the cave dwellers stirred
light and warmth crept inside
the sun, long unseen
cautious toes inched out
pale faces squinted
fists rubbed dazzled eyes
lips curled with wonder
a zombies’ reunion
You might also enjoy” Seattle Sun, Dancing Toes
You might also enjoy: Dancing Toes, A Thousand Clowns
“A Thousand Clowns” is a film about an eccentric, non-conformist comedy writer living in New York city. Based on a Broadway screenplay, this brilliantly written and superbly acted story is my antidote to feelings of being overwhelmed by societal pressures to fit in, especially as a writer.
Here is the YouTube link to the entire film, something for a dreary day.
A Thousand Clowns
tio stib 2017
In my next life I want to live my life backwards.
You start out dead and get that out of the way.
Then you wake up in an old people’s home
feeling better every day.
You get kicked out for being too healthy,
go collect your pension,
and then when you start work,
you get a gold watch and a party on your first day.
You work 40 years
until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement.
You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous,
then you are ready for high school.
You then go to primary school,
you become a kid,
You have no responsibilities,
you become a baby until you are born.
And then you spend your last 9 months
floating in luxurious spa-like conditions
with central heating and room service on tap,
larger quarters every day and then Voila!
You finish off as an orgasm.
I rest my case.
George Carlin, 1937-2008
she waves and this gorgeous chick
is heading straight for me
I check my tie
pull up my fly
as she walks by
yes, smiles are nice
but love they’re not
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A poem by Shel Silverstein (1930-1999)
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein, 1974
When I start slipping into seriousness, I turn to Shel Silverstein to lighten up. Reading his poems with kids is better than blowing bubbles on San francisco’s BART train.
Want more fun? Watch this link on YouTube-
the singular measure
of civilized pleasure
a waking human’s treasure
the perfect morning shower
while some grade countries on GNP
the importance of which I fail to see
only one thing matters to me
my perfect morning shower
I hear the hiss
signal of my morning bliss
the flood of wet and cozy warm
the deluge splashing off my arms
consciousness begins to shake
my toes squiggle in a little lake
oh joy, the day that starts like this
if not, surely something is amiss
so here I stand expectantly
waiting for what I hope will be
that moment of pure ecstasy
my perfect morning shower
a distant rumble in the wall
my senses spark to shower’s call
the pipes begin to shake and creak
and then there is a tiny leak
and so, from side to side I sway
trying to soak in token spray
pretending things will be okay
without my morning shower
tio stib, 2016
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