King Kong’s Catastrophic Calamity

•August 12, 2015 • Leave a Comment

imageNo one told him about the airplanes and he certainly had not read the script…

After all, gorillas couldn’t read right?

Well maybe not but this was no ordinary gorilla.

This, this was the Mighty Kong, King Kong to you thank you very much!

King had been to the “States” once before many years ago when a group of capatalist money hunters had captured him in the jungles of Africa. King hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t think much of his visit now as neither time was what one might consider a pleasure trip nor even a business one for that matter.

No, this was an involuntary journey made by Kong at the demand of his once former owner, front man, capitalist pig captor, Arie’ B. Rehnquist, traveler-hunter extraordinaire.

Mr. Rehnquist, oft times referred to as “The Big Pig”, was in no way shape or form a  friend to King Kong. No this flat footed, loose lipped, crooked toothed mongrel of a fortune seeking scoundrel was anything but a friend as his actions could only be interpreted by Kong, and those who knew him and the situation best, would, could and in fact did describe this as a heinous calamity of the greatest order caused by one Arie’ B. (as in Boregarde) Rehnquist.  image

This after all was the capture and forced servitude of the Mighty Kong, the all powerful, often times jungle reeking gorilla of the greatest proportions. Why he could, did and once again would climb the tallest buildings with mere fingers and toes, sweep airplanes away with in a singular snort from his nose, then regale his body atop the great Empire State in his most lofty repose.

No ordinary gorilla was he this Mr. Kong, and Jane, you remember Jane, she plain out loved the big gorilla. And many others in the feminine order of reluctant yet heroine-like bold-as-can-be ladies, agreed with Jane’s take on the ape. image

Today we see the dilemma laid out before us for what it truly was, is and forever shall be, in fiction, fact or fantsasy, a case of – ENTRAPMENT!

Yes that’s right, poor King had been spied upon, put upon and preyed upon till he had no “pons” left and was forcibly removed from his noble yet humble jungle environment and violently transgressed upon and transferred to the slick streets of New York City.

Ah, but Kong was not to be out done, oh no, he still had some tricks left up his sleeveless yet very hairy arms. He had been in a similar situation once before if you will recall and he reached into his inner self for the courage and strength that he so desperately needed now.

ARGH ARATAFFAT!

This cry he uttered from the very tip of the top of the Empire State Building. Precariously balancing astride the piercing antennae with his big little toes, King swatted away one plane then two planes, while yet maintaining his grasping grip on Jane; for if he lost hold of her now, why – “shudder” – she would fall to her most certain and absolute death.

As King snarlled and snapped at the attacking aircraft he kept his balance and…

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 Ladies and Gentlemen – we will have to wait and return next week for the continuation of this series. 

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. You have seen the movie, haven’t you?

The Clowns

•August 29, 2014 • 2 Comments

 I met.

One time long ago, I was very young and impressionable. It’s funny now that I think about it, I don’t mean that the clown was funny. No, no that’s not right either as it’s not that the clown wasn’t funny. The clown was just a clown darn it, a good clown and … now I forget what I was going to say, oh yes, what was funny was I couldn’t tell if the clown was a guy or a girl, you know, male or female. I mean you would think that to be a part of the human race you are either one or the other but not with clowns, at least not with this clown. But I don’t think it made any difference for this clown didn’t seem to care, this clown was all smiles and happy, full of life you know. At the same time, the very same time, this clown was sad too, really sad. You could take that smiley face of his, or hers, and just turn it upside down and the clown was the clown, the same clown only different. What am I saying, you must think I’m nuts or something. Well anyway, clowns are forever creatures and they can change your life-if you let them. Do you have a clown living with you, or maybe next door or even down the street. Surely there is a clown in the city that you live in, surely there is. I suggest that you go meet this clown. Tell him your sorry for the times you laughed at him not with him and the times when you should have laughed and did nothing at all. Tell him, why, tell him that you love him!

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“Skelton and Marcel Marceau shared a long friendship and admiration of each other’s work. Marceau said, “Red, you are eternal for me and the millions of people you made laugh and cry. May God bless you forever, my great and precious companion. I will never forget that silent world we created together. “

JUDY COLLINS – Send In The Clowns        http://youtu.be/KCE-Bijdvv0

Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air..
Where are the clowns?

Isn’t it bliss?
Don’t you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move…
Where are the clowns?image
Send in the clowns.

Just when I’d stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines…
No one is there.

Don’t you love farce?
My fault, I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want…
Sorry, my dear!
But where are the clowns
Quick – Send in the clowns
Don’t bother, they’re here.

Isn’t it rich?
Isn’t it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career.
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns…
Well, maybe next year.

