hello, i am manager Skip Hopper, here are your team rules for baseball. follow these rules and then follow the base line home

first you need a home plate
then you measure the space between the base
then we must put the base in the proper place

ok slugger, the players have rules
please stand for the national anthem of your country
after all, it is your country, even more so than corruption's country
look at all your fellow countrymen, who came to see you
that's your photo on a sports card, and your name in lights
those racists and haters are afraid of the lights
you must have a lot of power, please don't choke
only in the country that old stars and stripes flies over
would you even have a right to sit down when a nation stands
don't stand for the flag, stand for your right to choose
after all, is it not a signal from your brain that you follow?
you have more white people on your side than a lot of white people have

even if it is a white man signing your paycheck, it's all the more polar opposite of what is for some.
plus you think the kids want that white to sign a ball?
my team plays ball, and not politics
then my team shares with all races and colors
my team looks to win, on and off the field
welcome to team victory!

you'll bat first until you show me that home run capability

watch the ball and the pitcher
do what you have to do, even if you have to take a pitch to the arm
get to the first base, and lay claim to it
don't get attached to that base
a base is just a rest stop on the way to home
after today, we will no longer call it a base
think of it as a step on your front porch
calling it a base is like calling a baseball bat a baseball glove
now, the team is counting on you to get to first
then you have to count on your team to bring you home
this whole stadium is full of team members too
this whole league is on your team, in ways
the guy who makes the season schedule has a certain amount of teams
he must arrange the schedule according to us, and then do the hard part
math...
you know us dumb jocks can't do math, or much else really
that's why it's all about the numbers guys sometimes, too
why do you think we wear numbers
everything has to have a system to work properly
there may be some rules or players that you don't like

I don't like a 1st step, or 3rd step coach myself
after all, that's kind of undermining the manager
we don't need them looking over anyone's shoulder
that kind of **** even makes me nervous
i'm not the type of manager that looks over my team's shoulder

everyone wants a title...standing there just to tell you to go
that would be a fan
like i'm gonna just split my job three ways?
then hire people to stand on the steps of your porch?
and they're gonna tell you how to get home, when you are home?
i hired two guys who are into that "curling" crap
that is not a man's game
plus, why doesn't the guy with the broom sweep before the guy pushes that thing that is round
a puck maybe? it's not round, but i guess the circumference is a perfect circle
now a baseball, that is round
anyhow, i gave them their titles they wanted

head coach of ball scratching affairs
and head coach of spit buckets
it's so funny to see them be so serious about sweeping and ****
they concentrate so hard that i think they could scratch that spot on a player's *****
that spot that the players can't seem to scratch
who knows, i will tell head (ball boy) coach to look for *****
they're just like all canadians...innocent
i can't figure why a baseball team has a better flag though
a maple leaf? take off aaayyy

call everything by a sensible name

they call a rubber thing a base, and they call home a plate
see, a base is something you spend time on
a plate is something you clean twice during, and after a meal
well, on our team we try to keep the the next guy in line fed'
so, he is on your steps and it's as easy as handing him the plate
knowing you and your family have more than enough
knowing your fellow batters will hand you a plate when you're on their steps

remember, you don't follow the rules...
you step up to the plate, and the rules follow

it's really all about the fans

they are our world, and when our world does good
the cheers turn into waves and vibrations
like a fine machine, the sound becomes a hum
you can literally see the waves travel through the stadium

maybe this will catch on again

those waves travel beyond our world
just maybe some little green men will take notice
maybe they will respect us for how we make a diamond into a circle
or just maybe the world series will be known as the universal series
we could really use some competition

these other managers think they are so great
but one loss and they pinch their hitters and runners
then they try to change the rotation
you can't change a dang rotation without stopping
well, in our world, we have faith in the rotation
i also have faith in each player, and as our whole team
we are whole, keep that in mind always

that's why our team is called the country whole
plus, just naming it that, the whole country got tricked
they used to think we were tobacco spitting country boys
that positive energy really is like a snowball going downhill

our two head coaches love snow and hills
haha...everyone from canada is a comedian without trying
the great white north huh?
let's hear it for cheese curds and hat tricks
this is baseball and apple pie land
and by the way canada...

why aren't there any canadians on your major league baseball teams?
you make it hard to call it the world series
you also made ham and called it bacon

sorry slugger, sore spot...but anyhow

we all have a job to do, and doing it right is always a self win
counting on others, and trusting them to do their job, makes your job easier

there are a lot of rubber arms
they will be throwing all kinds of curves at you
only swing at pitches that are in your strike zone
never swing at breaking ***** and they can't break you

now, get out there and get a hit, walk, or home run
see you around the home slugger...know this

i guess my managing isn't needed here
i'm headed to club to watch in comfort
i don't know why people miss out on so much to be at the game
i'm a fan more than i am a manager
either way, we all know what's going to happen every time
we will extend our undefeated streak another game
like a fine oiled machine
making a perfect circle out of a diamond
while canadians scratch our ***** like fine oiled curlers
haha, scratching so seriously like that kills me

my team is awesome!

remember, this is not america's game
it's not baseball, and we know that
base and ball touch and you're out
then you'll run from a base and be shot by military police for going awol
just kidding slugger, tell the team i say hi and thanks for being on the team
i will tell the rest of the home team at that press conference *******

welcome to the big leagues kid

play ball!

take me out to the bar!

