So What Do You Do?

What do you do when the knowledge finally seeps through?

Can you enjoy your freedom with the enslaved watching you?

What do you do when you have too many mountains to move?

Will you dirty your own hands trying to dig up the truth?

Can you worry about only the things that you pick and choose?

The trivial nuisance of something like gum on your shoe,

the convivial looseness of someone who means nothing to you;

What do you do when the call has rung loudly through?

Can you hurry out and scream about things you must do?

Will you fizzle out and fade away like so many before you?

What do I do when it’s time to reach out and grab onto,

The material rips, my fingers stick with pin pricks of VooDoo,

the unusual fits that linger and stick in the thick of the shit you do.

An Imagined Recipe.

A death-metal, confused combination of
the disparate male persuasions that I love

mixed in with the grizzled and rugged things
are parts that define an eloquent masculinity

a mind running steadily through life’s equations
a heart beating heavily against Death’s invitations

a face holding pure semblance to any warrior king’s
and full of remembrance of all that it’s eyes have seen

his voice falls softly on the ears of those he holds dear
to his enemies, its sound connects itself wholly to fear

articulate and wise over that which this man presides
freedom’s very essence burns from deep behind his eyes

if the Gods perfected a man-brew for me specifically
built of a strange variation of what’s sexy to me

he’d fall somewhere between Batman and Matthew McConaughey
balanced by Prince Florizel, Dr. Silence and Sean Connery

his actions have no time to speak before they’re done
as he executes his moves without a word to anyone

he harbors the spirits of the most ancient beings
hardcore and savage like the lost warrior king

at the same time, he’s infused by intelligence
he writes poetry and plays musical instruments

a worldly perspective of all that he sees
the deepest of thought behind all he perceives

he can wield a battle-axe or calmly opt to speak
write a masterpiece in the timeframe of a week
this imaginary man would undoubtedly have to be
made up of Sherlock Holmes’ exquisite mentality

part DeNiro, part DiCaprio, with a dash of Dillahunt
Doc Hollywood, Shawnee Tecumseh and Timothy Olyphant

he’d never bitch or moan about irrelevant detail
he can drive, fly, swim, fight, think and hit a nail

he can wrench on an engine or write musical sheets
he can solve math equations in his deepest of sleep

he is not shy but has no need to stand out
he remembers things his mama told him about

he loves his Gods and hates universal ideology
some days he holds fast – sometimes, he sets free

he sings along with the tunes as they come to him
with words he replaces with singular improvisation

his nature is funny as Hell but warmly composed
high Native cheekbones and an aquiline nose

he would be made from varying traits and elements
pieced together like in a patchwork of history’s best

Q and A.

Q: If you could be any character in the cast of ‘One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ who would it be? Why?
A: Oh c’mon now…this is a no-brainer – as I would surely be the Chief (Bromden), hands down; I suppose my reason for choosing the Chief would be simply based on his vision and perception in regard to the world and how he believes it to operate (the Combine)…his character is uniquely insane, his tactics are admirable, and indeed, my own genetic Heinz is even similar to his.

Q: What is the definition of a ‘Lightning fast’ reply?
A: OMFG! You are such a bitch for this question, because, you know as well as I do how I want to respond to this!!! I DID actually find the screenshot you sent me early last year that was an excellent summary the answer to this particular query…hmmmmmmm…I plead the 5th.

Q: Name three Pirate Weapons suitable for wall art?
A: Are we talking generalized Pirate Weapons or “African Tools of Death”? Because in that arena, you have a fine selection displayed in your living room…as for my own wall art (if we’re talking about the Scurvy Ridden Sailor Pirates), I’d go with
a) the good ol’ Cutlass blade for its unfailing aesthetic pleasure
b) the twin pair of wheel-lock pistols
c) that long wood (and sometimes iron-tipped) stake that was used on deck whatever it was called, I don’t know but they look cool

Q: If you could choose only one Dan Simmons quote to put on a sticker to be made in bulk to stick on the windscreens on the cars of whoever you chose, which would it be?
A: Uuuuggghh! This is so not fair of you! How can I choose just one? Okay, either:
“Better to die on your feet than your knees.” – Ilium
OR
“Stupidity has a price; and it always gets paid.” – Hyperion

Q: What part of pop culture do you wish would just go away?
A: Ummm…can I say all of it, and it would count as an answer?

Q: If you could name a racehorse, what would you name it?
A: Chongo Machismo; or something.

Q: If you could have a drink with someone from history who would it be?
A: Abe Lincoln; Cutty Sark.

Q: If you HAD to sing karaoke, what song would you sing?
A: No Sleep til Brooklyn.