Clowns are forever creatures. They live on in our hearts and minds, can spark one’s imagination, add a twinkle to your eye, a lift for your spirit, a new chapter to your life’s book … a portal to your soul. Clowns are industrious, always ready to work, not stopping until the job is finished, until they have achieved tvikelly6heir purpose and ministered to the crowd, the circus crowd, the street crowd, the individual one on one, the lonely one at the office, the quiet one staying at home. It’s true, clowns are forever creatures that you can know too. You cacircus clownn you know if you really want too, it’s not hard or scary. You don’t even have to go out the front door or leave your house at all, really, I’m not kidding. You should try it, I have, I did, I mean, I invite clowns in all the time now.  Sometimes one at a time and sometimes in BUNCHES!11-cad-with-clownsClowns are forever creatures, sometimes happy and sometimes sad but,

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I have never, ever met a clown that was bad.  I have never, ever met a clown that was bad. I have never, ever met a clown that was bad. Never!

Nanook Of The North – The Legend

•August 6, 2009 • 9 Comments

The Ig-a-loo

It’s been said, that a long, long time ago, deep into the frozen tundra of the ever present, winter north lands, roamed an icy creature called Nanook, Nanook of the North. Although this story may be just a legend passed about from mouth to ear, generation to generation of the great Eskimo Tribes of the Arctic Circle, many believe in the awesome and fearful Nanook, still believe it to this day.

It is said that once upon a time, a fur trapper was hunting baby seals for the fur trade, up in the Arctic Circle. There were numerous fur trappers in the area but none who would venture this far North into the cold, into the night of winter, into the homeland of the awesome and fearsome-Nanook.The Fur Trapper

This particular fur trapper was mean, he was evil, he was treacherous, he was a bad man. Most who hunted the choice baby seals, did so for survival. I mean, a man’s gotta’ eat, right? But not this fur trapper. No. He hunted the baby seal for-pleasure. Duh duh duh dunnnn! The baby seal was small, tiny, teeny-weeny and it was white. It was a symbol amongst the great Eskimo Tribes, of goodness, of all that  was right with the world. To them it was a sin to harm or damage the baby seals life or lifestyle in any way.

Well, this evil, bad fur trapper one very cold, very dark day, in the midst of  a driving snowy, blizzard, happened upon, stumbled upon, came upon even, a primitive Ig-a-loo. It was made of frozen blocks of ice with a short tunnel like entrance. It had what appeared to be a chimney venturing straight up from the top of it. It had what looked like trails of smoke rising above it a foot or two but, it was so dark, so frigid, so- so cold that, the very plumes of smoke were frozen! We are talking cold here.

Well, the fur trapper happened upon this Ig-a-loo and to his delight found that there were a least a dozen baby seals huddled up and against the Ig-a-loo for the little warmth it exuded. The little, tiny, teeny-weeny baby seals were snuggled together apparently happy and content in this, their chosen, Godgiven environment when suddenly – duh duh duh dunnn. The fur trapper picked out the choicest, the teeniest-weeniest, whitest baby seal and….Baby Seal Killer

He started into whipping on this most favorite of baby seals with, with, yes with, a lead filled snowshoe!

 Oh man, oh boy, oh brother, was he in for it now. From inside the Ig-a-loo rose a great roar, a great cry, a great, um, shout of disapproval, no more like a great shout of anger, yes, of rage even. It was the fearsome, the awesome, the nostalgic and great one, about whom Frank Zappa sung, Nanook of the North – The Legend!!!

 Oh my, was he mad, angry even. Baby Seal

Nanook did not bother with exiting from the Igaloo tunnel, no he rose up and burst through the sides, the roof, the frozen plumes of smoke even, and the blocks of ice crumbled into miniscule grains of frozen “icelets”. Upon seeing the evil fur trapper whipping upon his favorite tiny, teeny-weeny, white baby seal, he roared with rage – Roarrr! 

Felonious Fur TrapperThis froze the felonious, fearful fur trapper in his fur trapping tracks and he dropped the baby seal. He had his arms outstretched, trying to make his get away but to no avail. Nanook bent down, he reached down, he then scooped out, a generous mitten full of the  deadly- yellow snow. Yes!  The deadly yellow snow from right there where the huskies go.The Unknown Un-named Fur Trapper

He then proceeded to rub the yellow snow into the eyes of the frozen in place fur trapper until he stood there, with his arms outstretched and said, “I can’t see, do do do do doooo, I can’t see-e, oh do do do dooo”.

Nanook - The LegendIt was at that precise moment that the fur trapper began to break apart and crumble, disintegrating into the ice and snow of the Tundra.