I peer out the broken glass and what do I see but a flock of little ***** running away from me, all but one, standing in defiance of fear louisville slugger in hand waiting for what comes.    I walk out the door with spalding in hand I stand beside her and gaze at the destruction done by her hand. 160 feet if it were an inch , impressive  drive for a 13 year old girl. all anger gone, there was not much to begin. A 30 dollar window a small price to see her grin, I handed her back her ball, and with my own grin, nice hit little one, a dollar for everyone I find in the backyard I say. 180 feet over the roof   and we went our way. her to her friends with bragging rights and the moment in tact. me to the lumberyard for plywood shutters for the rest of the glass, grinning in anticipation of the days to come.

Ti ** mai detto che io sono un pollone completo per una storia d'amore ?Probabilmente capito che fuori già



.ma io amo sentire come fuori di tutte le persone del mondo .due persone è capitato di trovare l'altro - e quando finisce in un matrimonio bello come questo.mi rivolgo in poltiglia .Catturato da Heather Pipino Fotografia questa storia d'amore ha un finale molto felice.Vedere ancora di più qui .
Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsFallSettingsHotelStylesTraditional Elegance

Da Heather Pipino Fotografia. "Quattro anni fa non avrei maiè èe credevoè ñessere qui in piedi con una ragazza che camminava in un negozio di caffè che indossa un cappello Dodgers .ditutte le cose . abbiamo aspettato quasi due mesi prima che ci incontrassimo a vicenda . Dopo che tutti i testi .e-mail e telefonate abbiamo tenuto il nostro respiro e ha preso un salto .e abbiamo imparato nella vita.che tutto ciò che serve è venti secondi di coraggio folle afare qualcosa di grande accadere. "

Quelle parole erano solo una porzione di dolce voti Sam 'a Lindsey .ma danno una buona sbirciatina per i bellissimi cuori e amore stimolante che Sam e condividere Lindsey .Sono entrambi persone così gentili e genuini e la loro vita e l'amore riflettere sul fatto che in ogni modo.E 'doesnè èimporta quanto tempo siè èe li noti .Sam e abiti da sposa corti Lindsey sono il tipo di persone che ti accolgono con un caloroso abbraccio e lascerà piena di gioia .Essi vi invitano nel loro mondo e ti fanno abiti da sposa on line sentire come seè èe stati amici per anni .E ' questo amore che essi hanno per l'altro e per le persone intorno a loro che hanno fatto il loro giorno di nozze così incredibile .In una bella giornata in California.presso la Estancia Resort a La Jolla .amici e parenti si sono riuniti per sostenere e amare questa coppia che aveva toccato ciascuna delle loro vite .E 'stata una giornata piena di lacrime di gioia .il romanticismo .l'amore e la bellezza .e Sam e Lindsey meritato ogni singolo istante.

Da Bride.How ci siamo incontrati : Le nostre mamme lavorano insieme in una scuola nella Bay Area .Una volta che la sua mamma ha imparato che vivevo a San Diego .ha pensato che sarebbe stata una buona idea per me di mostrare il suo figlio in giro come gli era stato appena assunto lì .Lei e mi aveva viaggiato a Parigi circa sette anni fa con mia mamma e un altro insegnante .Mi ricordo che lei mi dice allora che avevo bisogno di incontrare suo figlio ma eravamo entrambi risalenti altre persone al momento .Ero titubante a incontrarlo fino a quando ** fatto un po ' di Facebook stalking.voglio dire .la ricerca .Mi fu colpito in primo click.The prima richiesta di amicizia è stata inviata e tanti.tanti .( molti) messaggi e fino a tarda notte dopo.i messaggi si rivolse a testi e testi voltai per le telefonate .Questo è durato per un certo periodo come i sentimenti si erano formate veloce e siamo stati nervosi e ansiosi di incontrarsi other.Finally un incontro è stato fissato al Coffee Bean a Carlsbad .Eravamo lì per quattro ore e quasi chiudiamo il posto in fondo .Il giorno dopo.unè edata irstèè stata impostata e il resto è storia !

Il nostro matrimonio ha avuto luogo a La Jolla .in California presso l' Estancia Hotel.Abbiamo scelto questa posizione perché è rilassato eleganza .giardini mozzafiato .ed è vicino a dove viviamo .Perché ci siamo incontrati e viviamo qui a San Diego e volevamo festeggiare il nostro amore qui .La maggior parte dei nostri ospiti di nozze erano da fuori città .abbiamo voluto l' atmosfera di essere caldo.accogliente.e una volta tutti vorremmo amare .

