MATERIAL WITNESS

For One Shot Wednesday

I saw you again

at the last red light

the girl on the billboard

flagging a ride

to catch a flight

But all wings

to the City Of Angels

were grounded by fog

so we taxied around

until we found

a cheap room

There were clean sheets

but no Bible

You kissed me awake

with your haunted eyes

ran your hands

down my worn Levis

We poured the wine

and talked about how it feels

to

be

frozen

in

time

You said: How is it effected

this transformation

from image to cell?

I said: I learned it once

in a madhouse

just a place we called hell

and you're a material witness

With the dawn

a woman's voice

singing an ancient tune

Your picture in the paper

an apparent suicide

from the east side

of the river

The girl on the billboard

at the last red light

the fog had lifted

at last she made her flight

WE ARE ALL CHILEAN

Once

in a while

some scrappy sonzabitches

beat the odds

when they had no right

to expect it

And the rest of us

watch

fists pumping

cheering

our spirits bolstered

as we gamble

on our own tomorrows

THE LAST LAUGH

For One Shot Wednesday

You've come a long way

baby

from the bustle

to the thong

While you're thinking chic

we're thinking CHEEK

but what's been lost

is a certain mystique

that made grandpa

stay with grandma

for half a century

so entranced by finally laying

eyes upon that which had been concealed

for so long that he never got over it

But now

with nothing left to the imagination

could it be that men will find

that we are REALLY more attracted to your mind?

HEY INSOMNIACS !

SNORE Productions presents: BUZZKILLERS!

For the first time ever in one collection, here are twelve of the most insipid, inane, stupid, boring, draggy, guaranteed to put you to sleep songs ever to hit the pop charts!

They're all here! The songs that either bored you to tears or drove you to the brink of suicide, as they were played OVER and OVER and OVER again on the radio, or in places (like elevators) where there was no escape!

You might have to wait for hours to hear EACH of these BUZZKILLERS on the radio, and meanwhile, you'd still be wide awake. But not so with this amazing collection! Just slap on the CD and you're on your way to blissful, merciful sleep--knowing that it's your only escape!

YOU GET:

"Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack. What an apt title! One of the most exasperating songs ever written, as it seemingly never ends--going on and on without the slightest tempo change. And what the hell is strumming my pain supposed to mean anyway?

Plus, you get a BONUS song from Roberta Flack: "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face."

Taken from the Clint Eastwood movie, Play Misty For Me--about a crazed, homicidal groupie who stalks this radio deejay. It seemed poignant in the movie, because it was attached to a steamy love scene-- but out of context, it's hands-down the slowest, draggiest, barely breathing song ever recorded, and any deejay who plays it deserves what he gets from that groupie!

James Taylor's "You've Got a Friend." James Taylor is THE MAN, but there was a period in his career when all he wanted to do was mournful tunes like this one. If you ARE my friend, James, how about some "Steamroller Blues"?

Hey, we're just getting started, folks! No one could forget Debbie Boone's "You Light Up My Life." Pat Boone's daughter--her only other claim to fame besides this song was an acne commercial! Never mind that she couldn't sing--this insipid tune has probably killed more relationships by being played on Valentines Day than any other!

And that brings us to Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender." It got to the point where anything that had Elvis's voice on it was a guaranteed hit. Even this yawner, with nothing but an acoustic guitar accompaniment strumming like, three chords. As big as he was, you'd have thought they could have afforded some instrumentation.

Oh my God--it's Bobby Goldsboro's "Honey." Okay, she died. Do you have to bring the rest of us down to your level of abject grief, when all we're trying to do is get that report finished so we can hand it in to the boss? Go drink yourself to death and join her! The ultimate tearjerker...too bad if you were in a good mood today.

"Feelings" by Morris Albert. Feeeelings...whoa oh oh feeeelings...trying to forget my... feeeelings of love... We're trying to forget that we ever heard this song. It's not working...aaarrgghhhh...IT'S NOT WORKING!

Next, it's that Merilee Rush classic: "Angel Of The Morning." She shacked up with the guy and he kicked her out in the morning. Now she's claiming to be an angel. By that standard, Madonna is a saint! The beginning of this song sounds like it was lifted from a funeral dirge.

"Don't Give Up On Us Baby" by David Soul. So saccharin, there should be a warning label that says this song may be hazardous to your health. She dumped you already, dude. No amount of pleading is going to get her back--plus, she stole your TV. How did this guy have the nerve to use SOUL for his last name?

