Obituary: Kevin Cooper. Founding father. Neither signer nor a whiner, escaped fame but is remembered, nonetheless by those who cared.

This 18th century Kevin went to heaven at the age of forty-seven, precisely at eleven, AM.

Kevin was survived by his twin Brother Devin and an older Brother Nevin and their father. Mr. Cooper, was his name

Now, a Cooper as a Hooper, earns his living barrel-hooping and this Cooper also really loved parades.

( So…….He tried his hand at making a float one time but with limited raw materials, eventually settled for rigging wheels on a well hooped and sturdily cooped barrel. Folks in town called his newly designed contraption a wheel-barrel and suggested that he tag along at the rear of the parade with this new contrivance and abetted by a shovel, scoop the poop left behind by pony -poopers, as they left their undigested hay…….. in the way……………. of those behind. )

Now, let me tell ya……………….. Kevin Cooper was a super-duper-hooper……..pooper scooper, and became absolutely….. the biggest hit in these parades.

( Hence….. the eventual creation of the word, hit-parade which would arrive in popular language sometime in the twentieth century.)

And, as his popularity increased, the crowd would whoop it up, the loudest of the whoopers, the Cooper Brother Nevin.

Nevin’s daughter however, was frequently a close second and the family called her Whoopee and she married Mr. Goldberg and as a child…… had been a very cute kid.

Whoopee stood beside her Daddy, Nevin Cooper….. and, as the parade passed ….. each vied to be the louder whooper as their super-duper cooper-hooper, pooper scoopin’ family member Kevin, trudged the fetid path with his home-made wheel barrel. He might have finished the parade, observed his twin brother Devin and his older brother Nevin were it not for Kev’s surprise on this particular festive day.

Kevin Cooper, Super Hooper, turned to listen to the Whoopers as he passed them while he scooped along the way.

And as he did so………Kevin slipped on super poop and when he did he flew the coop and in the air he did a loop and banged the scoop as he landed on his head.

Oh…….Poor Kevin, now in Heaven, having left us at eleven, did a Super-duper, Cooper-Hooper, scoopin’ loop d’ loop in his very last parade.…………. Now who…… could ever….. forget… that man.





How not What
By squickety squat

Squoke the Squeaker
While squeaking of What or What-not

When properly oiled
The squeaking abated

And with it the squeaking
technique was outdated

Replaced by the How
Of the squawker’s new Ought

(Just a thought)



CIA auto

I am a travelling Storyteller

A roving teller of tales

Or perhaps I am the Story

When the storyline begs to fail.


These stories have no beginning

Often there is no end

I’m encouraged to say there is always a need

To that end I am wont to portend.


I can say in addition upon request

That the words are rarely mine

For I’m driven you see by a Greater Force

That flows through my lips or my fingertips

To the ears and eyes of thine.


So what is your story?

Do you sing? Do you dance?

Do you pick your way by the seat of your pants?

Are you waiting to share till the time is in sight?

Do you leap from your bed in the still of night

With a lump in your throat that attests to the fright

Of a wasted day as you lay in the hay

Wondering what in the hell to say?

Must you wait ‘til the words are right?


I am a traveling Storyteller

A roving teller of tales

Or perhaps I am the Story

When the storyline begs to fail.

When the storyline begs to fail.






This wasn’t a first for me, Oh no. I’ve been booed before.

But boo they did and when again I deign to take the floor

I’ll bare my soul and quote no page

but those on which I write.

And right or wrong, I’ll live my life

And sing their song no more.

I choose to be the Tortoise. The world can be my Hare.

Whatever it takes to be myself is all I have to share.

So round them up my brothers, practice till it’s right.

Consensus is the plan it seems,

for those whose plans are merely schemes

and Might is Right (it’s done in teams)

I’ve heard the Lion’s Roar.



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The very Beginning Began with a Bang

And in the Blink of an Eye

A Trillion, Trillion, Trillion events


The final tear eroded

The Eternal Inner Cry as

A Trillion, Trillion, Trillion events


The perpetual Smile of

Quiet, Indulgent Love.

And as We began for

A Trillion, Trillion, Trillionth time

It was Love at First Light.

The very Beginning Began with a Bang

The very Beginning



A Big,




Lee in Paradise

“We shall be friends to those
heartbroken and in sorrow.
We shall share their sorrow.” ~Rumi


There is always one more victim

When rescued, no longer alone.

Though the victim is finally rescued

The rescuer’s work is not done

The rescuer also a victim

Has been so all along.

They both become better victims.

Their lives become as One.

With Steps to become better victims

Their lives are no longer their own.

Their lives are no longer their own.

Their lives have become as One.

By Lee Broom. From Leadership. A Love Story.