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Month: August 2022


I’m tracking a package that’s coming my way
With goodies aplenty, I’m sure I can say;
But forgotten it is, what I ordered and bought
So excited I am to find out what I sought.

Household supplies, the cleaners and such -
Towels and filters, an aerosol’s touch;
Or gadgets and doodads, electronic displays
That flash and then crash to astound and amaze.

Pet toys or dishes for dogs or for cats,
Another new topper to add to my hats. 
New jeans, a new shirt some pairs of new socks,
I can’t wait to open my Amazon box.
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Maternal Instruction

My mother referred to my lazy approach
To moving my stuff around the abode -
Instead of two trips, in one I’d engage
And mother would say, “A lazy man’s load.”

A habit continued well into life,
Traveling two times when one will suffice,
I adorn every finger and hand that I own
With items too many, against her advice.

Heading away from a room I am in,
I pick up the things I’ve gathered about -
A cup and a gun, some glasses I wear -
A charger, a phone and a book I pick out.

The glasses, at once, would fall from my hand
Whereupon my right foot would stomp on a bow.
I heard momma’s voice as I looked at the bend
“A lazy man’s load,” the seeds I would I sew.

I probably won’t change this behavior I hold,
Old dogs and new tricks - well, you know how it goes.
We hear the advice that is offered and served,
But disregard most on the path that we’ve chose.
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She’s in Puerto Rico
Walking on a beach;
I’m in a wooded fortress
Within Ontario’s reach.

I can see her clearly
As I walk among the trees
And hear her freely speaking
Upon the summer breeze.

Invisible the currents
And waves that fill the air.
Connected by the magic
That man has brought to bear.

Confounded by this wonder,
Amazed by what’s been wrought
By seeking new horizons
The pioneers have sought.

I revel in the wonders
Surrounding everyday
The dreams that are fulfilling
The dreamer’s cabaret.
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Thirty bucks I got today,
A rebate I received;
A purchase of a contact lens,
The cost somewhat relieved.

Now what to do with thirty bucks,
That’s what I’ll decide;
Perhaps some gasoline I’ll buy
And take myself a ride.

Or maybe out to eat somewhere,
Though limited the fund -
No chance of overeating then,
Transforming to rotund.

Throw it in a savings bank
And watch the interest grow;
When the New Year comes around
No more will be bestowed.

Perhaps I’ll simply shred the check,
It’s nominal at best;
They might have well have charged me less
And dodged the rebate quest.

Marketing, the schemes and ploys,
To hook the line with bait -
Charge you more than what they need,
The excess then rebate
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Late Awakening

The sun’s comin’ up much later these days
As we head into fall and the leaves fall away.
Which results in delaying my waking away
For an hour or two, awaiting the rays.

While enjoying each season as they come and they go,
Each bearing a feeling, an ebb and a flow.
Spring with rebirthing and melting of snow
And fall melancholy, which seems apropos.

I don’t have a favorite, they all carry weight
Born by each solstice, each year on their date.
Each with their plusses and each with their freight
And the fall’s gift to me is waking up late.
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Contemporary Voters

We take all the money
From the many that work
Then pile and gather
Like a Vegas pit clerk.

Consider the best way
They can buy votes
By handing it out
Like grain to the goats.

Then government largesse
To folks easily tricked -
Where support is seen lacking,
The targets are picked.

When Tuesdays come ‘round
And the voters descend
Upon tallying stations
When their polling ascends,

They then are repaid 
By the ones as they’d planned
By handing out money
From another one’s hand.

It’s money that’s laundered
Like a Mafia crew
Illicitly gleaned
Then leaving no clue.

Give ‘em a bone
And they’ll salivate phlegm -
Pavlovian dogs,
The voters to them.
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I ate a chicken egg today,
An egg a chicken came to lay
On a massive poultry farm
Where thousands others feathers flay.

If it had hatched some life it’d lead,
Sharing space too small to play;
Churning out a billion eggs
Until behind, its useful days.

Factory farms are how we feed
The world and those who’ve come to be;
Bred and raised to multiply
The dollars from a harvest spree.

Improvement made throughout the years,
This protein source that people eat,
In how they’re kept and how their reared,
But in the end, considered meat.

You’d soon become a lion’s dish
Should he encounter you, his prey:
But you’d have lived a life that’s free
And independent to that day.

In the conscience of our kind,
The means  to shift the paradigm;
Improve the lives of occupants
That grace our plates at mealtime.
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Up and down the aisles I go,
Filling up my cart;
Breads and jams and eggs and buns,
I walk the local mart.

I never have a list to use
To guide me through the stores;
Just grabbin’ this and that I pass
To fill my shelves and drawers.

The bakery aisle I always skip,
There’s nothing there for me;
But always hit the pet food row
To quench my mongrel’s plea.

Stock the milk and cereal,
A snack or two I’ll grab;
And tuna laced with dolphin meat,
A can or two I’ll nab.

To the checkout with my cart,
I watch the scans amass;
Totaled up I run my card,
And then I forward pass.

An agent from the store unloads
The groceries in the car;
Bid adieu then on my way
To shelve the bags and jars.

Collecting groceries in a cart,
No who could ask for more;
My social life reduced to this,
A junket to the store.
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Lettuce Prey

On lettuce prey
That’s what I say
  When salad comes my way;
Some celery shoot,
A dressing cruet,
  And onion sliced to suit.

In a bowl
It’s mixed to dole,
  A healthy lunch the goal;
Though the dressing,
Seems a blessing,
  Less healthy we are guessing.

We dispossess
  The notion that it’s less
Than nutritious,
Or malicious,
  But in the end delicious.
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Nebulous Dreams

I had a couple dreams this week,
So real they’re retained;
As usual, when I awoke,
The dreams were unexplained
The first much simpler to deduce,
Involved a former mate;
When standing at a kitchen sink
Her lips bore what she’d ate.
Knowing that I simply loved
What she’d just taken in,
I leaned ahead to kiss her lips
And nibble on her chin.
She asked me what was that about,
Affection I’d reply;
She gave that look she always gave
Each time she’d catch a lie.
The other dream, it’s hard to source,
I’m at my grandma’s farm;
When Springsteen strolled onto the lawn,
A guitar in an arm.
It seemed that I had know that he’d be
Arriving to record
A song within the farm’s embrace,
The rural sound explored.
Apparently I knew him so
Surprised I didn’t seem;
But thought it odd my grandparents
Were blind to his esteem.
They continued picking fruit
And plowing up the field,
While Bruce recorded his new song
With sounds the farm would yield.
He gathered up his travelin’ pack,
I gave him his guitar;
He headed off into the day,
A modest super star. 
I turned around, resumed my tasks,
One thought I held of mine;
My cousin would have liked to have
An autograph he’d sign.
No one knows exactly how
We cast the dreams we dream;
When consciousness departs the soul
Along the twilight’s seam.
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