Kansas

 

 

Miles per hour
the wind blew so hard


Things that were inside
flew out to the yard -


Rosemary, parsley, shoe laces

wheat –

 

Hair spray, tooth paste

socks for my feet –

 

Goldfish and castles

a spoon from my hand

 

Stop watches, Grandfather

hour-glass sand -

 

 

It sucked up the vacuum
and left there instead

A cuddle of bunnies
from under the bed -

 

10 Birthday candles

once again blown -

 

and curtains with seams
no longer sewn

The wind blew so hard
and came with it rain


It made every window
feel all the pane -


It blew out the chair
where I sat and read


and left someone's Chevy
parked there instead -


Milk bottles tipped
& lay on their side

tears that were shed
now already dried -

 

 After the storm
when rubble is thick

that's when a branch
becomes just a stick -

A sad sight indeed
not much left to say -

For still in my laces
I too blew away.

 

 

 

 

 

 



Not Worth Mentioning

Day Dream

My boss occasionally catches me

day dreaming

He’ll see me staring off into space

as if I’m in a trance  

my thoughts miles from this factory

with its noises and smells

its warning signs and safety glasses

Mentally I'd be far, far away from lab coats and clipboards

and 

light-years from any time clocks –

When they hired me they hired my mind

and day-dream is just one of the things it does.



As if it really matters at this point.

I’m not entirely sure what a systems analyst is or does but if I were to make a guess I’d say it is a person who examines the individual components and inter-connected relationships of those components within a system in an effort to search out weak links and then provide ways of improving the process.

 

            For example, let’s pick out one system and see what we find.  How about something we all can relate to, like food.  We’ll start off with just a sketchy overview.  We’ll begin with the farmer.  The farmer is a highly educated person who uses his knowledge of soil, weather patterns, chemicals, supply and demand, as well as equipment to produce his product.

            Of course there are a multitude of variables that follow, depending on the type of crops the farmer produces, but as this is just a sketchy overview we’ll just say the next step in our system is processing.  The science of processing has evolved greatly over the years, adding safety and product life to the things we consume.

            We can combine packaging and marketing into one category, even though they are very different and complex systems, each having their own sophisticated structures and disciplines. Anyone working in either of these fields must have excelled in psychology and engineering respectively.   

 

            A key component to all this is transportation.  We have to get the product to market and it is all very expensive and time sensitive.  We could spend an entire year examining this system alone.

 

            The supermarket, with its rows and rows of well-lit shelves is a computer controlled environment and must be a clean and inviting place, staffed with a management team that watches over all aspects of the business, from inventory control, and stock rotation and presentation to customer service and everything in between.

 

            This brings us to the bagboy or packer of your order; usually a high school student whose thoughts are on everything but the task at hand.  He or she has had very little education and absolutely no training.  They stand unaware of the effects of gravity, Newton’s Laws, the theories of cause and effect or anything about structural integrity. They remain oblivious to the item their hand has just grabbed and shoved onto the soft and very susceptible loaf of bread.

            Unconcerned with the damage, destruction and havoc they’re about to wreak on your groceries, they stare ahead blankly, without so much as a spark of awareness - mentally practicing their line; “Paper or plastic?”

 

           

 

What Time Is It ?

 

 

Time to move.

 

 



Class of 41

 

 

 

 

 

 

You haven't changed a bit.

 

 



Business 101



Designed for Flight

 

 

 

 

Should be of light construction

 

 

With graceful lines
 
 
Having aerodynamic features
 
 
Proportionately  balanced
 
 
Adequate lift
 
 
Minimal  drag

 
 

 
 
or not.
 
 
 

 



A Penny for your Thoughts

 

 

 

This Sun feels great.

 

Her coffee really stinks

I can smell it all the way over here -

 

I could really use a nap.

 

 

squirrel!...

 

 

I'd like to bite whoever invented this screen.

 

Yes, I see you Mr. Chipmunk.

 

 

A few degrees warmer would be great.

 

Zzzzz

 

 

 

She always examines every bit of 

that newspaper 

before spreading it under my litter box.

 

People are so strange.

 

 

If I drank coffee I have it with 

a slice of fresh chipmunk

and some butter.

 

 

 

 

 

You know - the dog never really liked you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Ocean Front

 

 



Renters



Laminated Rats

 

  

 

 

            Yes, I can tell you exactly why I keep coming back to this blog; for one thing Zobostic doesn’t use teaser titles like those Yahoo journalists.  I find that very annoying.

 

       In here I find in-depth stories like the one last October by Barb Wire.  I think it was called, On the Fence.   Or the article last week about the tainted dates discovered at the Christmas calendar luncheon.  And I love some of the poems - not the ones that get stuck in my head all day.  I hate when that happens.

 

It isn’t just rich, exquisitely done articles that draw me back again and again, it’s the feeling I get when I visit this blog, like I’m seeing an old friend, someone I’ve known all my life.  Well - not all, because it isn't over yet.

  Maybe not a friend I’d lend $3.00 too or even want to share my lunch with – not that kind of friend, more of a sole mate - someone who has walked in my shoes. 

