~
Chewy Sunset
kneels
at her feet
~
~
lady wisdom’s siren call beckons
Reply
Tag Archives: love
valley of democracy no. 21
~
After my affair with Mr. Lizard so charming
I fell in love with Freddie the Fly so disarming
he was buzzing all around just wantin’ to die
but I just couldn’t kill ’em, I don’t know why
~
I had him under my thumb, but I let him go
then I caught him in my hand & opened it up real slow
for a moment only his head was peeking out
his two big eyes and his cute little pout
~
Then I climbed up the truck & layed down on the roof
I was fallin’ in love with everything but I had no proof
I tried to feel bitter & alone but didn’t get very far
‘cuz as day turned to night I fell for sweet Suzie Star
~
Moods will work you up and down and all around
before you know it you’re insane and unsound
they’ll yank you this way & yank you that way
before you know it, the White Coats are dragging you away
~
God’s creatures are all creeping up slowly on me
before long I’ll be slow-dancing with Flunky The Flee
I just hope that if I step on Rattle The Snake
he doesn’t mind if I also bake him a birthday cake
…
rawclyde
!
(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)
i wanna be a good boy
~
A Love Story
by
Sp4 Clyde Collins
Caducean Newspaper
Tripler Army Medical Center
early 1980’s
~
A place of ultimate contentment, the Pure Zone, existed in a corner of the mind of PFC Donald Duty, inspiration specialist, Poetics Lab.
In this Pure Zone between his ears, there blew a gentle cool breeze over a limitless field of green, green grass. The grass cheerfully, constantly waved “howdy” while an infinite herd of fat cows, dumb and content, munched on it. The sun always shined. It never rained. There were no flies or cow paddies.
Somewhere in the midst of the lackadaisical cows, under a tree on a small knoll, Duty and Sp5 Denise Daisy, assistant ward master, Ward Pluto, sat together. They sat upon a colorful, smartly designed, afghan blanket knitted by Duty’s grandma in another age. In the Pure Zone of the PFC’s mind, he and Daisy picnicked eternally.
When the cows mooed, they did so in cohesive chorus and created the ultimate melody. Occasionally a bird perched itself on a branch of the tree on the little knoll and chirped, which did nothing but add even more charm to the scene.
Not too far away was Duty’s hometown, Buttermilk, Kan. But nobody could reach Daisy and Duty because the cow herd, being infinite, surrounded everything.
The Pure Zone in Duty’s head was largely responsible for the charismatic grin that was always (well, almost always) dancing around on his face as he accomplished mission after mission at Tripler Army Medical Center.
However, in actuality Daisy married Sgt. Mickey Kandoo, bad dude, 25th Infantry Division, Schofield Barracks. She moved out of the TAMC barracks to live with her infantryman in Aliamanu Military Reservation (AMR). When she did this, Duty’s Pure Zone was shattered.
Duty could not sleep. Duty could not eat. One day at noon a few weeks after her wedding, in the TAMC dining facility, Daisy happened to notice that her little buddy looked like death warmed over. She parked her tray of good Army chow on the table next to Duty’s and said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” moaned Duty.
“What’s wrong, Donald?” she inquired with a deep furrow of sincerity upon her brow. “You look like death warmed over.”
Duty tried to swallow a mouth full of fresh buttered peas and coughed it up. “I’m sorry, Denise. Ever since you got married I haven’t been able to eat or sleep. I guess I love you. But since you got married there’s nothing I can do about it except roll over and die.”
“Oh Donald,” said Daisy in a barely audible whisper. Tears suddenly sparkled in the corners of her eyes. She was speechless for a long moment. Finally under the table her hand touched Duty’s hand and squeezed it. This was the only time Daisy and Duty had ever touched. “You’re the best friend I have,” said Daisy.
The juices in the PFC’s brain gushed like a refreshing cloudburst and in the Pure Zone a single flower radiantly bloomed. He attacked the peas on his plate with a new fervor and successfully swallowed every one.
“Oh boy, am I hungry!” grinned Duty.
~
DUTY WORLD
1980-1984
~
give him a great big kiss
.
~ OLD TIMER CHRONICLE ~
Mr. Cutie Pie Comes To Town
reported by Cloyd Campfire
March 2008
“Nice landing!”
