Holiday Jear

by Michael Long

How I hate the holidays
let me count the ways:
first, the stupid christmas tunes
in my ears like donkey brays!

Commercialism, traffic jams
dispensing fights galore,
me thinks your Christmas spirit
has gone out the fucking door!

Take pity on the lonely,
the single, and the poor,
and then there are the homeless
who don't even have a floor.

Sleeping in the bushes

and shivering in the night
victims of disasters,
who cares about their plight?

There are good people in the world
they're just too few and far between,
but each year gets progressively worse
and this is the worst I’ve seen!

I too am far from guiltless;
this also is a cinch.
Is it any wonder
why I’m a goddamned grinch?

Kindness

by Michael Dean Long

You've all heard the tale of the eighty-one whacks

Made by Lizzy Borden’s oh so merciful axe.

I can well attest that she was too kind

Or maybe just thankful her parents weren't mine.

In scenes too horrific for Silver Screen or TV

I muse what would transpire if she had been me.

With thousands of pieces strewn on the floor

I'd still have the venom urging me on to do more!

With malevolent laughter they've not heard before

I'd strip myself naked and bathe in their gore

Lucky they are, not to have lifted the lid

Of that Pandorean Box and I left when I did.

Like Shakespearean actors upon life's stage

Their lives would have ended at the turning of the page.

The unfathomable pain, the incalculable rage

Earned these monsters their miserable wage.

All of this and sadistic humor to boot,

For kindness was never my strongest of suits!   

Humptys' Plight

by Michael Dean Long

Humpty Dumpty had a big brother

Two younger sisters and a very wicked mother,

With all their abuse, their hatred and gall

'Twas his family who caused poor Humpty’s great fall.

Long did he fall, for ‘twas deep the Abyss

And no one he knew gave his plummet a piss.

All the world’s shrinks, and all the king’s men

Tossed him between them again and again!!!

PROMPT: You Gave Me Gas And Saved Me From An Embarrassing Situation.

Andy Hanson
He was filling the 300 helium balloons that would take him, he hoped, high enough to photograph the gigantic art circle he had commissioned. His location was a remote farm on the edge of the 5000-acre wheat field that was his canvas.

He had spent his last 20 million on this, his latest art project, and had gone over budget in a big way. In fact his check to the Official Balloon Ascent Team had bounced; hence this do-it-yourself project was his only hope. The flattened week was unbending and rain was in the forecast.

After filling two hundred and twenty balloons, he knew for certain that he would run out of helium. He called his girlfriend and explained the problem. She persuaded her dentist to load her pickup with the five canisters he kept for recreational purposes, and she drove like a maniac to the farm. She was in time!

His last words as he ascended were, “You saved me from an very embarrassing situation!”

Unfortunately, those turned out to be his last words. The storm was the worst in a decade.

The dentist and his girlfriend lived happily ever after.

James (Ben) Mielke
      Out in the desert, under the moon, on the side of the road, a car, alone, the driver stranded on a byway since midday-no traffic.
      An urgent occasion awaits five hundred miles ahead. Many people believed he never intended to show. Only his wedding, after all.
      He had to stay behind and finish a late job. Drove all day, took the infamous shortcut. Now, out of gas.
      Just to keep in the mood he got his tuxedo from the back seat and dressed for the occasion--in style, top hat and cane.
      A battered pickup came over the dawning horizon with one headlight out.
      He stood in the road and tipped his hat at the approach.
      Brakes squealed, tires skidded.
      "What in Holy Moly are you?" came a voice from the dark space inside.
      "I'm late, I need gas."
      "Well shee-it pal. There's a truck stop at the crossroads a mile around the bend. How long you been out here?"
      "Since yesterday."
      "Shee-it. Bet yer hungry. I'll buy breakfast."
      He made it to the Altar on time. His tux was wrinkled and grease stained. He didn't notice that a bit of straw adhered to the seat of his trousers.

Liz Stewart
If you are Passing Gas, you are likely in Kansas, somewhere near the edge of the state. Town fathers, chuckle-headed old farts, felt assured of recognition- perhaps even an award from the state legislature for originality. Their wives, used to all the hot air, needed a post office, so they wrote to the governor, swearing that they loved the name.