I colori erano nero.bianco e verde e il tema era classica .semplice eleganza.Volevamo la sede per parlare di se stesso in modo non volevo fiori eccessivamente fatto .ma felci semplicemente dichiarati e fiori bianchi .Isari Floral Studio ha fatto un lavoro incredibile catturare la nostra visione .

Volevamo il matrimonio per avere tocchi di tutti noi in tutto.Abbiamo parcheggiato la nostra hot rod (1932 Ford Roadster ) nel modo di entrata dell'hotel.Mio padre aveva una splendida "Just Married " segno gessato per noi.così abbiamo potuto avere un scappare con stile !Il nostro cane (leggi : nostro figlio ) . Non poteva essere sulla proprietà .purtroppo .così abbiamo avuto una foto incorniciata di lui fatta con un cartello appeso al collo che diceva : " Sono contento che tu sia qui a festeggiare con i miei genitori prega di godere il cagnolinoborse da me . Woof .Lux " .Su quel tavolo .avevamo sacchetti di biscotti monogramma di Michele Coulon Dessertier .Per il nostro libro degli ospiti .abbiamo lavorato con un graphic designer per fare quello di un manifesto sorta di nostra sede .Ora abbiamo questa grande opera d'arte.con parole gentili di tutti appendere in casa nostra .Sulle pareti della Sala Grande .avevo il nostro invito fatto saltare in aria e sparsi sui muri nelle loro cornici .Tutti questi tocchi davvero reso il giorno così memorabile .

nostro incredibile team di venditori e la nostra famiglia e gli amici sono ciò che veramente ha reso questa giornata il giorno più speciale della nostra vita finora.Siamo così fortunati ad aver avuto un bel matrimonio tale .Sono entusiasta di essere sposata con Sam per il resto della nostra vita !Fotografia

: Heather Pepin Fotografia | dell'artista: Aqua Vivus Productions | Event Design : Sherry Glommen | Pianificazione : Swann Soirees | Floral Design : Isari Flower Studio | Floral Design : Isari Flower Studio | Cake : la zia della sposa | Inviti : Smitten Onpaper | Cerimonia Luogo : Estancia La Jolla | Banco Luogo : Estancia La abiti da sposa on line Jolla | Bridesmaids Dresses : Nordstrom | capelli: Jessica / Michelle - Koda Salon | Calligraphy : Brown Fox Calligrafia | Abbigliamento da Groomsmen : Nero risvolto | officiante : Cerimonie Per Bethel | pipistrelli pergroomsmen : Louisville Slugger | vestito nuziale : Tara Keely | sposa / damigella d'onore Abiti : Abbastanza Plum zucchero | Cookies : Michele Coulon Dessertier | Guest Book Graphic Designer : Designs J Gal | Musica live / DJ : Collin Elliot -Ancora Ascolto Productions | Trucco : FioreBeauty | Photobooth : Photobooth mobileHayley Paige e Jim Hjelm occasioni sono membri della nostra Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .Fiore Bellezza .Isari Fiore Studio + Design Event .Plum Piuttosto Zucchero.JLM Couture .Inc. e Mobile Photo Booth sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Fiore di bellezza VIEW PORTFOLIO Isari Fiore Studio vedi portfolio Plum graziosa Zucchero vedi portfolio JLM Couture Wedding Gown Bouti ... vedi portfolio Mobile Photo Booth VIEW
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Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it
is true I have seen the gunman **** and go free to
**** again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the
faces of women and children I have seen the marks
of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who
sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer
and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing
so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on
job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the
little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning
as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with
white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young
man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has
never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse.
and under his ribs the heart of the people,
Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of
Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog
Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with
Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

I’m going to solve my problems
By fixing you!
That sounds like the perfect thing
For me to do.
Life would be fine for me if you
Did not insist
On carrying on all the time and
Getting me ******.

You keep on ignoring me when I
Tell you what to do.
Everything would go just right.
It’s up to you.
Do what things like I tell you to
It’s best for you.
You never manage things as
Well as I do.

I’m amazingly organized and
You are not.
You haven’t the gift for it like
I have got.
You’d just mess things all up
For me to fix.
I’m not stupid, you know, I’m
Onto your tricks.

You get the wrong thing because
You did not hear
What I was saying went in and
Out of your ear.
Things always need to be done
A certain way.
And they would be if you would just
Recall all I say.

I swear I don’t know what you’d do
Without me.
You’d turn into some kind of major
Chaos factory.
We’re much better off if you just
Do as you’re told.
This petty bullheadedness is
Getting rather old.

Because all that is wrong with me
Is the stuff you do.
I would be a success story if it
Wasn’t for you.
You manage to ***** things up by
Not following rules.
Nothing would ever get built without
The proper tools.