The midget space alien wobbled momentarily. He looked around. He had touched ground-zero in Prescott, a thriving town located somewhere around the Mogollon Rim, in Arizona.
He discovered himself standing right in the middle of the sidewalk. Traffic chortled by. His gaze eventually locked onto a pair of outlandish high heels, inside of which were two beautifully sculptured feet. He could have leaned forward and kissed the big toe of the left one if it weren’t for the transparent bubble around his head. The little alien’s gaze slowly moved up up up a pair of long note-worthy legs, a black skirt a swirl in the wind, an exposed tummy curvaceous & yummy, a flimsy red blouse under which delicately heaved two bilingual boom-booms, and finally the depthless dark eyes of fabulous Jesusita. It was this entity that had complimented him on his landing.
The raven-haired beauty picked-up the midget extraterrestrial and held him at eye level in the palm of her hand, which sent a whirlwind of emotions through the little guy.
“You’re a cutie pie,” announced Jesusita.
“Please take me to Davy Crockett Reincarnated, the editor of the Old Timer Chronicle,” squeaked the earth woman’s new toy. “I have an urgent message for Mr. Crockett Reincarnated from the ancient astronaut, Merlo 7.”
“Oh no, don’t tell me that foolish old left-winger is communicating with extraterrestrials now,” scoffed Jesusita.
“Please. It’s urgent,” said Merlo 7’s midget intergalactic messenger.
“Do you have a name?” inquired Jesusita.
“Call me Mr. Cutie Pie.” The half-pint in her hand winked at her and did a slow-motion mid-air somersault.
Jesusita blinked & was smitten. She smiled. “Call me Jesusita. Let’s go.”
She dropped him ‘tween her warm operatic orbitations in such a way that his head peeked out just above her low neck-line, and he too was smitten.
Jesusita clickity-clickity-ed her high heels across the concrete to her car & hopped-in. They dashed out of town in the late-model Volkswagen convertable with the top up and the heater on ‘cuz it wasn’t quite spring time. Which makes us wonder, does it not? Why was Jesusita attired in such gratuitis attire this winterlude? Wouldn’t she catch pneumonia? Well, let’s remember, she’s one tough right-wing bitch. She’d also deserted the military, in which she had served as a submarine captain. Now, for the time being, she was a belly-dance instructor.
At Hidden Stables she rented a mule. She & Mr. Cutie Pie hit the labyrinthine trail atop this beast of burden for 3 days, ‘til they found themselves precariously up the side of a deep chasm lost somewhere in the Mogollon Rim. Here they wearily rode up to an ancient cliff dwelling only a few mortals know about and dismounted.
The mule snorted.
And I came out and greeted them. I found it quite difficult to take my eyes off the frog-face in a space helmet peeking-out from Jesusita’s valley of no return. “What’re you doing here, Jesusita? And who’s that?”
“This is Mr. Cutie Pie. Where’s Davy?”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Mr. Cutie Pie has a message for him from Merlo 7”
“The ancient astronaut!” I exclaimed ~ and my mouth fell open.
Jesusita put her hand on her hip & gave me her devastating Chicano-girl look.
I led them inside to where the illustrious editor of the Old Timer was still levitating above his cot with his eyes shut in a trance. He also was spouting-off about class warfare to Merlo 7 ~ in some strange one-way-street radio-wave way.
“Go ahead, Mr. Cutie Pie. Do your best,” said I.
The little space alien’s eyes glowed brightly ~ and he squeeked, “Mr. Crockett Reincarnated, Mr. Crockett Reincarnated?”
The floating man quieted down.
Mr. Cutie Pie piped, “Colonel Crockett, you’ve been chosen to drive home this message to the population of America: When Barack Obama is elected president, he’ll end the Iraq Occupation, so then you Americans won’t be so distracted from the extraterrestrial phenomena all around you. That’s it. That’s the message.”
Davy’s eyes popped wide open!
Then he fell out of the air onto the cot, which collapsed under him onto the floor, broken to pieces.
“Amen!” cried Davy.
~
from
The Davy Crockett Reincarnated Almanac 2001-2008
no longer available on the internet
~
Old Timer Chronicle I 