July 7, 2012 “june bug”
“june bug”
*
june bug buzzing to and fro and to
like he’s wandering crazy without a clue
of where he’s going or what to do
when he arrives
if he does keep his buzz
buzzing and that hum humming
as he circles and dives
risking the lives of himself and the others
his june bug brothers
bumbling and tumbling
in the humbling heat of southern july
the june bug dodges through wavering mirages
in a constant veer
a wild career
staying right side up out of the grass
and out ahead
of a lad or lass with nimble fingers
and a length of thread
©tlh 7/7/2012
August 5, 2011 “fly on the wall”
“fly on the wall”
*
As I was having dinner tonight,
near the table where I sat
I saw an unsettling sight.
On the wall alit a house fly
wearing a cowboy hat.
*
The hat was brown fur felt and quite fine,
but the fly all in all was droll…
for it’s John B. Stetson when you go out to dine.
Any cowboy or fly worth a damn
wouldn’t be caught dead in a Resistol!
©tlh 8/5/11
February 10, 2011 “Eight Razors and a Bad Shave”
February 10, 2011 “Eight razors and a bad shave”
I have worn a beard since May of 1992…motorcycle crash had me down to just one good arm for about three months, so I just let the fertile field of my youthful face grow wild with soft, thick, luxurious whiskers. It wasn’t until 1996 that I cleared the field completely in order for my four year old daughter to see the true landscape of her father’s face for the first (and only) time in her life. Since then there has been a beard of one sort or another adorning my plump cheeks without interruption. I have, on two occasions, gone from a full face beard to the more streamlined and fashionable goatee version; the second of those two goatees was designed and implemented just last week. The only problem with the goatee is there is more face real estate to keep shaved smooth; less close trimming and edging, but overall, more shaving, and more area that wants to get scruffy and scratchy (not really a big problem considering I’m sans a significant someone that might actually be in a position to find it scruffy and scratchy), but nevertheless, one can’t just go around with a bunch of scrub growing beyond the verge now, can he? Therefore, I must shave all the extra expanse, and do it more often these days, to keep my face spiffy and smooth on the off chance that a particular someone might appear on the horizon and be inclined to brush her soft hand across my manicured mug…though I’m a damned good looking fellow, I think my chances are much better if all the face around my goatee doesn’t feel like a cat’s tongue.
Back at Christmas I received a brand new razor from a member of my family, and until today I’ve had no reason to use it; however, my normal beard trimming razor had gone dull, and as I had no replacement blades I had to change my standard operating procedure. The new razor was wrestled out of its ridiculously over-engineered plastic retail container and put into service, but not without a great deal reservation on my part and on the part of my face as well. This new tool is not from a manufacturer I’m familiar with, and certainly not from one of the major companies, but really, what do I know about such things. It wasn’t the name brand that gave me such pause, it was something much more sinister about the razor which gave me the heebie jeebies…it was the SIX! (yes I said 6) glistening, stainless steel blades that first got my attention as the bathroom lights glinted off their sharp, shimmering edges. And then there’s the way the razor looks…like some tiny, robotic, alien death machine, all chrome and black swirled together in sensuous elongated curves giving the eerie suggestion of a dangerous otherworldly insect…with six razor blades in place of a mouth! So, I think you can see the source of my trepidation…this thing is just plain scary when you think of letting it touch your face or glide across your neck. I mean, my god…the damned thing looks like it could go all Sweeney Todd at any moment, and shave just a little “close” if you know what I’m saying.
So, I’m shaving my tender cheeky cheeks with a six bladed alien demon of unknown origin, wondering what my head will look like as it takes a roll down Fleet Street if I’m not extremely careful. I gingerly guide the menacing razor over my tender face. I expect a shave at least three times closer than my twin blade…you know, 6 divided by 2, and all that. But there was a problem, this high-tech little monstrosity, which should be giving me the shave of my life is, instead of deftly slicing through the tiny whiskers of my beard, pulling them out one at a time by the root, or so it seems! It’s brand new! First use! And it SUCKS! Heck, this little six blade gift could just as easily suck the beard out as well as it’s cutting them…Dang!
Six sparkling new blades in a sexy, 21st century handle, and I have to resort to my used up, dull, twin blade model from the last century to get a shave that’s even passable! It goes to show you…the name brands get to be name brands for a reason, and using a no-name brand only adds up to…Eight Razors and a Bad Shave!
