"Your word is a lamp for my feet
and a light for my path."

For music is the light
that will guide my feet
down the path.

Fall Out Boy, Good Charlotte, and Avenged Sevenfold
are my God(s), for
MUSIC is my religion.
And that's my life.
Without FOB & GC in my life
I don't know where I would be--
I owe a lot more to GC where they got me into FOB & A7X,
but FOB saved my life when I went through my suicidal days.
To that Thank You-
FOB and GC! and A7X!
I love you guys, FOREVER!
My angel. My savior.
My RELIGION.

I have stuck in the house for  4 days and 5 nights
Painting the ceiling with the dew from the grass
I have been stuck in the seams as the sun fades
And the western green eventually lite

wow………
ageless ones put on the robe
at the shrug of the fob
and roll, not rob
ageless ones put on the crown
at the shrine of the throne
and roll, not rob

The things that we can never understand
Eradication of the things we carry on our sack
And when the angels speak they peak
(and i won't lie to you because they speak of the most  beautiful songs ever)

wow………
ageless ones put on the robe
at the shrug of the fob
and roll, not rob
ageless ones put on the crown
at the shrine of the throne
and roll, not rob

All the things we feel deep inside of our bones
Hide yourself in the deepest corner of the room
Turn the lights out and just flow with the glow

wow………
ageless ones put on the robe
at the shrug of the fob
and roll, not rob
ageless ones put on the crown
at the shrine of the throne
and roll, not rob

I have stuck in the house in 4 days and 5 nights
Painting the ceiling with the dew from the grass
I have been stuck in the seams as the sun fades
And the western green eventually lite

Have you ever done something
and then could not believe
it could possibly have been you?

Have you ever said something
and then cringed when you heard it
exiting your mouth?

That would be me, sometimes . . .

Or, while mentally calculating
your accumulating grocery bill,
have you run into a friend
only to completely lose count?

I have stood in front of the door to my home
trying to lock or unlock the door
using the keyless entry fob from my car.

I have done this --- more than once.

I have, months after getting rid of that car,
searched for its keyless entry fob
on my keychain.

I have spent hours and days
searching for glasses on my head,
for keys that I was holding,
for the purse on my shoulder,
and have managed to miss them completely.

I have called information for a number,
written it down,
and then had to call them back
because I misplaced the number before I could redial the phone.

I have neglected friends and family,
duties and responsibilities,
not from lack of love
or sound intention,
but merely by allowing myself to be distracted.

If I had followed up
on what I knew at seventeen
whales, sharks, mankind ---
might already be saved.

Who knows what my focused mind might have accomplished?

But instead
I put myself to sleep
because the real world
was far too much to bear,
and living in books and dreams
so very much safer
than all the dysfunction awaiting outside.

I met my soulmate at twenty
and then left him behind
marrying one man,
and then another,
who never got me -
instead of the one and only man who truly did.

There's a reason that God protects children and Fools.
There's a purity of heart,
an innocence of spirit,
and . . . occasional lapses in intellect.

So, for all of the lessons I've learned and I've lost,
There are worse things than being a Fool.

Which I remind myself again
as I accidentally call my own cell phone
and then hang up my land line to answer the call.

In parting, I offer what I finally learned, which is

This above all:
To thine own Fool be true.

Cori MacNaughton
6Apr2005

Its sundown, the day’s been reduced to a crack of lavender and fiery pinks along the Massif des Maures mountains. This evening we’re sipping cocktails at “Les Toits,” the Hôtel de Paris’ rooftop restaurant. The French would call this a lounge.

Les toits translates as ‘the roofs’ and its stunning view overlooks the provincial rooftops that ***** down the foothills to the gulf of Saint-Tropez and it’s world-famous beaches. The well lit boats are settling down and dropping anchor for the night as we complete our orders and get our second round of drinks.

This has been the best vacation. I think we’ve all reclaimed our calm after a tense freshman year. We’ve been at the beach for 10 days. Leong and Sunny are actually tan, Lisa and my hair are half a tone lighter and Bili’s black skin has taken on gorgeous, purple-ish highlights.

I’ve known Lisa now for ten months, but we share a deep connection that seems older. Lisa’s lovely, brazen, and naturally flashy, without trying. Unfortunately, though, Lisa draws men like a keig-light draws moths - whether she’s looking for them or not - I don’t envy her that. Young men, middle aged men, old men.

Lisa said it started when she was 13. She’d be in a store or restaurant with her mom or dad and a lady would introduce herself, “Hi, I’m with the Ford, or Elite, or IMG, or DNA modeling agency, has your daughter done any modeling?” And another business card would be wasted. Her mom nodded as she recalled this sordid past.

