May I present a challenge?
Imagine if you will
You have created a flying explosive device
And it needs a name that will thrill.

A name, a good name, which name?
Well, none of those below.
Some twisted suits have already used them.
****, EVEN Tacit Rainbow.

What really goes through their minds?
As they sit and discuss the name
Of their creation that's destined to ****
Butcher, destroy and maim.

Just try if you can
To read the whole of this edited list
Imagine how many have exploded of each
With out angrily clenching your fist

Little John
Honest John
Hellfire
Matador
HARM
Terrier
Nike-Ajax
Corporal
Sea Sparrow
Redstone
Bullpup
Mace
Nike-Hercules
Regulus II
Atlas
Thor
Lacrosse
Jupiter
Quail
Hawk
Tartar
Falcon
Polaris
H­ound Dog
Pershing
Entac
Firebee
Shelduck
Jayhawk
Cardinal
Firefly
Petr­el
Redhead/Roadrunner
Redeye
Mauler
Skybolt
Nike Zeus/Spartan
Condor
Phoenix
Typhon MR
Falconer
Overseer
Taurus
Kingfisher
Cardinal
Walleye
Hornet
Ma­verick
Big Q
Minuteman
Blue Eye
Viper
Firebolt
Bulldog
Harpoon
Focus
Perseus
Firefly
Stinger
­Compass Dwell
B-Gull
Agile
Seekbat
Delta Dagger
Thunderbolt[7]
Patriot
Aquila
Teleplane
Streaker
Tomahawk
­Firebrand
Roland
Peacekeeper
Penguin
Pave Tiger/Seek Spinner
Sidearm
Skipper
Wasp
Sea Lance
Ripper[7]
Trident II
Midgetman
Tacit Rainbow
Pave Cricket
Have Nap
Peregrine
Exdrone
Javelin
Pointer
Hunter
Coyote
Skeeter
Outlaw

­Wow, you're still reading
And you've managed not to throw up.
Just wondering how many innocent victims
Of a tax funded device called Bullpup.

Early morning comes too soon.
Fish are biting by the moon.
Father and son make their way
Out of the house to meet the day.

The men of the house are outward bound
Seeking their fortune on the water sound.
Fishing poles and tackle boxes in hand
Off they go, to the dock to be manned.

Eyes gleaming bright, with the wind in his hair,
My son grins wide, and says, "Dad, Look There!"
Sure enough my son sees, fish to be caught,
Their trip is promising, will not be for naught.

His father smiles at the look from his son,
Saying, "Yes, son, you've found them, quite well done."
Bringing their boat to a stop they let glide,
Unpack their equiment, and come along side.

Taking their time and setting their hooks,
Plenty of fish here, judging by the looks.
There's sunfish and carp, some salmon and trout,
Walleye and crappie, and catfish so stout.

As the sun rises higher, they reel those fish in.
There's plenty of fish, with tail and fin.
The father and son are laughing together.
Can't believe their luck, or such perfect weather.

Returning home from a long day of fun,
They unload their catch and in they run.
Fish stories abound, They can't say enough,
The fish they missed, get bigger and rough.

I watch my two men, with quiet delight.
Enjoying the warmth, they create in my sight
Fishing is fun, fishing is great,
My men bonding, makes my heart elate.

in Ohio state, that place by the lake
I miss those waves and that sandy grate
my dreams are laced with memories made
waiting for a walleye to take my bait

on Edson street, down at the creek
I leaped in just to wet my feet
where steelhead and salmon meet
it's still a dream my memory keeps

Main street beach, out on the pier
we drank in life and drank down beer
we swam to the breakwall without fear
those memories, i still hold dear