©tlh 2/10/11
November 17, 2010 “Optimist’s Limerick”
what’s a snowball’s chance in hell
not all that good I can tell
but I’ll take on those odds
and defy all the gods
and hope that this love turns out well
©tlh 11/17/10
November 7, 2010 “plain truth”
“plain truth”
Stumbler
Bumbler
Fumbler
Fool
Poor man
Rich man
Beggar man
King
Preacher man
Sinner man
Wise man
Cretin
Great and Small
are undone all
by fickle love of
Women
©tlh 11/7/10
October 24, 2010 “Heart of Plenty?”
“Heart of Plenty?”
my heart is no cornucopia
it suffers a great myopia
though cornucopian it may seem
a sweet myopian dream
it has no foresight
it needs only more sight
of you
©tlh 10/24/10
October 10, 2010 “10/10/10″
(10, 10 letter words in 10 lines) a Sunday 160
“10/10/10”
barefooted
among the
burgeoning buttercups
and abuzz
along with the
boisterous bumblebees
sweet ebullience
supersedes
my wintertime melancholy
with springtime!
©tlh 10/10/10
October 5, 2010 “what…?”
“what…?”
Do you see it?
Do I see what?
Well, if you don’t…
What if I do?
Or, if you won’t…
I can’t really say.
Oh well, I’ll just leave it that way.
I think I know what you mean.
I don’t want to make a big scene.
Do you think they see it?
Who…those over there?
Yes…just watch them stare.
I don’t know if they do.
Can you see the ones across the way?
I wonder what they have to say.
I’ll try to squeeze my way around to them.
Be careful…it’s crowded in here.
I’ll be back, if I can see my way clear.
Never mind, just stay here with me.
Surely everyone knows…obviously.
Yep…I think it’s safe to assume.
There’s a great big…
ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM!
By the way…did you notice the Emperor’s new clothes?
©tlh 10/5/2010
Listen to this here:
October 3, 2010 “BIG WORD”
A Sunday 160 @ Monkey Man
“BIG WORD”
it’s all the same
looks it to me
everything pans out
similarly
so one can deduce
and avoid the obtuse
never incongruous
but unequivocally
verisimilitudinous
tlh 10/3/2010
September 29, 2010 “night pains”
on a suggestion from my friend, Patti
“night pains”
I rose from my bed
without clearing my head
and went shuffling across the floor
it was dark as could be
but I needed to pee
simply thinking of nothing more
like a drunk on a boat,
my mind was afloat
I swayed back and forth, to and fro
quiet as a thief
I sought my relief
when suddenly…I STUMPED MY DAMNED TOE!
*
©tlh 9/29/2010
(Image courtesy of artist)
Thanks, Red…cute toes 
August 29, 2010 “Interplanetary Consolation”
“Interplanetary Consolation”
I spoke to an old friend today
from time to time we chew the fat
we understand each other
him and me
we talked about beer
we know a good brew
about dead-end jobs
and motorcycles too
about old times
and good times
and sometimes
a time or two
we talked about fishin
and how to hunt deer
about too much wishin
and we talked about beer
we understand beer
beer is good
and beer always leads to women
we don’t understand women
we talked about two
the one to which he belongs
and the other I belong to
he’s belonged for nearly thirty years
I’ve belonged for a few months
he’s gone through troubles and tears
I still get lost over the little bumps
I said…then she said
then we said
I should have stayed in bed
then he said
you both need a knot in your head…
we belong to them
we don’t understand them
we say one thing
they hear something else
we hear them
but we don’t hear what they say
my friend says we’re from Mars
they’re from Venus
I said according to her
I’m from somewhere closer to Uranus
he loves his
and she loves him
I love mine
and she loves…
well, I’m kinda out there for now
next to Uranus…but
beer is good
©tlh 8/29/2010
(Image courtesy of artist)
August 22, 2010 “Have at you!” Sunday 160: Act II
A Sunday 160 on mowing the grass, a task I just completed. I have, in previous posts, given account of my epic battles with my arch enemy, The Green Horde. The following, in 160 spaces, is the latest chapter in that saga…
Have at you!
I humbled the Horde
I felled my foe
tho’ in a fortnight
their number will grow
their strength will regain
as I repeat the refrain
Have at you, Green Devils!
