Look what the cat done drug in
Slow on down... darlin’!
Hol’ yo horses!
Don’t go get’n a conniption fit
Or get’n your knickers in a knot!
Hush up
Or’n I’m a goin **** a knot in yo tail!


I’m busy as a one legged cat in a sandbox,  
but I’m fixin tell what we got here at JuJu’s

Now lookie here...

we got
crawfish mild spicy
crawfish medium spicy
crawfish spicy spicy

we got
crawfish with corn
crawfish with sausage
crawfish with potatoes

we got
crawfish with red sauce
crawfish with pink sauce
crawfish with melted butter

If y’all a bit dry...
we got
crawfish with canned soda
crawfish with bottled water
crawfish with beer
crawfish with BYOB

Or we gots
jus’ crawfish

Go on an pick how yo’ want yo’ crawfish spiced, then go on an decide what yo’ wanna add!  I reckon we gots dang near 362,888 ways to eat these here mudbugs

You might could get
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage
spicy spicy crawfish with corn
spicy spicy crawfish with potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and corn
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage, corn and potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with corn and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with potatoes and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage, corn, potatoes
and beer

I could go on...
till I’m plum tuckered out... but...

Got it?  You good??
You want mushrooms
Well, I’ll be
Don’t go axin... what we ain’t got
No siree bob, no mushrooms

We also ain’t got tea, sweet or unsweet
But sweet’s the only way to have tea sweetie

If you want soda, you can get
Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Dr Pepper
Diet Dr Pepper, Hawaiian Punch, Brisk Tea
Or Root Beer

We also got shrimp... just boiled

We also got gloves... half a dollar

Well, I’m worn slap out!

Watcha have a hankerin for?   

Take your own sweet time!  

Sit a spell

You’ll soon be full as a tick on a big dog!

Happy as a dead pig in sunshine!

You’ll wanna slap yer mama!

Can’t decide hon?

I do declare!

Aren’t you precious?

(now... he startin get on my last nerve)

Still...can’t make up your mind?

Well... I can’t do it fer ya!

(bout aggravatin as a rock)

You picky?  

(Lawd have mercy!)

Bless your heart!  

©  2019 Jim Davis

I've never cared too much for history, found no appreciation
for it's multitude of names we commit to memorization
there's a certain friend of mine, born in 1989-
Sir Maximilian Relaxilian- and he lacked all motivation

Since the origin of time, I have traced his family line
and their genetic disposition towards supreme relaxation
He's the great great great great grandson
of the founder of vacation.
And this founder's son Clyde, well, he invented the slide
Clyde's kid brother Greg helped patent the keg.
And Greg's great grandson Snyder sold the very first recliner.

So whenever Max was challenged, troubled, bothered, or confused,
He'd recite his family tree, and use the very same excuse:
   "Hereditary mutations within each generation!"


     And so he sat around and slept,
     But never cleaned and never swept,
     Never ran, never lept,
     His promises were never kept.


Maximilian never managed once to get up off his ****,
too tuckered out for bowling, just too lazy to putt;
He Never traveled to the sink nor had he once bothered to think,
too coward for a shower, found no reason not to stink.

And then one super lazy afternoon a quarter after two,
Maximilian had a visitor, I promise this is true:
A tiger stood outside the door which he was too lazy to lock
as if he'd try to find the **** beneath the pile of ***** socks.
And then of course, it's no surprise he couldn't hear the kitty knock
and once you hear what happened next I guarantee you will be shocked...

The tiger tickled him
and giggled him
until his ticker stopped.

So next time you think of staying in,
instead of going out-
or complain about the effort
that it takes to leave the couch,
Or refuse to leave the sheets or venture from a cozy pouch...

just remember Maximilian Relaxilian, King of Slouch
and stay out of bed instead,
stretch your legs and use your head
then count your blessings, kiss your mother
motivate one another.

Eyelids droop
dropping
out of the loop
everything's
turning black.

But
tomorrow willing
I will be back,
where else would I be?

There's a show on the radio,
'archive on four'
I can listen
with my eyes closed.
( that must be my superpower )

Dreams of Krypton
moving on
a celestial plane.

