The path to the future never did run straight I have to walk along it, the silent victim of fate. The sun plays hide and seek between the trees Zephyrs lay their gentle touch, the buzzing bees are busy with the business of their flowery date I wonder at the meaning of the…
August is almost upon us. August brings with it the day the body that owns the authors on this blog was born. Yessirreee, The SloMan, The LastWord, LeggieLefty and the PeevedPunjabi were born in August. In order to celebrate, I am offering you an easy way to wish me well.
Instead of me writing a self-congratulatory birthday post, as I usually do, I am (more…)
Instead of simply reblogging something on this Thursday, I’ve chosen to make improvements to the site. Again.
Apart from the ever-changing theme ( it’s a blue and white thingy now… ), I have made the following changes. These should make it easier to find posts. Some of the newer readers may find it useful to (more…)
It’s Thursday! You lucky people get to read a very old pome! Enjoy! (more…)
I'm tangled up in Yosemite and the need to write a blog. The pictures need fixing but the software's just a dog. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we try to edit photos, so we can reduce the file size and watermark each photo so we can use them on…
I've struggled over the last couple of years with a growing urge to write a purely fictional piece of prose. I have failed to get very far. At least three major attempts ended up as poems. I am serious. How that happened I have no idea, but there they are. Fictional attempts, ok,…
Notes to you. < some may get it, some may not. I don't really care either way > There are things called articles. Like "a", "the". Use them. There are things called collective nouns. They don't have plurals. "Computer code", "apparel", "hardware", "software". Commas are useful things, if used properly, like in this…
Now is the season for death. A death that will bring life once again, but for that life we must die now. This is the season for love. A love that will take you further apart, but for that love, this love must die. The present is doomed. The past misunderstood. The future?…
TBT apparently there is such a thing. "Throw Back Thursday". Well I'm throwing this out there again in the hope that someone will understand it.
It was a hectic day at home, I was going about my work when all at once my dome went abuzz with the need to shirk and compose what I call a pome. And here, it, the pome, is, if this were a song this would be a bridge. The parking lot was…