Q: If you were allowed to have Serge for two whole days, what would you do?
A: Omg, the possibilities…hmmmm…definitely take him somewhere local on the Light Rail because he obviously has a fondness for trains – he might enjoy a baseball game or the beach…we could go to the zoo but not go inside and he could take selfies in front of the sign or whatever…I wonder if he swims….

serge the llama
Q; I set you up on a blind date. 10 minutes in you decide the bloke is totally not floating your boat. How do you escape?
A: First of all, you would NEVER set me up on a blind date with anyone dude, c’mon geez… and, I guess you’d have my escape route all mapped out for me already if you ever did.

Q: Weapon of choice for ‘interviewing’?
A: Does my tongue count?

Q: You could inhabit the body of another human being – still living – for 3 hours. For any reason, and you could do anything you wanted. What would you do?
A: I’m thinking I’d become a teller at the bank for a few hours; and you know damned well what I’d do. 😉

Q: Where does your love of words come from?
A: My Dad’s father, my Papa Joe; he was a wordsmith from the old school.

Q: What meal do you make best?
A: Lasagna from scratch; or my French Toast is pretty good, too.

Q: If you could master any skill / trade – what would it be?
A: Taxidermy

Q; What was the last thing you laughed at?
A: This questionnaire. My fucking sides hurt now…

Q: Have you ever shoplifted, and if you have what did you lift?
A: Yes. Once when I was super young I was in Mervyn’s with my Dad and I popped open the plastic covering on a bath set in a basket in order to take a single bath oil bead, because the curiosity was eating me alive and I had to know what it felt like.

Fill in the blanks: (In bold-italic)
You won’t believe! She said “fuck“ and then I said ”oh fuck” and then the whole place just exploded because he had tried to be a fucking Magician. It was crazy. Did you see my eyebrows? Because, seriously, they’re like…gone, dude.
Q: Miss me yet?
A: Always.

Eternal Inquiry – A Haiku.

Perpetually,
a yarn ball made of questions,
unrolls before me;
~
asked frustratedly,
a tangle of answers form,
tripping up my feet;
~
the theme, unchanging,
surrounding the inquiry,
how and where is she?
~
unanswered for me,
tears that eat away the years,
as they pass slowly.
~

The Bird Hollerer.

When I moved in (about five years ago), there were three society finches left here by a former tenant; two boys and a girl – that I immediately fell in love with and began taking care of, eventually adopting as my own. As a die-hard Star Wars fan, I named the boys Han and Luke, and began to teach them the Imperial March as a moniker. A few months after I arrived, the original female passed away, leaving the boys alone in the cage for a few more months before I realized that they NEEDED a female. I went to the Petsmart and gambled on a female Crowned Society with a wristband; they guessed she was about a year old at the most. Her name was obviously Leah, and I loved her – she had total attitude and “crazy hair” like me.

Apparently, Han and Luke noticed her attitude also, because neither one liked her at all – and so life went on in the “Society” very uneventfully for quite a while. I bought Amendalla on a whim one day because we bonded at the flea market. She was so pretty, and she had these adorable little white dots above her eyes that made her reminiscent of a doe somehow. She was very shy but very sweet and trusting once she knew you. The boys both loved her also, and the Society was hoppin’ as soon as I added Amendalla. One day a few weeks later, my roommate noticed a baby at the bottom of the cage and gave her a lift back into the “hut”. Chewy was obviously Amendalla’s offspring, as she sports the doe dots above her eyes and is colored 50/50 the boys and Amendalla. Next, came the baby Leah that I named Crown because her “hair” looks like a crown; she is a total bitch just like her mother.

Leah escaped one day and we never saw her again; I still look for her in the backyard often. The last additions to the Society arrived two summers ago, out of the blue: a set of ginger blonde twins named Fet and Bobo, both female, and were schooled by Leah’s bitchy daughter The Crown, so they are all three loud mouthed brats. Amendalla passed away the day after Marcus died, right before Christmas. Last week, I lost Han and Luke within the timespan of seven hours. Now – I have the twins, the Crown and Chewy left alive – all females and 3 out of 4 are just straight up bitches and cluck and scream nonstop now that their fathers (or mother) are no longer there to keep them in check. These are not birds that you can set free to the skies, unfortunately – or trust me, they be singing Lynard Skynard by now. They are a genetically modified breed that does not exist in nature at all, as they are typically only used as foster parents to exotic breed finch hatchlings. They have been bred to have one purpose in life – parenting.
Here’s my dilemma, the remaining girls are miserable, no doubt. Useless and aimless and in obvious distress;
Do I find them a boy or two (in which case, this cycle will continue because of the age difference)?
Or do I let them die off in shock, loneliness and distress?