©tlh 8/22/2010
August 15, 2010 Sunday 160
“serendipity-do-da”
(160 / 6)+1
serendipitously
unexpected pleasures
are our greatest treasures
for they seem to find us
sneak right up behind us
and when we turn to see
serendipitously
LOVE
©tlh 8/15/2010
Sunday 160 @ monkeyman
(Image courtesy of artist)
Thanks Red
August 8, 2010 “Onomatopoeia”
“Onomatopoeia”
160 x 9
onomatopoetically
CLATTER words a BUZZ in my brain
BLARING poem an ITCHING refrain
SCRATCH syllables to TAP out the time
PLOP down phrases to RING out a rhyme
©tlh 8/8/2010
(Photo courtesy of artist)
Thanks, Red
August 1, 2010
“Sunday 160″
As I sat in quiet repose
poring over poetry and prose
an unfortunate gnat flew up my nose!
A nuisance for me
but worse for the gnat
tissue and blow
that’s that!
©tlh 8/1/2010
Sunday 160 @ monkeyman
July 24, 2010
“The Flea and Me”
I felt an odd feel on my leg,
all I saw was a minuscule dreg;
small as a speck …just an ort,
but an ort of the Siphonaptera sort!
I could see him right there,
round back of a hair, as if he had not a care.
How could this be?
It was a FLEA!
Planning, no doubt, to dine upon ME!
With my finger and thumb
I tweezed at this bum,
but he was too small…too quick.
Then suddenly a kick, he was gone in a tic!
He was just right there,
round back of that hair…now where? Oh Where?
Where did he go?
Down on my toe?
On the back of my hand? Or, on my elbow?
Now something quite queer
is tickling my ear;
is it him? Is it that FLEA?
Oh gee! Is he back aboard ME?
I need some relief
From this blood sucking thief! Good grief!
Oh! Hear my plea!
I must be set free!
Have mercy oh lord…it’s the Flea!… or, ME!
©Tracy H 7/24/2010
July 20, 2010 “The Minivan”
“The Minivan”
I wish I had a photo. I should have taken a picture; my camera was in the seat next to me, but I didn’t. It would have helped you grasp so much better the story I’m about to unfold for you.
As is too often the case, this evening found me on lunch break at my tedious and less than fulfilling (but it almost pays the bills) job again, sitting in my car in line at Micky D’s.
Yes, this is another Drive-Thru Diatribe!
I pull up behind a fellow in a nice pearl-white Cadillac Escalade. In front of the Cadi was a Minivan pulling up to the order menu thing to talk into. I’m thinking, “This is good, I’ll be through here in a jiff.” What was I thinking? It’s a blanking minivan!…and what is the main cargo of minivans…many minipeople! Minipeople are great…I even had one once for a while, but we rode in a little black coupe.
The problem with minivans is, other than the minuscule cargo, they are piloted by, albeit well meaning and responsible, yet cluelessly undaunted, mommies and daddies. Don’t get me wrong, these are professional pilots…they have to be dedicated pros, (though, again, cluelessly undaunted ones), to attempt such a labor as packing a passel of petite peoplings in a modern powered perambulator. This is an undertaking to be entered into with the soberness of a judge, the patience of Job, two ibuprofen, and a valium. I proclaim that, even though he slew the Lernaean Hydra, obtained the Girdle of the Amazon Queen (not really too difficult, heck, I think I have one or two girdles from Amazon Queens here somewhere), and cleaned the Augean Stables, Hercules himself would have failed at the Twelve Labours had one of them been to ferry half a dozen minipeople through the McDonald’s Drive-Thru…in a minivan!
