Classics
Members
Great State of Texas
Started writing four years ago! Always loved reading, loving and living. “What lies before us and what lies behind us are small matters compared to …
M/Rochester, New York
Contentment, worry, love and fury, Fear and bravery, knighthood, knavery, Joy and sorrow, today, tomorrow, Truthing, lying, singing, sighing, Sitting, leaping, running, sleeping, Living dying, …
Poems
james arthur casey
Nov 2014
A pixie marching band took their show on the road.
17 tiny horn players and a drummer
with a button for a snare.
Across the water they walked,
regimented in three lines,
playing "Has The Day So Quickly Ended" to the rhythm of water splashing
on finely cobbled pixie shoes.
Tireless they moved forward
across an entire ocean
seeking comfort and solitude of Icelandic shores.
Unnoticed by the many captains of the many ships they slipped by, their music nothing more than crickets chirping or the ringing in their ears.
It was a long journey and they never stopped playing once.
Seven hundred and seventy-six songs in their repertoire
they played each one at least twice as days turned to night
and the cycle would need to be repeated
Every pixie musician in the band had every one of those songs memorized
you could call the tune
at any time
day or night
he would pick up his pixie instrument and play it note perfect.
Not a single mistake.
Legendary songs of pixie lore, like "Call The Wild Dogs to Anglicize", "Too Many Curtains" and "Fill Your Cup With Salty Seltzer".
Popular pixie songs all pixies knew, like "Bertha You're a Hard Act to Follow", "Dropped My Horn in the Bay of Pigs", "Livestock", "Ain't No One Answerin' the Phone" and "Drop Yer Pillow, Samuel".
Sacred pixie songs celebrated their common faith in the one true God, like "God, There Ain't No Other God", "Our God Sails the Seven Seas" and "God Help the Fool Who Fools His God".
Pixie drinking songs, "Bottoms Up", "Can You Hear the Weeping Warm Beer?", "1-2-3 Let's All Get Drunk", "Pixie Drinking Song" and "Hustle That Swill".
A lot of songs.
A lot of moods.
A lot of reasons to go home to Iceland,
as if they needed any besides the food.
The pixie band was pushing three-quarters of the marching journey across the ocean
when Big Jim Pixie turned around and scolded Billy Joe the trombone player.
"Bill, you clumsy *******!" barked Big Jim. "You just about hit me in the back of the head with that ******* trombone slide! Do I have to tell you what I'm going to do to you if you actually graze me with that spit-drippin' thang?"
Billy Joe, typically soft spoken, was not having any of this.
"It was a flying fish that whisked up 'gainst the side of yer noggin, not my slide. If I was of a mind to bean you with this here slide you'd be rubbing the back of your head right now and you'd be so shook up you wouldn't even know it was me that done it."
"You sure do talk tough now, don't ye?" asked Big Jim, reluctantly realizing that it could well have been a flying fish but not yet willing to let the trombone player off the hook. "Don't make me turn around cuz if I do you are going to be in the market for a new trombone."
"That's a well may be, Jim-Jim, but the hand that holds the pen that signs the check that pays for it is going to be yours. Let that stand as a natural fact."
If there's one thing in the world Big Jim didn't like being called
it was Jim-Jim.
Billy Joe was always calling him Jim-Jim because he knew it bugged him.
The pixies in the company had all used variations on his name when referring to him in the past
Jimbo Johnson,
Johnny Jimson,
Little Jim Big Jim,
Jimmy Jolson,
George Jimson,
Son James the Ham Chef,
Carl Jim Has Been,
King James Version Abridged,
James Wainright Teller,
Jim the Traitor,
Jim the Christ Killer,
Jim the Destroyer of the World,
Jim the Enemy of the Known Universe
each one of these appellations rankled him but none so thoroughly as the simple
Jim Jim
that Billy Joe would call him.
"I ain't payin' a ******* cent, trombone player."
"Then you ain't breakin' my trombone, Jimmy Jack Jehosaphath."
"Don't test me, you may have to arrest me."