But things will get better soon,
I promise you that,
Because a hot new slugger has come
Up to bat.
I’m taking over everything so
You just lean back.
In no time at all I’ll have your life
Right back on track.

It happened several years ago
But it is a true story in the flow
A Senior Citizen woman being my Grandmother
She was a strong woman like no other
She worked as a Board Of Education Lunchroom Manager at P.S. 202 in Brooklyn, New York
As my Grandmother was leaving on a regular day, a Mugger was getting ready to pounce
It all happened on the busy street of Atlantic Avenue
My Grandmother was on her way to the Doctor
But when she got in the middle of the street, the mugger showed his attack mystique
However, the Mugger didn’t know he was in for a surprise
Yet my Grandmother showed that Mugger her realize
She literally knocked the mugger off his feet
The Mugger tried another attempt in attack being another retreat
Well my Grandmother showed that Mugger, this senior citizen was determined to not be beat
What do you think happened?
The Mugger got sacred and ran off
Now my Grandmother 5’ 5’ being short, but I never said she was weak
Big things come in small packages
My Grandmother being the Biblical David and defeating Goliath being the Mugger
My Grandmother’s response being her slugger power
She reigned supreme and that Mugger knows what that means
This is a true story and I am being honest
Senior Citizen’s have more power than Social Security, and their strength being their unity.

I thought about how, if I were
able to enter other people's minds,
that the world would seem to take
on different hues of experience; dark,
bright, gentle, sharp, doomy, gloomy,
fuzzy, scary, warm, cold, a warmish
coldish synthesis diving between a
freezing.. naked.. sorry slugger on
a dimly lit island in the dead center of
the ocean thinking of how black and
desolate a place the world is only because
the potential for cold pangs of death wish
are there at all (whatta shock!) whilst he's
passed a blanket by a friendly nowhere pedestrian
and all of a sudden with the help of some agency
in the cold night, he is warm with the freeze only
nipping at exposed heels and neck and nose and
face.

sitting empty, expecting nature to clothe him, he
forgot that nature includes his ability to sew quilts..
adorn himself in developed fur.. accept help from the
endless parade of nowhere pedestrians eyeing with
worry, compassion.. that this concern is as intrinsic
to universe as empty breathless space and biting,
flatulent wind..

Once upon a time i wrote every day
Sun, rain, shine, snow, sleet or rain
anytime was a good time for this pain
for now my chest bear a different pain
self hate to respect, fake love to the real thing
sounds so positive.. doesn't it?
our negative pains bares similarity to the positive with different meaning
every new father knows the feeling
once young and full of braun every lost bar fight left the marks
negative pain of loss, sorrow filling what was once pride
now mature and becoming the coach to their little slugger
positivity fills the memory of the first hit, misery follows the groin where the ball meets
in retrospect the ideology of pain, regardless of why, remains the same
learning experience

It happened on a snowy night
Not very long ago
My wife and I were sleeping
But I was tossing to and fro

We awaken to an awful noise
One we'd never heard before
The sound of it was frightful
And I knew I had to explore

It wasn't in the closet
Or the kitchen where we eat
It wasn't the dog for he was there
Cowering at our feet

It wasn't in the attic
For no footsteps were heard at all
I picked up my Louisville slugger
As I wandered down the hall

It wasn't in the living room
Or on the bathroom floor
I crept downstairs with bat in hand
As I opened the basement door

Each step would seem like hours
As I quietly held my breath
One mistake could bring me closer
To a most untimely death

I fumbled with the light switch
Anticipation filled the air
The moment of truth had finally come
To see what monster was there

Now that I have your attention
I hope you're ready to scream
For none of this really happened
It was only just a dream

I'm sorry about the ending
But you really should have known
This is the kind of poems I write
Whenever I'm alone