Meanwhile, back at the Ig-a-loo, as the fur trapper disintegrated the Ig-a-loo integrated, that is, it miraculously re-assembled itself, frozen smoke plumes and all, the fearsome, the mighty, the all knowing all seeing, Nanook, seeing that his group of baby seals were safe and huddling back around the Igaloo, he picked up his favorite, tiny, teeny-weeny, little baby seal, re-entered his re-assembled yet ever still, humble abode, and rested.

I do attest to this day, on whatever day it is, that this story in time, is a true and accurate account of these events and can be verified if not justified by the meaningless, meandering melodies, of the aforementioned song’s, the infamous and now deceased, Frank Zappa.   

And The Old Soldier Rested

•June 8, 2009 • Leave a Comment

 

Before The Silence

Before The Silence

  Pontiac Springs was the name of the town. Duke was rocking on the porch as usual with Facia his old dog. Rocking, rocking, rocking. Every day pretty much the same now so different than 65 years ago when he was just a young buck. Yeah, so many years ago, only 18 and so innocent, so green, so young. That’s what they did you know, put the young, inexperienced ones up front. Yeah. They were all full of vinegar ready to go, let’s fight us some of those bad boys, so full of themselves. What did they know, what did they know? Nothing of course. Nothing of what was lying ahead of them. Just like the other young boys who weren’t cowards by any means just, well just plain scared. And they too were as innocent as the sun on a brand new day. Yep, green. I know what your thinking young fellow, why not put the more experienced guys up front? You know, some battle hardened vets who have been there before and could maybe handle the situation better but, no, that wouldn’t be any good at all. They knew what to expect and although they certainly would follow orders and act accordingly, they would maybe hesitate before moving forward or look for another way around this rather than straight ahead so…  it was the young ones that went first, yeah, they were first into the storm. Go, Go, Go, Go… Then old Duke was there, there on the beach.Yep. I was there alright. Lying face down in the sand and water all red and messy with all kinds of nasty smelling stuff.  Omaha_Beach_American_Casualty I thought, ” man it’s so quiet I must have made it to a really safe spot or buried so deep that I can’t see and can’t be seen, and I sure can’t hear a darn thing. Maybe I really did make it all the way and I’m in heaven now” but, no, no. That’s when my hearing started coming back kind of  one “pop” at a time. A loud blast to my left, now I did hear that. The constant chatter of some kind of weapon spitting out  flames dozens no hundreds every minute! Damn!  When I tried lifting my head up out of the sand and water my helmet went flying off, shot off and I dropped my head back in that sand so quick and sucked in a breath almost chocking, gagging, and I realized it was red with blood and oh man, that was part of some guys insides, oh man and crap, literally crap, in my mouth from this guy lying almost on top of me only, he wasn’t a guy any more. At least not a whole guy. Shit! I’m tired, so tired.

He Remembered When ...

He Remembered When …

And Duke just sat there rocking now, rocking. Facia the dog, was looking up at his old master and wondering why the chair was slowing down. It never went fast but, now it came to a stop. It got awfully quiet. Very, very quiet. And The Old Soldier Rested.       

The Ballad of the Busy Buzzard – an excerpt

•March 16, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Baby-BuzzardThe buzzard was a cry’n as he just kept a try’n  to be a lap escapee. Well granma wouldn’t have it so she took her old Nun Habit and beat upon the man named Tee. The man started cry’n the harder he was try’n but he was cry’n wee, wee, wee. His tears started flowin and they all started goin in the jar with the buzzard on his knee. So now don’t you know it I’m soundin like a poet it’s all bout that very large buzzard you see. If he wasn’t so busy he wouldn’t get so dizzy and be surprising ole Grandma and me.

The Who’ a And The Roo’ a

•March 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

                         The Who’ a and the Roo’a   OR     

The Chi Hua Hua Who Befriended A Roo’a

 

There once was a Roo’a he always liked to chewa on a kind of red beet stew’a.

Up and down up and down the Roo’a had to climb. He would huff and puff so frantically to get to his seat in time.

Roo’a sat in his usual place next to Spido, Bump and Wee. He gave a start when across from him a stranger did he see. Oh my, oh my, oh my, my, my, my, my. Just who’a can this stranger be? The stranger sat all alone you see all alone on this day was he.He thought to himself what shall I say to make a friend of me? So he left behind the place he had been, it was dark  yes dark, dark, dark. 

It was then that he:    Opened his mouth to sing

                                                        His mind to think  and for

                                                              Love, he opened his heart. 

                                                     wallaby-baby

Fields of Glory

•October 15, 2018 • Leave a Comment

So beautiful the wordless entries into my mind.

Melodies spoken, recorded indeed

From the very beginning of time.

Looking out from the mountain tops

His Glory Divine

Worship The King for you and for mine.

