: “Feel! How my heart has ceased it’s beating as if I’d died, My hope expanded like a fever in a nun That runs unchecked until I stop.” Though he didn’t know just what the virgin meant, She nonetheless held all his attention…

He Said

"I guess I don't know what women are for," he said. "Though I've made some cry And I've made some mine, Still nothing comes to pass." "We are not for your fool's pleasure, I can tell you that!" I said. "Nor made to feed mere hunger Or be your hind in heat."

AFGHANISTAN

The Soviet shitheel must eventually crush Afghanistan—so logic says. And so it is surprising that the firmness of Soviet disbelief has been taking so long to quell the Faithful of God. One must wonder. These Afghan fighters—how can they win? And some, whether religious or just observant, might look at their fervor and say, “How can they lose?” I wrote the preceding a long time ago, back around 1980. I wrote it before it was apparent that the Russians attempting to occupy Afghanistan could not win. Now it strikes me that WE are in the Soviet position with Afghanistan and Iraq. We think our opponents are just dirty bandits who only want our bribes and other riches. But what they’re doing is their equivalent of Fighting For Jesus, only more so! And just for the hellacious Fun of it, too. And that’s an unfortunate advantage to have over a Superpower which only half-believes in the Jesus we profess to adore and the poor boys from rich America, who keep fighting the battle with technology and air power, but spilling their own precious blood nonetheless. Why did the Russians really leave? I think that they couldn't afford the bills for the battle in the end. Now that money is becoming so dear in our own country, it suggests to me that the problem that defeated the Russians is what's bugging us. Do I mean to sound defeatist—yes, I think I do! Patriotism insists that America cannot lose, but logic suggests that it can't win. Others have already tried. What was it that we called Vietnam—a quagmire? I think that's what it's coming to. Move over, Jesus—make room for Allah and his bloodthirsty pals.

What Kind Of Crap?

(Just the Bug-assed Crazy Kind!)
I have now amassed 2,043 posts of no particular distinction, discern, or discretion! Oops, now it's 2,044. I guess this is how the number got so large--I wasn't very particular about what kind of crap constituted a post!

GET OFF THAT CROSS!

No one died for no one, The truth is sooner told Than all the lies in Christendom Or all the wronged in hell. No one dies for no one, I tell you this again, Lest time and pain and circumstance Should lead you to conclusions That live men cannot tell.

Hoot Honk

I don't want to Twitter or Dither or Blabber Unless someone is listening and might respond. They can bark back, Or meow like a catbird in the tree, Or try to sound like a stringed instrument Or a strangled fart in an oil drum Or anything else that's goofy, but Just sitting there on their dead ass won't do! Ain't that a hoot?

MY LUCK WITH WOMEN

(Found Gold)

The good things that are in you Must be seen first through the eyes And thus, mayhaps, seem less. But coming through the heart and mind and soul, Your beauty shines so, your spirit moves so, That in me a spirit moves as well, A heated spark is lit On which no shadow sits but this: That I am seeing through the eyes of love, Shot through the heart in the eye of love, Taunted by a phantom glimpse of gold, A dreaming woman's waking kiss! rcs.