More Poetry

Sometimes

A poem by Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don't go, after all,

from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel

faces down frost; green thrives; crops don't fail,

sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;

elect an honest man; decide they care

enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.

Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go

amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.

The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow

that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Sheenagh Pugh (1950) lives in Cardiff Wales, and writes fiction and poems and also translates, mainly from German

Oh, The Joys of Riding My Bike to Work!

Am enjoying riding my bike to work. It is a great way to start the day, it is a nice way to end the work day. Have enjoyed the solidarity with my bike commuters as we meet and have our RIGHTEOUS meetings at traffic lights, or give that way cool head nod as we pass each other.

It is a super cool bike commuter thing, you probably wouldn't understand it.

Last night I received my introduction to Boy Scout preparedness as a bike commuter. For the record, I must say I was never allowed to be a boy scout. I guess I couldn't pass their standards - they must have been able to see that I was a left leaning socialist muckraker at my early age - plus my Mommy just would not be a den mother; after getting sick of the hassle after being brother Bruce's den mother. Because of this neglect from my childhood, I was totally unprepared for what happened last night.

Last night I had a flat tire a mile into my ride home. Sheeet! All that righteous bonding brotherhood collaboration of my fellow bike commuting gang disappeared. I tried to pump the tire but found the leak too strong. Began my walk back to the office. Was shunned and avoided by two bikers. No eye contact made, one zoomed by, one changed direction. I got back to the shop, drove to the West Seattle bike shop, purchased an emergency spare tube (a must have I have now discovered), a groovy little tool to get the tire off and a patch kit. Drove back to the shop (and YES Peter, I bought a 24 oz Pabst Blue Ribbon and OPENED it in the car), fixed the tire, finished my beer and road home. I got home at 9:00.

A nice day.

Sometimes You Have to Look Deeper for the True Cause

PORT ST. LUCIE, Fla. - A man faces a domestic battery charge after allegedly hitting his girlfriend with a sandwich as she was driving on Interstate 95 on Friday. Police said the 19-year-old man became angry and hit the woman in the arm and face with a sandwich, knocking her glasses off.
The victim nearly lost control of the car because she couldn't see the road and the man then allegedly ripped off the rear-view mirror and used it to shatter the windshield.
The man was freed on $7,500 bail.

Police haven't said what type of sandwich was involved.

My comments:

Of course it would be too easy to think that it was a club sandwich. I will not speculate as to what kind until all the facts are in, but I am pretty sure mayonnaise was involved. Too often the blame gets meted out to the sandwich, when we all truly know deep in our souls that mayonnaise is the true root of evil in this world.

Welcome Home Nelle!

On Sunday I was out running errands and these three young black girls, probably aged 14, 11 and 8 were selling these cute little puppies in front of Barnes and Nobles at Westwood Village. I stopped and petted the puppies and inquired as to what kind they were. They were four month old half Shi' Zu half Miniature Schnauzer.

As I walked away I pondered another dog and called Peggy. She instantly said yes but the more we talked the more we thought of my mother, who just loves our little Neko and is our # 1 babysitter. I called my mother to ask her if she wanted one.

She reminded me that her policy was to never gifts that eat or shit, but immediately started to waver when I described the little one. I told her I was getting her one, but that we would take it if it caused any issues

Have visited three times since, and little Nelle has wrapped herself into my Mommy's life. She even gets to sleep in the bed.

Commitment, Damn It!

I am going on the record. I am going to show commitment. I am going to RIDE MY BIKE to work every day that it is possible. And I am going to find that it is more possible than I ever imagined.

I am very lucky in this regard.

1. I live just over four miles from work

2. There are NO, ABSOLUTELY NO, cumbersome hills between me and my destination

3. I work at a place that embraces casual clothing.

There is no reason for me NOT to ride everyday.

I have purchased rain gear. I have purchased a strobing front light and two strobing red lights.I have the most kick-ass gloves known to man. I need the exercise and spend time chasing it, when it is right in front of me everyday.

I have one other luxury. Currently we own three cars. I am leaving the truck down at the shop as an emergency vehicle. If there are monsoon rains, hurricane winds.. I have an out. If I need to travel on business during the day..I have a ride.

Yeah...that's right...I got it all figured out.

I can do this.

My Pun for the Election

You all know I just love puns. The cornier the better.

This one just came to me, and as usual, I should have suppressed it.

But I can't!


Either way, Democrat or Republican, yesterday's election was going to make today an


OBAMANATION!!!!!!!!!

Help, Help; I'm Being Repressed!

I voted this morning and for the first time EVER in voting, I felt repressed! That is right, I was repressed! I had to wait in line. Twelve people deep! And it was raining. Those bastard Republicans thought they could suppress my vote. I even thought I saw McNasty, Palin and Rossi chuckling in the corner of the building.

There were about 15 precincts voting at the little church where my precinct votes. None of the OTHER precincts had lines. Just MY precinct.

Well, all their dirty tricks went for naught. I waited them out. I stayed there, arm outstretched, fist clenched, and I voted. I voted my ass off. I took those mo-fo's down.

Stop me before I embellish this story with tales of German Shepard dogs.

But my morning went something like this:

ARTHUR: How do you do, good lady. I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Who's castle is that?

WOMAN: King of the who?

ARTHUR: The Britons.

WOMAN: Who are the Britons?

ARTHUR: Well, we all are. We are all Britons, and I am your king.

WOMAN: I didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.

DENNIS: You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship. A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes--

WOMAN: Oh, there you go, bringing class into it again.

DENNIS: That's what it's all about. If only people would hear of--

ARTHUR: Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who lives in that castle?

WOMAN: No one live there.

ARTHUR: Then who is your lord?

WOMAN: We don't have a lord.

ARTHUR: What?

DENNIS: I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.

ARTHUR: Yes.

DENNIS: But all the decision of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting--

ARTHUR: Yes, I see.

DENNIS: By a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,--

ARTHUR: Be quiet!

DENNIS: But by a two-thirds majority in the case of more major--

ARTHUR: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!

WOMAN: Order, eh? Who does he think he is? Heh.

ARTHUR: I am your king!

WOMAN: Well, I didn't vote for you.

ARTHUR: You don't vote for kings.

WOMAN: Well, how did you become king then?

ARTHUR: The Lady of the Lake,... [angels sing] ...her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. [singing stops] That is why I am your king!

DENNIS: Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.

ARTHUR: Be quiet!

DENNIS: Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!

ARTHUR: Shut up!

DENNIS: I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!

ARTHUR: Shut up, will you. Shut up!

DENNIS: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.

ARTHUR: Shut up!

DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help! I'm being repressed!

ARTHUR: Bloody peasant!

DENNIS: Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?