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Zeeb Apr 13
Dumb, dumb Daddy what has happened to you?
Are you the same man that I once knew?

See the little girl, napping on your shoulder?  That's me.
You, a bit bare in your undershirt - the smell of Old Spice, and your chest-hair, some of it gray, forges in me a warm and valued memory - peace, security, love.  Forever with me!

But dumb, dumb Daddy, is your mind at its end?
Do you actually believe, this **** that you send?

Walter Cronkite was worthy of your trust and you were safe in listening.
Your parent’s and grandparent’s truth-telling and faith in humanity have instilled outdated notions.
Has being reared in a more honest time rendered you this gullible?
Shall we blame that?
No one knew you carried such liability, that your attention and beliefs could be so easily captured, that you may lack common sense even.  You can't tell truth from falsehoods, or spot a demagogue.

I once thought you so smart.
Oh
Dumb, dumb Daddy, do you get out of the rain?
Did Schlitz, “hi-*****” and cigarettes ****-up your brain?

Stay away from your computer - it's not from your time
Get a flip-phone
Come home
Zeeb Apr 6
Mr. Bill Roberts, approachable man, a great pack of young boys we were
His son ran with us, a fine fellow too, the best boy I know that I knew

So common back then, the boys of their dads, to brag and show off the mementos
Of war far away, though close it would stay, to our father’s lives every day

Mr. Bill Roberts unbuckled his belt in front of our youthful, fixed eyes
We’d all seen his metals and one stood apart, a golden and purple small heart

In tract-housing built for the men who in droves, were lucky to come back
His belt was quite skinny, just right for the times, I remember it silver and black

Now off with the trouser, the work of a Mauser, brought upon us boys quite a gasp
As promised that day, the price of the metal, was fully on display

The bullet went in, and then took a tumble, for to continue its buzz-cutting way
To lay the man flat, and he said to us, “It was then that I started to pray”

He’d seen his men fall, had no reason at all, to believe with the living he’d stay
But “Shook off the sad sap” to use his own words, his own life he would save, that day

The dutiful work of his heart, an evident and unwelcome sight
Pressing his hands to his legs with his might, his own body he would have to fight

Fight for your life young soldier, you know you want to grow older
Your girl is at home and Daddy is dead
Go to Mom and find your old bed

The din of combat subsided, and a peace descended as familiar faces appeared
A dream commenced and Mr. Bill Roberts was home
Zeeb Dec 2019
Ones and zeros hold the key
For the eventual displacement of you and me
Must we unbind our worth perceived
From the job and identity we’ve received?
Seems so I’d say, why just this year
A driverless truck crossed the country clear
We must keep meaning, a useful place
for to preserve the human race
Or will it be synthetic ******
While good ole’ Maxo does our chores
Zeeb Dec 2019
Atonement ain’t happened if it still feels bad to think about it, man.  And it still feels bad for me all the time, no matter what the  gray beard veterans say, with their stupid caps full of  pins and ******' hair growin' out of their ears, or what ******' pill they give me.  It feels so bad I ***** if I don't get my mind on to something else.  And look how skinny I am.  I'm ******' skinny.

I don’t care what the ******* said.  He can go back to his hospital or wherever he came from and stop pretending he understands us.

You ain’t never going to shake off that memory, so stop trying - I'm thinking now.  You got to live with it.  Live with what you done.  Live with it till you die, and ****, possibly even after you die.  You got to forgive yourself to live with it now and get God to forgive you if you don’t want to carry it over.  Know what I’m tryin’ to say?  The God part is easy, the chaplain said.  My part ain't workin'.  Is yours?

"Talk to your wife about it".  That guy was a ******' idiot.
You know who I really need to talk to?  I'd beg Satan to give me my punishment and then set me free to live for a change.  I can't get that job done on my own.  The devil may be the only ****** that can fix me.  I don't care what he'd do.  I think the more he burned my ***, the better it would feel.  When he was done punishing me,  satisfied and smiling, I'd call it all even then, and give whatever was left of me permission to live.  Permission to look forward instead of backward all the time.

I'm supposed to tell this **** to my wife?
Zeeb Dec 2019
In darkened space behind a sofa-set
I pause my return from the kitchen
The eyes of my family are watching TV
And for that they cannot see me

What’s on the screen is not to my taste
Too innocent and foolish – It's true, I am quite smug!
But the laughs, the smiles, and sparkling eyes
Oh my family, on my heart you do tug

A gentle warm wash pours over my soul
An unexpected deep sweet euphoria

Just a simple reminder how blessed it can be
To be part of a family
Zeeb Jan 2019
Rat-a-tat Bumpstock, Gadsden on his truck, so easily
led by his nose
Has a dip and a beer with an old friend dear
Let's listen and see what we hear

"It's your turn to shoot"
"Ahhh got **** on my boot"
"Did you get you a deer this season?"

Shot a doe just last week, said the sporting man
She was eating corn right in front of my stand

Did you see on the channel this morning
That story about the wedding cake?
Don’t get me started, said Rat-a-Tat
Okay, go ahead, what was Sean’s take?

He said in a town there’s this baker-man
Who believes in Jesus, just like you and me
Then “ding” went the bell of his shop door
You won’t believe what then he did see
Tat it was two men holding hands, dear God, and they said that they wanted to wed
The baker, now personally offended, tossed them out on their ******* heads

Wow such courageous action, said Tat, and from a man who bakes at that!
To the baker and all imbeciles of the world, went a tip of Tat's oily red hat

As not to be outdone by Tat
Came a second salute to the cretins
A loud ****, a belch, and a spit of brown pinch
So common to people like that


Meanwhile, back in the city


Huff and Puff elliptical man, tunes-in, to his friend on the screen
“What’s this about a deep-state?”, he asked
Pray tell me just what does it mean

I’ll tell you HP, said Huff no. 2
There's a group within our gov
They draw a regular check and do have a plan
To take away our man

"****-right ****-right", said Huffy
I've thought that all along
And did you see on the channel this morning
That story about the weeding cake?
Zeeb Sep 2018
Black binders beside the linac, hold photos of those most ill
A diagnosis and a treatment plan, the last hopes of a woman or man

I fix the monster when it  breaks, so dutifully with a tool
When I get the call "The linacs down", for that I went to school

Something else will oft present, when the beast is down
A delicate soul, silver nitrate marked, waiting patiently in her gown

So evident she is, and so sad to see.  All the women I love personified - compromised, humbled, made pitiful.

As for the binders I'll sometimes note, a new one added today
The mom or dad of a once young boy, with whom I used to play

Each will have their turn in the beam
In desperate hope to be redeemed

And who'll be next on the cancer roll-call?
******* it, ******* it, seems like us all
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