Craig, Happy Birthday

He's older than dirt
But cleaner than Spic'n Span,
A notorious control freak
But a loving old man.

We once called him Captain Bligh
But he's much more, than that figure of fiction,
First off, he has a better wardrobe
And he's renowned for his collegiate diction.

He's stronger than death
Having proved it this year,
Why, even the Grip Reaper
Is shaking in fear.

The grandest of all Grandfathers
A legend in his own time,
You're in need of little present?
He's always good for a dime.

For a brother, he's all right
Though I've done my best to keep out of his way,
So many were the times, long ago
When he tied me to a tree in the midst of play,
Laughing it up with his friends
While I struggled, I cried and I pleaded,
No matter the moment or game
You can bet, I was most often defeated.

Wild, were the bedroom pillow-attacks
And the free-for-all magazine slap fights,
Even Tetherball was a suicide bloodsport
'Twas no wonder we slept well at night,
After burning the boisterous energy of youth
Non-stop through the daylight hours,
No surprise, our parents had a Martini before dinner
While Mom chattered on about flowers.

He has an endless imagination for all sorts of fun
He's spontaneous, witty and clever,
From the fourth generation of an engineering family
He attacks life like a scientific endeavor,
Factual and empiric, he collects information
To collate, to sort and then measure,
More often than not, success for his efforts
Does result in some worthwhile treasure.

Let this youngest of siblings advise in this moment
This reckoning of sorts, in this 60th year,
Take care of the old man, as well you can
He's a treasure, like gold; keep him near.

Fibril_late;
11/19/09

Just doodling around, feeling like I have writers-block, and even writing the silliest thing, would be better than nothing.

Just An Ember

There was a lot to say
Back in those days,
Those days of last month September,
A lot was going on
Enough to write a song
Memorable enough, to someday remember.

But then came October
I was hardly ever sober,
Hardly ever sober to remember,
I thought life would get better
So I sent Santa a letter
Hoping he would get it by December.

You'd think, I would just grow up
And throw away my baby cup,
But I'm a card carrying perpetual child member,
Although I'm old, I'm immature
My will is weak, and there is no cure,
I've never been a flame, I'm just an ember.

Fibril_late;
11/12/09

Call me a cretin, label me a jerk, But the slang of any language, Has power to work. And as a result of that, I think that the "politically correct" drift in our society, against a variety of slang words, really represents a "dumbing down" of intelligence and reason. When certain words gain temporary power, and figures of speech become taboo, individuals or collective groups of people, are merely forcing their beliefs upon society as a whole. And it's always changing. Last decade an imbecile, this time around, genius. Heck, remember when retard meant to slow something down? I wouldn't be surprised to see in a few years, where the word "obese" will be driven out of our language, as being "hurtful" and insulting. All those jackasses on all those forums of sensitivity, are selectively screwing up our wonderful, colorful amalgam of languages.

It's time to fight back against the dolts of dullness; Save Our Language!

Didn't Say It

I didn't say it
I only report it,
You don't inhale
You only snort it,
Just figures of speech
Semantics and more,
The meaning reveals itself
And tallies the score.

You didn't insult
I wasn't sarcastic,
That wasn't a seizure
The dude's just a spastic,
He's not really a moron
Just a retard, that's all,
Although I didn't say it
I still made the call.

An amalgam of cultures
Society and season,
All languages mingle
For no apparent reason,
And for some to claim foul
That terms of speech cause them pain,
I'll call him an imbecile
With a dim-wit, half-brain.


Fibril_late;
9/22/09

Don't get me wrong; I really like the place I work. However, compared to all other places I have worked (and they are many), I have never encountered a place with such a degree of petty bickering amongst a common crew of workmates. And then, to top it all off, a few of those individuals think it is perfectly fine, and "adult", to take their petty nonsense to our unit boss. I'm not the boss, nor will I ever be, but were I in those shoes, I would knock those complainers down a few inches. Look, the boss has more than enough important tasks to deal with, and really, do you think the boss is "Dr. Phil" of "Judge Judy"?!? If it were me, I'd be like Judge Dredd, the cop, judge and executioner, all  in one fell swoop. Any given complainer would get only one shot. The next time they showed up to whine or complain, Zap with my Taser. No questions asked.
Maybe a sign on the door would get their attention: "One Complaint, I'll Listen, but come again, You'll Go Missin'".