Phrases that I've longed to hear,
he has lined with my left ear.
Never done to create your own
I wait for a sign; maybe tuckered eyes.

Strained conversation,
oh I do dwell.

It is time to make cinch,
it is time for // time for bed.
Only to resume this talk of a rising tide,
repeatedly in my ponderous head.


*(c.b)

Get down from there, my old man said,
before you hurt yourself.
Me and Little Sis were playing
in the hayloft where all the bales
were piled up high- so high

they liked to touch the barn roof.
I always liked to play
in the fortress the bales made,
like the castles and forts
in the picture book on Grandma's shelf

in the parlor. Pa and Grandpa
worked all day getting in the hay,
and when the day was done
they would sit in the parlor
and take turns drinking from the jug

on the shelf. After a while they would
start singing and cracking jokes
and acting kind of foolish,
and Grandma would holler at them
and tell them to act their age,

and when they got all tuckered out
Grandma would put the cork back in
the jug and put it back on the shelf.
One time I was out playing in the barn,
and I heard voices in the hayloft,

sort of a rustling sound, and now and then
a giggle, and I looked and saw
Big Sis and the farmhand playing
in the hay, and they saw me and
yelled at me, telling me to go away

and leave them alone. Later on
I saw where Big Sis was getting kind of fat
in the belly, and I said something
about it, and Big Sis got all mad
and threw her milk cup at me.

Pa said something like that's what happens
when girls make hay on their own,
and Grandma said that ain't
the right kind of hay to make,
and Big Sis got kind of red in the face.

I only ever saw Pa and Grandpa
make the hay, and when I asked them
what it all meant, they only chuckled,
and told me to go out and play.
I guess maybe I'll figure it out someday.

less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
   explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
   a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel

   from the **** of this guy
which bout with ****** obstruction
   found me doubled over
   with lower abdominal distress

   whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
   against the cellar brick wall),
   thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh

and managed to muster the means to bare
   frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
   the Acme brand Metamucil,
   which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
   supposedly loosening the stools,

   which optimism (product
   didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
   to cease livingsocial would try

humph enjoining
   this lvii year old married male
   to cede victory
   to the grim reaper, who would vie

as winner de jure
   to this common fellow invoking libretto
   ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
   without successful defecation

   despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
   five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
   thence mouthing retraction
   of former thought to cease existing,

though a non-bull lever
   in any power broker qua mankind
   relief at long last
   provided posterior answered prayer
   yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
   his recurring pain in the *** jagged torture
   and asks
   a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?

Emotional guillotine clefts
     irredeemable psychological umbilical accord
witnessing heart breaking,
     woe-begotten inhumane rip cord
gut wrenching shuffle board

     (indiscriminately sporting)
     most punishing option explored
involving upwards of 2,000
     immigrant children forced to ford
predatory invested foreign territory

     south of Rio Grande potentially gored
if not *****, enslaved, via gang lion, viz
     nefarious smoking bandits gloating
     with anticipatory glee - hoard
ding young boys and girls

     sacrificial hideous torture
     mocking land of free and home
     of bravely ejected innocent
     nubile terrorized angels,
     where horrific, pedafilic traumatic plight

     unwelcomely visited upon
     naively overly trusting
     precocious youngsters ignored
fiendishly, and diabolically,
     where kids injured

malevolently, punitively,
     and violently inured
at the ****** hands of many
     a self proclaimed war lord,
which hypothetically,

     presumably blithely of once safely
     (albeit tenuously) moored
then cruelly wrenched where mill let tarry
     uber brutes ill league hull
     tender babes asper incident

     uprooting tooth and nail on floss
inconsolable sorrow upon fractured families
     (live re: worse, now imagine
     if you will gasoline poured
over naked peach fuzz flesh

     aye envision engulfed forked sinister flames
     purposelessly immolated how screams
     dark shadows within outer limits
     of AmeriKa twilight zone roared

renting asunder travesty
     treachery and trinity
     in God We Trust smugly ******* toward
page from fascist playbook
     "Stasi in **** Ward,"