"I'll bring you a file so you can get out of jail, Jim Jim".
"Well that's mighty white of you, pixie. Now what are you gonna do if that spit valve was leakin' and you got some of your nasty ebola saliva on the back of m'neck? You gonna come visit me in the hospital?"
"I might. But then again I might just wait and come visit your grave when they put you down."
"Joe, if we weren't still marchin' I swear to almighty God I would turn around and beat you so bad they'll be countin' a man short when we finally get home."
"Jim Jim, them's fightin' words but you ain't never fought nothing no tougher than the urge to **** in public. You ain't gonna do no permanent damage to me nor my trombone here. So why don't you put your money where your mouth is or keep that mouth shut?"
Big Jim turned around
hit Little Joe hard square between the eyes.
He heard and felt bone crack.
Joe looked stunned.
He'd never call that mean ******* Jim Jim again.
No,
never again
because he hit the water hard and sank down as the band marched right over him,
most not even noticing.
Jim looked for as long as he could then turned around and proceeded to march the rest of the way to Iceland.
"Don't call me Jim Jim," he said, speaking only to himself.
Then he heard a voice in the back of his head.
It was loud enough to be heard over the
music
and
the waves
and
the ocean breeze.
It was HIS voice,
but he had no control over it whatsoever.
"Jim Jim."
"Jim Jim."
"Jim Jim."
...and so it was Big Jim, whose trumpet playing had practically defined the style of this particular pixie band, lost his mind, eventually taking up residence in a Reykjavik sanitarium screaming every night, keeping up the attendants and making things worse.
"Little Joe Jangly Hops! Come here you ******* I got a lollipop for ya."
"Joe Joe Deathgrip Toenail! I'm gonna light your mama on fire!"
"Little Joe Clamfry, somebody took a **** in your bed!"
On and on he went until the people in the kitchen stopped giving him bananas. Then he stopped for awhile.
But only for awhile.
17 tiny horn players and a drummer
with a button for a snare.
Across the water they walked,
regimented in three lines,
playing "Has The Day So Quickly Ended" to the rhythm of water splashing
on finely cobbled pixie shoes.
Tireless they moved forward
across an entire ocean
seeking comfort and solitude of Icelandic shores.
Unnoticed by the many captains of the many ships they slipped by, their music nothing more than crickets chirping or the ringing in their ears.
It was a long journey and they never stopped playing once.
Seven hundred and seventy-six songs in their repertoire
they played each one at least twice as days turned to night
and the cycle would need to be repeated
Every pixie musician in the band had every one of those songs memorized
you could call the tune
at any time
day or night
he would pick up his pixie instrument and play it note perfect.
Not a single mistake.
Legendary songs of pixie lore, like "Call The Wild Dogs to Anglicize", "Too Many Curtains" and "Fill Your Cup With Salty Seltzer".
Popular pixie songs all pixies knew, like "Bertha You're a Hard Act to Follow", "Dropped My Horn in the Bay of Pigs", "Livestock", "Ain't No One Answerin' the Phone" and "Drop Yer Pillow, Samuel".
Sacred pixie songs celebrated their common faith in the one true God, like "God, There Ain't No Other God", "Our God Sails the Seven Seas" and "God Help the Fool Who Fools His God".
Pixie drinking songs, "Bottoms Up", "Can You Hear the Weeping Warm Beer?", "1-2-3 Let's All Get Drunk", "Pixie Drinking Song" and "Hustle That Swill".
A lot of songs.
A lot of moods.
A lot of reasons to go home to Iceland,
as if they needed any besides the food.
The pixie band was pushing three-quarters of the marching journey across the ocean
when Big Jim Pixie turned around and scolded Billy Joe the trombone player.
"Bill, you clumsy *******!" barked Big Jim. "You just about hit me in the back of the head with that ******* trombone slide! Do I have to tell you what I'm going to do to you if you actually graze me with that spit-drippin' thang?"
Billy Joe, typically soft spoken, was not having any of this.
