Sunday, March 22, 2009
take me out to the ball game in a red bentley
unleash some crackerjack
verily let me sit and watch batting practice like a natural fan
why then i will be truly happy, i swear
exposed at the plate
yet doing his best to give the ball a resounding whack
zeke's mom in the stands sheds a tear
all because he misses the ball completely and his career is now off track
but batter goes back to the dugout evidently
caring not how to spell fear
despite having a brand new unabridged websters so intently
ecstatic not in despair with fate
forever his mom and his old pal jojo wish they had a big snack
gold shining of the moon does not appear
hey it;s too late
indeed the sixth inning slides to the seventh very gently
Friday, March 20, 2009
"on your feet, sheriff. your happy days of indolence are over."
sheriff john brown took his big boots off his desk and put them flat on the ground.
"any particular reason, if i may ask?", he drawled.
"the vampires have landed. i just got the news from the state capital."
"huh. well. pardon me for asking, jethro, but ain't you the water commissioner? what in sam hill does the water commissioner have to do with vampires?"
"i've been appointed commissioner of vampire implementation, sheriff. you can check with the governor if you don't believe me,"
"no, no, i believe you, jethro. but don't you mean commissioner of vampire immolation? seems to me we should be immolating these critters, not implementing them."
"i asked that very question myself. but they were very clear - implementation, not immolation."
"dang! what will these liberal jackasses at galactic headquarters think of next. well, do we know exactly how to implement them?"
"some handbooks are coming over the wires now. meanwhile let's get all the critters in town lined up and organized. we've got a long night ahead of us,"
just then bub johnson came busting in to the office. everyone in town liked bub.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
lady tremayne had a big white boa constrictor
many thoughts possessed it
not in a million years would it surrender its dreams of the moon
or drink its tea in peace and serenity
power was its game
quietly thanking the zeitgeist it slowly untressed it
restful purple tranquility
seductive as yellow wallpaper or blue porcelain never possessed it
thinking on rainy mornings of being the victor
unless being too witty
viscountess tremayne never suspected that it might have tricked her
was certainly a most crying shame
except on sunny afternoons in despair the gardener rested
yet the tone of lord tremayne's nice bassoon
zero times lame
and the muskrat in the frog pond grew forever wickeder