I digress. My story is not about the myriad munchkins in the minivan, but about the witless woman piloting said van. She pulls up to the menu order thing to talk into at 7:06 PM, her left arm hanging out the drivers window, gesturing as she gets the orders from the other occupants of the van. Of course there was no discussion pertaining to what the hungry little humans in the back might want prior to the van stopping at the menu thing, none at all, never is, in my experience…her head is turned to the rear view mirror as the orders from the back are relayed forward…discussions ensue…decisions are tentatively made. She turns to face the menu order talk thing. No, she doesn’t turn her head…she turns her entire body and leans out of the window on her elbows as if she is leaning onto a counter. Both long-fingered hands are gesturing wildly, but I can tell she is ordering 1 of this, 1 of that, 3 of these, and two of those…no, make that 3 of those…the fingers of both hands flare out wide and wave from side to side with palms out to say, Whoa, wait a second! as she turns across her LEFT shoulder to receive an order update from the adult stationed immediately behind her…she returns to the “counter” and continues..4 of those, and 1 of these…make that one a small
(her thumb and forefinger held slightly apart to show the eyeless screen she means “small”), and something else which was a mysterious gesture, maybe a fly landed on her elongated hand, or the valium is wearing off. At this gesture she turns to her LEFT again, this time to give the guy in the Escalade and me a good once-over, as if we are causing HER some kind of problem! 7:10 PM, she gets her fill of Cadillac guy and me, and turns her attention back to the screen, orders are placed and modified a number of times until finally it’s correct, and then one more read through of the order, which has to look like a short story written on the screen, …tic…toc…tic…toc, 7:11 PM…
The driver of the Escalade is having some kind of fit in his plush leather seat, and I could spit darts of pure vitriol in my ravenous rage…the woman swings back around to her proper position and pulls away to pay at 7:12 PM…oblivious to how close she was to becoming a headline in tomorrows news paper…the Escalade guy might have made her a physical resident of that tiny screen had it not been for the debilitating fit he was having.
As I pulled away from the Bag-O-Fat window with my precious Sweet Tea, I passed by the minivan as it was parked for the distribution of the goodies to all of the….THREE…ONLY THREE (two minis, and one full size) people in the back!…ahead of me the Escalade was weaving recklessly all over the parking lot as the gyrating driver counted the heads in the van too.
Just Say’n
July 18, 2010 “Sunday 160″
Sunday 160 @ Monkey Man
160/10
*
Sesquipedalians amalgamate
endeavoring alas to propagate
the logoi we use to elucidate
to one who can meditate, cogitate
upon the words we do so venerate
TLH 7/18/10
July 14, 2010 “Entertain Us”
“Entertain Us”
Entertain us they said
Tell us a story
Spin us a yarn
Enough of poetry
No more love and loving
Lovesick pen is worn
Make us merry
Write us laughterous
Words of mirth
We tire of tears
And sanguine hearts
For us they have no worth
Tickle our fancy
Tickle our ears
Write us what we would read
Tell us not what lovers feel
In their longing soul
Or how their two hearts bleed
I will write you joys
And make you laugh
And scribble for you tall tales…
This is all bullshit!
They did indeed ask…why no rants? Why no witty tales?
Tell us a story…entertain us.
Here is your story, your rant…!!
I came home tonight after standing on concrete for eight hours…back hurting…feet throbbing…sweaty and filthy…and I started CLEANING THE KITCHEN! I’m a single guy for nine years, and a tad lazy around my house. When I come home at 11:30 at night and start cleaning the damned kitchen, you can bet your sweet ass that I’m upset about something. I scrubbed every dirty dish, pot, cup, knife, fork, spoon, and skillet, the stove top, the counter top, and the cutting boards! I still have to clean that nasty ass floor…but right now I’m writing this piece of shit post for all the ones who want a cute story or an entertaining rant rather than a poem!
Do you feel my angst?!
My Anger?!
No?
Let me break it down for you there, Einstein!
I’m sick of people…nearly every miserable one of us, not owning who and what we are!
I hate pretentiousness…for heaven’s sake don’t worry about the Joneses. If you live in a Cadillac neighborhood, but you want to drive a Yugo…then drive a damn Yugo!
OWN your life!
If you live in a Yugo neighborhood, but you drive a Cadillac, don’t look down your nose at the Yugo in your neighbor’s drive!
OWN who you are!
There’s nothing wrong with either neighborhood…just stop worrying about it.
Did you do something idiotic…of course you did…we all have.
Own it.
Don’t waste your time trying to wiggle and weasel out of it…we all know you did it…
OWN IT!
I have done some colossally stupid things in my life; things that hurt other people and embarrassed the hell out of me, and even my family. But dammit…I Owned it!
I’ll do other stupid things, but I know I’m not stupid, so I’ll
OWN IT!
Own your mistakes.
Own your successes.
Own your failures.
Own your bad moods.
Own your faux pas.
Own the stupid.
Own the smart.
Own your sin.
Own your virtue.
Own your hatred.
Own your life.
Own your love.
Unconventional love?
Own it!
Don’t let anyone tell you or guilt you or convince you to love anyone other than the person you love.
Own it.
If that person doesn’t requite your love, then…
Own that too.
I write all these poems mostly to declare my love for a woman who lives 10,000 miles away. Do I give a damn what anyone else thinks? Bet your pretentious ass I do not! Is it stupid to think that it will ever work? I don’t know. I will tell you this though…It’s my decision.