Attention just shifts to her, the party comes to her, she can’t seem to avoid it. About every 30 minutes some man comes over and introduces himself to us (to her). This man owns a local night club, would we (she) be his guest? (He’s looking at her like desert) This guy owns a yacht - “that one, there,” he points it out, in his Russian oligarch voice - he clicks a fob on his keychain and the lights blink. Oh, sure, join a strange foreign man on his yacht, what could go wrong?

There are 8 of us girls at the table with Charles, our escort and confidant. He’s a 50-ish, red headed ex-NYC-cop who just sits there quietly and sips his drink like James Bond. He seldom says anything. I lean in to him and say, “Maybe they think you're her ****?!” Leong coughs in her drink and Charles gives me the same, serious, “behave yourself” look I’ve gotten since I was 9.

Liken to the sun in the middle of my universe
You reach me across the expansion
Pulling me away from the edge
The teetering tower
Shaking, creaking
Whirring back and forth

Streaming like my consciousness into the void
That the self has become
But I had let you go
Like so many others before

You fall back into your life to live
While I wander out here
Existing
Devoid of the limitations that are set out by mortality
Dieing a deathless death

With each heart beat
That echo's
Passing me by I become
Godly
Always outside of the world I so long to be apart of
A physician of the soul

The Owl and the Cheese Sandwich
It rained all night, one sunny morning
the owl stood by my door
He said I gave him a cheese sandwich
And now he’s come back for more.

I thought, cheese, I don’t buy the stuff
The fridge is packed with it you know,
I tried to fob the owl off with jam
But he just flew away and would not go.

I told him owls don’t each cheese
They patrol the night skies
Oh in that case I will cancel cheese
And on the day run I will have some pies.

Funny owl I thought he is up to something
Trying to ram pies down my throat.
It is a good job he is not meeting the pussycat
And going off in a pea green boat!

The Owl and the Cheese Sandwich
It rained all night, one sunny morning
the owl stood by my door
He said I gave him a cheese sandwich
And now he’s come back for more.

I thought, cheese, I don’t buy the stuff
The fridge is packed with it you know,
I tried to fob the owl off with jam
But he just flew away and would not go.

I told him owls don’t each cheese
They patrol the night skies
Oh in that case I will cancel cheese
And on the day run I will have some pies.

Funny owl I thought he is up to something
Trying to ram pies down my throat.
It is a good job he is not meeting the pussycat
And going off in a pea green boat!

Washington needs to wash Obama out of its hair
he's doing more damage the longer he is there
the hair strands are in need of new management
for under Obama they've received much torment

an improvement to the locks will be extra nice
as Washington gets rid of the Obama device
the Congress and Senate can do the shampooing job
which will see the Pres quickly given the fob

Washington will have a lustrous sheen to the tress
when the hairdressers get onto the mess
now is the time to employ good methodology
by washing Washington's hair with ousting technology

that leather skin beehive humming in the Hamptons
is just like the ziggarat ghettos of Compton
a fob on a boil on the face of your hidden face
and  a stab at your entrails from the inside; commonplace -
Romans demure to your architect
you'll have your symmetries before breakfast...
let no one forget.

gorgeous ****** suns, gallant in emptiness
a horde of unfettered lovelies, spawning petulant ***** to other *****
a lull of ponderous, a bead of serene, swimming in hot pink mist
and peppercorn wavy gravy.
i slay these dragons to form new words
that Oodle your frenzy
and keep you
for mine .

Falling out of distracting thoughts
he reacquainted with his glare in the mirror;
he'd been somewhere else, undoubtedly lost
in a moment of her.
She too was standing in front of a mirror,
putting her face on, yet the occasion was stained
with an uncharacteristic frown, as if sadness
had found her somehow.

After many anxious intakes of breath,
he reached for the door-keys lain by the trinket box
next to their photograph. He cradled
the apartment keys in his palms for a brief moment,
then went on his way.
She stared at their joyful pictures on her wall,
a shrine with each an expression of love.
She clutched his name on the key fob and left also.

That evening in the restaurant,
her eyes glued to his as intensely as her hands
pursing through the gaps in his fingers;
two sizes too big.
He reciprocated warm heartfelt smiles,
trying to keep it together for both of them.
Circling his thumb gently on pressed fingers.
Her accented cadence a perfume for the ears
and her broken English endearing;
this would all haunt him,
these details tearing at the pit of his stomach
as he languished in the reality
that he has no choice. He must return home.

