Tag Archives: Space Dust

CRUMBS OF INFINITY

 

No one wants to be ordinary but everyone follows the crowd.

Uniquity? Popularity?

Those who seek to have their apple turnover over and over must first snatch it from the jaws of those members of The Apple Turnover Club to which they now belong.

Look at ’em go….(who am I talkin’ to?)

And, as for that cherry turnover? They look alike, you know.
They look exactly alike.


Hand that snatched the turnover

MY SHOES DON’T MATCH

MY SHOES DON’T MATCH

My shoes don’t match
I said to myself
Observing one black and one brown.
One pointy toe
The other a moc
I noticed as I sat down.

I remembered a time
In Pershing Square
An orator holding his own
The end is nigh
Beware my friends
Repent before heading Home

Is he right I wondered
My shoes don’t match
I’d found them a moment ago
I repented not
They felt warm and snug
I left them on my toes.

My shoes don’t match
I said to myself
Observing one black and one brown.
One pointed toe
The other a moc
Each slipped over
A woolen sock
The time was passing
Tickety tock
A smile replacing a frown;

I have another pair just like these
And they are my very own.

CRUMBS
CH SIX
Lee Broom.

CRAP IS A FEELING

EASTER

CRAP IS A FEELING

 

Crap is a feeling.

Feelings are good.

It’s when we don’t have them

(And know that we should)

That we worry.

But you’re still here in the neighborhood.

You’re sweaty, impatient

Your ready to kill

You want to fight

And you take your pill

So swallow

Wash it down

And wallow

Lay there in those stinky bed-clothes

With bugs galore

But Goodness knows

You are almost well

And you know

Because you feel like crap

And that’s a feeling.

© Lee Broom

RHYTHM ‘N BLUES

 

RHYTHM ‘N BLUES

It is impossible as head-nodders for us to learn the true subject of our gossip.

But chatter we do,
nod we do,
smile and frown and clap we do…

like starlings at early dawn,
we protest, quarrel and yawn.

We flap, we rustle, we cling together and rise afeather…
seeking the leader
whose silent tether

greets the grey of gloomy,
now gone.

As sundown teases, murmeration ceases;  with one last rustle, we rhyme with the rhythm of billowing blather,
our restlessness astir
as darkness overcomes.

Tomorrow we rise a-more
and like dawnings come before…

we’ll dismount from our roosts, our heads awaggle,we’ll gossip and gaggle; we’ll harp – we will haggle

And as the bloated carcasses of our forgotten comrades add nourishment to the earth, one or two will ask “do you remember whats-his-name?”.

“Oh yes” we reply, “he had so many strange, new ideas”.

And with heads abob we bestow our final, limited approval in measured doses…

and our world nods approval to the brief observance of continuity,
forgetting yet
another
Love Story.

 

 

RHYTHM ‘N BLUES

 

RHYTHM ‘N BLUES

It is impossible as head-nodders for us to learn the true subject of our gossip.

But chatter we do,
nod we do,
smile and frown and clap we do…

like starlings at early dawn,
we protest, quarrel and yawn.

We flap, we rustle, we cling together and rise afeather…
seeking the leader
whose silent tether

greets the grey of gloomy,
now gone.

As sundown teases, murmeration ceases;  with one last rustle, we rhyme with the rhythm of billowing blather,
our restlessness astir
as darkness overcomes.

Tomorrow we rise a-more
and like dawnings come before…

we’ll dismount from our roosts, our heads awaggle,we’ll gossip and gaggle; we’ll harp – we will haggle

And as the bloated carcasses of our forgotten comrades add nourishment to the earth, one or two will ask “do you remember whats-his-name?”.

“Oh yes” we reply, “he had so many strange, new ideas”.

And with heads abob we bestow our final, limited approval in measured doses…

and our world nods approval to the brief observance of continuity,
forgetting yet
another
Love Story.

 

 

LOVE ON A HIGH WIRE

 

LOVE ON A HIGH WIRE

It is impossible as head-nodders to learn the true subject of our gossip.

But chatter we do,
nod we do,
smile and frown and clap we do…

like starlings at early dawn,
we protest, quarrel and yawn.

We flap, we rustle, we cling together and rise afeather…
seeking the leader
whose silent tether

greets the grey of gloomy,
now gone.

As sundown teases, murmeration ceases;  with one last rustle, we rhyme with the rhythm of billowing blather,
our restlessness astir
as darkness overcomes.

Tomorrow we rise a-more
and like dawnings come before…

we’ll dismount from our roosts, our heads awaggle,we’ll gossip and gaggle; we’ll harp – we will haggle

And as the bloated carcasses of our forgotten comrades add nourishment to the earth, one or two will ask “do you remember whats-his-name?”.

“Oh yes” we reply, “he had so many strange, new ideas”.

And with heads abob we bestow our final, limited approval in measured doses…

and our world nods approval to the brief observance of continuity,
forgetting yet
another
Love Story.

 

 

THE HATER

EASTER

 

THE HATER 

 

SUBJECT: HATE

A: THERAPEE (the hater)
B: THERAPIST

 

A therapist friend of mine told me that I was a real hater. She said that I use the word “hate” frequently.

A: And you think that makes me a hater?

B: Well, yeah. Why else would you say it? Didn’t you tell me a few minutes ago that you saw a film last night that you really loved?

A: Oh yes. It was a wonderful movie, a great story; I loved every minute of it.

B: Loved? Or Liked?

A: Oh, well I guess I liked it a lot. I see what you mean.

B: Dontcha just hate it when that happens?


Lee Broom

 

UNDERSTANDING THE WINDSOR KNOT (PATOOIE)

PATOOIE

Fraidy Cat’s greatest fear is of losing the Connection.

He calls it The Word..

Fraidy Cat has followers. They are helping to spread The Word. (The Word, the Word), the Word again is The Connection.

It goes like this…

“Don’t Think-Listen.”

“Don’t question-believe.” And …….

“Never, never taste your food before you salt it.”

And…….

“Always do the ‘right’ next thing.”