Early risers,
Just a few this morning,
It is Good Friday,
It is the day after the Mueller Report.
Maybe people are settling with God.
Maybe people are tired from
All the swamp soul selling.
At least a few early risers are here.

close up view of plasma
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Energy flows,
Shared by the cosmos,
Given to others,
Borrowed from nature,
Flowing
From one form to another,
Neither created,
Nor destroyed,
Just there,
To be molded into function,
Positive,
Negative,
Or just.
Then released,
Back to the community
For it’s next purpose.

***Author’s note: I don’t usually write about these kinds of things or use this kind of slang, well, because my mother reads the blog, but this was just too much for me to pass on. In an effort to distill the harshness of unmentionable acts, I will rely on slang terms or descriptions thereof.

Read at your own peril, Mom.

Slingin’

There are some things for slinging’…
Mud, hash, tv entertainment, but
Never should anyone ever think it appropriate
To do battle with the
One-eyed purple headed yogurt slinger
In an effin’ steam room by the pool where people swim.
Sure the hot temperatures,
The relative privacy of the foggy door, and
An imagination steeped in the internet’s debauchery
Might make rubbin’ one out
Seem like the thing to do, but
No, take your hairy ass palms home
And do your thing in the privacy of your home.

The idea of taking the short one for a public beat down
Is not appealing in the least.
Plus the thought of the clean up in aisle seven
Is difficult when there is nothing there but a swimsuit to wipe things up.
I guess the biological consequences of too much stimulation
Will be left behind by the dragon slayer (selfish, don’t you think)
Becoming someone else’s problem to deal with.
Note to self, chest waders in the steam…
What is wrong with people?
Pink Floyd had it right with the Fletcher Memorial Home,
Maybe we could put the public masturbators in there, too.
They could stand in a circular formation jerking to their
Pathetic phalangeal penile patois slingin’ far away from the steam room.

***Author’s Note: Remember, if the rules don’t say, “Masturbating in the steam room is not allowed,” people might think it is okay. I’m just saying, people need to be told. I’m worried that the man in the glass is concussed. At least in one of his brains…

Sorry, Mom.

The heating pad is there,
Trying to prevent calf soreness
In a way ice never will.
It’s all warm down there
Relaxed, soothing.

Ice just complicates things,
Taking the swelling away
And massaging in freezer burn
Multiplying the pain
Brought with the cold.

I can be an obnoxious sort,
It’s more about having fun than anything.
I joke, cajole, and occasionally rip at someone’s heart,
But I don’t mean anything by it.

Like this one for my friends,
The alarm went off today,
I heard it, I acknowledged it, and I turned it off.
The covers got readjusted and back to sleep, I went.

They were better for waking,
Running, swimming, battling lifeguards,
I was lazy, weak, and proving to have little mettle,
But I was warm.

Sure, it’s tough this week,
Practice today, 10-12,
Then I’ll come home,
Lounge through lunch, nap in the afternoon.

That’s the price I pay for choosing teaching
Over sales, HR, and corporate fitness,
Three careers where spring breaks are not a thing,
But for the daycare issues, it creates.

I hope work goes well today,
This little jab was fun, maybe even obnoxious,
Please take it the right way,
See you tomorrow for seven…maybe…

Zero, the label says zero calories,
With plenty of chemicals acting like
Natural flavors,
Each tasting like nothing
Which is exactly where I’m supposedly going
After an inquiry into my spiritual foibles.

It seems I’m going nowhere
After not being fully committed to the ideas
Taught to me in my youth and
Following my observation of a ceremony
Bringing a child into adulthood
From right to left as it were.

Two faiths, both promising something extra,
Neither able to provide any evidence
Other than biblical promissory notes of an afterlife;
If only a heathen like myself could just believe.
I’m just not sure what to believe in,
Some are put off by that.

Take the bat mitzvah, for example,
My friend’s daughter, as I see it,
Denied the low expectations placed upon her
To rise up and demonstrate the greatness
Inherent within all of us when we exorcize the demons of mediocrity.
This was her achievement and not due to the graciousness of a mystical entity.

She did what she did because of her,
Not her parents, not the rabbi, not prayers, nothing but
Her.
She will continue to grow,
She will continue to experience her greatness, and
Whatever comes of the end, she will go there.

I believe the same for me,
I get where I get because,
Not because of blind allegiance to a god,
The Tao inspires me, stories from Buddha, Old and New Testaments,
Each having their role for me, none to be accepted without question.
No, I get wherever just because…that’s what I believe.

Maybe that will leave me in limbo,
Maybe Hell, shit, I’ve done enough stupid stuff worthy of either,
But I don’t really think those are real
Any more than the ultimate gated community in the sky.
Could it be that I’m just a “moment dude,”
Here for a while and then a renewable resource for the next journey?

Too Buddhist?
Too Taoist?
I don’t know,
I’m just sitting here listening to Bruce sing about going down,
Drinking a nutrient-enhanced beverage
And wondering if we’ll play today.