Archive for the Funny Morning Stories Category

rumblings of a planck physics misfit…

Posted in afternoon requiem, Funny Morning Stories, Ha Ha Funny, Hysterical Romance, Laughter, Learning About Life, Poetry with tags , , , , , on November 18, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

rumblings of a plank physics misfit

& i’m not sure breathing out
is as much of a solution
as it used to be. trying to keep
sane enough to listen to the music
i’m pumping into the room.
existential questions about bits,
hawking radition, information.
it’s not what the music is about,
it’s about what the music is.
sanity slips away in the strangest
of ways.

all i can offer is comparison by
analogy; without notice, tiny changes.
no two maps converge anywhere
relative to the land. confusion
reigns; reading lands the faithful in
trouble with various laws of universal
application. entropy will ensue,
in time, so we wait. didn’t mother
ever tell you how impossible
it really is? this must be why
they dance.

it’s all geography & sound.
amplitude variance is the same
as the rest of existence, another
place to put misanthropic trust;
same as faith except less preconceived.

the comfort of knowing it’s always
something encapsulates the air
& whatever is left of my ability to
reason out potential sensory data.
the whole thing reeks of ‘later’
& so do i.

exhale.

——————————————-

Perhaps overly complicated. Such things happen all the time lately. Should have stopped for BBQ; live & learn, apparently all while hungry off & on.

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9 a.m. wakeup call…

Posted in Cigarette, Early Morning Silence, Extreme Spinal Pain, Funny Morning Stories, JL Stories, Laughter, Learning About Life, Poetry with tags , , , , , on September 28, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

sewer-diving

is it cliche to watch a
strange woman dive into a sewer
& rise up with diamond watches
on both wrists? i don’t know
enough to judge the scene
as anything except more of
the ludicrous mixture of
luck, doctor-drugs & realizing
somebody has to win.

besides, they can’t all make you
sick when morning arrives
with kanna colored glasses making
everything appear safe as
sepia; no sharp edges or
sudden turns. bounds of the maze
all go to the same place, just
a more tortured meaning of path.

of course it ends the way it begins.
no respectable artist would
ever make any other choice.

enticement to momentary adulation…

Posted in bumper sticker stories, Cigarette, Funny Morning Stories, History, Laughter, Philosophy, Poetry, TWTC with tags , , , , on September 9, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

omphaloskepsis

it got easier when i realized
not every problem requires a
solution; substitute ephemera
watchin’ a cherry smoldering
in a soon to be stolen ashtray
straightens out my evening hours
faster than pacing back forth.

holding my breath in a pocket
without a reason while my faithful
incendiary waits on my hand
to descend & bring the smoke
right up to the pearly gates.

neither of us has the countersign
& the wrong one knows our
schedule. sitting one-to-a-booth
with enough time to notice a
high-watermark stain reaching
for the top of a leased coffee cup,
i wonder if any of us are
washed frequently enough to
get any kind of close to clean.

no solution to the moment.
trying to share some sense
of a saving grace during
consultations with all
involved; it’s easier to
pawn off neverending nights
knowing there’s always
another hiding behind
tomorrow.

too much going on to worry
about the coffee tasting
like cigarettes. waiting
on an explanation is out of the
question; even a complaint
would take too long. looking
around the booth, around a
mostly empty restaurant, at
a mostly empty pack of
cigarettes wondering what to
do when the last one burns out.

———————

Got a cigarette?

all at once (we were saved)…

Posted in Cigarette, Extreme Spinal Pain, Friendship, Funny Morning Stories, Ha Ha Funny, Laughter, Learning About Life, Poetry, thoughtful trips, Unanswered Questions with tags , , , , , , on July 17, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

we were saved

so now i know;
everything scattered
will be picked up by the
time we gotta leave,
no harm to the birds or artists.

sixty thousand dollar
apologies flood the post,
all it takes for acceptance
is to see the larger powers
at play. nobody is dumb
enough to apologize to a
head built like a brick.
call the meteorologist
& ask him which way the
winds gonna blow. we’re
all getting the same
answer, no matter who we
ask. maybe i’ll sign.
maybe not;
post looks light.

numb-minded misapprehension
feeds our celebration. don’t
let the bastards getcha down,
don’t let ’em know you’re holdin’
big slick in the river face
lookin’ like a double deuce;
everything is gonna be alright
for those of us ready to bleed
& lick.

scars are tellin’ me cuts
have healed; when my bet pays
off i’ll know it’s time to
move. until then it’s 4th
starters to the rescue ’til
the front line guys get back.
i will get back.

