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Tuesday, April 18, 2017

GUSHER








You think this is all
random
but even slot machines
are programmed
to spill their guts
at predetermined intervals...

the only truly random thing
is the poet
and his muse
and when that gusher
may be gettin' ready to blow

so stand back
ladies and gentlemen
because there's one now
(you can spot him by that
 tormented look in his eye)

as we move within range
it's advised that you prudently
cover your heads

we have pith helmets for sale
in the gift shop



Thursday, April 6, 2017

ALTERNATE EXPLANATION



That roach on the bathroom floor
was flat on its back
so I figured it was fixin' to die
(not always the case with humans similarly positioned
with a randy look in their eye)

respecting its process
(I've read Kafka)
I left it in peace
figuring tomorrow I'd give it
a proper burial
after dark
in the neighbor's yard

but when I went in there
it had up and disappeared
apparently righting itself
at some point
and hauling ass
which told me something
after I thought about it
'bout never counting anyone out
even when it looks to you
like the fat lady's opening her mouth...
it could just be you know
she's gonna stuff another donut in there

there is
of course
the alternate explanation...

the cat ate it


Tuesday, April 4, 2017

ALL THIS WAY







Imaginary Garden With Real Toads











A birthday boy's tendency
is to replay everything
against the purples
and pistachios of spring

The little white lies
from another time

The past receding
like the ass-end of a train
from which you've just disembarked

Ancient phrases
inside another eternity
and of no import now
the greater truths ignored
for sake of our little tete a tetes

Today I ponder the world's disasters
the worst of which is adding another digit
to that chronological catastrophe
I fondly refer to as me

Everyone gets  a raw deal
and still the clouds roll by 

Coming all this way
drifting across the cosmos
with these inconvenient truths 
on these afternoons without angels
and still we stand
in anticipation of one extraordinary love

Having experienced the moon
in a myriad of exotic positions
I unmask poems
of barking cats
and rats
and elephants
and stand revealed 
to lonesome applause

Waiting for Santa Claus
I blaspheme and bubble
in the center of all infinity
as I bend to softly kiss you
and the world becomes 
my oyster
and you're my clam

Let's go to Amsterdam



From my poetry and short story collection: Last Tango In Timbuktu

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

PARDON MY FRENCH


Sometimes, for politeness sake
(or goodness sake)
I try to come up with a euphemism
for the "F" word
but nothing seems to fit
(pardon the pun)


I've tried fu*k
but that smacks too much
of the hand of a censor for my tastes

There's fugg 
(as in "muddah fugga")
but that's a little too street
and I can't claim a lotta street cred
(though I've slept there a time or two)

Then there's fook
a bit too British, old chap
("put that fooking thing down
before you hurt yourself!")

And a myriad of old standbys

frig...frick...fock...
(Meet The Fockers--wink wink)
which have become so common
in the vernacular
they've lost all impact
(or should I say thrust?)

You could say it in French (baise)

and sound totally innocuous
on this side of the pond
(but not in the company of 
anyone wearing a Rasberry Beret).

Yep, try as I may

I've not found a good one
seems it can't be polite
and totally effective at the same time 
(a nugget for everyday living? )

So I guess I'll just say fuck it

and leave it at that

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

GOLDEN





Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub




On a sun-splashed day
in a desert 
where the Horse With No Name
made his claim to fame

With spring making overtures

like a punch-drunk lover

I saw her

in my mind's eye
I heard her
in my mind's ear
I contemplated her
in my mind's belly button

Behold The Vagabond Princess

electric rays sparking 
from the tips of her golden hair
she's been there
and back
on a beach with some name
And all because sunshine came
softly through her window that day

Swaying to the beat

of a distant drummer
her gaze is locked on summer

A painted man

walks down the street
blowing bubbles out his ears

How does he do that?


The world is a wondrous

and magical place to be...

The answer blowing

in the tail winds
that are bringing her to me 

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

MILLICENT BEGINS THE MONUMENTAL TASK OF DICTATING HER MEMOIR



(A revised version of one that appeared a few years back. Enjoy!)



OH, BUZZARD SHIT
she said, with a wink
and a drink in her hand.

I knew Marilyn when

she was still a brunette.

I boinked so many famous men

there's no keeping track.

It wasn't notches on your gun

back then...
nothing like that.

They were all indiscretions.

You either gave in...
 or you didn't.

Some guilt?

Sure.
But you did it for love.
Every time.

That's the difference 

between then and now.

BUZZARD SHIT

she said with a start, 
momentarily nodding off--
her gin and tonic slipping
from her fingers
to the floor,
seeping  into the
wine-colored carpet.

It only lasts for as long
as there's a twinkle in his eye...
get that down...
a twinkle...in... his...

And she is out

down for the count
and done for the day.

It's a beginning.






Tuesday, February 21, 2017

ARE YOU READY FOR LOVE???



Would I appear more attractive to you...

If I were bravely shot out of a cannon
and landed in a mangled  heap
just short of the straw pile?