"It was a flying fish that whisked up 'gainst the side of yer noggin, not my slide. If I was of a mind to bean you with this here slide you'd be rubbing the back of your head right now and you'd be so shook up you wouldn't even know it was me that done it."
"You sure do talk tough now, don't ye?" asked Big Jim, reluctantly realizing that it could well have been a flying fish but not yet willing to let the trombone player off the hook. "Don't make me turn around cuz if I do you are going to be in the market for a new trombone."
"That's a well may be, Jim-Jim, but the hand that holds the pen that signs the check that pays for it is going to be yours. Let that stand as a natural fact."
If there's one thing in the world Big Jim didn't like being called
it was Jim-Jim.
Billy Joe was always calling him Jim-Jim because he knew it bugged him.
The pixies in the company had all used variations on his name when referring to him in the past
Jimbo Johnson,
Johnny Jimson,
Little Jim Big Jim,
Jimmy Jolson,
George Jimson,
Son James the Ham Chef,
Carl Jim Has Been,
King James Version Abridged,
James Wainright Teller,
Jim the Traitor,
Jim the Christ Killer,
Jim the Destroyer of the World,
Jim the Enemy of the Known Universe
each one of these appellations rankled him but none so thoroughly as the simple
Jim Jim
that Billy Joe would call him.
"I ain't payin' a ******* cent, trombone player."
"Then you ain't breakin' my trombone, Jimmy Jack Jehosaphath."
"Don't test me, you may have to arrest me."
"I'll bring you a file so you can get out of jail, Jim Jim".
"Well that's mighty white of you, pixie. Now what are you gonna do if that spit valve was leakin' and you got some of your nasty ebola saliva on the back of m'neck? You gonna come visit me in the hospital?"
"I might. But then again I might just wait and come visit your grave when they put you down."
"Joe, if we weren't still marchin' I swear to almighty God I would turn around and beat you so bad they'll be countin' a man short when we finally get home."
"Jim Jim, them's fightin' words but you ain't never fought nothing no tougher than the urge to **** in public. You ain't gonna do no permanent damage to me nor my trombone here. So why don't you put your money where your mouth is or keep that mouth shut?"
Big Jim turned around
hit Little Joe hard square between the eyes.
He heard and felt bone crack.
Joe looked stunned.
He'd never call that mean ******* Jim Jim again.
No,
never again
because he hit the water hard and sank down as the band marched right over him,
most not even noticing.
Jim looked for as long as he could then turned around and proceeded to march the rest of the way to Iceland.
"Don't call me Jim Jim," he said, speaking only to himself.
Then he heard a voice in the back of his head.
It was loud enough to be heard over the
music
and
the waves
and
the ocean breeze.
It was HIS voice,
but he had no control over it whatsoever.
"Jim Jim."
"Jim Jim."
"Jim Jim."
...and so it was Big Jim, whose trumpet playing had practically defined the style of this particular pixie band, lost his mind, eventually taking up residence in a Reykjavik sanitarium screaming every night, keeping up the attendants and making things worse.
"Little Joe Jangly Hops! Come here you ******* I got a lollipop for ya."
"Joe Joe Deathgrip Toenail! I'm gonna light your mama on fire!"
"Little Joe Clamfry, somebody took a **** in your bed!"
On and on he went until the people in the kitchen stopped giving him bananas. Then he stopped for awhile.
But only for awhile.
Tag Williams Apr 2011
Sunday Jim
Tag Williams
Apr 2011
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
When he was young Mom and Dad would come too, but each
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
Sometimes on Saturdays or Tuesdays they would go, but
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
Sometimes through the rain,
sometimes through the snow,
sometimes through the fog, and
especially through the sunshine, each
Sunday, Jim would walk in the park.
When Jim was 12, his parents allowed Jim
to adopt a puppy from the Animal Shelter.
Jim named named the Puppy Al. Each
Sunday, Jim and Al would walk in the Park
Soon after Jim's parents stopped walking in the park
because Jim felt he was too old to walk with Mom and Dad . Each
Sunday, Jim and Al would walk in the Park and
Jim would think about his Mom and Dad and
carry them in his heart
Jim and Al got older and went off to College in Boston. Each
Sunday Jim and Al would walk in the Park.