There’s a river in the woods
I bathe in it at night
I walk barefoot on the earth
I’m seduced by the moonlight
This is what a derelict does
We dance in rivers and let it push us to its rhythm
Someday I’ll reach the waterfall
And I’ll fall lissom

game fish highly prized            
can see in murky waters
yellow pike, walleye

The wind howled outside of the lean to and Brian knew that it was only a matter of time before the chill settled in and the last breath of life would leave his body. He thought about his family back in the city and he could not bring to mind any bad times tho he knew that there were many. He thought of his marriage and how beautiful his wife had looked on her wedding day walking down the aisle escorted by her grandfather who had a tear in his eye. He remembered the way her dress and her hair flowed behind her as if there were some slight breeze that had hit her at just the right angle to make it possible. He remembered trying not to cry and to only smile the closer she got to him and how he nearly lost his composure when her grandfather handed her off to him. Brian thought of their first born who he called Maggie but  was named Magnolia by both parents and his wife still used that name. She would be turning sixteen this year and he had not been around as much lately as he had liked but he felt that she knew he would always be there. A tear rolled down the wind bitten cheeks of Brian and began to slow once it got close to his chin, partially leaving a frozen trail from eye to tears end. He thought about Maggie as a little girl, perhaps around the age of five, and the fishing trips that they would take out on the lakes of Minnesota. He remembered the first time that she had baited the fishhook herself and how proud both she and he were when she had caught a ten pound walleye with that same hook. Brian wanted desperately to hold onto that moment for the rest of his life and swore he would never forget and all thruout the years of his life it was one memory that we went back to anytime he felt low and out of place with everyone and everything around him. Brian thought of his two sons, Jameson and Benjamin, twins that could not have been more different. Jameson was great at sports and thrived on competition where Ben was more artistic and would often be found doing volunteer work. Tho they had many differences, they were brothers thru and thru and never had a bad moment together. Brian and Ruth Ann had raised there children right; he knew that much was true and felt the pang of sadness pierce his heart as he felt the anguish of his wife when she heard the news that he was dead and she would have to finish raising them alone. He knew she would do just fine and he wanted to tell her so, to comfort her somehow even tho he wouldn't be around but he had no way of doing so and instead shivered beneath the lean to and continued thinking of his family to keep his mind active. After a short while tho he felt his brain slow and the memories became distant like dreams do after a few moments of being awake. Brian closed his eyes tightly and forced himself to think and focus. He thought about the last family photo that they took and how grown up everyone was becoming and how much love was still in his wife's eyes and he lied down on the cold ground with that image in his head and he slipped into a sleep from which he knew he would not wake up from but still he smiled at his memories and hoped that even without him his children would continue being happy and would grow further and start their own families which would have their own families and so forth. He hoped his wife would be strong and keep on and if she should find someone else he hoped she would not let Brian be the thing that kept her from living. Before Brian exhaled his last breath, he saw Maggie baiting the fish hook and smiling the way a child does. Brian smiled too and slipped into death.

Here's that song I wrote about you
Instead of lying around, whimpering
I put my pen to the paper again
And I don't even have to pretend
Yes, here's that song I wrote about you
I hope you like how it ends
Because every time I think of you
I write a song again

Like a manic Myspace ******
Reading everything I write
Deleting words you thought were yours
And changing some to fight
It's not your mother dear nic-o-lee
So stop choosing her to blame
You will be cornered by the feds
Someday when they put you both away

I never knew love in this kind of way
Fly to get there.  Then, have to explain
What possessed me to see you in person
can never be explained
I'd like to talk about two girls
And they're both from Michigan
You Georgia peaches got nothing on them
And the way they love to sin
  
And many come to see me in person
At the typewriter where I sit
And sometimes they can make me feel easy
And at times they make me sh*t [panic]
When they say
"Why'd you write that song about me"
And I say
"Listen, it was only words"
Do you want to fight with me?
And then they lay on their back again
  
I told you every word is about you
But the names, look, they changed again
All that hurt, and you still sleep around
Can't you trust?  Then please tell me why you can't
I'd like to write a song about FEB
And how beautiful a ten
or how those ****** in Hollywood
Stole my song last year, again
But, thanks to my friend Walleye I knew they
wouldn't get away with it
Now there I go again
Got off the track in Hackensack
Oh well, here we go again

So, here's that song I wrote about you
To my wife/*****/lost girlfriend
I put my pen to the paper again
And I don't even have to pretend
Somebody write this date down
Sunday, One Ten Twenty-Ten
What once was so very far away
Has already been spent

