A Dash of Irony

life is a three course meal

of baby food

steak and lobster

and mushed food

sprinkled with

a dash of irony

and a touch of salt

some good whiskey

and wine

while you dine

until it’s time

to pay your final bill

when you’ve had your fill

Lighten Your Load

are you carrying a rucksack

of worries?

a load of emotional rocks?

a stack of negative stories?

stuck in a mental box?

then it’s time

to lighten your load

and shine

cast away

your worries

enjoy your day

there’s no guarantee

another will come your way

Stupid Things

You see it all the time

people doing stupid things

like making batches of slime

there’s no end in sight

of people

who aren’t too bright

we live with them every day

shaking our heads in wonder

at their disarray

they’re at home and on the street

doing dumb things

and being indiscreet

it’s not about being bad

we all do dumb things

like following a stupid fad

it’s about the realization

that stupid things happen

in any kind of situation

Living In A Redwood Tree

there was a young woman named Bethany

who lived in a Redwood tree

her little hut was something to see

perched like a toy inside the canopy

society had caused her to flee

to the giant tree in order to be free

a friend brought supplies to the tree

and never questioned her idiosyncrasy

and she lived there like a refugee

but happy as happy can be

for she was a nature devotee

who did her best to avoid reality

A Watchful Eye

I was always aware of someone watching me in the family

and it was oddly comforting but sometimes scary

like having The Eye of Horus or The Eye of Ra on me

no matter what I did or how dangerous the activity

That watchful eye followed me over the years

and helped me deal with my fears

sometimes, I look up at the sky

after all these years have gone by

and wonder why

I still believe in a watchful eye?

My Bangkok Tour Guide

Essay – 246 words

While walking down a street in the Kingdom of Thailand where ex-pats from around the world land, blending seamlessly into the local 1970 economy, I met a young boy with a man’s eyes.

He was probably ten – going onto forty – with worldly knowledge far beyond his tender years. Anuia was a frail street waif with the wisdom of the local marketplace for sale. He promised the best place to stay, my drug of choice, and prostitutes with breathless beauty, if I hired him throughout my stay.

We toured a banana plantation, and a red light district called
Pattaya, with outrageous sex acts they were not even considered risqué in the day. Creedance Clearwater Revival rocked the bars with “Looking Out My Backdoor.” I smoked some of the best weed in my life, comparing it to the Vietnamese strain that made you forget your name.

We watched kick fighter’s knock each other out, only to get up afterwards and respectfully bow to one another. Anuia shared his best curse words to get quick results, and bargained over every transaction like it might be his last. He was shrewd and a survivor, with no parents or family.

The thing that impressed me the most was he was always smiling – except when he negotiated a deal. His smile seemed to defy the life he led. When my time was up, and I had to go, he shook my hand, then turned to greet another group of visitors deplaning nearby.