Would I appear more attractive
if  I wore flannel shirts a size too big
(with shoulder pads beneath)
and had a beard
(oop, I have a beard)
and went out each morning
with a big ol' ax
to single-handedly chop down the rain forest?

Or, say, if I held my wine glass
with my pinky extended
and gushed about "finish"
and "bouquet?"

Would I appear more attractive if
I posted pictures of my Corvette
(better get one first)
from every angle with the caption underneath:
VROOM VROOM?

Or if I popped over
and fixed your computer with one
perfectly placed karate chop...
VOILA!

Would I appear more attractive
if I were twenty years younger?
Thirty?
A baby spitting up on your new sundress?

Or...

If you saw me falling out of bed
( banging my head)
first thing in the morning--
mumbling...scratching...farting...
traces of last night's garlic popcorn on my breath, 
chasing you around the room imploring:
KISS ME--I'M YOURS!

Reality raises its ugly head.

Let's all go back to bed. 


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

THE FOURTEENTH OF NOWHERE



The pussy is the portal
into another world
(that was Kubrick's observation)
so come with me
my squiggly little brother
the journey is arduous
and fraught with peril
but would you rather languish here
and be just another jerkoff?

On the couch
feet propped up
head tilted back
The Outlaw Bible of Poetry
resting on my lap
Jazz zonked out
beside me
fan whirring away
in the corner
keeping us both "cool"

He likes to rest his head
on my yellow pad
sayin' screw your fleeting ideas
I got some serious sleepin' to do
so I begin jotting these words
on the back of an old envelope
that's the immediacy of poetry
and the sun hasn't even risen

Like the first time I went on Twitter
and it said "What are you doing"
and I thought the only purpose was
to literally say what you were doing
like "making breakfast" or
"farting into the wind"
but that got old fast

It doesn't pay to take things too much to heart
especially on a calender day set aside 
for eating chocolates and getting laid
because it's all done by rote
and next week you may have no idea
where the hell she is
other than 
as far as you know
some other world


Wednesday, February 8, 2017

TURN BACK TOMORROW by Tim Schaefer...Kindle edition is FREE today through February 12th--from Amazon .com




Hey kids, just wanted to let you know that you can download the Kindle edition of my new novel, Turn Back Tomorrow, for FREE today through February 12th only! This is the e-book version of my totally ADULT time travel thriller that sells for eleven bucks on Amazon. All I ask in return is that when you've completed the book, please consider giving it an honest review on my Amazon book page. Reviews are what make or break a book. Thanks! Love ya!
(Sorry, links aren't working, for some reason. Just go to amazon.com and type the title of the book into the search box at the top of the page, and my book info will come up.)


Excerpt from Turn Back Tomorrow:

There was so much to learn about her--so many questions. In a way, he still felt like this was a fantasy--that the lot of them could very well be mentally unstable and this whole flying saucer business no more than a delusion they shared. But to be a total skeptic, here and now, with all that had passed before his eyes--a beloved president and a civil rights leader gunned down, Watergate, Vietnam, hanky-panky in the oval office--one would have to be delusional to blindly accept the official version of things. Half truths. Manipulation of public opinion through the media. Outright lies. A bit of the conspiracy theorist must exist in all who have traveled this road, and thus a mind that is open to thinking the unthinkable.



Tuesday, February 7, 2017

SONG FOR DONALD


Broke out the Steely Dan in the car yesterday (as I've been known to do), then thought of this little ditty from three years ago I penned as an homage to the lyrics of Donald Fagen. Had a lot of fun with it, and if you ain't heard it...it's new to YOU! (You can sing it to the tune of "Pretzel Logic")

If I didn't have to pee
I might not get up in the morning
said if I never had to pee
I might just forgo the day
you can take those dancin' slippers
and just throw them away
yeah toss them away

All the boyz told me

that you were so nice
lordy all the boyz told me
that you were so nice
didn't know you were a working girl
and that everything has its price
gonna pay the price

If you live in New York City
you dunno how to sing the blues
said if you live in New York City
ya dunno how to sing the blues
till you meet some chippie from Chicago
who's gonna give you the news
yeah she'll give you the news


Everybody out there

you know they're right on the edge
I said everybody out there
is ridin' right on the edge
they'll hit you with a hammer
an' push you right off that ledge

dah diddly doo
dah diddly day
dah diddly dun da dun da dun dun
da diddly hey
wah wah wah wah wah wah
wha wah wah wah woo
wang wang wang wang wang wang
da diddly diddly OOH

Who's that dude in the mirror

the one I heard somebody call "Pops"
I said now who's that freak in the mirror
buys all his duds from resale shops
if he don't get outta my house
I'm gonna have to call the cops!


Now if I didn't have to pee
I might not get up in the morning
If I never had to pee
might just forgo the day
you can bring me my coffee
and a side of creme brulee

If you live in New York City

you dunno how to sing the blues
if you live in New York City
dunno how to sing the blues
till you meet some chippie from Chicago
who's gonna give you the news
she gave Huey the news

da diddly doo

da diddly day
da diddly dun dun dun dun dun 
da diddly hey....