I OWN IT!
Now…you go and Own all of your bullshit, and leave me the hell alone with all of mine!
Just Say’n
Listen to excerpts here:
July 13, 2010 “One in a million?”
“One in a million?”
Did you say I’m…
One in a million?
What a wonderful feeling
to be
One in a million.
It sends my heart reeling,
Like walking on the ceiling…
I’m one in a million.
I’m that ONE
That outshines all the rest;
That ONE
That you consider the best,
As I stick out my chest…
I’m the ONE in a million.
My heart is happy…
Oh….?
I see.
Please forgive me,
I misunderstood.
No, No…it was my mistake.
I thought…but
I’m only one OF a million.
TLH 7/13/2010
Listen to this here:
June 18, 2010 “Blood, Sweat, and Tears”
June 18, 2010 “Blood, Sweat, and Tears”
Bugger!
What bugs me?
Bugs!
I know I’m flawed;
I’m working out the bugs, but…
Bugs bug me.
My bugs bug me too.
I’m bugged by all my bugs,
And by all the bugs that are bugging me…
I’m Buggered!
The only Blood spilled was the Sweat bee’s, and no Tears were shed by anyone.
Just Say’n
June 13, 2010 “BALLS!”
June 13, 2010 “BALLS!”
This one is for my friend…you know who you are.
Is it me, or does it seem that sometimes life just beats the hell out of us? Do you ever just want to shout to the top of your lungs…”I’M AS MAD AS HELL AND I DON’T GIVE A DAMN!”…well, do you? I do. Every now and then I just find myself between a rock and a hard place, mostly of my own doing, and that just adds insult to injury. We all feel it sometimes. Each of us deal with it in a different way, and by that I mean some deal with it and the rest of us ignore it. Yep, I ignore it most of the time; I know, that’s probably the worst thing to do…ignore the ass whipping life is throwing down on you, but, maybe, it will just go away and stop kicking in your teeth. Some have people in their lives, friends or lovers, to help them, and be there for them when the big bully comes around; some don’t. So, those of us who don’t, have to get mad, as mad as hell. Mad enough to stand up and kick life in the balls, and say, “Listen, you weasely, fickle SOB…that’s it! I’m taking control now, by god!”. You heard me right, kick life right in the balls until you back it into a corner, and it starts seeing things your way. I have things in my life that are beyond my control, but believe me, when I see the problem clearly enough, and I see my chance…BAM!!! right in the stones!
Just Say’n
June 8, 2010 “A Slice Of Life”
June 8, 2010 “A Slice Of Life”
Life comes in slices; little, thin slices. Like the slices of a way too small for so many people watermelon; just a big enough taste of the sweet goodness to make you want more…but there is no more, because everyone else had to get a slice too. Sometimes you get lucky and your slice comes right out of the middle of the melon where it’s the sweetest and there’s hardly any seeds. Then, at other times, you get the weird little slice from the end, where there’s too much rind and too little melon. That’s life…sometimes you’re eating in the middle of the melon, and sometimes you’re choking down the rind.
Last night, I got the end slice of life’s watermelon.
I arrived back at the Hamlet, and stepped into the Cedar Brook after a long day at work. I was looking forward to a nice shower and a relaxing time of blogging. When I opened the door, I was met with a strange, earthy smell, not an unpleasant odor at all, but an unusual one. I barely took any notice of the smell until it dawned on me exactly what it was. I grabbed my flashlight, hurried around to the back of the Cedar Brook, gained access to her dark, forbidding underbelly, and found exactly what I expected; the Cedar Brook had become the……..Cedar Creek!
Hot water leak!
Damned cheap-ass plastic trailer plumbing!
Just Say’n
June 7, 2010 “AHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
It’s early Monday morning; 1:45AM…and someone here in the Hamlet is…HAMMERING *&*(*&^%$@#$%&^ NAILS!… @^*%$%^$$&*^(*&!!!
What, in the name of all that is holy, is a knuckle dragging, mouth breathing, (stone)hammer whacking, inbred, white trash, trailer tramp, red neck, insomniac, Neanderthal building at One-frick’n-forty-five in the morning?!!!
Just when I think I have outlasted all the “Guy” and “Gal” noisemakers here in the Hamlet, another one pops up! I could cuss a blue streak!
Just Say’n
What folks think…