Anyway, that's what is behind this poem, Bird Squawk. A friend at work, was pooped on by two, dirty little birds.

Bird Squawk

I was astounded when I heard
About a loud and persnickety bird
It was taught to complain upon command,
And then I saw it while at work
On the shoulder of some jerk
I was mystified and couldn't understand;
 
Who would bring this foul creature
With a most unsavory feature
To the workplace, in the middle of the day,
I was afraid to hear it squawk
So I quietly took a walk
I guess that nasty bird decided I should pay;
 
It unleashed a string of invectives
With four letter word collectives
Enough to burn the hair off any rabbit,
I ran for the nearest closet
To avoid this birdpoop deposit
Knowing somehow I must stop that evil habit.
 
Sometimes it is better to run
Back home to my favorite gun
The one loaded with clever words
And simple speech,
I can bring it to the worlds attention
All the things that no one will mention
I can be miles away, and have you in my reach.
 
And I've had some special training
To deal with those complaining
Just test me to have a taste for what you'll get,
In for a penny and out for a pound
To pull the tail on a dog you just found
It's a risky sort of business, want to bet?
 
But realize, that all this is conjecture
A subtle warning, to those who might lecture
About a bothersome bee in the bonnet of dear old Blue Betty,
One who keeps company with such dirty fowl
Doesn't come close to the wisdom of an owl
Karmic retribution will be in effect to those who are petty.

Squawking birds of any feather
Can attack in any weather
It's best to be prepared for times like this,
Critical thinking skills are best
When they put you to the test
And with a load of double-ought buckshot, you can't miss.

Fibril_late;
9/13/09

Common Discontent

There is an abundance of malicious discontent
It's in the air and seldom spent,
It tears apart and subjugates
Each one of those who participates.

It's a common trait of ordinary folks
Content with their malicious jokes,
Hours of conversation, without any consent
Which serves only to further the evil intent.

There is no solution when there is no desire
Till all of the players walk the embers of the fire,
The chance of that happening is nil unto none
Because malicious discontent is rarely undone.

Firbril_late;
8/9/09

Her Face

 

Sometimes I am shouldered

With the weight of the wait,

I'm willing to hang around

She might be, that kind of date,

That leaves memories of awesome

Incredible and, yes!

For that kind of a girl

I am willing to dress;

 

In the finest of clothes

And the best of cologne,

I will prune each of my hairs

And shine every bone,

Because she is the best

That I, may ever know,

For this finest of women

She deserves a good show.

 

A woman like this

Expects only the best,

A man willing to step forward

Knows that this is a test,

Can he pass it or not

Just what is his score,

He'll know the minute their eyes meet

When she opens the door.

 

Sure, this is the minute

The moment of impression,

Will she kick him off the steps

Or allow him just one concession,

To prove he has the stamina

In the test of her needs,

Is she already imagining

How this current one bleeds?

 

It's a rough and tumble world

First impressions are the greatest,

If you don't arrive in this moment

Then, you'll be the latest,

Boy, kicked to the curb

Without a glimpse of any fashion,

You were clearly unprepared

To pique the interest of her passion.

 

What happened to me?

It's hardly worth reporting,

For a moment I thought

That the two of us were courting,

But the moment was over

Before the threshold was crossed,

She moved on to the next

While I pondered the cost;

 

That I was willing to wager

On such an impossible ideal,

The theory that Love

Was just emotion and feel,

A surge of endorphins

Biochemicals and such,

One's heart can be a traitor

When you love her so much.

 

But I don't regret

Any moment of the chase,

I loved all of the pieces

And especially her face.