————————————-

Apologies for the length, this has been a long fight that hasn’t ended yet though news from the front speaks of smallish victories. Better than routed defeats. This was a morning I woke to greet the sun without waiting for the sun to greet me.

average fella…

Posted in Friendship, Funny Morning Stories, Ha Ha Funny, JL Stories, Laughter, Music, Poetry, thoughtful trips with tags , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

semolina from the heartland

what could be wind or just
6 billion voices condensed
into a breeze swept into
town this morning along with
the sun barely making any effort
to warm the planet on a string.
poets croon about dead trees,
forgetting it’s still summer,
time of growth. i can’t blame
them; they like the metaphor
too much ever to say no. (i
feel much the same about Semolina’s
close cousin.)

i had a minute or two free to
pick off almost healed-scabs
from when i had to prove
a razor was sharp as needed.
now i can breathe into this
morning & see wheat waving
to nobody in particular.

the penny arcade summer made to
last longer in these parts.
thorton & keen at the local joint
telling jokes & singing songs for
the price of a nickel steak,
little white pedro & his friends
on the radio playing games,
typical summer fare. the durum
seeds were planted way back &
we’re two months from harvest.
all of our worries boil down to
phosphorous deficiency. easy
solution to that.

——————————————

You’re welcome Doc. Not that it makes a difference (with nothing lost & all) but I have a really good excuse for disappearing. Damn. I forgot it; I got a mind for shite lately.

as the dragonfly…

Posted in Early Morning Silence, Funny Morning Stories, Ha Ha Funny, Learning About Life, Poetry, thoughtful trips, travel with tags , , , , , on June 30, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

vocal mix

there was old advice
playing on the stereo &
leaking out through
summer-set windows
while i was staring at
waters edge, watching
wannabe frogs get eaten
before they’re any use
to a french chef.

waking up off-schedule,
a broken-memory late-
night scene loses hold to
a new world, slightly
leftward of historical
precedent. catching as
catch-can, drowsy dragon-
fly can’t fly straight
during the month-long
drought when words
failed to show. slightly
certain mythology comes-
to-life in supplication.

old advice assuages a
symptomatic mind from the
underlying condition. at
best it’s good enough to
try & touch any immortals
happening to walk by.
happenstance counts as
much as controlled sub-
stances these days.

—————————-

musbeok…

Posted in Funny Morning Stories, Joe Henry, Learning About Life, Music, Poetry with tags , , , , on May 24, 2011 by Caribbean Fool

nice to meet me

after a shortly interminable drive
i let myself outta my car on
beachline & drove off to grab at
clouds floating on the surf
& turtles lodged in the sand.

much as i’d rather stare seaward
& decide on possible surprise endings,
there’s no time because i know
i’m already omphaloskeptic & bloody
to boot. maybe an accident
nobody saw coming?

musbeok;
vagrant screams are absent in
my windpipe. i didn’t bother to
warn me that you gotta
slice the bad bits off yourself
when there ain’t a soul around
to do it for you.

found a sunburned sonofabitch
callin’ himself by my name
waiting for a
ride back from the beach.
took the first chance to go along
& get along, he threw down
with a few bars from his favorite
song. i sang backup
so he could sing lead.

this asshole knew
all the hits. by the time we’d gone from
sand to dirt, we’d hit most of the
majors & even a few of the minors.
like i said;
musbeok.

————————————————————–

Music saves the day. Thanks Mr. Henry, you saved my ass AGAIN. (For someone I will never meet, I owe you a shitload man. Pay it forward, right?). And no, the poem isn’t ABOUT Joe Henry, it’s about something else completely. JH is just my idol.