it's just a damned penny

A glint of a damned penny caught my eye
I reached for
the damned penny laying on the ground

maybe someone left the damned penny for my thoughts
so I stared at it
watching it lie there and stare back at me

It came upon on me
that if someone had paid for my thoughts
I actually needed to think

what kind of thoughts 
was I being paid for
how many thoughts should I supply

who left the damned penny for my thoughts?
was it a blogger looking for conformation
that someone dropped by

was it a teacher?
wondering if I actually had thoughts
and would I be able to relate them

was it mother?
from so long ago
trying to console me

should I take the damned penny to prove I was there?
if I did and they didn’t get my thoughts
would I be a thief?

I suppose I would be a thief
 if I didn't leave
 some kind of thoughts

where would I put them...?
on the ground?
with the damned penny?

what if a car ran over them?
are smashed thoughts as good as
perfectly formed thoughts?

or what if  a dog peed on them?
are thoughts steeped in urine
as good as thoughts steeped in classical music?

or what if a homeless person came along?
and took both the damned penny 
and my damned thoughts

whose eyes would I avoid?
would they tell the world that
I am a liar and a thief?

would they tell the world
they bought my thoughts 
for a damned penny?

would they tell the world
 they got nothing in return
for the damned penny?

would they tell the world
I never left a damned thought
for the damned penny?

I’m sorry but this has become way to complex so
I have decided not to sell my thoughts
 for a damned penny

camels in the surf of 9-11

I stood on the cliffs
the water below
waves crashing against the granite cliffs
receding into the sunset beyond
I only saw sand
I could only stare in disbelief
I blinked once...twice...a third time
the sand began to roll like the ocean
in...crashing hard against a cliff of ocean
out... drifting with the wind
an oasis formed in the middle of the tide
a two or maybe three
the tide of the sand moved them out
the crash of a wave brought them back
I could not or would not look away
it drew me.. too them
the sand...the sea...the rocks below
the camels
beckoned me…called me
to the sands of the ocean
I learned to fly that day
at first ever so slow
free...floating with the wind
camels below laughing at me
faster I flew and then
the laughs of sand
burned my soul
and then
swimming…in the air
the camels were above me
in the clouds
running their lopsided run
rolling with the sand
surfing above the ocean
the camels came to take me home
a home in the oasis of hell

The dreams of childhood

I remember as a child I dreamed of watching god create the universe.  I wondered what it would be like to live in the age of our Lord…Zero.  Yes the year Zero…No not zero as the calendar depicts zero, but zero as in the real zero…when the universe began.  

I am not the only one that has dreamed about the beginning of time.  Everyone dreams or thinks about it but I wanted to see God create the Universe from the very first time I heard about it on my daddy’s knee.

I didn’t wonder about Adam and Eve.  I wondered about the very first day that God began creating the Universe.  I wanted to travel back in time to the very first second of existence.

I know it seems frivolous and nobody could really do that but remember I was a child and iffing and supposing was perfectly legal.  Just suppose I could go back to the very beginning…think of the material I would have to write about.

Hell, I would know everything and everybody and I could say that I watched God create the Universe and our world.

I could watch him create the plant life and when he got around to creating avocados I could point out that George Burns was right…he did screw up when he made the pit to big.

Maybe with my help he could get it right.'s yours

   I never thought that it would happen to me...but it did and I could not figure out how to fix it.  I sure that it really doesn't matter why I created it but somehow I did and I posted it.  It is thee forever...for a damned eternity.
   After I sent it into the 'net cloud' to circle the globe forever, I realized that I had made a huge mistake.

