haiku warmup

ladybug walks flies
does not stay sit roll over
at my stern command

time invisible
quiet dimension we pass
through from birth to death

Haiku challenge: Time Flies

does time fly or stand
still while we pass its milestones
on the bus of life

 

PgMe’s Friday Haiku Challenge

It hit the spot

I shot an arrow in the air. It came to earth I knew not where, until Mr. Humphrey cried out.

It hit that spot on his left ham that we had made such fun of at the nude beach (from behind him since it was on his behind).

I should not have shot that arrow up in the air like that. It had to come down somewhere unless it hit a bird, which would have been worse. I was the only one holding a bow, a dead giveaway.

“You, Fred,” Mr. Humphry said. “I’ll whip you now with your own arrow. Lucky for you it was no more than a glancing blow.”

Not lucky for me. If the arrow had penetrated his ham, he could not whip me with it. The barb would have secured itself in the wound.

“May I fortify myself, Sir,” I said.

“Do so and approach,” he said.

I took a long draught of the strong stuff, against the pain to come. It hit the spot.

Can Humankind Avoid Its Biological Destiny?

Don’t like the sound of that. I know what my biological destiny is. Why would I avoid it?

I’m 28. Have not fulfilled my biological destiny yet. Came close twice but one time I said something stupid and the other time the girl’s dad banged on the wall.

What’s wrong with my destiny I ask you that. I hold no brief against those other destiny types in our time but mine is still the most popular ain’t it? It always was in my neighborhood growing up. All my mates did their destiny before they were proper adults didn’t they? In the proper way. On top I mean.

Father Sean don’t agree but he would disagree would he not? His destiny ain’t getting fulfilled any more than my own unless he would take up something like Father Jules has done devil take him.

I took a vow after getting knocked about in the destiny department by girls I fancied and there were many. I took a vow solemn as my soul that I would never pay for it. That was to be my destiny. Do not explain bloody humankind to me or the world’s oldest profession. My biological destiny is waiting for me at The Crown and Pig and I will not avoid her God willing.

Guest Post: My Angels (Anne P.)

I’ve always seen angels. Hallucinations or schizophrenia, they’re real to me. They walk beside me and talk to me. Not always, but sometimes. One at a time.

Usually a  girl, although once in college and once when I was coaching a male lacrosse team for the company, they were uncertain boys.

All were my age, until I approached forty. Then they began to get younger as I got older.

The girls preferred the diaphanous. The boys preferred leather. They all stayed buttoned up, so some simple questions about them remained unanswered.

None were beautiful or ugly, but they were all attractive to me, and intriguing. At some point I learned that the Persians invented angels and for a while all my visitors had black curly hair and black curly beards, male and female alike.

We never discussed religious matters. Being old immortal Persians, they might have tried to convert me to a belief in Ahura-Mazda or another of their gods. Instead, we strolled along talking about whatever came into our heads.

What I discovered about angels:

  • They’re a lot like me.
  • They don’t ask questions.
  • Their strongest response to my confessions was “Oh. Huh.”
  • I never met one I didn’t like.

Fifty Shades of Teenage Gray

I’m grounded for the day because my boyfriend got me back home last night after midnight. My mom threw a fit. She does not understand what’s going on between Marcus and me and I am not going to try and explain it to her. I can’t even explain it to Marcus.

So now I’m here alone and I thought I’d count the shades we’ve got up in here:

18 lamp shades

11 window shades on the house’s sunny side

5 pairs of sunglasses

6 patches of shade under the shade trees

2 ghosts – Granny and Pop-Pop

3 more ghosts – the cats Fishy, Whiskers and Whiskers Junior

1 “shades of all the things I dream up to pass time!”

4 shades (Mom, Dad, my brother and me) (non-PC term but I’m black so I can use it)

…and what do you know, that’s 50 shades.

Ask Sister Theresa: Can This Marriage Be Saved?

