Here’s to scrumptious nights.
cats and boots and cats and boots
We went clubbing last night, to recalibrate
ourselves on the dance floor, where magic happens.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
To focus on sensory experiences, the beat,
and share in the fun and tangible sense of freedom.
cats and boots and cats and boots
Feel the wave, show your energy, be the wave
cats and boots and cats and boots
be disheveled, swing your hair like a weapon
abandon, silly, self-protecting vanities
cats and boots and cats and boots
flashing lights on dancing figures
make it all seem slo-mo and extreme.
cats and boots and cats and boots
It’s been too long since we’ve done it like this.
Work-worn, I’d lost my lucidity and stumbled badly on a quiz.
Lisa pushed my books onto the floor, declaring, “Get UP, we’re grabbing some bliss.”
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
failure has a reality, a gravity and pull all the more shocking in relief.
I’d started out the evening gloomy and ashamed - a figure of regret -
but I’m better now, buoyed and recharged and soon I’ll have a plan - hopefully.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
There was a guy there, on the dance floor, who looked like a young Leonardo DiCaprio.
We made eye contact, nodding and smiling at each other in motion.
We gyrated, together, sort of, for a second, in our separate orbits - no conversation
I just watched him for a moment or two, sexualizing him like eye candy.
Just seeing him was sensual fun and I wondered what he smelled like.
He had a gritty, sweaty, idealized beauty, like a dancing ‘David’
that no Michelangelo could ever capture in stiff granite sculpture.
The music ended - momentarily - we knew it would start up again
and we were there for it - til 1 or 2 am anyway - then it recranked.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and..
Lisa grabbed my hand, jerking me onto the dance floor almost
before I could set down my drink. Eeek! “Slow Down!” I yelled,
but my complaint was lost in the din and my involuntary laugh.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and..
.
.
Songs for this:
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker

Now then,(Clicks fingers and stretches out),,,I know you men out there will think i'm all cahoots,But i need to vent my feelings on the, ever, splendid, boot,There,s black boots white boots, really outta sight boots,Baby boots, Mummy boots, ever just so yummy boots,X boots, Y boots, black patent leather thigh boots,(MMMMMM)Flat boots, high boots, heels like a needles eye boots,Work boots, shopping boots, **** , real eye popping boots,Going to visit mum boots, feeling very glum boots,Welly boots, smelly boots," i'm just watching telly" boots,Car boots,"?" truck boots, "come on babe, let's ****" boots,All these boots and more would make a woman want to swear,But guys, you haven't heard me go on about our underwear!!!

Smashing boots on doors,
splinters fall like rain.
Smashing boots on doors,
children feel the pain.
Smashing boots on doors,
granny's years of age.
Smashing boots on doors,
Mom and Dad in rage.
Smashing boots on doors,
panic sets the stage.
Smashing boots on doors,
Iraqi freedom fades.
Smashing boots on doors,
like thunder in a storm.
Smashing boots on doors,
an innocent family torn.
Smashing boots on doors,
a brand new hatred born.

RW Dennen  (c)  11/24/09

"Boots for sale . Boots for sale.
Who will buy my beautiful boots?
They are crafted with broken hands,
Designed individually, beautiful boots."

"What is the price of these beautiful boots
Crafted so carefully with broken hands."
"The price is a pure heart within a dead body
Resurrected, clean, by the Blood of the Lamb."

"What will I do with these boots you are selling me?
Where will they take me, all washed in this Blood?
They will take you to mountains all craggy, majestic.
They'll never wear out till you complete the job."

"And what is the job I must do with these boots on me?
Where are these mountains that soon I must climb?"
"These mountains are everywhere. Cast your eyes round you.
Their summits are glorious, their victory sublime.

It's you who must yearn for them, cry for them, live for them,
You who must ***** up them breathing your fire,
You who must plant our flags right on the crest of them,
Make them the cynosure of human desire.'

'How can I yearn for them, cry for them, live for them,
***** up their rocky tracks yet breathing fire.
How can I carry a great waving flag up them
Too many enemies . Think I'll retire.'

"You're not a Jonah. I bred you for greater things.
I'll deal with enemies they're in my hands.
Yours is the task just to excel in holiness -
Every wee part of it. Holiness stands!

Simply draw near to Me. History is in my heart.
Use your great talents and display My name.
Hide not your trust in Me. Speak it out joyfully.
Just be ye perfect and true without shame.

