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Some men like shaving
Among them I never was
Waste of precious time

The Lost Lamb


Stumbled today while browsing
As is alas too frequently the case
‘pon words of a fellow scribbler
Who had also, seems, stumbled

Without either failing to notice
Or perhaps even failed to care

Gave up the ghost of inspiration
Fumbled on and so misstepped
Then published (and be damned)
With time leaning on the doorbell

No blame or judgement of mine
(Beyond those too late to deny)
Yet I miss what might have been
Without a premature judgement

The untimely call to strike camp
Better listen to the inner voice
The heart – the inspiring spirit
O go ye seek the one lost lamb


– Source: How-To Geek Newsletter (

Park And Ride

2. Southport 19.6.14

The Audacious Author


Who needs a critic?
But then on the other hand
Who needs to be one?

Chicken Noise In A Pig Neighbourhood


They tried to close off that shaft
With signs that said “Danger”
But the sign over the entrance read “Mine”
So he went in anyway

You thought those ways he took
Were simply for pleasure or escape
You’d been left knowing no better
I suppose

Lift your eyebrows
And mutter together in corners all you like
The street light is a comfort
But not where you dropped your keys†


* Refers to a children’s party game. On a slip of paper, write the name of an animal that makes an obvious noise. Create five to ten slips for each animal, depending on the size of the party, although it clearly needs to be fairly large for the game to work. Give each participant a slip of paper, but tell them to keep their animal a secret. The participants are to find the rest of their kind, but there is no talking. So how do they find the others? They have to make the noise of the animal. Once two of the same kind have found each other, they stay together to find more. Continue until all of the like animals have created one big group. Fun as a child; as an adult you learn the dangers of making a chicken noise in a pig neighbourhood. Try supporting your team from the wrong end of the stadium …

† Most of us have heard the old story of the drunk who looks under the street light for his lost keys, even though he lost them elsewhere, because the light is better there.

E-Mail From CD Baby


Thanks for your order with CD Baby!

Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.

A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them to make sure they were in the best possible condition before mailing. Our world-renowned packing specialist lit a local artisan candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CDs into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy.

We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved “Bon Voyage!” to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, August 1, 2013.

We hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. In commemoration, we have placed your picture on our wall as “Customer of the Year.” We’re all exhausted but can’t wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

We miss you already. We’ll be right here at, patiently awaiting your return.

CD Baby
The little store with the best new independent music. (503)595-3000


This piece was copied and pasted, with the identifying details removed, from an actual e-mail. It is another piece of written cinéma vérité. (See “Modern Times” and Comments.

Love Of My Life


She watches the idiot boy tinkering.
Muttering, mumbling, worrying at the cud,
stuttering through the fog, clutching at limp scraps,
floundering in discarded redundancies.

She recalls that piece of paper on which he
scrawled “Words are the pegs on which experience
is hung out to dry.” Inconsistent or what?
The image bristles with frustration, contempt.

Is he completely disenchanted by words?
Yet it was words neatly condemning themselves
satisfied him so deeply as he wrote them.
He loves paradox, adores ambivalence.

They’re like two long wedded lovers, him and words.
A profound affection for one another,
but also resenting the chains of habit
and codependence that tie them together.

She is happy to be his occult bedmate;
mistress also of that realm where sounds are born,
she knows how to set them coursing through his veins:
a great deluge; a mighty niagara.

Essence of being and experiencing
thunders through the flume, sparks flecks of vocal spume.
Words once again stand agape, untongued, dumbstruck.
For this is the mistress of his heart, true

love of his life.


The relationships between the poet, his wife (words) and his mistress (the Muse – gateway to the Essence).



Sometimes less is more
Not everyone gets that
Or at least not yet



A pox upon thee, faint hearts!
Let’s guzzle for guzzling’s sake,
go frenziedly embracing change
till cringing in embarrassment,
spurning the facile beeline trod
at ease stuck in the replay loop.

For if not what then? To throttle
new sooth, spontaneity, novelty
and openly resist sweet change;
lie, trussed up in lack of trust;
lackey to each passing whim,
fad, fashion, fancy, folderol?

What’s cool runs hot and cold
Bridges: to build or else to burn?
Extravagance or strict penury?
Advance? Reverse? Tread water?
Now reduce? Sustain? Increase?
Enough, enough, enough already!

You’ve put in your penny’s worth,
accepted the prevailing mad belief
that time marches on, when anyone
can see it frequently limps, hobbles
and just can’t always keep up; or else
races so you have to pant for breath.

But here’s a word in your shell-like.
Grab it by that shy retiring forelock,
brazenly refuse to follow these rules,
led to follow such lead-footed rules.
Why you can even lay down new rules
And break them also, comes a time.

Best learn listen to that quiet voice,
Extraordinarily ordinary in the end.
Content to lie in slumber, limp wimp,
keep your mouth shut and head down.
“Slowly slowly, catchee monkey”. With
a search begun, something will be found.

Top Gun


He guns his motor
Adolescent tumescence
Pity his neighbours

Perhaps you have one in your neighbourhood too. Just trying to dissipate my irritation here. Apologies. 😉

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