Not these shoes here but my other ones.  The brown tie shoes with the man-made uppers, oil resistant bottoms, you know the ones.  It’s more of that kind of feeling.

Oh, I see.  You thought I was thinking soul mate.  Oh heavens no.  This isn't that kind of blog.

And I could have that whole soul mate thing confused with something else.  It's like when I misunderstood that speech I heard about the laminated rats.

Now THAT was embarrassing.  Turns out it wasn't rats...  I forget now what it was.

Doesn't matter.

 

 

 

 

 

 



Side Effects

 

 

If we stay here the side effects are chills, frost bite and limited mobility.

If we take the Florida pill the side effects are itching and random swatting

 

If we take the Mid-west pill we will appear wind-blown, disheveled and lose our balance

 

No one can afford the California pill

 

Swallowing the Lone Star pill leads to dehydration and
 heat stroke

 

The great northwest pill has caused roof rot in some laboratory animal housing

 

The D.C. pill has been known to cause the following;

Greed

Arrogance

Loss of conscience

Verbal diarrhea

Megalomania

Short & Long term memory loss

Short-sightedness

and Truth Avoidance Disorder

 

 

Please consult your Doctor before exercising your judgment. 

 Remember...

When the Angels want to punish us they grant our wishes.

 

 

 

A. E. Housman

 

 

"I lay me down and slumber,

and every morn revive -

Whose is the night-long breathing

that keeps me man alive.

 

When I was off to dreamland

and left my limbs forgot,

Who stayed at home to mind them

and breathed when I did not?

 

I waste my time in talking

No heed at all takes he

My kind and foolish comrade

That breathes all night for me."

 

 

 



Defending the Waldorf

 

Walking across the giant salad felt like I was walking on thick padded carpet.  Occasional strips of carrot snapped like twigs beneath my feet as I stepped.  My walking stick, now that I think about it, looked much like a tall salad fork, collecting odd leafy things each time I plunged it down for support and balance.

 

Mushroom caps were larger than they should have been and getting around them at times was awkward.   A strong odor of onion was making me tear up and it was difficult to breath.  As I made my way across I began to feel quite strange, maybe even a little dizzy.  I noticed my arms and legs looked somewhat red and irritated.  I may have been breaking out in a radish.  This was not good.  I had gotten myself into a real pickle.  Even my dog, Flower, had run off.  He was a Collie.

 

               I had to be careful crossing to the far side.  I could just picture myself slipping and falling, being left for dead.  Odd thoughts soon filled my head, like – Lettuce pray.  Large areas around me seemed to resemble a battle field.  There were broken and snapped peas, small sprouts that looked way too young to be here.   Up ahead I spotted an asparagus spear.  I picked it up.  I might need it later; who knows what crazy Garbanzo could suddenly attack me?

         I glanced over at that potato.  The look in his eyes made me think of that time I saw Arty choke.

 

         For a moment I thought I heard somebody toss something.  It startled me - I called out,

 

                “Caesar!  is that you?”

 

 

Lest ye be...

 

 

Everyone was in the hall

waiting to go back inside

like actors in a dramatic play

spectators, reporters, family members

and me -

 

“Jury’s back.” - the bailiff’s voice

opening the door yet no one moved

as if suddenly none of us wanted to know

or see –

 

“Back inside, again the bailiff -

the judge is drawing near.”

but a knowing had swept across the crowd

there was nothing left for us

nothing we needed to hear –

 

A newsman packed up his camera

a lady in a long coat turned

putting on her gloves

and a collective sadness filed out of the courthouse

 

some headed to the parking structure

others – the bus stop,

nobody was talking

the city felt different – quieter

lonely.

 

A single tugboat was making its way

down the lethargic river

but there were no barges to move

or cruise ships to park –

not so much as a sleeve to tug.

 

 

 

 

 

Food for Thought

 

 

The books on my shelf

are not always true,

Some of them borrowed

some over due –

 

Like the food in my fridge

some of its old,

Some has gone fuzzy

all of its cold –

 

The clothes in my closet

hang wrinkled and pressed,

Some keep me warm

all keep me dressed –

 

The words on this page

like things that I’ve said,

All came from thoughts

that exist in my head –

 

Some of them wrinkled

fuzzy and old,

Some may be true

most stay untold -

 

The difference of course

and there isn’t a doubt,

When I close my eyes

the light don't go out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Not a Morning Person

     They sat at the breakfast table.  He crunched the loud cereal; the same cereal he always ate from that annoyingly cheerful box while she clutched with both hands her warm coffee mug.  It was almost too warm to grasp but she felt if she didn’t hold on tight she would fall away like someone in the movies - just falling and falling forever.

 

     Her eyes were closed as she tried desperately to focus on the distant train whistle instead of the crunch, crunch, crunch that seemed to be getting louder almost echoing in her head, as if the crunch had become the train and she was helplessly in front of it about to be flattened. 

 

     A large part of her wanted to let go – wanted to fall far away but instead she slowly brought the cup up to her lips and as she gently blew across its steam she opened her eyes and stared at him.

     He could sense her stare and stopped eating long enough to look up from his bowl.  He flicked his tail and began to purr.  She smiled, though only slightly, and took a sip.

     Maybe the day would get better.