Over the balcony
wrapped in her anaconda-like arms,
he witnessed her cheeks
tear-staining in the moonlight,
her whimpers battling the lulling tides and cricket chorus.
She crumpled as a strewn napkin against his frame,
before exchanging a kiss;
soft and lovingly endured. The very kiss that wishes
not to end but to stay this way forever.

How melancholy it was in the sea breeze,
to walk among their favourite spot on the beach;
where many an anecdote was told,
many a sweet little nothing shared
and many a glance embraced.
Right now with the hush of salt water
lapping the shore;
their 'Last chance to see' had been studied.
In that instant, both knew
that it couldn't be possible to have
one another again.

They stood for a long while by the waters edge.
Both just as broken,
before becoming ghosts of the scene
and ghosts to each other.

On my knees
where the sparrows
nova... and the long, thin
whiskers of Time
thumb the fob
of our dissident
Luck.
The schoolgirl in your mind
knitting halos with amethyst
sins.
a poor cloud on the veranda
of our unhappy Manse,
and a quarter moon
to lie
too,

So I guess the world is screaming that we need to end Racism and Offensive words and Labels, but what happens when a piece of writing from someone who is seeing the whole world screaming about one thing, but yet acting normal just after a few weeks of it hitting the social media and media outlets.

So I decided to write this including all the Racial and offensive terms that I could research and put them in a list, If we are to discuss and try and make things better, then why should we be scared to be called racist or evil for pin pointing stupidity out because everyone else whether upset, angry or hateful towards someone or a community, even a group and let see how many people lie about not using any offensive or racist term online or in person, even if you thought it and not even said it.

Cause thinking the offensive or racist term/word also makes you just as bad of a person that speaks the words.

"

A Fair amount of Research when into this, and it a good way of explaining,
How we all see each other and every single person on this planet.
This was written to prove that everything is offensive,
that no one is every in a situation that is similar, but in a situation where histories are different,
But yet, if you are offended by this, trust me, I bet you even use some offensive, racial terms and labels to describe someone you hate or don't like,
So what makes you different from me or the next person who is classed as offensive.

Labels, Stop,
Labels, Go ahead,
Labels, all the others,
Go ahead and write them,
Fabric, paper and on skin,
Just let the labels sink in.


All Races and Enthics Racial Terms that are Labels, Not only Blacks and White's.
You're Racist,
You're a Ngger,
You're a ******,
You're 8 Mile.
You're a Albino,
You're a Bean Dipper,
You're a Beach Ngger,
You're a Baijo.
You're a *****,
You're a Guati,
You're a Beanbag,
You're a Border N*gger,
Border Hopper,
You're a FOB,
You're an Curry Muncher,
You're a Desi,
You're a Dot/Dot Head,
Here Dotti,
We are at war with the Crunchies,
The Whacky jinglies,
You're an Irish Cat Licker,
Are you actually an F.B.I,
You're religious, you ***** Mackerel Snapper,
Look at all these Irish Indian Narrow Backs,

All Other Labels,
You're a puff,
You're a *****,
You're a ***,
You're a *****,
You're so Ratchet,
You're an illegal Alien,
Hey we both gay, but that no ****,
*****, **, ****,
You're Bisexual - that just straight privilege,
You're a ******,
He, She, Never mind you just look like cousin IT,
You're a ****, ****, Never mind I can see you're a *****,
You're stupid, thick, dumb,
Just a fat *** that just chubby and overweight,
******* hell, you're crazy, lost the plot,
You are ******* disturbed, bat **** crazy, Psychotic *******,
You're a bible thumper, that explains the homophobic ****,
You're a Fundie, God botherer,
Bible Basher, you know God is a child thrasher,
You're a *****,
You're small are you a ******,
You look like you're apart of DC/Marvel a ******* Mutant,
Eww what is wrong with your face are you a Mongol,
That just hysterical so you must be *******,
everyone is a ******* Imbecile.

There is nothing but the chimes to remind me, a clock face full of good times of sad sometimes not times, but the chimes hold no memory, they all ring inside me like a dishcloth wrung dry and only the damping of tears reminds me again of the how and the why and the crying out of fears, so many things in one boat.

Nothing but the dull throb hung on my chest like a watch fob and the chime, the chimes, cutting into and out of the day, no time and time's no friend until the echo of time starts to end and the chimes fade away.

And then we wind up the spring and step into beginning again, we are the hands on the clock face keeping pace with the clock and time is the lock that we open then lock and the chimes are the stock in trade.

