Pat Hatt's Blog, page 40

In A Funk With A Drunk!

The cat heard a whiner nearby. He is sure one whiny guy. I ran under the bed. But still easy to hear what the whiner said. So this ode came to be. Only thing such umm idiots will ever get from me.

Boo hoo, boo hoo.
What I say is so true.
I'm starving and broke.
I can't afford a Coke.

Life is so hard.
No gas to mow the yard.
No money for bills.
I'm the talk of rumor mills.

Milling and tilling.
My life isn't thrilling.
It is so so so bad.
I'm so so so sad.

Wait here for me.
I've got a place to be.
I'll be back in a jiffy.
I have to go get spiffy.

These are my last ones.
The washer no longer runs.
The last clean clothes.
Oh, life gives me so many woes.

I'm off for a drive.
I don't know if I'll survive.
But I need to go.
I've got things to do, you know.

That hits the spot.
Makes the day less hot.
Eases my worried mind.
I only get the good kind.

300 bucks a week.
My liquor sure doesn't play hide and seek.
It gets me through the day.
Life is so hard my way.

Only 300 unless I run out.
Then maybe another 100 comes about.
I need my cigarettes too.
That's only a few 100 or two.

I have no idea how to survive.
Those bills are eating me alive.
Ah. That hit the spot.
No. I don't drink a lot.

Pffffffffffffft from the cat. He never whined to me again after that. Guess he didn't like what I had to say. I'm sure you can guess that it wasn't a very nice retort from our bay. Know any such whiny drunks like that? Or maybe just whiny where they are at. Got no time for them at my sea. On them the cat wouldn't even pee. I guess toward them I am a bit crass. But that keeps such fools from whining more than once to my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Slow And Steady With A Foot Ready!

In a rush today? Guess you won't be going anywhere fast now that you are at my bay. That is how rushing works, right? You all do it with rush hour at many a site.

Heading for home.
Not out to roam.
Heading and heading.
Dreaming of bedding.

Tired and sore.
No need to explore.
Wanting to rest.
A nap's the best.

Heading and...stopped.
Any rushing flopped.
Stuck and stuck.
Muttering thinks like fluck.

Gas fumes galore.
Cars door to door.
Bumper to bumper.
That car wants to hump her.

Ever so close.
PDA out of the house.
The mechanical kind.
Screw loose on its mind.

Rev and go.
Seconds to blow.
Stopped once more.
Won't get an encore.

Change the lane.
No pain, no gain.
Try for another score.
Hear that engine roar.

Stop and go.
Still at so so.
Sure no quickie.
But the heat makes you sticky.

Get the green light.
This time it's all right.
Took it to far away spaces.
It's off to the races.

Red rears its head.
Back to dreaming of bed.
To linger hours in heat.
Rush hour's giving treat.

Hmmm, that went kinda off kilter. Maybe the car needs a new filter? Beats the heck out of me. You humans named it rush hour from sea to sea. Not much rushing around. Don't you love when traffic is found? Bumper to bumper and door to door. My, those vehicles sure want more and more. Of course insurance companies may give them sass. I'll stick to generating traffic and not be stuck in it for my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

A Brand New One With An Awakening Run!

The cat has to give Pat a non-rhyming go today. I just sighed at my bay. Although I think I may need to clean myself too. This one delves into wacko territory at our zoo. Blame the WEP for this. The story took hold there and brought about this not so bliss.

Click Here For A Kindle Peer!Click Here For A Print Peer!
I dwell in the recesses of every rat mind. My existence known to all but corrupted by the blind trust in a cesspool. There I linger waiting to be released. There I shall linger and awaken. My tool will become salvation. The universe will cheer my unending release. What is to come will chlorinate the cesspool of rats. My mission from the universe shall see to that. I shall see with a sense that can only be attained by releasing. An awakening has begun. The universe’s desires will come to fruition. I will rise. I will release. I will awaken.
Doesn't give much away with what it has to say? The cat will give some spoilers this day.

#1. You may need a shower after reading a bit. Psycho is it.#2. Not a single character is named in the whole thing. Interest piqued at your blog wing?#3. Not a single word of dialogue is spoken in the whole book. Or maybe it is all dialogue, have a look.#4. Pat may scare some after this one. Who knew he could give such a psycho mind a run?
There you go. Some spoilers given a go at our blog show. Wasn't enough for you? I guess you'll have to give it a view. Although your skin may surely crawl as the psycho and the universe has a ball. Has piqued now come to pass? Time I go clean my little rhyming ass.
Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

No Need For A Mate With This Date!

No more clubbing over the head. That is good, many would wind up dead. Not from the club though. May need a club with the scary dating show. Thankfully being a snip snip cat brings forth none of that.