One Sunday Jim met Sara in the Park, from then on each
Sunday, Jim, Al, Sara and Sara's dog Charlotte would walk in the Park.
Soon Jim and Sara graduated from College and found jobs and each
Sunday, Jim Al, Sara, and Charlotte would walk in the Park.
Soon Jim and Sara had a baby girl they named Emily, and each
Sunday, Jim, Al, Sara, Emily and Charlotte would walk in the Park.
But one year as Al got older he was unable to make the walk any more
and soon he passed away. But each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily and Charlotte would walk in the park and carry the memories of Al and Mom and Dad in their hearts. And soon, Jim and Sara had another child that they named Bob. Each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily, Charlotte and of course Bob would walk in the Park
And because dogs don't live as long as humans Charlotte too got older and and soon she too passed away. But each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily and Bob would walk in the park
and carry the memories of Al, Charlotte Mom and Dad with them
in their hearts.And the years passed, Emily and Bob got older, but each
Sunday, Jim and Sara and sometimes Emily and Bob would walk in the park.
Then Emily left and went to College and soon after Bob did too, but each
Sunday, Jim and Sara would walk in the park and talk of Bob and Emily
and sometimes of Al and Charlotte and Jim's parents and Sara's parents."
Then Sara passed, Cancer, inoperable stage four, Still
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park and think about Sara and Bob and Emily and and Al and Charlotte, some
Sunday's Jim would get a little tear, other Sunday's a little smile as he remembered the good times and the bad.
Copyright 2010 Michael Lee Williams.
When he was young Mom and Dad would come too, but each
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
Sometimes on Saturdays or Tuesdays they would go, but
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park.
Sometimes through the rain,
sometimes through the snow,
sometimes through the fog, and
especially through the sunshine, each
Sunday, Jim would walk in the park.
When Jim was 12, his parents allowed Jim
to adopt a puppy from the Animal Shelter.
Jim named named the Puppy Al. Each
Sunday, Jim and Al would walk in the Park
Soon after Jim's parents stopped walking in the park
because Jim felt he was too old to walk with Mom and Dad . Each
Sunday, Jim and Al would walk in the Park and
Jim would think about his Mom and Dad and
carry them in his heart
Jim and Al got older and went off to College in Boston. Each
Sunday Jim and Al would walk in the Park.
One Sunday Jim met Sara in the Park, from then on each
Sunday, Jim, Al, Sara and Sara's dog Charlotte would walk in the Park.
Soon Jim and Sara graduated from College and found jobs and each
Sunday, Jim Al, Sara, and Charlotte would walk in the Park.
Soon Jim and Sara had a baby girl they named Emily, and each
Sunday, Jim, Al, Sara, Emily and Charlotte would walk in the Park.
But one year as Al got older he was unable to make the walk any more
and soon he passed away. But each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily and Charlotte would walk in the park and carry the memories of Al and Mom and Dad in their hearts. And soon, Jim and Sara had another child that they named Bob. Each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily, Charlotte and of course Bob would walk in the Park
And because dogs don't live as long as humans Charlotte too got older and and soon she too passed away. But each
Sunday, Jim, Sara, Emily and Bob would walk in the park
and carry the memories of Al, Charlotte Mom and Dad with them
in their hearts.And the years passed, Emily and Bob got older, but each
Sunday, Jim and Sara and sometimes Emily and Bob would walk in the park.
Then Emily left and went to College and soon after Bob did too, but each
Sunday, Jim and Sara would walk in the park and talk of Bob and Emily
and sometimes of Al and Charlotte and Jim's parents and Sara's parents."
Then Sara passed, Cancer, inoperable stage four, Still
Sunday, Jim would walk in the Park and think about Sara and Bob and Emily and and Al and Charlotte, some
Sunday's Jim would get a little tear, other Sunday's a little smile as he remembered the good times and the bad.
Copyright 2010 Michael Lee Williams.