Or:  If you are in Kansas, you could be passing Gas! Town fathers, chuckle-headed old farts, were challenged to score a post office. Their wives, used to all the hot air, wrote to the governor assuring him they loved the name. There's even a book with their name on the cover!

Michael Dean Long
ODE TO A BURRITO
You gave me gas
And created an embarrassing situation.
You were nothing more to me
Than a culinary infatuation.
I should have realized
Despite my inebriation
That this would culminate
In an unpleasant confrontation.
Why did I take you in?
Why did I have you for dinner?
Why could I not ascertain
That you would emerge as the Winner?

The War on Terror is an Error

          If I were a terrorist

                    I wouldn’t fool ‘round

          With improvised bombs

                   Out on the ground

          I’d drop them from planes

                   Just like the pros

          And if there’s a crowd

                   I’d send in the drones

          If I were a terrorist

                   I’d read all the mail

          I’d hear all the phone calls

                   So I won’t fail

          To find all the bad guys

                   And make sure they pay

          For having the nerve

                   To ruin my day

          If I were a terrorist

I’d kill all the Jews

          The Moslems and Christians

                   Maybe the Druze

Pagans and Skeptics

                   Will fall in the dust

          The voice of my God

                   Tells me I must

          If I were a terrorist

                   I’d shoot from the hip

          I’d do it in style

                   Make killing look slick

          I’d ban all the books

                   That say murder is sin

          With teachings like that

                   I’d never fit in

          I am not a terrorist

                   And I hope you agree

          That violence is vicious

                   Not for the Free

          Killing is killing

                   No matter the cause

          It can’t be excused

                   It won’t change the Laws

Dedicated to Lou Reed's Liver Transplant

Them drugs

Them drugs

Them bad drugs

(repeat 3 times)

Now hear the words of the wise

Them drugs

Them drugs

Gonna knock you down

(repeat 3 times)

Now hear the words of the wise

One drug is connected to chronic pain

The next drug is connected to depression

Another drugs is for anxiety

Now hear the words of the wise

There’s a drug over here to get you high

And a drug over there to bring you low

More drugs than we can keep up on

Now hear the words of the wise

Ain’t no drug gonna do you good

Ain’t no drug gonna do you good

Ain’t no drug gonna do you good

Now hear the words of the wise

Them drugs with give you rotten teeth

Them drugs will give you poison blood

Them drugs will eat your liver out

Now hear the words of the wise

Them drugs will make you hurt your friends

Them drugs will make you lie and steal

Them drugs will make you pimp your child

Now hear the words of the wise

(repeat first two verses)

Old Friends (pt. 2)

         They came to the end of the moving strip, just short of a door. The Count led them through and they were on one of the upper tiers of the rotunda of the Grand Hall. In the vast open space their steps and Dracula’s voice echoed. “This palace can house twenty thousand people but I choose to live alone now—I even dismissed my personal servants a few weeks ago. You and I are the only persons on this entire planet.” He lapsed into silence and Van Helsing said nothing. The radius of the rotunda was over two hundred feet and traversing a quarter of the circle took several minutes.

          Finally they came to a radiating hallway—like many they had already passed—and stepped onto another moving strip. As they got under way Dracula asked, “What do you remember last before I captured you?”

          “I had gone to England—London—to meet a literary and theatrical man. I remember leaving his home one night and a cab approached. I hailed it and got in—the next thing I remember is you torturing me.”

          “You do not believe me but I am indeed so sorry for that treatment. I was in that cab—I had mesmerized the driver and was awaiting you. Some time before that I had broken into your lodgings in Vienna while you slept one night and read your memoir and your correspondence with Mr. Stoker. I preceded you to London and was prepared to act upon your arrival. I killed you—made you undead, like myself. I returned to Mr. Stoker’s home sometime after midnight dragging your corpse. It was a most effective demonstration and he chose to cooperate with me at once. You may be pleased to hear that Mr. Stoker published your memoir—as a work of fiction, I’m afraid. There were some significant revisions—I was instrumental in most. It was a tremendous success and I secretly held a portion of the publishing and theatrical rights. I was wealthy before, but that book made me a fortune. That is another debt I owe you. Careful, now. We’re going to step off at that door coming up on the left—it leads to my personal apartment.”