corncobconfessions

now, a question of goats and oats. if for not other reason than if rhymes so very nicely. now will try write something with some substance. or substance abuse, whichever happens to float my fancy. just roll the dice. reasons for too complicated for an old neanderthal  with nostalgia problems, vying just to be. no subtlety required, or implied. at least not at this point, anyways. unless, of course, it snows. snow changes everything. have long-johns ready, willing and waiting. she said: didn't know gun was loaded. really? come on! gun  holds six rounds. she reloaded twice. do the math. guy's got 18 holes holes in him. surprised he lives to talk her down form reloading a third time. he finally decided divorce better than be all shot to hell. he keeps gun as memento.  well, hell, what have we here, then? another angry, lost soul, perhaps? hope drowning in selfishness.  corrupt, but not s...

woolly-headed dreamers meandering down memory lane soft murmuring in still evening breeze soft setting sunlight glowing lovers walking hand in hand dressed to the nines; plus ten in other wizened venues. flushed with  new undertakings of old worn views. not anticipating cross purposes putting on airs. or anger management flowing pompous, waking hocus-pocus, while riding canoe of indiscrimate rivers of blues revelers. and mounted on dead awareness; a horse if fifth and last race.  blatant review raging against  mainstream ventures.  in step benevolent, still considerate after all these years of abuse. especially after that flunky squirrel ate his nuts for supper. benevolent certainly took it well. made some think: didn't need his nuts. actually happier without them. go figure.... living is hard if not, maybe we aint' living.  just saying.  now, a word from our...

crazy as a bag of snakes. crazy snakes are happy snakes.  lazy as a bag of dead air. unless air is hot air, then all bets are off. eating nothing but twigs lowers one's cholesterol, dramatically.  roughage diet requires no brains. just a lot of branches. and bag full of good luck. standard operating procedure for those as dumb as a large bag of crap and pimping out their dog with emotional baggage. pain should not be contagious. reading this very well could be. painful that is, not contagious.  but reading should be contagious; just not reading this.  reading this only teaches us difference between up, down and over. pigeons have landed,  and are doing rather nicely. whatever happened to common courtesy?  if it sounds trite, probably is. fairly good chance, anyway. but the day, still young; plenty of time, play hide and seek; unless bashful. that's okay, just play another g...

more judicial misconduct. not becoming of fine sweet wine. not too enthused at this point. but then, spooky-wooky, oh my? another disgruntled lame duck misadventure in hen house. some damn duck making off with fine prime hen, while red faced rooster stands by watching. there is no such thing as an atheist. atheist is a term dreamed up by mythical community. in the real world, myth does not exist. thus, neither does the term atheist. will take another century for humans  to come to terms with this. but, be assured, it will come to pass. 

small town America. we are everywhere. blink, and you will miss us. truth is what each one of us decides what truth is. each to our own versions. and that' the only truth worth crowing about. but, not to worry; history will sort it out. by then, however, truth will have been rewritten  until truth blurs  in misty revolution.  and then, finally,  dies a natural death.  a disquieting, of sorts. similar to death, but with twist of pure magic of hearing death lurking. question now: lurking for whom? pretense of being reaching on'e outer limits crashing up, over and through Each day, more than $40 Trillion dollars change hands worldwide. 

to determine where when went. well, file a compliant then. and spear a notion into action. close door and nail it shut! oh, but scandals. how we love them; in such fashion these days. does your wife know you're  screwing your secretary? stupidity on line three, four. and that disgruntle flake, again with red nose, floppy ears. 

irritating sniveling, then roll ourselves in crap, call it victory.  no, we don't play fair. fair is for suckers and blind mice. and then, ugly walked right up, slapped the crap out of pretty, and just walked away. salt of the earth, some said, while others, faces turning red, just up and walked away.

stepped all over myself today. all through, around, over and all sorts of crazy dance steps. and especially out of myself. gonna take long hard while, just getting over today's messed up dance steps. no good will come of it. for that matter, most likely no harm, either. at least not enough harm causing myself, lose myself, or lose any sleep over today's empty-headed state of affairs  art is in eye of artist. 

have this thing for colored balls. a fetish, one might say. good, bad, indifferent need not apply. it is what it is, is what they say, okay? plagued with nightmares followed by insomnia all comes crashing down