THE LADY RESIGNS HER LONGTIME POSITION

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

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

d'Verse Poets Pub


Here we go again, kiddies...an 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.)

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

With Real Toads--Poetry Potluck

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. (Uh...you'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) evening...so come back in a few hours to see GEORGE WASHINGTON and lots more. CHIP ART...it'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. (timschaefer41@Gmail.com) I intend to get you all obsessively searching through your potato chip bags for undiscovered art treasures!   Hahahahahahoohoohoohooheeheeheehee.... 

AN AMERICAN PASTORAL

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
BUY ANY TWIN SIZE MATTRESS
AND PAY ONLY THE QUEEN SIZE PRICE
HURRY...THIS SALE MAY ONLY BE HELD OVER
FOR ONE MORE YEAR!


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
sorrows)
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 down...you cruisin' for a bruisin' boy...I'll do a RUMSHPRINGA right on yo head...
tha's right...tha's right!


chugga chugga chugga


Next stop:TELLYVILLE


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


Next stop: PROMISE LAND


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


YOU HEAR ME OVER THERE???
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...


Ah...now 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


Next stop: IMPERIAL VALLEY
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 folks...watch 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...

EVERY DOG

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


I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Danica Patrick win a big race
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
The young girl who can't sing have her moment
at the local talent show
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
The Cubs win the pennant (World Series
would be too much to ask)
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE
The guilty guy put one over on Columbo
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
The streaker at the football game
get away scot-free
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
The matador get taken out by the bull

I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
A working mother in Detroit
pay a lower tax rate than Mitt Romney
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Charlie Brown really kick the football (just once!)
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Cloris Leachman win Dancing With The Stars
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Stephen Hawking get a lap dance in his wheelchair
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Tiger Woods hold a press conference and announce
that it's his life--and he will screw whomever he pleases
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
The liberation of Paris (with my own eyes)
I WOULD LIKE  TO SEE...
Chaz Bono get a real penis
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Everyone who has truthfully spoken his mind
refuse to apologize to anyone
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
This great cosmic glitch occur as the universe short-circuits-- and for a while
all the percentages are thrown totally out of whack
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE...
Every dog have his day

ANOTHER APRIL

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

What is this "growing old gracefully" shit?

Does it mean that you will not bitch
about aches and pains?
Does it mean that you will just smile
when all the young uppities call you "honey,"
when you'd really like to rap them about
the head and shoulders with your cane?
Does it mean that you will no longer be able
to hop on the table 
at the dance
and drop your pants?
And if you did
would they all just snicker
instead of scream?

I like to think of grace
as maintaining my own pace.
Each morning the road is filled
with cars, trucks, motor homes, and bulldozers
gunning past me like I'm standing still
just because I'm doing only
five miles an hour over the speed limit.
If any of them had been on the Titanic,
they'd have learned to chill,
and immerse themselves in the journey,
cuz you're not always going to dig the destination


Another April has come and gone,
and I'm in less of a hurry
to get where I'm going--
more inclined to listen to music
instead of news--
so I'll take some time
to take the long way home,
and when I run out of road
I want the radio to be playing
this same silky sax
as I fade
into the topaz twilight.

A DAY AT THE OFFICE

Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads


d'Verse Poets Pub









I once interviewed a guy
applying for a job
who had a booger clinging to his upper lip


you can prepare all you want
for an interview
and read the advice from all those experts


they tell you to stay calm
they tell you to learn something about the company
they tell you not to be too chatty


nobody tells you to check for boogers


this is a serious flaw in the
advice given out by experts


I felt bad for the guy
but you know
you really can't have people like that
running around the office 


I didn't point it out to him
because we were supposed to send a follow-up letter
to all the applicants who weren't hired
saying although you were not selected at this time
we will keep your resume on file
in the event of future openings


which was bullshit


I knew I would not have to send the letter
because when he got home
and looked in the mirror
he would know the score

Poetry picnic

I 
want 
a

Ubangi 
woman...

Ibangi 
 u  

and

Ubangi 
me

HINDSIGHT

If  I could trade
about half the things 
I've done
for half the things
I haven't done...


things wouldn't have been
as half-assed
as they turned out to be 

MEN OF THE ROAD

Poetry Potluck--With Real Toads

Funny Bunny Fridays--d'Verse Poets Pub

rub-a-dub-dub

three guys in a club
called Boys Town
just across the Mexican line
and I was lookin' so 


fine
when she came over to me
so fresh-faced
in what must have been 
a blonde wig


i tried to read 
her body language
but it was in Spanish
and the only words I 
knew were quanto es?


and


while ultimately 
legal tender
was exchanged 
for counterfeit love
there was something there
that fit like a glove
and she wanted me to spend
the night
with the meter turned off




but


we were men of the road
and it was time to hit it


just outside of town
we spotted a peasant
lying prone in the ditch
drunk
or maybe dead


Jake stopped the car
and went sprinting back there
(thought maybe he was concerned)
but he came trotting back
with the man's hat in hand
and he wore that trophy
all the way to Panama


our code of the road
had been set
though we were still wet
behind the ears
we roared on outta there
lookin' for adventure
in whatever came our way


still eons away
from the day
when the sweet bird of youth
would take a massive crap
on our windshield