where atrocities censored
     like Black Sabbath despite
     freedom of speech reprehensible witch
hunt scenarios over span
     six weeks bedlam
     decorated epaulette
     glorified hoodlums twitch
with numbskulls
     while defrauding, deflecting,
     and defiling,

     defenseless as deer lambs switch
ching the other cheek as smug snitch
like scattering rats
     Department of
     Homeland Security officials
administration’s enforce
     new “zero tolerance” policy
toward illegal border-crossing,

     nonetheless bend rules
     they busily play
     an extra round of Quidditch)
feigning obliviousness perfect suckling

     nursing, and mewing infants
     forcibly experienced nirvana unplugged,
whereat strong arm eminent
     marshalled tuckered law tugged
maternal instinct doubling down,
     sans cradling tender infant snugged.

cuz...well...this cerebral cortex lacks
ability to comprehend anything
   more complex than playing jacks
aware his severe cognitive ability hacks

away at such juvenile gibberish
   and most likely exacts
a prediction my intelligence
   on par with bracts

very much aware that
   without recourse to contrivances
   delineating the passage of time,
   wherever said out
   standing invisible essence
   which moments lapse just now ago

Now!
no just a moment ago Yaw
that, this or another instant
   did without so much as a wow
lapse, and lucky

   21st **** Sapiens to vow
and lay claim thee or thou
aware the amorphous ether
   one can ****** as a sow  

or any other animate or
   inanimate direct or indirect object re:
yule lie zing
   any analogy, metaphor, simile,
   et cetera a poor substitute to pre
sent every second, minute,

   hour...that doth nee
dull our attention akin
   to banshees, or comparison
   to something else
   totally tubularly off the wall lee
ving without a trace

   only prompt a feeble yet apropos je
ne sais quois, yet even then any primate a he
than (if individual couched in this free
to believe in any religion country, and cre
may shun versus burial predicated

   adherence to idea of a soul aie...aye
how write with frustration struggle to affix bye
and bye, some nebulous notion, that doth defy
tis a futile effort to codify, fortify,

identify abstract concepts, whose high
arc key eludes pinpointing a per jai
guru dev, place or thing (ha)
   even scrunching brow
   defeats and doth be lie
this one measly mortal well nigh

tuckered out on par with calculating pi
  
tangential to asking if and/or
   how i can access
   fullest potential...say to write
about with the aid of symbols

   i.e. letters to expound on an idea trite
or one that confounded mankind
   many millenniums or quite
sum indeterminate orbits 'round el sol,

   no ability within this mite
ova reproductive happenstance (yes me),
   whom ye could tell go fly a kite
for inducing confusion,

   but the nature of this har re: beast
   with a little insight
gripped, harangued, rankled,
   et cetera, thus communicates
   hello or goodnight,

which understandable
   simple words may not excite
as quotidian oft repeated philosophical
   mental challenges
   i didst expend effort to cite,

which mind exercises offers
   no exit, ouch that doth byte  
and if subjected to  a brain scan
   would blind technicians
   and set alight

frenzied uproar amidst **** Sapiens
   via intense thinking to induce blind
ness flailing at feeling trapped
   asper being teased at find
ding no beginning

   or end like a mobius strip
   analogous to space/ time continuum
   that little effort could
   blow a fuse in the mind.

adieu: from matthew scott harris
hook halls schwenksville, pennsylvania
hiz home tow win.

less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
   explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
   a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel

   from the **** of this guy
which bout with ****** obstruction
   found me doubled over
   with lower abdominal distress

   whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
   against the cellar brick wall),
   thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh

and managed to muster the means to bare
   frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
   the Acme brand Metamucil,
   which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
   supposedly loosening the stools,

   which optimism (product
      didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
   to cease livingsocial would try

humph enjoining
   this lvii year old married male
   to cede victory
   to the grim reaper, who would vie

as winner de jure
   to this common fellow invoking libretto
   ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
   without successful defecation

   despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
   five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
   thence mouthing retraction
   of former thought to cease existing,

though a non-bull lever
   in any power broker qua mankind
   relief at long last
   provided posterior answered prayer
   yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
   his recurring pain in the *** jagged torture
   and asks
   a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?