Struggles below seeking comfort and joy

Efforts put forth to manhood from boy.

Seek ye now the Kingdom of God

Run along now old soldier

Run from the fields, fields of blood

Where you had trod.

Leaving no sign of the ghosts that are past

Seeking the solicitude, now and forever

The end of fighting at last.

Glory Glory Hallelujah you cry

The suffering has ended

It’s done where you lie.

Lift up your head oh creatures large and small

To welcome The King, yes The King

The King of us all.

The Mission

•October 14, 2018 • Leave a Comment

As my way of saying goodnight on this evening …

I thought I would help take you on a Mission,

a journey even perhaps a flight to the planet Mars

or maybe further,

A Mission To The Stars.

What better means of slipping off to sleep

while listening to Benedictus.

Slipping off to dream in the infinite space

of “the deep”.

By distances too far to comprehend,

passing planets, galaxies and a darkness,

that seem to have no end.

As you drift off with your own thoughts tonight,

think of this as time that has passed,

is present still and could forever be,

it may be, it just might.

Goodnight my friends and thank you for being here

(please click on the link below)

https://youtu.be/ibwxzxER_pY

It

•July 26, 2018 • Leave a Comment

It walked across the cavernous opening

Just one small movement at a time….

Slowly slowly, ever so slowly

It came slowly yet to be mine.

In the infinite sum of all darkness below

Let me go I cried, let me go let me go.

It continued on and on and on and on

All shivers at the top of my spine,

All shivers now just so.

Tap tap tap It went, tapping and tapping

now from the earth so deep

So deep so deep so deep you know.

Too late to guard the treasures

Riches of the heart and of the mind.

Too late for someone who cries

Please sir, please m’am

Be kind now, please be kind.

When your difference becomes the

Starting point for evil done

Being kind no longer settles

Like the setting of the sun.

Take with you now this potent potion

For your mind and body

Take this drink for tomorrow

It will help you to run.

The darkest journey with a single

Step you will start

As you cross the cavernous opening

Cast your light upon the dark

Upon the dark, the very dark

The darkest fracture, just a seam

An adaptation of your heart

Of your heart alone

Alone as you dream.

The Feather and The Pipe

•July 19, 2018 • Leave a Comment

The old Indian Chief sat by the fire smoking his pipe …

It was the usual mixture of various herbivores

substances used to invoke the Spirt of God.

The old man sat there, cross legged chanting

speaking both “of “ the Gods and “to” the Gods.

“Hem e too to e se tu o et bien” “em u to set en mia tio be”

The smoke rose slowly from the Indian Chief’s pipe, swirling up above his head and the heads of those encircling him. Tiny billowing waves of scented mist climbed upwards towards the top of the teepee, circling slowly at first then beginning its final round up, up around then thru.

O my camma se tu ohhh, ben yio ti maian ohhh…”

The old Indian Chief rested backwards now,

leaning against the myriad piles and rows of ancient ritual blankets, said to have powers of their own, inherent powers of and in itself that when combined with the numerous entities called upon here, by this old man… well, these powers formed a new entity altogether.

It was a nameless presence joining the new and the old, with the strength of a hundred no a thousand youthful Indian braves, warriors that were assembled before the men in this small tee pee. Assembled to form an entirely new spirit essence.

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Climbing higher and higher, growing evermore powerful until finally…

Finally the old Indian Chief would collapse into a silent heap of flesh and blood, Spirit of dust and smoke.

Soon the answers would come. They would come soon from the mouth of the old man himself to his tribal gatherers. They were both young and old, male and female, mother and child, husband and wife, sons and daughters alike.

The future lay before them on trails and plains stretched out for all to see and to join in.

This trail was theirs to take one and all, together yet still alone. Their lives would seek the Spirit’s wisdom of the ages for themselves.

They would seek.

They would find.

They would go.

The Silent Echo

•July 13, 2018 • Leave a Comment

The Silent Echo

met me across the ribbons of time…

The slowly ebbing sea of memories and old dreams.

Visions once raised to great heights,

the highest mountains of thought yet

no longer to be seen.

Men and women have placed their footprints on steps of the fortresses built there,

And left behind for all eternity it may be

But not without care

Yet on another day to return to the mystics for both you and for me

Come along no time to dally for acquaintance or friend,

Come alone if you please we will all

be there in the end.

Return for a glimpse if you must at the

moments that have past

For the time has increased in volumes

only for eternity to last.

Hold on no longer to what you thought

was best

It’s part of today and tomorrow, these are memories that hold fast.

They last and they last as though formed forever more

Waste no energy looking back, it’s not death that calls

But life catching up …

… it’s life at the door.

 
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