My sister tells me my mom hits her when no ones around,
It's her way of expressing how she feels,
My sister was the "surprise" of the family,
And the punching bag to my mother who uses her as an outlet of her inability to understand her daughter,
How can I do something to stop her,
Yet alone say something to stand up for even myself,
I feel like a ****** tiny *** shield that's absolutely useless for protection,
I try to stand up for my sister,
Try to save her from her ever collapsing mind of depression,
While my parents try to invade her mind with religious propaganda,
I feel like a crutch for my sister that's to short but still supports her enough for her to carry on another day,
I don't talk to her about much,
She just needs someone there while she listens to TØP, FOB, BVB, MCR, etc.
While reciting every single verse by heart shaking from the emotion of the songs,
I'm not that brother who sits there and nods my head pretending to listen to bands she's trying to get me to remember,
I'm the brother who would rather remember the names of every band member of every band she trying to get me to remember,
Rather than have her sitting alone in her room having an anxiety attack wondering and thinking about everything,

I might not be as smart as her,
Or even close to understanding her,
But the one thing I get from me being her big brother is when she needs me,
Even if it's for some stupid reason,
There is nothing,
Absolutely nothing that would stop me from being there for her,

One is for the Timelords

Two of them are left

Three is for the schism  

Four, now here they come

One is for their friendship

Two is for their feud

Three is for the fob watch

Four, the last He'll see of you

One is for his triumph

Two is for his pain

Three is for the head bumps

Four, that were driving him insane

One and Two and Three and Four

The drums, which called to war

i want to coadjust
deep beneathe your lense
i want to sense robust
can we not pretend?
I dont need a fob
only something that lasts
i met hearts of stone
mine breaks to fast
your flux is pretty damning, partial to the core
go away from me
is what you said
now im happier than before.

Cooped within ancient bodies,
this inhabitant dwells amongst an elder net
of crabby, crotchety, curmudgeonly claque
of old folks, only a portion of population I met
which achey, flaky, kooky motley crue
disgruntlement fed as peevish pet
aye be earnest asper my assessment,
but some (quite frankly) getting ready and set
to lay down their limb mitt less lives,
even those who survived harrowing encounters as a vet.
-----------------------------------------------------------
­quotidian gossipers punctuate air waves while:
sitting, riding, quartering, puttering, operating, navigating,
motoring around on scooters (the sole means of locomotion

for many elderly residents),
whose sole occupation incorporates:
zapping, yelping, yakking, whining,
weeping, verbalizing, venting,
uttering, undulating, thundering,
squawking, squabbling, screeching,
rumbling, rattling, quibbling, quarreling,
prattling, pestering, okaying,
offending, needling, nagging, mumbling,
maligning, leering, lampooning,
kvetching, kibitzing, jesting, jabbering,
irritating, insinuating, heckling,
harping, glomming, gabbing, fulminating,
fretting, exclaiming, emoting,
denigrating, damning, carping, cackling,
bragging, begging, agitating, acting  
analogous to bad *** kids itching
for playground foo fight during recess,  

which comparison might be apropos
since majority of energy and time expended
complaining about nobody's business
concerning this, that, or another tenant...
thee management not exempt from
badmouth outbursts), where nondenominational
AARP qualified members congregate
within what constituted former auditorium
of repurposed elementary school,

hence quite some years ago (an honorable
NON GMO gluten free cheerful toast made,
instituting batter use then building standing vacant)
a bona fide unanimous dogmatic, heroic,
linguistic welcome sans titular viz zit head
where alumni of alluded alma mater, ivory fiery,
classy academic solvent atomic structure
became amalgamated, appropriated,
assigned a new life, whereat fob dost
electronically activate innermost recessed sliding doors,
principally, quintessentially, resoundingly availing maw
formerly entrancing students into
Schwenksville Elementary School,
though some years ago repurposed
with barely a trace constituting current subsidized
how zing facility re: Highland Manor,

the residence of thyself and missus
(approaching third month anniversary),
whereat I dune hot give a rats *** if aimless
airless baseless banter, ceaseless chatter,
dubious dabbling, et cetera if this solitary
ruminate thinker the subject de jure
of parlayed people portraying
penultimate purposelessness.

The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.

A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.

With a pale and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.


He stood there as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.

"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."

From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.

"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."

He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.

The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."

"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."

With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.


At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?

Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”

There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall

But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.

It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.

Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?

On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.

Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."

The cane was wrapped in  jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."

With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!

Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.

So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.

(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014

Silent city night,
Shattered by an elbow,
On a car key fob.

The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.

A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.

With a pale and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.


He stood there as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.

"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."

From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.

"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."

He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.

The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."

"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."