 

Fibril_late;

8/1/09

Tags: love

A Desperate Focus

 

Attention-hog

At forty-eight,

You gotta wonder

Who she'd date,

A desperate man

Of that, I'm sure,

I'd rather be sick

Than have that kind of cure.

 

Attention deficit?

Good Lord, no,

Her behavior guarantees

She's the focus of the show,

A disorder, yes indeed

There's no doubt about it,

As forty-five people

Silently shout it.

 

Fibril_late;

7/21/09

If you have been there, you know. If you haven't, do take the trip, as you will marvel at the clear waters and incredible beauty. I spent a lot of time there as a child. This came to me in a lucid dream:

Torch Lake

 

I spent 15 summers there

And every moment was bliss,

I can only compare it to

The best, sweetest kiss,

From the love of my life

Oh, I tell you the truth,

Torch Lake was the best place

To fashion my youth.

 

A Grandfather, I never knew

Took his dollars and dimes,

Invested in Torch Lake

And a million good times,

Back in the early thirties

When the roads had two ruts,

Buying property then

Took a certain amount of guts.

 

He was willing to drive

Like many of his day,

At the time it must have seemed

A drive, quite far away;

Pictures have survived

In the family that would follow,

Several generations now

Can find Honey Hollow.

 

Megison Point and Hay-O-Wenta

Old Baldy and Big Hill,

Sailboat racing E-scows

It's tough to find that kind of thrill,

Plus hundreds of hours hiking

With my single-shot .22,

A lot of birds went down

Before I changed my point of view.

 

We placed our sights on Stop-signs

And plugged them full of holes,

We tried our hand at placing traps

But never caught those moles,

That chewed the tender grass roots

Our lawn struggled in the loam,

Torch Lake draws me like a magnet

If I could, I'd call it home.

I dropped in a couple years ago

Easter of aught-seven,

What started as a Spring-time

Turned into Winter heaven,

A 3-day blizzard T.C. visit

With a sister long in the tooth,

We traveled back, and fishtailed

Down the snowy road of youth.

 

In Bellaire we found the restaurant

At one time, the name was “Buds”,

The snow was blowing sideways

I think I ate some spuds,

Prepared the old-time, small-time way

French-fries with an attitude,

I think it's from long-time survival

Living the 45^th Latitude.

 

We scooted over to Central Lake

I needed that trip, like a time machine,

The hundred year old, Hardware store

Welcomed us in, so warm and clean,

Hardly changed in 10 years plus

I entered the door and rang the bell,

The proprietress greeted us kindly

A customer at last!, she treated us well.

 

We made our way, to East Torch Lake Drive

Rural Route One, was our address back then,

Long before the days of computers

It was a Royal typewriter or a fountain pen,

Before cell-phones, we wrote letters

To the friends we left behind,

They sweltered in their cities, while

We enjoyed the beauty of our find.

 

Torch Lake is my foundation

Even the East side, amidst our rocks,

Every year, come late June

We struggled while placing our docks,

We marveled at the oil in our springs

Today royalties, support the tax collector,

If your were at Torch Lake in your lifetime

I pray that you are her protector.

 

To those who continue ahead of me

Torch Lake is a gem beyond the sea,

As many have attested to its beauty

To preserve it, truly, is your duty.

__ __ ___ ___ __ __ __ __ __ _ _ _ _ _

Fibril_late;

7/19/09

Tags: be there now

Emma

Emma would know how to build a better submarine
She is smarter than the proverbial whip,
Luckily Emma, is landlocked in the desert
Where there isn't much need for a ship.

Emma might climb the garden walls of Babylon
Her big sister can show her the ropes,
More likely she'll compete with the best of the sandracers
Careening down Mt. Baldy's slopes.

Emma's imagination is like a nuclear weapon
A gazillion moving parts, bells and gauges,
And although everyone's talking about the Amazon Kindle
Emma is filled with more pages.

Emma is light as a feather-down pillow
Yet stronger than the silkworms silk,
She can rejuvenate your lowdown spirits
Just like cookies and milk.

Fibril_late;
6/12/09

Tags: emma