Gettin' the Job Done

TOOLS
By GC SMITH

Tools, one needs good ones in the workshop
but no less they are must haves for the kitchen
one can’t make a table without saws and hammers
or good knives and pots and pans for a pasta-fazoole

Nothing compares to my kitchen knives
Wusthof brand of finest Soligen steel
they make short work of cooking tasks
slicing, dicing, paring, chopping, carving

Then there are my Lodge cast iron pots
and sauté pans first class all clad stainless
a great big stewpot for making yummy stuff
and odd and end pots and pans for this and that

Me I live with tools for all my work
woodworking stuff for building projects
U.S and metric tools for my boat and truck
and kitchen tools that I cannot live without

In the wood shop measure twice, cut once
in the garage lay out parts most carefully
in the kitchen toss in spices by the fistful
but always make sure you have the tools you need

Of Time and Tide

Someday, When Day is Done
By GC SMITH

Pour the good whiskey,
tap a barrel of beer,
lay out a spread of
baked meats and breads

Shove my box in a corner,
dance on until dawn;
know I'm doing fine
as I wander the cosmos

Listen to old boy's stories
and tell some of your own;
there no baloney to make up
'cause we did it together

Relax dear and enjoy
this gathering of folk
here ‘cause they're friends
who came for a last word

I've lived me a full life
but now day is done,
don't give way to sadness
remember all that we had

The kids that we raised,
the houses that we built
the time spent together
both at work and at play

Take out our sea skiff
and scatter my ashes
in the estuarine marshes
that I loved so much

I've lived and I've loved.
I've enjoyed every day.
so please go on forward,
just remember our fun

sleep disturbia

Fevre Dream
By GC SMITH

I'm fractured tulips stomped flat by spry giraffes. My Kentucky bourbon dyed dark chocolate liver screeches enough, damn you. Sociopathic dinner parties, they'll yet do me in. Flippant maidens dab my spitttle with sanitary napkins and giggle. I see red. But then the vague clouds by the sea, shiny beacons, beckon supine me. Cedar trees denser than bamboo thickets block my progress toward the light saving my ass from unseen, but none-the-less deadly succulent flytraps. Perhaps, if I believed in a higher being a twelve step program could be considered. But I don't. I won't. I'll simply hope for rescue by an empathitic emu as a petulant pomeranian will not ever do.

Three Poems

Comes
By GC SMITH

From opaque mist
slight rustling,
honeyed ambrosia

breath in, reach out
touch life’s exquisite
mystery



Come on, honey
By GC SMITH

Hey babe
touch me
while
I tell you
everything
kiss me
I’ll
inhale you
while
we do
what
we will
do


Too Fast
By GC SMITH

Topsy-turvy
hurtling
life accelerates
dammit

With it, or maybe not

Hip?
By GC Smith

Writing from the hip, unbuttoning my lip. Gets me to say outrageous things like #@^%***#&&!!! But that has all been said before. So often said it now does bore. It loses punch this #@^%***#&&!!!, like writing interminably about vampires or of sex. There are only so many ways to kiss a neck. Only so many ways to draw blood. And so it is wiith sex in poetry or prose. There are only so many orifices to poke before sex becomes so ho-hum dreary. Just like the smutty #@^%***#&&!!!. Uttered from the lips of a boor who would be hip. But ain't.

Another try

Four Years Is What He Gets
By GC SMITH

Do not forget, our “Looney Tune” electorate
says, four, no more, that’s it
unless, of course it can be
convinced or hoodwinked

Four were granted
reluctantly in 2000
grant not without squabbling
down in sunny, balmy Florida

Four more were granted
reluctantly in 2004
some from the opposition
say stolen in rusty old Ohio

Four were granted to the new,
articulate, other guy in 2008
along with that grant two houses
and a shot at progress

Four were granted
for the “yes we can”
of change so sorely needed
that will not come on auto pilot

Four were granted
to get a job done
to fight the fights
while calming the divides

Four were granted
to get a job done,
to restore our place in world affairs
to tread the winding path of leadership

Four were granted
to get a job done
to move from centuries past
to a new and bright today

Four were granted
to get a job done
to fill the potholes, pave the way
to a productive, sustainable tomorrow

Four were granted
to try a new and ambitious agenda
fraught with pitfalls
in the wider world and at home.

Four were granted
to get a job done
while holding the moderates
who vote their minds and interests

Do not forget, our “Looney Tune” electorate
says, four, no more, that’s it
unless, of course, by 2012,
it can be convinced or hoodwinked

Time will tell if this great experiment,
America, can be governed of and for the people
or is forever condemned by fringes left and right
to swing from pillar to post of lunacy

Spikin' The Pine Trees

Fight For Your Right To Comfort
By GC SMITH

Gol durn environmentalists killed the Charmin' bear cub and his momma. They did that an’ they ain’t one bit sorry. They claim to be protecting trees with their militancy. They won’t stop with the demise of those cutesy bears either. Next they'll be spikin' tree trunks. They're relentless. They’re determined to eliminate billowy toilet paper. They are anti-comfort fundamentalist Luddites. They hate progress.

Those ass wipe(oops, wrong adjectives) self righteous bastards will stop at nothing. If we don’t fight them they'll reduce us to scraping our bungholes with sandpaper or worse.

Well let me tell you, there's no way I'm going to go back to corncobs. No siree, Bob. Not me. I'll fight.