Hear a song I wrote for you
If the big men go and steal it
I'll have to write another one
I just hope that you can feel it
Here's that song I wrote about you
Can you have that on your conscience?
Here's a song I wrote about you
Life is short!  There!
This song has balance

So, here's that song I wrote about you
Instead of lying around, whimpering
I put my pen to the paper again
And I don't even have to pretend
Yes, here's that song I wrote about you
And I hope you like its ending
Because, every time I think of you
I write a song again

Here's that song I wrote about you
Instead of lying around, whimpering
I put my pen to the paper again
And I don't even have to pretend
Yes, here's that song I wrote about you
I hope you like how it ends
Because every-time I think of you
I write a song again

Like a manic my-space ******
Reading everything I write
Deleting words you thought were yours
And changing some to fight
It's not your mother dear nic-o-lee
So stop choosing her to blame
You will be cornered by the feds
Someday when they put you both away

I never knew love in this kind of way
Fly to get there.  Then, have to explain
What possessed me to see you in person
can never be explained
I'd like to talk about two girls
And they're both from Michigan
You Georgia peaches got nothing on them
And the way they love to sin
  
And many come to see me in person
At the typewriter where I sit
And sometimes they can make me feel easy
And at times they make me **** [panic]
When they say
"Why'd you write that song about me"
And I say
"Listen, it was only words"
Do you want to fight with me?
And then they lay on their back again
  
I told you every-word is about you
But the names, look, they changed again
All that hurt, and you still sleep around
Can't you trust?  Then please tell me why you can't
I'd like to write a song about FEB
And how beautiful a ten
or how those ****** in Hollywood
Stole my song last year, again
But, thanks to my friend Walleye I knew they
wouldn't get away with it
Now there I go again
Got off the track in Hackensack
Oh well, here we go again

So, here's that song I wrote about you
To my wife/*****/lost girlfriend
I put my pen to the paper again
And I don't even have to pretend
Somebody write this date down
Sunday, One Ten Twenty-Ten
What once was so very far away
Has already been spent

Hear a song I wrote for you
If the big men go and steal it
I'll have to write another one
I just hope that you can feel it
Here's that song I wrote about you
Can you have that on your conscience?
Here's a song I wrote about you
Life is short!  There!
This song has balance

So, here's that song I wrote about you
Instead of lying around, whimpering
I put my pen to the paper again
And I don't even have to pretend
Yes, here's that song I wrote about you
And I hope you like it's ending
Because, every-time I think of you
I write a song again

you’ve met the love of your life
in college
before age 25
and you both want to marry in the church on campus
where you met—
flower crowns for the bride and her maids
suspenders and rolled-up sleeves for the
groom and his men.
You want to settle
near both of your parents
(they’re close enough that you won't have to compromise too much)
and work 9 to 5 Monday through Friday in the city  
and spend your weekends on the lake
and boat, jet-skii, watch the sun pass
through the sky and over the water,
where you learned how to swim
(your father threw you in)
and thus, you’ll teach your children.
They will call your mom Grandma
as she makes walleye and hotdish for supper
and they will call your dad Grandpa
as he stokes the campfire for roasting s’mores.
It’s nice to know
no water is bluer and no sky is clearer
even when moon and stars flicker
like lanterns in the wind as the clouds pass over.
It’s nice to never wonder
because you never asked for more.

