Tuesday, July 7, 2015



Let me put it to you this way
(or maybe put it to you that other way)
if you send a donation
I will send you back
a picture of a
dirty looking child
I cut out of a magazine
to give you a
warm and fuzzy feeling
while my hand is groping around
inside your pocket

(And she's slipping
and sliding
lend her a hand
cuz she's slipping back 
into burger land)


I don't swat flies
I give them names
I'll admit it's sometimes
difficult to tell them
apart, but you look
for little distinguishing
things, birthmarks and such.
Oh, and in turn for sharing
my cozy pad with them
they reciprocate by
eating the dead skin off
my face and body.
That's why my skin is
baby bottom smooth
that and the dish washing liquid
I use, of course.
I regret that I could never
have the same kind of
symbiotic relationship
with another person.
I tried. I offered piggyback
rides, but my passengers
usually balked when they
found out that time and time again
the destination was my bedroom.

(Somebody lend her a hand
someone lend her a helping hand
cuz she's slipping back
yeah she's sliding back
into burger land)


Such a wasted effort
you ringing my doorbell
and I don't feel guilty when
I don't answer cuz sometimes I do
and I am polite 
and I even accept your literature
and look at it some just to see
if you might have changed your tune....


and I don't feel sorry for ignoring you this time
cuz I know you have a quota
of houses you must visit
with documentation and all
to maintain your good standing
so it's not like it's necessarily
coming from the heart
like the cops at the end of the month
working to fulfill their quota
so I see them chasing down cars
who went two miles over the speed limit
like frogs waiting in ambush for flies
you'll be a little lighter in the wallet
cuz that's the game
buckle up and buckle under
or pay thru the nose

(And she's headed down
that slippery slope
sliding back
into burger land
back into the kingdom of 
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
and in the morning
I'll awaken her
with a cattle prod)


  1. ... and never answer those >electronic< I-net " phony-phone " calls_!

    1. You are so right...compassion can extend just so far!

    2. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  2. I smiled all through this, Timo, and resonate with your thoughts....especially the cult canvassers and police, both with their quotas to fill. Quite a sharp ending, LOL.

    1. Everyone needs a good poke once in a while, Sherry--lol

  3. quite an interesting write Timoteo; have a nice Tuesday

    much love...

    1. Thanks for stopping by, said the spider to the fly...

  4. This is a witty way to describe the desperation of loneliness.. sad when you have to name the flies.....

  5. ... ya, and a fly swatter is much cheaper than a cattle prod ... smiles ... Love, cat,

    1. The cattle prod is better for my purposes...xoxo

  6. The wry bemusement in this voice is catchy. The downside of those on a good mission or those doing their duty is sometimes they use that mission/duty for self promotion or gain. (That was my side thought. Not sure if you intended that.) And we have a little shop in Melbourne at Flinders Street station called Lord of the Fries. (Yep. Another detour.) Your poem has a tinge of frustrated sensual innuendo that threads all these discordant images beautifully together.

  7. That first verse... shows how we take joy in what might not actually be the Happens. Hmm.

    Shared with The Tuesday Platform

  8. I regret that I could never
    have the same kind of
    symbiotic relationship
    with another person.

    Your satire is in top form in this poem, Tim... On point and to the point. Just the way I like it.


  9. Love the satirical tone in this and the reference to Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Very clever ending :-)

  10. Yeah, Tim... you're soaking in it. ;)

    1. Add a little bubble bath for me, would ya?

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