Slowly I awaken
I am hanging upside down in the center of a room
the floor and surrounding furniture is covered in plastic
karma catches us all
I was on my way to Vegas to start over
to fund my life change I started robbing mob safe houses along the way figured i'd be a new man before they caught me
I was wrong
The drugs wear off and I feel every blow all at once and pains ignites like a 4th of July ceremony all over making me cringe and yell out in agony
Just like that my screams of pain usher in this 6'8 Russian guy with a baseball bat
"no one can hear you" says the russian
"*******!' I scream defiantly
he walks over with the bat he hand lines up his swing and like barry bonds on a good day I feel that Louisville slugger shatter my ribs more then they already were sending me weeping in pain holding blood in my mouth
"no one is gonna come save you either gingerbread man"
his phone rings and his smile disappears he vanishes to the other room leaving me to my agony so close yet so far away
I was almost free
The Russian wall returns a few minutes later with the last face I could hope to see Vincent cauldron his friends called him Vinnie
His enemies usually didn't live long enough to call him anything
he came directly to me
"nothing personal kid you just ****** up" he said coldly
he pulls out a pistol and hits me in the temple with it
after he orders the Russian to cut me down I collapse on the floor and feel my insides fall apart while blood leaks from my face
"let me go" I yell with the last of my strength
"afraid not bud you stole too much to be forgiven"
Vinnie continues "but if you like i'll try to not enjoy it as much as the last time I had to do this" I feel all the hope leave my soul and I begin to accept my fate
This is it  the end of the show
I begin to turn cold and daze off only to reawaken to the sound of a buzz saw at once I begin screaming with everything I had left
My voice was wasted no one was around to save me and I was about to die shortly
before I can finish my thought I feel a butcher knife skate across my throat with ease
I stop screaming
I collapse back on the ground and let myself bleed out vinnie and the Russian set fire to the room and leave me to die alone
"maybe in the next life you won't be such a **** up" Vinnie tells me before he leaves
As the fire gets closer and my blood soaks the plastic I think about every path not taken and the lovers you left behind
Nothing Matters
In my last moments I smile because **** it
who wants to live forever
FIN

The south was dark and dangerous in. 1954
The **** called in the darkness
as fear hung from the night like spiders webs.

In the woodland by kitty Gains farm
alongside the perfume of corn and wheat
and the staccato chirping of hot august cicadas
stood the hemlock tree scared and black at its base
where its bark would never refresh its color
the hanging tree became the burning tree.

Molly Evans and her husband Abel arrived first.
The ten year old Chevy truck
pulled into the clearing
she held a basket
covered by a clean laundered tea towel.

Abel spread the old wool blanket
as she served his dinner fried chicken and corn.
With two cups of homemade lemonade.
The sun was low and the sky had a fire in it
as if by duty the mosquitos started to bite.

Abel slapped his arm
leaving a crushed insect and a patch of blood.
****** hitch he shouted
as Molly chastised him
language she churns God is listening.

Soon the field was full of vehicles a caddy a ford woody
trucks cars as big as football fields
nothing newer than 8 years old.
Men were drinking beer
ladies chatted of knitting and quilting
and harvest dancing socials.

It was then that jubels old beat up truck arrived.
In the back a ******* man
his hands tied behind his back
kneeling in the truck bed.
one eye closed and bruised
his face beaten ******.

The crowd fell to silence
yet an excitement filled the air it was palatable.
You could taste the bloodlust
as good as the fried chicken.

the ******* man had arms with muscles
. Like a football
he could carry huge sacks of produce all day never tiring.
But no more they would show
what happens to uppity blacks
that lust after white women.

He was accused by Lilly Taylor
of trying to **** her.
it was untrue he spurned her advances
he was married to Lisa his wife
and never ever did anything to her.
It was well known Lilly's husband
Seth drank moonshine until he could not walk
never mind fill his husbandry duties at home.

But lily was white and he was black in 1954
They watched as the truck parked
under the tall stout branches of the hemlock.
The rope hung down
and was measured his toes would tantalizingly
touch the ground as he choked on the noose.
it would keep him alive for minutes

****** don't get mercy here
they would know what to expect in this county.
The man who put the noose
Over his head was Marty Shue
the local bar owner
and his two assistants
were the the barber and the feed company owner.

Even the pillow cases they wore over their heads
with eye holes burned in them
could not hide their identities.
The barber poured a can of gasoline
over the black man
he begged don't burn my oh god no.

He had given up the hope of life
he was just  terrified of being burnt.
The begging went unheard
as the truck moved away slowly
the man fell from its bed
and dangled in the air
his toes dancing on the floor
gasping and choking for five minute.

then using his lighter
the feed company owner
Lit the black man.
He screeched an unholy sound
as the flames burnt him to death.

Across the hill in the shanty town
where the blacks lived.
the old lady looked at the lighted sky
in the trees

in her eyes a small boy
could see the flaming man
hanging burning dying.

Its your daddy son
he's at peace now let him be.
But the flames burned a memory
in his eyes.
and his mouth was dry tasting of death
and a new taste
that he had never felt before revenge.

1968
The boy was 24
a big man now
his arms strong muscular he stood 6ft 5
And 220 pounds

next to him in the old car
sat another black man slight and almost pretty
he has gay written all over him.
His relationship with Virgil was unknown.
just they were close
they were friends.

They arrived at Marty's bar
in the late afternoon
it was still a filthy relic of the postwar south.
The no ******* served sign
still hung faded and in defiance
to the new laws.

The light colored slight man
rattled the sticking door of the bar.
The three men were watching a wrestling match
on a beat up tv
Drinking beer.

He said to Marty I would like a beer please
You don't Get one in here boy
there's a black bar down the road a ways.
But I want one here he saId softly

Marty short of his usual millimeter of patience
picked up his huge louisville slugger bat
and said when I say go boy you ******* well go.
Hear me.