I REMEMBER LOOKING FOR MY PARENTS BEFORE I WAS BORN... MY MOM AND DAD.
BEFORE I WAS BORN INTO THE WORLD OF MAN, FLOWERS, LITTLE PEOPLE LIVING ALONG CREEKS AND MAGIC...IN GOODNESS AND BAD...THE FLAWS OF HUMANNESS.
THE ABSOLUTE ANSWERS OF LIFE SELF HEALING FROM VARIABLES OF KINDNESS, SONGS, AND FEASTS OF PURE WATER… SYMBOLS GROWN IN, ON, AND THROUGHOUT MOTHER EARTHS FLESH. BEFORE I WAS BORN I WAS IN THE STARS, I WAS IN MY OWN HEAVEN.
I WOULD DANCE IN THE SKY AND SING AS LOUD AS I COULD…
IN THE FOREVER OF INFINITY’S OF STARS AND DARKNESS OF TRAILS AND PATHS.
THE GOURDS I DANCED WITH SPARKED OF COLORS AND GLITTERS LIKE SUNLIGHTS TRAPPED IN MELTING ICICLES IN APRIL SHOWERS.
STARS SHIFTING THROUGH THE UNIVERSE LIKE DRIED PLUM PITS FALLING SCATTERING IN A LONG WINTER NIGHTS GAME… LIKE BROKEN HULLS FROM WILD RICE SHIFTING WINNOWING CARRYING AWAY IN FALL BREEZES…
STAR CONSTELLATIONS, MIRRORS REFLECTING DIRECTIONS...TRAILS FOR WINDS TO FOLLOW...PROMISES OF OUR DAILY LIVES TOLD IN THE SUN'S JOURNEY.
STARS WOVEN WITHIN WEBS OF WATER DROPS LIKE ON A DREAM CATCHERS DELIGHT...LIKE SPIDERS ART WOVEN WITH DYED PORCUPINE QUILLS TIED DOWN SEWN WITH LOVE AND COMPASSION ON SOFT RABBIT SKINS.
MEDICINE SCATTERED ACROSS THE SKY..ACROSS THE FACE OF MOTHER EARTH, UNDERWATER, ON PRAIRIES, IN HOT DESERT SANDS, IN WOODS IN FAR FAR AWAY LANDS.. IN BIRCH BARK PATTERNS AND NEWBORN FINGERTIPS.
WITHIN RED SKY NIGHTS AND SHOOTING STARS I SEARCHED FOR PORTALS..
PORTALS LIKE TUNNELS THROUGH TIME..PORTALS OF CAREFULLY PLACED TWISTED TIPI POLES..PORTALS OPEN THROUGH BOWLS OF PEACE PIPES CARRIED WITH LOVE LIKE A CHILD WRAPPED IN SACRED BUNDLES...PORTALS OF PRAYER...PORTALS TO CONNECT TO CREATIONS CREATOR AND EVERYTHING THAT MIRRORS CONSTELLATIONS...PORTALS FROM THE DUST OF CORN POLLEN..PORTALS OF  WALLEYE OFFERINGS FROM DEEP LAKES WITH DEEP MONSTERS...PORTALS OF SALTY TEARS AND THE UPRISING SMOKE OF LITED SAGE AND SWEETGRASS...PORTALS IN THE SOUND OF YOUR ZIPPERS GOIN DOWN ON THOSE BADASS BOOTS...PORTALS OF HOW YOU LICK THOSE GLOSSY Pink LIPS.. AND ALL THOSE BUTTERFLIES THAT FLY WHEN YOU BLINK YOUR EYES.. PORTALS OF CRIES FROM HOMELESSNESS, ADDICTIONS, OVERDOSES..PORTALS OF FISTS AND SCRATCHES, PORTALS OF TWISTED ZIGZAG PAPERS, ORIGAMI MAGIC, SMOKE RINGS THAT FORM INTO HEARTS AND ARROWS...PORTALS FROM DESPERATE BOOTS OF SYRINGE NEEDLES...PORTALS OF BROKEN BOTTLES AND SHOTGUN TWISTED BEER CANS…
LINES OF RAILS OF CRUSHED POWDERY CRAZINESS...PORTALS OF SYNTHETIC **** AND SYNTHETIC HOPES AND SYNTHETIC REALITIES.. THEY BITE AND STING LIKE PORTALS OF SHARP BLADES...CUTTING THROUGH YOUR OH SO BEAUTIFUL SKIN...PORTALS OF YOUR OFFERING OF PAIN CUZ ITS THE ONLY THING THAT’S REALLY OURS TO OWN AND OFFER...WHIRLWINDS OF VORTEX MADNESS...PORTALS LIKE THE ONE ALICE FELL INTO… IN HER WONDERFUL BUT VERY SCARY WONDERLAND...PORTALS LIKE THE ONE WE MAY OR MAY NOT EVER FALL INTO...WAY DEEP INSIDE OURSELVES.