It’s the strangest thing for goodness sake. Basura Cat likes to eat grapes. For every grape that I feed to me. I have to feed Basura at least two or three. What’s next? Now she wants grapes and a fan. “I’m Cleopatra'" she says, "Queen of the sand!” I relied,…
Chatted with a friend ~ he inspired the following poem. We are 33 minutes away from the 2nd Presidential Debate, the last one before the election which is 12 days away. As always am hoping for leadership, clarity and calm between the two men, one which will lead our country…
On the first day of Voting my true love sent to me: a list of polling places near me. On the second day of Voting my true love sent to me: Two Presidential Debates and a list of polling places near me. On the third day of Voting my true…
There once was a time, oh so long ago, That music was hard to take on the go. First a stereo that sat in the living room, Then a box that played music, it was called Boom. It was big; it was bulky to carry around, With a radio, and…
Basura Cat wants to make a trip up Capital Hill. The fact she can’t vote for President makes her ill. She wants to answer the Patriotic call. When she talks about it, she starts to bawl. “Basura,” I said, “Don’t get so upset.” “Because pets don’t have the right to…
My Mama raised me better than to be friends with anyone who makes fun of the handicapped. My Mama raised me better than to be friends with someone who commits adultery. My Mama raised me better than to be friends with anyone who refuses to help others. My Mama raised…
He doesn’t lurk, he stands upon his soapbox. He takes treats and turns them into tricks. He tweets and turns beauty into brutality. His words, echo from a heart of stone. He blows his harp, charming the uneducated. He rallies with lies and deceit. The lost have fallen into his…
There’s a tugging at my mind, it’s not very fun, Is it something that needs doing or something undone? Is it something old or something new? Oh, how I wish it was something I knew. I’ve paid all my bills, cleaned up my room, Took my medications, all before noon,…
Writing is something that calls to me, gentle as a summer rain, the constant pitter-patter of mindfulness. “Come sit with me,” she calls, desperate for my attention. As alluring as the smell of fresh bread, she beckons. “What shall I write?” I ask Words begin their tribal dance, waiting for…
It was the middle of the night and I heard such a scream, Basura cat’s leg were flailing, she was having a bad dream. It seems that she was training to compete in a triathlon, While wearing eye goggles and a polka dot thong. She had to run, she had…