Call Me Bruce

I’m Chuck Norris with a 250 pound, 5′ 11″ 59 year old body,

Look me in the eye.

If I was younger and my physique was not so shoddy,

You’d see my fists can fly.

I’m Albert Einstein and Ravi Zacharias all rolled into one,

My wisdom known near and far.

Of course today I can’t even remember

Where the keys are for my car.

I am the politician with all the answers for mankind,

My popularity is soaring,

Yet while I preach from the pulpit on any given Sunday,

I hear somebody snoring.

Here I come just a walking down the street

With a million dollar smile.

Little do the people who see me know

I can barely walk a mile.

If I could only be the man up in my head,

I would be John Wayne, Tozer, and Carey Grant,

Of course those guys are dead.

Thanks for listening to me rant.

 

A Hole In One

Out he went with his dream to make the changes

And strapped to his waist was the old 45.

The star he wore was made of tin but his heart was gold

And from that heart his dream stayed alive.

But on that day when the sun stood still and the birds ceased their song

He drew that old black powder Colt a millisecond too long.

Oh it discharged a chunk of lead alright, about 250 grain,

But after one small ricochet it landed in his brain.

The whole town mourned for weeks and weeks o’er the grave up on boot hill,

“Here lies the man with heart of gold, and head with leaden pill.”

He may have been right you know, his heart and all that stuff,

But being the fastest draw in the West does not mean you’re so tuff.

He should made the ones he loved a safe place for to lodge,

Instead he spent his days in the sheriffs office in the the city they call “Dodge”.

Dodge he did, all his life, the bullets, cursings, kids and wife.

He was was known for keeping law, but his home was always absent, “Paw”.

 

 

The Uncomplicated Life

Drink white birch, go to church, type in “archery” then hit “search”

Pizza supreme, Field of Dreams, big ol barn with wooden beams

Ducks in creek, 4 day week, chirp your tires hear them squeak

Silly poem, thoughtful gnome, birds feed just outside our home

Smiling dog, croaking frog, red fox family inside log

New mown hay, chirping jay, sunset at the end of day

Stars in sky, sleep draws nigh, katydids sing lullaby

Eyes of red, go to bed, best thoughts dance inside my head.

The Christmas Ape

The Christmas ape is not your friend,

Just kick his big baboon rear-end.

He will climb your Christmas tree

& give your dog some primate fleas.

Last year he came on Christmas Eve

& threw his scat at Uncle Steve!

Oh I am ready this year though,

to ward off any chimp-like foe.

I have a slingshot close at hand

with extra-strong type rubber bands.

When he shows up in festive clothes

I will whack him on the nose

with anti-ape ammunition

From my sling with great contrition.

So if you’re in my neighborhood

and see him running through the wood

It is not Bigfoot that you spy,

Nor abominable snowman passing by;

It is the Christmas Ape instead

With his swollen nose of red.

And if my story you don’t believe

Just go inquire of Uncle Steve.

potato

(The potato has nothing to do with Christmas, just like an ape.  However, it is here to remind us all that no primates were hurt during the creation of this fine piece of holiday poetry.  Next time you see a potato you will sub-consciously remind yourself to be kind to apes.  This is good.  It is wise to keep potatoes on hand Christmas as they are great for filling those empty spaces in Christmas stockings.)

Please share if you like. Share if you don’t like.  Let’s fill the internet bloggery with the great ape message, no one needs to hear.

Be the Balm

bronson

I have an itchy, scaly scalp: dermatitis technically.  I know you are repulsed to hear my deep dark secret that I have hidden for years.  This is not a crippling or life-threatening disease but it has lasted for a decade and I am tired of it.  I have tried medical prescriptions,  apple cider vinegar, olive oil, Vicks, Lucky Tiger Salve, and everything short of 10w30 to relieve the scabby, scaly, snowdrift that covers my topknot.

Today I tried something new called “beard balm”.  Truly, a millennial market has inspired this product as the younger set is into looking dapper with whiskers.  A nice change from my generation of burly, mountain man, rock & roll freaks with hair everywhere and now that we are old, in our ears, nose, and places we never dreamed of complete with dermatitis.

I’m over it for years.  My hair is short and my beard only ever gets an inch long before it is trimmed.  I like being well-groomed, or should I say well… groomed.  Beard balm smells wonderful & it is a combination of bees wax and natural oils that leaves your beard manageable, and for me who puts it in his hair, the itch seems relieved for the moment and I am a happy camper.  I feel like one of the girls I see on the hair product commercials; if only I could swing my hair and beard slowly in the air as they do.  Sigh.

Anyway, what I know is that the dermatitis remains & it is just soothed momentarily until the balm wears off.  In the meantime I plan to enjoy the outdoorsy smell beneath my nose and the well-groomed look of the man in the top hat, minus the coat & tails.  Thank you millennials for restoring my faith in the barber shop and all that.  It has given way to a bunch of guys who for years wanted to cut their hair and look nice, but for fear of being uncool put up with the Duck Dynasty look.

But you know we all struggle with the itch.  If not dermatitis, the falseness of having to be like everyone else in order to be independent.  Talk about an oxymoron!  Have you noticed that we seldom do things just because we want to, but because everyone else does it (trends).  When I was thirty the only people with tattoos were vets and gang members, now the minority is tattooless.  Same goes for hair color: women seldom got their hair dyed because it was so “noticeable” that you were trying to hide something.  Today even children get their hair colored.  Then there’s piercings, need I say more?!

I have started a trend by putting beard balm on my head.  Only I have done this, no one else.  Thus far I claim my independent look and smell from all the other geeks.  I am the originator of scalp-balming.  If ever you hear of someone else doing this I WANT FULL CREDIT.  I shall call it “woodticledness”.  People will see and smell you coming and say, “O wow, he’s into the woodtic thing: that is so boss!”

No tattoos; no piercings; no hair color; just beard balm on the head.  So cool.  Get it now while it still a show of your uniqueness.  Be woodtic.  Be the balm.

Beyond the Screen Door

DSCN2284

 

Beyond the screen door there’s much to be explored,

My little dog anticipating her chance to be deplored.

Still I have not decided if I should go out there

For I find a place of comfort right here upon this chair.

Upon my leg she stands staring at me with those eyes,

Whining, spinning and grumbling about a rabbit she has spied.

How often we were going out and the weather was severe

She had no intentions of moving for a thunderstorm was near.

But now a furry rodent has trespassed on her land

And it’s obviously imperative she have the upper hand.

So up I go to leave her out but what would you have thunk:

The little furry rabbit turned out to be a skunk!