A search is born.
Oh so forlorn.
In search of love.
Or maybe a lustful shove.

Searching, searching, searching.
Like dial up researching.
On the go forever.
Delving further into the endeavor.

The type to talk.
The type to walk.
The type to eat.
Every single tasty treat.

The type to whine.
The type who think they're oh so divine.
The type to spank.
Some enjoy that plank.

The type to act dumb.
The type with brains in their bum.
The type with no money sense.
All three are rather dense.

The type too picky.
The type too icky.
As in bathing/smell.
Outhouse they must dwell.

The type to want.
The type to haunt.
Turning into a stalker.
The type with a walker.

The type to sailor swear.
The type with rainbow hair.
The type in a funk.
Always out to get drunk.

The type soooo cool.
The type lower than dog drool.
The type to game the system.
The type to grab your nether regions and twist em.

The type to boss.
The type to watch moss.
The type to give a headache.
Nightmare done, now wide awake.

Could have went on for a while. Any types I missed you find vile? Or at least avoid? There are the paranoid. Plenty of those. Types in many rows. A type for each I suppose. Even the types that bring forth new lows. I guess we're the type to make fun and then maybe run. Run under the bed with Cass. A much safer place for my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Extinction Is Here So Run In Fear!

Since before my blog there has been a log. Since way way way before that. Hey, I said before at my blog mat. Don't get technical on me. I'm doing it to myself? Gee. Humans are obsessed and that is all left to be confessed.

Start to stop.A familiar drop.Drop and never.Repeat the endeavor.
A name from a hat.Named after a rat.Aliens from space.Give name to the race.
A dream to some.No matter how dumb.The will to survive.Like they'll make it out alive.
A weather thing.A nuclear fling.Rockets or ice.Neither that nice.
Or maybe heat.That sun finds it neat.Double the fun.A Waterworld re-run.
Look to the sky.An oh me, oh my.Jot down ideas on the fly.Look, some ancient guy.
Lined up with ease.Vague as the breeze.Can make it fit.Never full of it.
Whelmed isn't a thing.Disaster it must bring.Obsessed with the end.A never ending trend.
Fake and proven.Better get movin.Need a new task.But who to ask?
Idiot upon high.Some alien loving guy.Some weather person nut.New story, same rut.
Notice how humans are obsessed with the end? It sure is a history trend. All generations think it will come to be. Then of course nothing happens to make any flee. Those Mayans must have loved it as fools fell for it bit by bit. Maybe that is why they get made. Have any theories you wish to trade? Let them all come to pass. I'll continue to be a never ending little rhyming ass.
Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

A Timely Post At Our Coast!

There comes a time when we have to post. It comes every day at our coast. A time for me and a time for you. The same time can have many a view. Time I started this before time runs amiss.

The ticking clock.
Around you rock.
Three, four and five,
Make it out alive.

The rest, who knows.
That's how it goes.
Goes and goes and goes.
Away time flows.

Flows and speeds.
Looking after needs.
Looking after life.
Flies by with the wife.

Fly like a plane?
Starts the head pain.
Each takes up time.
One steep climb.

Or steep fall.
Time has us all.
A human creation.
Time for a revelation.

Time may not exist.
Time elsewhere can be missed.
Missed and lost.
Or maybe just tossed.

Measurements no more.
Chaos in store.
Or maybe not.
All hot to trot.

Making time here.
Making time near.
Can you make it?
Maybe bit by bit.

So denies having none.
A familiar run.
Have you do.
Time has you.

You have time.
Time enough to suck a lime.
Maybe pound sand.
Time is at hand.

Does time hurt the head? Think about it in bed? Time to head there? Time to spare? Time to write a comment for me? Time to read and see? Time I stopped this? Time brings no bliss? What if time was never made? Would the years fade? Would age not be a thing? Time I wrapped this up before we're back in spring. Time I took a nap on a cushy mass. I'll see you next time with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Brand Spankin' New Just For You!

Did you buy something new? I know, a buying post after yesterday at my zoo. Am I turning into Al? Nah, hold on there pal. A whole different ode stream will take form. It is something that has become the norm.

It's brand new.
Not new and improved.
Which just isn't true,
But so new it will be moved.

Moved to your door.
Moved to your attic.
Moved to your floor.
All will be ecstatic.

New is the way.
Upgrade and win.
Forget that old display.
Ancient ones are a sin.

It's worth your while.
Every little bit of money.
New will add to your pile.
The world will be sunny.

Built brand new.
That you knew.
That may be true,
But shh a new new is due.

Can double new.
Anger will rise.
So remain true,
Throw in a disguise.

Built brand new.
But not built to last.
Then no new times two,
That's a thing of the past.

Built to break.
Built to wear.
Built to hippy shake.
Built to need a pair.