These boots will not wear out. They'll reach the mountain peaks.
Seven tall mountains you'll claim for the flag.
Look at the enemy. They'd like what you have!
So you can give it them. More to be had.

But don't plagiarize my Name, hide the annointing.
Shout from the rooftops that JESUS IS LORD!
Do not pretend My blood can be rejected
While yet all My blessings are cutely absorbed.

This is the lie that all men must face up to.
I am the Truth that will light up the way.
You are the torches I chose from eternity
You are the ones who will light up the day.

You are the troopers who'll take every mountain.
You will not flinch before death. It is dead!
You climb those mountains and take them for Jesus
The bridegroom who's coming so soon to be Head.

These are the mountains I've named for the taking.
Media first, moved by terror and fear.
You will redeem it by truthful reporting
And seeing the visions that Jesus holds dear.

Second is Government. Take its high places.
Don't be afraid of its big brother frown.
Third, Education, the heart of our children
Who need, above all things, in Truth to be grown.

Fourth are the Finances. Greed is the notion.
But Greed will fall heavily as giants do.
Fifth, Celebrations need Life at their centre,
And this is rejoicing with hearts pure and true.

Sixth is the Mountain of Family Unity,
Bleeding and tearing our children apart.
Fire of the fathers will take on this mountain
While mothers' sweet gifts set the family heart.

Last is that towering mountain, Religion,
That covers the truth with it's layer of lies.
Hear what the Spirit is telling the prophets
And see what he'll do with his wonderful spies!"

The spies of the Spirit are those who see Heaven,
Who hear and declare what the Father wants known.
THEY SAY A TSUNAMI OF HEAVEN'S LOVE IS COMING
TO WIPE OUT DECEPTION AND PLANT HEAVEN'S THRONE.

They wear their boots
For over 234 years, they have worn their boots.
They walked the mud of bunker hill
The snow of Gettysburg.
Through the valleys of Italy and France.
They wear their boots with pride across the world.
Each American in their own boots they do march..
They shine those boots to march down  main street.
With their heads all high and tall.
The American soldier fills those boots they wear.
Blood sweat and yes tears drops fall on these boots.
But they are worn with freedom by design.
Each soldier wants to die with their boots of freedom on.

They dance tae boots n' cats
like ants being crushed by boots:
Squirming, wriggling, writhing
wae jaws scraping the flare.  
They scurry like wee rats
under the ground in cahoots:
snidely sneaking, snitching
under the boots n' cats they blare.

"Boots n cats urr booming doon yer ears.
 Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years.
 Boots n cats will perforate yer ears.
 Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years"

But then sumday changed the beat:
         It Came in oan the and.

And everyone forgot how tae dance.

Baby boy in baby boots
Ruddy reddened caligae
On ruby crowned Caligula

He fills the shoes
Red shoes, blood shoes
Blood boots, blood red
(Too red) too well

Grow into your boots
Blood boots, blood shoes
Silk shoes, soft sheets

My sweetest son in soldier’s clothes
In army boots, with baby’s blood
In baby veins, in baby boots

My starlit son the demon king
In purple robes, stained amaranthine
Laurel crowned on merlot hair
On baby's head with baby's boots

My withered king, my sweetest son
In little boots with a baby's sword
Made Rome as red as his merlot hair
And amaranthine robes
And ruddy boots

When I was younger in a different time
I had a habit on a special date,
Or on an occasion, to write a rhyme,
Often enough, because I'm a cheapskate.

So as Christmas swiftly soon descends,
And I've but my heart to claim as loot,
I write this story for a special friend
About a Giant and his Little Boots.

You see, these two made quite an awesome pair -
A lanky lad with lanky giant feet,
He'd often smile as people'd often stare
As he'd walk with Little Boots about the street.

A friendship in college they did form.
The Giant couldn't have asked for more.
His Little Boots could help weather a storm
Or bust a move on the Workman's floor.

Those Little Boots helped through thick and thin.
When he was in his darkest places,
They'd help him smile and let light back in
Or send him gifs or silly faces.

He knew they could take different paths -
Boots, like friends, can tread through the rough,
But nothing could silence the joy or laughs -
The friendship was made of stronger stuff.

And so they lived, as friends, forever,
The Giant and his Little Boots,
Strolling down life's roads together
Making it big time, in cahoots.