"You Don't Bring Me Flowers" from Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond. No, you don't bring me flowers anymore. You won't even get up off your dead ass to bring me a beer. This is what relationships eventually fall into. It happens. But this song never should have...is it over yet?

Don't go away--there's more! Yes, it's Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings." You supported me...I took all the glory...and now I'm throwing you a bone by writing this song for you, my good friend. More like the wind beneath my BUNS--get it?

And last but certainly least, we have "Tie A Yellow Ribbon" by Tony Orlando. The only bouncy tune in this collection. It's cute, the first time you hear it--but by the 500th time, you want to smash your radio against the wall! And all those yellow ribbons people started desecrating the trees with...uh, pardon me, but you're trespassing on my property, JERK!

There you have it folks! Be one of the first one thousand people to order BUZZKILLERS and we'll throw in a FREE alarm clock to get you up in the morning after your restful sleep!

(WARNING: Avoid listening while driving--WILL cause drowsiness.)

I'M GONNA LOVE YOU

For One Shot Wednesday

I'm gonna love you till...

The stars fall from the skies

Till all the lakes and rivers run dry

Till the eyes roll back inside your head

Till all the Osmond Brothers are dead

I'm gonna love you till...

You're weak in the knees

Till Stephen King stops killing all the trees

Till Madonna bares nothing but her soul

Till Santa stops filling my stocking with coal

I'm gonna love you till...

Justin Bieber is an old fuddy-duddy

Till Dick Cheney stop shooting his hunting buddies

Till Ugly Betty takes off those stupid looking glasses

Till gas prices stop kicking our asses

I'm gonna love you till...

I eat some chocolate covered ants

Till Britney Spears puts on some pants

Till O.J. finds the real killer

Till I have a wet dream about Phyllis Diller

I'm gonna love you till...

All the Hummer owners put the earth ahead of their egos

Till all the guys with beer guts quit wearing speedos

Till Kathy Lee Gifford promises never to sing

Till Pee Wee Herman stops fooling with his thing

I'm gonna love you till...

All the CRAP that's made in China is safe again

Till they get those muhfugging snakes off this plane

Till the Grinch Who Stole Christmas is apprehended

Till all the holes in my BVDs are mended

I'm gonna love you till...

Sarah Palin wins another election

Till I figure out what to do with this four hour erection

Till I start up a band that's called "The Schmucks"

Till health care in America no longer sucks

I'm gonna love you till...

Hillary is back in the White House

Till you spay or neuter your spouse

Till The Blue Man Group looks pretty in pink

Till Glenn Beck stops raising such a stink

I'm gonna love you till...

Donald Trump lives in a one room shack

Till Kirstie Alley skips a snack

Till those greedy bastards extract the last drop of oil from the earth

Till the Octomom stops giving birth

I'm gonna love you till...

Pluto is reinstated as a planet

Till Jimmy Hoffa is found encased in granite

Till Ted Nugent becomes a vegetarian

Till Paris Hilton becomes a great humanitarian

I'm gonna love you till...

Lucy stops screwing with Charlie Brown's head

Till all the starving children are fed

Till The Ghost of Christmas Past comes to bite me on the ass

Till somebody explains to me what the appeal is of Rascal Flatts

I'm gonna love you till...

The men's crapper at the Denver Greyhound bus station gets the doors back on its stalls

Till Lindsay Lohan stops climbing the walls

Till Natalie Holloway is found

Till Simon and Garfunkel are homeward bound

I'm gonna love you till...

Someone decides what's wrong and what's right

Till I don't have to pee in the middle of the night

Till all the wars are fought by politicians

Till the children of the ghetto have decent living conditions

I'm gonna love you till...

We stop insulting seniors by calling them "Honey"

Till they find all of Bernie Madoff's money

Till we understand that borders are only in our minds

Till a man takes a stroll on Mars just to see what he finds

Till the nuclear missiles are removed from their pads

Till babies grow up again with DADS

Till every homeless person has a warm place to sleep

Till an eye-for-an-eye becomes turn the other cheek

Till mercy and justice prevail

Till I get my tax refund check in the mail

I'm gonna love you till I put out the dog and bring in the cat...

Do YOU wanna be loved like that?

FELINE FUNNIES # 3

THE WHITE HOTEL

Down in the canyon near the white hotel

there grows a flower whose spirit

belongs more to the sky than to the earth,

and if you listen closely when the wind is right

you can hear it singing "I Get The Blues When It Rains."

Inside the white hotel our eyes met with no formal introduction.

I was a writer who had run out of ink.

