Friday, May 25, 2012


with real toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

She was the pride of the neighborhood,
sitting pretty on daddy's knee--
now she wonders how she got from there to here
when the world looked the same each day,
the changes like time-lapse photography.

But she's got a date with Jimmy tonight,
and everything's gonna be alright.

Bobby sox queen,
young boy's dream,
twistin' the night away
under the shadow of the red menace,
till queen of Camelot
sees it all blow up in her face...
the illusion that we are growing
toward something other than death quickly dispelled.

Doin' the frug and the monkey and the funky
chicken, while sacrificial lambs are led to slaughter...
the domino theory collapsing under its own weight
as overgrown boys play games with real men's lives.

But she's got a date with Jimmy tonight
and everything's gonna be alright.

Dirty dancing, disco inferno,
and win one for the Gipper--
slashing social programs like Jack The Ripper,
in the land of the free and the home of the Atlanta Braves.

Now, some of the men still stare,
but when she looks in the mirror
it's getting harder to save face...
it all went by in the blink of an eye,
from cold war to hot flashes.

But she's got a date...

Rumbling through the desert night,
Jimmy riding shotgun in the Pathfinder--
she stops along the back road,
and when she is ready, wraps her lips
around his shaft... and swallows.

"Jim Beam you're a HELL of a lover," she gasps,
then caps the bottle and sets him back onto the seat--
turns up the radio and begins to dance in the moonlight.
And somewhere in the night
and dreams of the budding nipples
of his child bride
as he slugs down a six pack of Ensure,
defiant till the bitter end.

She sways to the music and
the world goes rushing by as it always does--
but she is happy now...
thinking only of how this unbearable lightness of being
can be reconciled with a heavy heart.

Sunday, May 20, 2012


Shut up
and go to hell
you arrogant little fart
the love between us
has long ceased
swept clean of any hope
a dark thing
hardly visible
its face a black skull

The fetid corpse of you
still rots inside my trench
an old historic battlefield
in need of a plaque

A backyard barbecue
in need of some lighter fluid
and a match

Should a thousand more weenies
sizzle in this pit
none will ever be
as shriveled as yours

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

CHIP ART...It's In The Bag! (Part 2)

d'Verse Poets Pub

Here we go again, all new grouping of  incredible images from potato chip land!  Would you believe GEORGE WASHINGTON???  Scroll down and reel back in shock and awe! 
(If you missed part one, scroll down a little further.)

Thursday, May 10, 2012

CHIP ART---it's in the bag! (Part 1)

And now, in our never ending effort to bring you the quirky and the weird, Catnip presents: CHIP ART!  There's a whole world of creativity out there in potato chip land...and I intend to discover it.  So check out these amazing images, all hand-picked by yours truly. ('ll have to cock your head to the left to view the cat properly--I couldn't figure out how to set him right side up.)  

In potato chip land, the law of the jungle applies--those that pass the test survive and become famous...those that don't get eaten!

This is just a taste for you (so to speak) as we'll be crunching  our  way into discovering some of the most incredible images ever found!  In fact, I'll be posting more this (Tuesday) come back in a few hours to see GEORGE WASHINGTON and lots more. CHIP's in the bag!   

P.S.  I will accept photo submissions of chip art--if they are unique--and credit you for the photo when I post it. ( I intend to get you all obsessively searching through your potato chip bags for undiscovered art treasures!   Hahahahahahoohoohoohooheeheeheehee.... 

Thursday, May 3, 2012


Poetry Potluck--With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

Ladies and gentlemen
welcome aboard the SOUL TRAIN 
chuggin 'cross America
and movin on down the line
tha's right...tha's right...

My name is Thaddeus K. Trumbo
and I am your conductor...

We will glide through the beautiful countryside
with stopovers at significant locales
that comprise the tapestry of this great land...

chugga chugga chugga
chugga chugga chugga

First stop: RIPOFF CITY
where all the street signs
are in fine print
and everyday is the last day
of our gigantic warehouse sale

chugga chugga chugga
chugga chugga chugga

Next stop: WASTED TOWN

Where everyone gathers 
to slurp n burp
down at the ol' Scarf n Barf
(many of them have just come
from Ripoff City to drown their
Wasted Town...
where the motto is: 
Same time
same place
gettin' shitfaced!

chugga chugga chugga

And just down the tracks apiece, ladies and gentlemen, is Wasted Town's sister city: VOMITVILLE...
the capital of clueless teendom
where all the guys 
are flashing hand signs
and all the girls are flashing their boobs
and the beer is cold
direct from our cooler
to the porcelain god 
you will worship at the end of the hall

Ah, what a lovely day to glide
through the countryside
where peace 
and tranquility reside

HEY--OVER THERE...hold it cruisin' for a bruisin' boy...I'll do a RUMSHPRINGA right on yo head...
tha's right...tha's right!

chugga chugga chugga


where all the women are patronized
by male script writers 
so they are tough 
and go 'round  kicking
all the men's asses on every cop show
sliding around the corner
squeezing the livin' crap outta that gun
with both hands
and yelling FREEZE!

Meanwhile, down at the local TASTY  Freez
some are still as sweet as before

chugga chugga


Not to be confused with the Promised  Land
no no
Here, all the politicians
from mayor on down to dog catcher
keep promising that pie in the sky
just to get reelected
but year after year
the only thing they deliver is
that same old poop soup

I'll beat you like a DRUM, boy...
not a snare...a KETTLE!
tha's right...tha's right...

chugga chugga
chugga chugga

NEXT stop:  the village of PC  HEIGHTS

where you WILL apologize
for speakin' your mind
to anyone who has
an axe to grind
and that sensitivity training
for postal workers
is working out fine
but sometimes
you can still detect them seething
behind that counter

chugga chugga chugga
wooowoooo... ladies and gentlemen
we are pulling into WEST ATLANTIS
where the residents, in their thirst
for instant gratification,
have tried to live a lifestyle
well above their means--
and the houses can no longer be seen
because they are all underwater

chugga chugga

Where the powers that be
feel duty bound to meddle
in the affairs of any and all
if it serves their interests
like an  HOA drunk on power
they will occupy your house
and push you around
and any resources you have
might be converted to their own usage
and still they haven't a clue
as to why everybody hates them

chugga chugga 

And now, folks,  a special treat, as we are entering the village of  NOSTALGIA GARDENS
Where every ten years some event from the past
is commemorated with media hype and tributes
even though it no longer has any bearing WHATSOEVER on the present
and even though nobody wants to think about it anymore
we will drag it out again
JUST because it's been ten years
and that's a neat number
(as we speak they are preparing tributes
for the tenth anniversary of Milton Berle biting the big one)

Ah, we SO like to look back
here in the good ol' USA--
as looking ahead is getting
scarier by the minute.

.chugga chugga chugga

Last stop, ladies and germs: DOG TOWN

All passenger must disem...BARK
heh heh

Here in Dogtown,  all the residents have their noses in the air
(they have to) 'cause nobody cleans up after their pets
as the motto is: we wouldn't  stoop that far.
Watch your step your step...
those ain't no Jimmy Dean sausages fryin' on the sidewalk...
no no
seems we always steppin' in somethin' STINKY
here in the good ole USA...

Now, I wanna thank you folks
for being such a good-

ALRIGHT--tha's it!  I'm comin' over there to open up
a big can of WHUP ASS on you boy!
Git offa my train...
An' watch yo step...
tha's right...tha's right...