The feed store owner had a gun
hidden in his coat
the barber a long hunting knife in his belt.
The bat raised above his head
as Marty lurched forward

he tried to stop when he saw the glock
in the black man's hand.
it basted his kneecaps to pieces.
as Marty screeched as he hit the floor.

The feed company owner took the chance
to pull out his weapon a 45
he had had since a boy.
It never reached waist high
as the bullets blow his manhood away
and he cradled writhing on the floor

the barber tried to run for the door
but bullets blasted his feet
as the foot bones crumbled

Virgill came in he had a can of gasoline
drenching the men with it
they screamed don't burn us
why you doin this to us we are good men.

Do you remember August 28 1954
They went quiet
The ****** you hung and burned

Yes I am sorry Marty wept
I was young and stupid.

It was my daddy
said Virgil softly I see him every day.
He talked of the thin membrane that.
Separated the living and the dead

of the places where it was so thin
you could hear the demands of the dead
for forgiveness and love
and the loudest of all for justice.

I hear my daddy in my sleep
in my dreams in my soul.
The gas can was empty.

As he grew a cigarette on Marty
his body ablaze in the whoosh of the fire
then the other two .
The place was engulfed in screams and flames.

They drove slowly
within all speed limits
passing the state lines one by one.

They never found out
who murdered three men in Marty's bar.
They had no underworld connections
and all three were fine upstanding
members of the local church
and well respected
members of the community.
it was a mystery.

The end

Another world championship
comes into view
that is, if the pitching holds up
and they maybe get Coby from Detroit.
And maybe work Glybe Torres and
Andular and Clint Fegie into
the scheme of things and maybe
Requito Kyle Schwarbe from the Cabs
That's quite a few ifs but sure
they got the premier slugger in baseball
he sounds like even ore of an CBI
man than Judge
and will make them pitch to Judge more.
He sounds like a great public
relations figure and the endorsements
will motivate him too...
Maybe he'll be the designated hitter
as opposed to Schwarbe or else
he'll take up on outfield, right field slot,
then the Yankees could move Aaron
and trade Brett Gardner for a pitch
My Yankees are back in the business
of bringing Romans
to New York again.
The Kicks are back for me too
having hung out in NYC for a while
among other reasons

You'd think an apology was
An anchor tied to your leg
While in the middle of the ocean
Or a pair of pliers attached to molars
With firm grip ready to pull at full strength
With capability of permanently bruising your jawbone
You'd think an apology was a Louisville Slugger to the knee
Yeah you'd rather take all your winnings and flee
Even when those w's were bought with my own backbone
You'd take my joy
Devour those moments like strawberry scones
Washed down with your choice of ice cream and coffee
Laugh it off and label me softie
Even when strangers would mistakenly
Label me menace
With permanent grimace
When I turn ghoulish and disappear
You'd feel bad
Say you miss your best friend
Hurts to say you'd just miss using me
While I was the fool who didn't mind
Yeah he believed in
Helping one of his Best Friends  make it in life
Sad to say that you don't care for me
Constantly joke about me getting close to ending mine
I'm glad that when I pulled the trigger
It was capsules in bottles
Not the full blown steel
Now I won't feel
Bad when you cry saying you feel like a loser
At this point evidence to confirm
Your own conception
Has quite honestly buried me alive
When I distance myself for good
Just know that
It's all because you were to careless on several occasions
To even mumble a measly
Sorry

Words cut deep, I'm told
From that appearance, I'm holding hot steel
Against your throat made of pure gold.
Sinking into soft metals deep cuts,
Swift ****** and twist up to unjust
They must want to see themselves implode
While i blow off four bullets at once
Like Bayonetta, I bust guns from my heels.
The scrawny white guy with a case of the feels
But if you look into my eyes,
Behind the blinds, you'll see my mind
Spinning thoughts like a reel 2 reel.

I'm a professional at wordplay,
A mercenary looking to slay any hate
Like corn, I stalk, until I can pop up from the wait.
In vegetables, I'm non-gmo, every word homegrown
With organic tones that could never be cloned.
A smile like a crocodile, no gators,
Notice my behavior, look at my toothy grin,
Luring all the little fishes in.

Don't try to bludgeon me with bludgers
I'm a beater beating back every slugger,
While you waffle with a quaffle
Gluing my head on straight so it won't topple
In a brothel of a world,
Everyone seems to look for a temporary fix
I want to keep it a hundred fifty,
Shining golden like a snitch

Springsteen in Louisvillle
With Ryan and my sons
Every song: I knew it.


A River runs through it.