With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.


At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?

Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”

There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall

But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.

It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.

Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?

On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.

Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."

The cane was wrapped in  jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."

With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!

Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.

So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.

(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014

It’s 8am on an overcast Wednesday morning, Leong and I are about halfway through a round of frisbee golf. Half of the holes on this course wind through dense, hilly woods, but as we climbed a hill toward the 9th hole we left the woods, with its green forest canopy, for the open fairway.

That’s when the first, fat, high-velocity raindrops hit us. They made a tiny popping sound and left small, dark, bullet-hole water-stains on our quick-drying activewear. I wasn’t thinking about the weather, at that point, we’d been under a forest roof, protected from the wind and elements.

I’m so competitive, up until this point my eyes, my entire mind had been focused on the course, the game, the next shot, the angles and the par.

As the oldest sibling in her family, Leong can be a little bossy - but in a nice way. She “older sisters” me sometimes (she’s ten months older). When we’re at school, I abandon myself to her happily because she studies a LOT - something we have in common - and I know she’s always got one eye on the clock.

Leong has an uncanny knack of knowing precisely what to do, where to go, and when. I’m used to going second with her, following, sure that she has everything ordered, in her head, in such a way that the world around us never disintegrates into disorder.

As we topped the hill, overlooking a broad landscape of golf-course-sculptured green, dotted with trees arranged as obstacles, I realized that Leong kept turning around - was something happening?

I started looking around too and focusing more carefully. The trees along the fairways were flailing in the wind, making a collective rustling and shushing sound, as if to get our attention. The forest canopy we just left was an ocean of violently rolling green.

The sky immediately behind us was lower, weighted down with purple-edged black clouds that covered the sky like restless, moving bruises. In front of us, the sky was open, the sunlight still dazzling, but that brightness was quickly receding, as if fleeing the suffocating storm that was pressing in.

Thunder erupted as if freed by our attention and there were sparks of lightning in that menacing, fairy-tale darkness. I looked at Leong, her expression was new to me. Her eyes were narrowed, her knees slightly bent, like a surfer seeking balance and she was licking her lips as she twisted nervously around.

Suddenly, wordlessly, she took my hand and gave me an irresistible tug. I found myself running, unwillingly at first, towards the parking lot - about a quarter mile away. She was squeezing my hand hard. Is it possible that she’s afraid, I wondered?

The clouds were just behind us now, and a thick wall of rain, that looked like a cartoon curtain, obscured the fairway in back of us. The wave of water seemed to be following us, pursuing us - gaining on us. A fierce flash of light and a bomb-like boom seemed to shake the ground under out feet. “Oh, ****!” I half-screamed, half-laughed, panting.

I pressed my door fob as we approached the car and we clamored in just as the lashing rain overtook us. We looked at each other, out of breath, and laughed in relief.
“Who says frisbee golf isn’t exciting?” I asked.

Take your spot on the car lot
Vehicles shiny, polished, pressed, and folded
Folded into an ideal
Of how the family of four is transported
Of how the newlyweds expand their space
For her belly will expand
And the mister better break Miss Piggy
But the new cars don't know what's coming

War veterans, most certainly mini-vans
Can attest to the inevitable stink stains
Dog slobbers
Dirt
Or maybe that's a big pile of no. 02
Praying it's not baby Jack's (he may eat it)
Soccer practice transport
School bus escort
Spy mobile on baby's first date

Finally, the key and fob is passed
Passed ceremonially to the firstborn
Slayed the piggy again
This time for "I got a driving teen" insurance
Enough to save the firstborn in her new (to her) ride
Not enough to save the stop sign
Or the tree
Or poor Miss Jones's cat

But through some elbow grease
Quality marketing
And precious time
She's back on the lot in the "used" section
"But don't worry folks she is only lightly used"
Coos the dealer
One thing for sure
This van isn't miniature anymore

© 2018
Brandi Keaton

You know it when it hits you,
it's like an avalanche of hot rocks,
it knocks your socks off,
yes she does,
gives me the buzz,
I drone with a smile,
my mind is roaming,
foaming here at the mouth,
I wanna phone home,
give a dog it's bone,
then get ****** on fine wine,
it's like that you know,
it's not a snow job,
I don't need a watch fob,
I got her now &
she's always on time,
she's right on
me spiraling rhyme.

They always come back
to that first line of attack
they never move on,they
never imagine that yesterday's gone.

When they come back
when they attack
with the 'bums rush' the fob off
I say to them,
'*******',
some
pieces of yesterday stay with me
lay with me,stand,fight and
play with me and
I'm okay with that.