Now new is new.
A new times two.
Until three comes due.
Then a new, new, new.

Built to break.
Means built to sell.
No new double take.
Built to last can go to hell.

Do you notice how things are built to break? No matter what it is people make. Seems all need to break so in more cash they can rake. If it didn't break apart then many may not take iPhone 10.10.1568 to heart. We can't have that. Then we'd make scat. They have to break like glass. Just don't go breaking my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Come And Shop Until You Drop!

It's a human craze. A never ending maze. Can't get out. Some may shout. Need that crap. A closet can't have a gap. Can't have space. Crap you must embrace. Where am I going? You'll catch on with this ode showing.

When words fail.
Stick to the sale.
That catches the eye.
Give colorful font a try.

Some brings cheer.
Some brings fear.
Don't say it in black.
It doesn't have the knack.

A racist sale?
That's a fail.
Don't say it in blue.
Could go boo hoo.

Say it in yellow.
It's far more mellow.
Will remind of sun.
They'll see it and think fun.

Sale! Sale! Sale!
Come hit the trail.
Our yellow font glows.
Show up in rows.

Buy! Buy! Buy!
Off the shelves it will fly.
And if you run out.
We take credit, no doubt.

Keep jobs at play.
Buy what's on display.
It keeps society rolling
Plus weight loss through strolling.

Perks of the sale.
Crap that won't fail.
At least until it does.
Then buy new, just because.

An endless stream.
Makes you beam.
Makes us rich.
So go dig a ditch.

We want every cent.
Everything must be spent.
We even have sales on urns.
Never too early before death churns.

Do you fall for the shopping forever trap? Do you need more and more crap? We take what we need and get out. Don't care if sales are about. Do you fall for the color trapping too? Or maybe some catchy tune played in front of you? So many little tricks they employ. Doesn't shopping bring you joy? We'd rather go pass some gas. It sounds way more fun to our little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

A Storm To Weather Here Together!

The cat will have you talking today. You may just squawk with delight at what I say. It's all you seem to do anyway. Even when I'm right beside you and it's on display. I guess you have to talk. Now away from you I'll walk.

It comes and goes.
Highs and lows.
Lows and highs.
Mostly from skies.

Has come and gone.
Watered the lawn.
Turned it to muck.
Violated your truck.

Maybe even your hair.
How could it dare?
Like it's a thing,
Out having a fling.

It may fling.
Big stones of bling.
May hurt the head.
Could sound dirty when said.

Dirt and muck.
What the fluck.
Sun and sand.
Ever so grand.

Snow and ice.
Pay the price.
Ice and snow.
In the ditch you go.

Winds that blast.
Things not past.
All brand new.
Never scene in view.

Selective recall.
But roll a snow ball.
Then it's new.
New to view.

Spread and share.
Viewer beware.
Haven't a thought.
Don't go out and get caught.

It's brand new.
A new sorta view.
Even if it happened a billion times before,
And will happen a billion times more.

Woweee, no wonder you humans love remakes at your sea. You talk like the weather is new every flucking day. Never a been there, seen that display. The sun is brand new. Look at that view. Oh look, there's snow. Seen it, unless from Timbuktu you go. Do you go on and on and on about weather you've seen 1000 times before? We sure hope not, as that would bore. Oh look, rain is watering the grass. I have never, not really, seen that before with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Your Lucky Day At Play!

It is your lucky day with the ode at play. Did you notice that yet? I bet you did thanks to this pet. Right in front of your eyes. My, you humans are ever so wise.

It's here and there.
It's every friggin where.
It's every flucking thing.
Used by jester and king.

Old and young alike.
Those on a mid-life hike.
Maybe even the dead.
Unknown until in that bed.

But dead to living.
It keeps on giving.
From cats to mutts.
Even birds in ruts.

Numbers to shoes.
Can mean a win or lose.
Or a lose or win.
Not saying it right is a sin.

Forwards and back.
It never does lack.
With you in a rut.
With you on your butt.

Tags along each day.
Come what may.
Maybe it's July.
It's always spry.

The go to word.
Mostly for the absurd.
Or often the lazy.
Maybe even the crazy.

Crazy in laze.
Some type of maze.
Can't turn that way.
Not on the 13th day.

Or the 13th year.
Did that you hear?
It's the 13th chime.
That's the 13th mime.

Numbers will pile.
Whiners all the while.
Walk this way, not that.
Oh look, a black cat.

Pfffffffffffffffffft the cat can only say. Nonsense once more came to play. Do you believe in luck? Or do you pass the buck? Enjoy the ode of today? Many of those come to play. I'm not sure you can sing it though. Can try if you want to put on a show. With any luck you'll sound like the singing bass. Pffft and you'll get more luck when you rub my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.