O little cabauo were did you go o little cabauo I lost you a long time ago trotting away my fears you showed me to be a bigger man to rise above it all in luaghing and in solitude but are roads had to split and are friendship had to end o how you tugged on my heart strings with your shananagins  but in the brisk snow and warm Summer's down below I Remember my little cabauo and wonder were did he go you leeped and jumped to show who's boss you shook your head when your shoes were off you nipped then smiled and I had to let you off my ****** what a slugger and joy you brought to my heart and lifted me up so I can grow o o my little cabauo

The slugger swept the bases
his swift run for home past third  
blew away the dusty traces
his teammates had stirred.

She precisely whisked flour
with oil, eggs, and spice
but played til such a late hour
she had to mix it twice.

The coach signaled a sacrifice fly
but he wanted to slam it
not a martyr kind of guy
so he hit a homer ******!

You might want to make dough
but you’d have to prove the matter
to get your fund and asset to grow
don’t forget you’re mixing a human batter.

This hug gust aspiring writer..., albeit youth
fool looking imp posse Hubble wordsmith,
(i.e. the babbling dad) **** sitters hyperbole
nsync as acceptable literary playfulness,
no matter figurative persiflage

bespeaks, expresses, invokes, jimmy's...
simultaneously stretching limits credulity
(think courtesy metaphorical crowbar)
teases out apropos exaggeration
after quaffing vermilion vintage vermouth
without shadow of doubt signifying untruth
merely relishes using me pickled brine

as a practiced po' wit, whereby this logophile
doth das scribe today June sixth, tooth
house sand and twenty two, hoop fully
hits pun hushing metaphorical home runs,
yours truly figurative slugger and word sleuth

rivaling those four baggers
fielded by legendary Babe Ruth
lemme know if literary endeavor
(even juiced by ghost of chance) forsooth
prominently tickles one and/or booth

Funny bones belonging to thee
generic garden variety bot
dear reader rabbit carrot
teen loony toon Bugs Bunny
(asking what's up doc)
impersonator 'course I would unroll

welcome mat (a two seater)
roomy for outsize trumpeting despot
Scottish tartan and Harris tweed
(cuz I'm boss), oh... I almost forgot
dons hat as coordinator

three ring circuits, who runs hot
and cold compliments
courtesy schizoid personality disorder,
when juiced mere unicellular, speck, jot...
nine month parasite huddled in utero

with umbilical cord tied into Gordian knot
assimilating, gestating, maturing,
signaling mine trademark bon mot,
which aforementioned gobbledygook
poetic translation essentially means diddly-squat.

All Joe King aside, I embarked
as independent contractor
for United States Space Force
as 007 secret double agent
to craft senseless poem with humorous bent
quite aware acronym designating heaven cent
ear, nose and throat specialist

may not necessarily wax poetic,
thus scud daddy ling dude,
(nevertheless quite decent)
wrought literary dud versus
concocting Earth shaking event
versatility exemplifying fragment
infinitesimal ability owned by modest gent
with honest to goodness intent.

After the above written
rhyme without reason poetic yawping,
I took much needed reprieve NOT
to exhaust mine laudatory wellspring
subsequently all he wrote comprises something
inane, and without sophisticated substance
essentially absolute zero nothing
nutritious for cerebral cortex
to feast upon material hampering
intellectual succor zilch
otherwise outcome ranked as low achieving.

Indentured gumption forsaken
courtesy each pulled wisdom-tooth
this hug gust aspiring writer..., albeit youth
fool looking imp posse Hubble wordsmith,
(i.e. the babbling dad) **** sitters hyperbole
nsync as acceptable literary playfulness,
no matter figurative persiflage
bespeaks, expresses, invokes, jimmy's...
simultaneously stretching limits credulity
(think courtesy metaphorical crowbar)

teases out apropos exaggeration
after quaffing vermilion vintage vermouth
without shadow of doubt signifying untruth
merely relishes using me pickled brine
as a practiced po' wit,
whereby this logophile
doth das scribe today June sixth, tooth
house sand and twenty three, hoop fully
hits pun hushing metaphorical home runs,
yours truly figurative

slugger and word sleuth
rivaling those four baggers
fielded by legendary Babe Ruth
lemme know if literary endeavor
(even juiced by ghost of chance) forsooth
pretty please notice ingratiation
linkedin with mine being couth
prominently tickles one and/or booth
phunny bone of bunny rabbit.

Funny bones belonging to thee
generic garden variety bot
dear reader rabbit carrot
teen loony toon Bugs Bunny
(asking what's up doc)
impersonator 'course I would unroll
welcome mat (a two seater)

roomy for outsize trumpeting despot
Scottish tartan and Harris tweed
(cuz I'm boss), oh... I almost forgot
dons hat as coordinator
three ring circuits, who runs hot
and cold compliments
to thee named Ingrid,

I proffer a family heirloom ingot
(worth about the same as fine spun gold)
courtesy schizoid personality disorder,
when juiced mere unicellular, speck, jot...
nine month parasite huddled in utero
with umbilical cord tied into Gordian knot
assimilating, gestating, maturing,

signaling mine trademark bon mot,
which aforementioned gobbledygook
devoid of sense and sensibility or riveting plot
poetic translation essentially means diddly-squat
thus tis probably high time,
I mount my Clydesdale steed and happily trot
back to the house at Pooh's corner.

