“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.

Sugarllump.
An old-time phrase I grew up with,
I’ve used it through the years.
It means you tickle me.
It also means you are dear.
True the guys get a bit out of shape
When I say sugarlump to them,
But then I’m not their grandmother.
I am, after all, vey much ‘a him’.

“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.

But I find some people as sweet
And as delightful as homemade candy.
They are what triggers me to say
“Sugarlump, you are just dandy.”
So I use the phrase judiciously
For the fellows I happen to know
But for women a heckuva lot.
Every few comments or so.

“Sugarlump!
You make my heart thump,”
My grandmother said
As she patted my young head.
She’d give me a thump
Not hard enough to leave a bump.
It was her term of affection
To call me sugar lump.

Kelly came over to steal my boyfriend yesterday. It was a Monday.
She wore baby pink lipstick and her favorite new labret piercing
That meet-me-outside thunder-rolling-in hooded gaze
And a judgement call towards me that I could never meet. Well, maybe on a Wednesday. But in that I was out of luck.
It was dangerous to watch her pull up on her Viper, trail her polished fingertips along his truck. I saw her hike her skirt and shake her choppy mangled hair out from where it matted under her helmet.
I thought, at least, he'd noticed when I'd taken the brush out of my pack that morning and groomed as he bustled around the house. No?
He always did like his women wild. I'm not jealous, I'm envious.
She crept in the door and removed her shoes where I'd just ***** inside, and with her barefeet padded into the livingroom.
Now you can tell I was on my guard, but I wasn't in the mood to pounce.
You have to be, to do what she did. You have to make that decision early. Bite a lemon, shave your legs, set the intention in your mind. That someone's heart is going to get broken, some guy is going to get stolen. And this time it was mine.
So I just sat on the couch bewildered as she broke him into a smile, on a subject only people in town would understand. Do I look like I'm from town, or know hell about it? It ached so to be prodded in that scab.
She left after dropping off some bottles and a snide comment at my expense.
She didn't come back today, but neither did he. And I know.
I let him get away. Or if he's stray then he deserved to get got,
I still love him, however,
Now I love Jack, Jim, and Jerry, a heckuva lot!

Here's to the crazy ones,
who talk to the thoughts they entertain
and have a heckuva time, all the time.

Here's to the broken ones,
who hide scars behind plastered-on grins
and are reluctant to ask for help.

Here's to the lovers,
who crave affection from another
and are endlessly mending a shattered heart.

Here's to the artistic ones,
who see beauty in everything
but are considered quirky, as a result.

Here's to you,
for being unique and special
but never changing for anything.

It’s a doggie dog world so watch where you step
Foot in mouth syndrome is spreading like strep
But a house of prevention is worth more than liqueur
Have a spoon full, a mind full, are you feeling demure?  

Inside effects may include outlaws of vision
But don’t freeze your auntie, make a thawed out decision
Keep on pugging, plugging a way
You will fly like a beagle, as every doc has his day

While thyme keeps on dripping into the tincture
And limericks rhyme everything, except the kitchen sphincter
Now refill your subscription and do as I say
Because a Hornaday keeps the doctor away

And give us this tray, our daily meds
While terrier-ism threatens to Smirnoff our heads
It’s a mystery wrapped in poodle, but misery loves coventry
And it takes a heckuva lot, to go parking up a wrong tree

Just another Shih-Tzu day, making trouble in paradise
Ain’t nothing but a ground hog, gone skating on the nice
Though I wouldn’t herd a fly, or let a wafer stray
Don’t doubt the Roman knows my aroma was built in a day