   I thought about blaming my neighbor but he and I have always tried to maintain a civil relationship.  I really don't like him and it would have been really awesome to dump the damn thing on him but what if he knew that I was the guilty party...then...he could and would retaliate.   Damn, there is nothing worse than having a damned  neighbor that is always trying to get even.
   So I thought that maybe the know...Pastor "I love everyone"...well I can tell you right now that the all loving Pastor said he would not love me...not if I dumped that burden of baloney on his pulpit...and the rest of the congregation?...well their love and kindness was very suspect...the "tar and feathers" kind of suspect.
   So, if a man of the cloth couldn't or wouldn't help me and my fellow "love thy neighbors" kind of neighbors couldn't or wouldn't help me, then where else was I to go?
   "Down there"...That's where!...and that's not a very nice place. I really didn't want to meet the guy or gal who ran the place but I had no choice.
   He or she was my last resort.  I just had to get rid of my burden.  After all, the agent called it a "damned piece of crap".  Actually he used words that were much worse but this is not an X-rated blog so I toned his remarks down...just a wee bit.
   However, his words did give me one of those... "Eureka moments".
   Eureka, I have it...damned...that's it...I'll have those people down below...the "Hellianites" burn the hell out of it.
   I made an appointment with hell.
   Well it turned out that the place was owned and ran by both a man and a woman but I think the woman was really the one in charge because when I sat down at the table she was chewing the red guy out for giving me the appointment.
   Their office was really strange.  Her side was like the South Pole.  It was decorated in cold blues and it was colder than hell.  Actually that couldn't be true because I was in hell.  His side was like the sun.  It was decorated in shades of reds and oranges and hotter than hell.  Dam, there I go again making hell hatter than hell.  No wander the damned book was so damned bad.
    She was Popsicle blue and screaming at him like a Banshee.  He was fire Red and trying to defend himself but all he could get out of his mouth was "but...but...but"...and with every 'but' out came a puff of black smoke.
    I waited for a moment and then excused myself for interfering but then she started in on me.  I didn't have to tell her my problem because she already knew why I was there.  She said that there was no way in hell that she or they were going to take the blame for writing that piece of "blankety-blank crap".  She cackled when she told me how bad my book was.  I believe she said, "You wrote it, you deal with it".  Then she pointed her finger at me and shot me with a blue lightning bolt.
   No, the bolt didn't kill me but it did blow me right out of the hell I was in.  It also left me with a tattoo of a blue lightning bold above my left nipple.
   Now there's a real twist for you.  Most people get blown to hell but I got blown out of hell.
   The next morning I stood in front of my mirror admiring my new blue lightning bolt tattoo and wondering how I was going to divorce myself of my own work when it dawned on me that all I had to do to get rid of that damned book was to sign someone else name to it.
    You better pray that I didn't sign yours.

personal snafu

in secret 
I tried to change
no one
not even a friend
was to know
for to fail
would cause me shame
and that
could not be
so when 
I succeeded 
with my change
I had not one to cheer me
and only 
my ego to blame

the junk drawer

my love
has no value
and yet it's still there
I will need it again
I'll just
put it in a drawer
your love will


I'm a father...four great kids...I'm lucky
No, they are not future world leaders
nor doctors, or lawyers or Indian chiefs
but they are good people and good citizens
is there a secrete to being a parent
I think so
love them more than you love yourself

a homeless Santa

     There are lots of reasons for costuming.  I would guess as many as there are people and if I made a list then everyone could add or subtract and we could bicker and dicker over the definition of costuming and the reasons for costumes.  I think we all live or walk in some kind of costume every day or possibly every moment of our lives.
the ugly
     Right now I am dressed up as a blogger.  I still have the sleep in my eyes, my hair has not been combed and I have not brushed my teeth.  I am in this particular costume until my coffee is ready and then I change into a different costume.   I shower and do all the "get myself  together” items, grab my coffee, put on some clothes and then get back to my writing.
     I have this ritual because that's the way "I" get my "mojo" moving in the morning.  We all have different costumes for everything we do… from going to the beach to the theater. 

the good
the bad
     We can also do special affects costuming.  For example I grew a beard and let my hair grow to do some research on the homeless.  I used the same idea to be Santa Clause.

    This post is a prime example of “the good, the bad and the ugly”…costuming at its finest.

Did you pick up where my “mojo” changed?

     Have fun today...go to the mall...get dressed up as an elf...the tooth fairy...a Santa...or even a's a real blast to get out of yourself...
Oh...what ever you not get dressed up as the ugly...

      Grizz the good...Grizz the bad and ...Grizz the ugly

oh...there you are

I found a cloud driven by the wind
and climbed aboard…
as we floated across the sky
I ask where we were going
and the cloud replied that
it was headed somewhere
just over there
oh, I replied
can I stop to see some old friends answered back
you will able to
see a soul...a friend
a brother...your dad and mom
you will see their smiles
and feel their love again
because clearly
they have been waiting
for you