All Joe King aside, I embarked
as independent contractor
for United States Space Force
as 007 secret double agent
to craft senseless poem
with humorous figurative bent
elbow quite aware acronym

designating heaven cent
ear, nose and throat specialist
may not necessarily wax poetic,
thus scud daddy ling dude,
(nevertheless quite decent)
wrought literary dud versus
concocting Earth shaking event

versatility exemplifying fragment
infinitesimal ability owned by modest gent
with honest to goodness intent
and no self approbation, emasculation,
indignation, obfuscation, meant
against one singular heir a parent
whose fortune on credit card bills

and automobile loan he spent,
thus futile to beseech thee dear reader
for legal tender, filthy lucre,
greenbacks, et cetera cuz
series of unfortunate events
one charity case if appreciates
reading thru plaintive feeble vent.

After the above written
rhyme without reason poetic yawping,
I took much needed reprieve NOT
to exhaust mine laudatory wellspring
subsequently all he wrote comprises something
inane, and without sophisticated substance
essentially absolute zero nothing
nutritious for cerebral cortex
to feast upon material hampering
intellectual succor zilch
otherwise outcome ranked as low achieving.

This hug gust aspiring writer..., albeit youth
fool looking imp posse Hubble wordsmith,
(i.e. the babbling dad) **** sitters hyperbole
insync as acceptable literary playfulness,
no matter figurative persiflage
bespeaks, expresses, invokes, jimmy's...
simultaneously stretching limits credulity
(think courtesy metaphorical crowbar)
teases out apropos exaggeration
after quaffing vermilion vintage vermouth
without shadow of doubt signifying untruth

merely relishes using me pickled brine
as a practiced whereby this word sleuth
doth das scribe today July twenty seventh, tooth
house sand and twenty four, hoop fully
hits pun hushing metaphorical home runs,
yours truly figurative slugger and word sleuth
rivaling those four baggers
fielded by legendary Babe Ruth
lemme know if literary endeavor
(even juiced by ghost of chance) forsooth
yours truly, a suave guy noir with couth
prominently tickles one and/or booth.

Funny bones belonging to thee
generic garden variety bot
dear reader rabbit carrot
teen loony toon Bugs Bunny
impersonator 'course I would unroll
welcome mat (a two seater)
roomy for outsize trumpeting despot
Scottish tartan and Harris tweed
(cuz I'm boss), oh... I almost forgot
dons hat as coordinator
three ring circuits, who runs hot

and cold compliments
courtesy schizoid personality disorder,
when juiced mere unicellular, speck, jot...
nine month parasite huddled in utero
with umbilical cord tied into Gordian knot
assimilating, gestating, maturing,
signaling mine trademark bon mot,
which aforementioned gobbledygook
poetic translation essentially means diddly-squat.

All Joe King aside, I embarked
as independent contractor
for United States Space Force
as 007 secret double agent
to craft senseless poem with humorous bent
quite aware acronym designating heaven cent
ear, nose and throat specialist
may not necessarily wax poetic side,
thus scud daddy ling all poetry dude,
(nevertheless quite decent)

wrought literary dud versus
concocting Earth shaking event
versatility exemplifying fragment
infinitesimal ability owned by modest gent,
who took reprieve NOT meant
as exhausting his laudatory wellspring
subsequently all he wrote comprises something
inane, and without sophisticated substance

essentially absolute zero nothing
nutritious for cerebral cortex
to feast upon material hampering
intellectual succor zilch – nascent
hint of latent mordant talent
otherwise outcome ranked as low achieving
straight A student in kindergarten
out the figurative window went.

how do you look at your phone
and not scream with every cell
in your body?
the kind of scream you hear
aboard a landing 737
between the second unexpected
roll to the left
and the cold indifferent ground.

our reality is the back window
of a ash grey Mercedes left
in the path of France's
2019 May Day Protest
and I havent quite figured out
exactly what the Louisville Slugger
is or all of what's written  
on it actually says;
I tried, but I don't believe
I could even make it out
if I did speak French.
I don't.
the ash smashes the windows.
I know.
this, of course, is doggeral.
this, is me, the writer whose
dodgy skill level he himself
brought up to distract
from the dodgy skill level
that he himself brought up.

the blinking red light
on an answering machine
in a late 90s living room
in the suburbs of Anywhere, America
will keep on blinking until the
End-of-All-Things takes...

There are rooms in the rooms
in this one.
Quarter Moon resembling
the blade's edge of a curved
skinning knife held
over all of our heads.

flesh, meat?
meat, flesh?
steel reflecting gleaming steel
reflecting in the blood covered
floor of some abatoir.

best of luck to you All.
someone loves you.