You were a fly-by-nighter trying to wangle a drink--

a nun on the run who no longer made a habit

out of seeing the world in black and white.

And me, just out of seminary school,

still wet behind the ears,

but ready to get my feet wet as well.

We were like wind chimes on the verandah--

when the wind sang we all chimed in,

anthem to a blue chrysanthemum

that grows in the winding Canyon Of Love.

When you sang, you thought you were Billie Holiday.

I thought I was Billy The Kid,

so I stuck my gun in your ribs

and said, "Your honey or your life!"

We were busy as bees after that,

holing up in our hive--

room eleven-oh-five--

listening to jive and getting a buzz on.

You moved like music

and you tried every number on me you knew.

All summer I roamed your hills and valleys

where orgasms in dark chasms

brought on the rain.

When the season ended you sent me packing,

lugging your baggage and mine...

you were traveling light.

Making a bee-line for the exit,

you trampled the blossom

that longed only for the same kind of freedom.

Now I'm standing here in these juicy shoes...

JUICY SHOES?

Oh Jesus, I've got to think about that one...

think about why I drank the dank skank of your love,

when all you ever said to me was, "HELLO, ROOM SERVICE?"

Down in the street a forlorn horn

laments what should have been a foregone conclusion

to one so prone to illusion,

as the mist forms upon my window

and I think about a flower

that sang, "I Get The Blues When It Rains."

FRIDGE POETRY # 7

Many thanks to Cindy at: cindybrown.blogspot.com

Protocol normally dictates that you pass the award on to others, but singling anyone out (and perhaps giving the impression of snubbing others) would be difficult for me-- so instead I will dedicate this award to all of the lovely folks in blog land I've come to know and appreciate for their wit, humor, passion, and dedication to craft.

YOU

For One Shot Wednesday

I first saw you pouting

in the magazine I hid in my bedroom

when I was twelve--

the year I resolved that breasts

were the coolest thing since Elvis Presley

I was looking for the secret in your eyes

but they never revealed it...

and I still don't know who you are

I was eighteen

a bit of a late bloomer

you already a faded rose

when you gave me that first driving lesson

in the front seat of my Chevy--

and though you'd been around the block

you failed to warn me that a steering wheel

lodged in one's butt crack on a deserted Missouri backroad

makes for an unsteady ride

Seventeen summers were yours

and I'd chalked up twenty-two

on the night of our first cautious caress

all the perfumed blossoms and you

sending me into sensory overload

I was getting good in the clinches

and there in your backyard you pleaded with me

to climb through your bedroom window

and go for the gusto

play it fast and loose while your parents--

too square to have a clue--

were zonked out down the hall

Discretion proved the better part of valor

until the night at Fat Bruce's house

where we made up for lost time--

sleepless in Cedar Rapids--

while he scoured the city for belladonna

or nutmeg

or anything that might give him some altitude

You left me high and dry in Key West

when you hit the road with my friend...

and I still don't know who you are

I met you again in the summer

in Panama

where you told me I must have had some upbringing

because I held my fork continental style

not realizing I was left-handed

and it just seemed a more natural way to maneuver

Back at the hotel we put the moves on each other--

every afternoon the rains came

and we followed suit

I screwed

my companions

and we headed north in your green Beetle

When we had used up all of Latin America

you dumped me at the Newport Beach bus station

with fifty bucks left in my pocket

trying to explain how you didn't like goodbyes...

and I still don't know who you are

Once I stole you away from my buddy

who had spent one night with you

and showed up at your room the next morning

to find us tangled among the sheets

You said you'd once worked as a courier

for certain underworld concerns

and the aura of intrigue

clung to you like cobweb

Trying to clear customs

from a three day sojourn to Curacao

we were invited into the back room

for an intimate inspection of our belongings...

and I still don't know who you are

One winter you took the elevator

up to the radio station in Penthouse One

I slapped on the long version of

"In--A-Gadda-Da-Vida"

and stood monitoring its progress

through the plate glass window

as you got into the groove

and did what you said you'd do over the phone--

on your knees there on the roof garden

the lights of San Juan shimmering around us

When your girlfriend came outside

I flinched

you didn't miss a beat...

and I still don't know who you are

I've seen you on the streets of

LA

New York

London

and Paris

brushing by me as you head in the opposite direction

and I study your face for the answer

You've dogged my tracks

and I've hounded your trail

through so many lifetimes

I've lost count

and still you return--

to a poetry gathering

where you try to be inconspicuous

but I know that you're here

for when I glanced around the room

our eyes locked for just a moment

then you looked away...

YOU know who you are