Dear Sister Theresa,

We are five lovers, recently married in Goosefeather, California.

We are:

Carl,  assigned sex = male, gender identity = male, sexual orientation = cis

Eunice, assigned sex = female, gender identity = female, sexual orientation = cis

Nancy, assigned sex = male, gender identity = female, sexual orientation = cis

Tom, assigned sex = female, gender identity = male, sexual orientation = cis

Brad, assigned sex = male, gender identity = male, sexual orientation = gay

Our problem is that Brad, our only non-cis marriage member, is having trouble fitting in. Or adjusting, might be a better way to put it.

We have “hit the social scene” searching for a solution and have found 4 new potential marriage partners:

Paul,  assigned sex = male, gender identity = male, sexual orientation = bi

Cheryl, assigned sex = female, gender identity = female, sexual orientation = lesbian

Lucy, assigned sex = male, gender identity = female, sexual orientation = intersex

Gordon, assigned sex = female, gender identity = male, sexual orientation = polysex

Do you think Brad may find a more complete true-love connection if we add these prospects to our marriage?

Sister Theresa responds:

Wow. You guys have got me in a bit of a pickle here. When I was Brother John, I had some strong ideas on this subject, but now that I’m Sister Theresa, I’m lucky to get my wimple on straight in the morning.

Running Eagles Fans Slam Into Subway Poles

In the video that went viral today, a fan, after an Eagles victory over the Vikings, was running along side a train and crashed into a metal pole on the platform. He’s ok.

The other fans discussed in the attendant newspaper article, who had been drinking heavily, were not so innocently innocent as that fellow, who was wearing a number 20 jersey. Those other fans were not running along the platform. They were off the platform, down an unused side tube, there to party in their usual way following a win by their favorite NFL team. They were there to hunt down and persecute the homeless denizens who live beneath the City of Brotherly Love. Or is that San Francisco? No, that’s a whole different brotherly love right there.

The drunken and rapacious fans this time found the community of jerry-built structures affectionately named Polskie Miasto (Polish Town) in honor of the community’s mayor, the proudly homeless Kazimierz Godłowski.

You can see where I’m going with this so I won’t belabor it.

I abhor all violence.

When the police finally arrived, it was the innocent homeless who were arrested. The six ruffians who did the damage escaped scot-free, although three of them later fell on the tracks and were cut to bits by a passing train full of their brother and sister fans, at least.

People are ditching cars and flying to the airport in helis (Axios)

I’m a member of the 1% and I don’t care who knows it.

My family knows it and they know they aren’t. I’m keeping my hard-earned inheritances all to myself. If we start allowing families to share (chain sharing), they’ll fritter our money away. On fritters haha.

I use helis all the time. I don’t deny that either. Fracking in the backyard pays for the fuel they use.

Ever since I added rooms to the house, and greater size to the rooms in the house, and to the number of stories the house has, I’ve been using helis to get from, say, my private dining room to my bathroom. The rest of the family takes the bus!

I used to have myself carried to the airport in a palanquin borne by toadying sons and daughters, but that was when it was closer to the terrace. Now that I’ve moved Dubuque, Iowa, back there (won in a poker game with other 1%ers), the airport has been pushed farther away.

Is wealth a burden? Only for the 0.1%… because we 1%ers are always asking them for loans!   🙂

 

God or Blue M&Ms

I had some awesome oatmeal this morning.

Yesterday it was better. It was amazing.

Day before that, better yet. It was good.

So “awesome” has moved to the bottom of my superlative list, below amazing, incredible, and not bad.

What are my candidates these days for describing, say, God, if God should be standing before me? (I mean, me standing before Him.)

Back in the day, “awesome” was the default descriptor for the Almighty.

Now I might say:

  • WTF!
  • Bloody Hell!
  • Jesus Christ! (ironic)
  • F*** me!
  • Dude!
  • Literally, what is that?!?