Tim Schaefer's Blog, page 19

DEEP THOUGHT # 14

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads


I HATE YOU
is a more honest emotion
than
I LOVE YOU
and less subject to change
on a whim

U

She says that U owe her
now
in her decrepitude
cuz she carried U
and popped U out
and later on applied the rod
in her blind and righteous way
and U've got the scars
as a badge of honor to prove it

She didn't know nuthin'
'bout raisin' no babies
but then she was a victim
of her old world culture

And now U owe her

I never even met mine
'cept briefly
on that first day

I wonder if she even looked in my eyes
or just said take him away
my fate already sealed beforehand

She didn't owe me a thing
save to hand me off to someone
who would pick up
where she left off

But U owe her
don't U know
for reasons
only the angels can fathom

And U will go
and do your duty

As if there were some conceivable way
this late in the game
to kiss it and make it all well

CAPTIVE AUDIENCE

Image Credit: Paper Man Toilet Roll Comic Characters Rolled from vector.me (by nicubunu)- 
He only had time to read
while sitting on the can
stolen moments here and there
for a minute or two...
but one day
when he was really "backed up"
he nearly finished
War And Peace

All things even out in the end

BOOBY TRAP

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
I remember at age seven or so
sneaking peeks through these girdle catalogs
my mom had around the house
and being slightly titillated
by the models in there.

She was a local rep for some of those companies--
ya know, kinda like the Avon lady,
only she sold girdles.
And back then business was booming.

Yeah, it was all about being the best
you could be,
even if it wasn't the real you.
And girls wore "falsies" too,
which were bras that made you look
bustier than you really were.
And it was all okay because
most of those bouffant beauties
were't going to let it all hang out
with anybody until after the guy
had signed on the dotted line
and then he got what he got
and too bad if he didn't like it.

And then the girdles went the way of the Edsel.
(And if you've ever negotiated a girl
out of a girdle
in the back seat of an Edsel,
then buddy you've got a whopper
of a classic tale to tell!!!)

Yes, the smell of weed and liberation was in the air,
and ladies were only too happy to slip free
of the bonds of their latex booby traps,
though it caused many to have to come to grips
with who and what they really were,
and furious dieting commenced throughout the land.
And some overdid it, and that gave rise to Twiggy,
who ate like a piggy
but brought it all back up again
and that was the rise of the "supermodel."

And now, back to our young boy and his story!

A few years later I discovered what
the primary function for the girdle really was,
on a blind date where she was tucked inside
one of those things (I knew she was in there somewhere)
and she let me touch her up top all I wanted,
but though I tried, there was no way in  hell I could have ever
peeled that second skin off her--it was so tight--
and that was just the way she planned it.

So I don't mind tellin' ya, son,
that in The Battle Of The Sexes,
I was on the front lines!

SAILOR

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads














Chasing tail lights,
your dream in the rear-view mirror,
still disbelieving she isn't real
when you know you were there
the same as you are here.

Low buildings ramble
under the scimitar moon
as you murmur
sail on, sailor.

Recalling how you used to feel so awkward
inside your own skin
until the revelation
that you were the observer
and the observed.

And you try to hold onto that now
as you navigate the desperate grey streets,
wading into a maze of strange gazes,
knowing they don't have a clue
like when you
pored over some verse from a poet
you knew very little about
other than you'd both been married
to the same woman--
trying to gain some inkling
into what she might have seen in him

Laughter spills from open doorways
where music numbs
a thousand coexisting ills
 just as alone in a crowd
as you've ever been.

Reflecting on this life--
a fairy dust landscape
of mirage
and tricky illusion,
you feel so invisible
you could lean against a wall
and disappear,
like a moon getting sucked
into a black hole--
never again
having to face the sun.

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

BAM!

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

I saw a guy walking along
with his head buried in his phone
and I thought he is so distracted
that he's gonna get hurt
and I got so distracted watching
the guy who was so distracted that...
I walked right into a poem

At this bar a young woman
scurried toward
the ladies room
she looked so upset
like she could barely contain it
and I thought you know
all told there must be more tears
being spilled on that toilet seat than pee
and then BAM...
I walked right into a poem

I staggered outside
now fully cognizant
of the gravity  (I was looking at the moon)
of the situation
aware that at any time
and any place
it could happen
cuz poems
are lurking everywhere
ready to swallow me up
like Jonah
and I might never
ever
find my way out again
until that whale of a tale
gets regurgitated
onto some poor unsuspecting wretch
like you

ONE DAY SOON

I had a coupon
for some Grey Poupon
but the wind snatched it
and whisked it away
now I spend my day
stopping strangers
and passersby
asking...WHY???

They just shake their heads
and walk away
but one day
soon
they will understand
that what they just saw
was the piteous onset
of the final straw

PRACTICAL ADVICE FOR DAILY LIVING

THE NATURE OF COMPASSION

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

I.

Let me put it to you this way
(or maybe put it to you that other way)
if you send a donation
I will send you back
a picture of a
dirty looking child
I cut out of a magazine
to give you a
warm and fuzzy feeling
while my hand is groping around
inside your pocket

(And she's slipping
and sliding
lend her a hand
cuz she's slipping back 
into burger land)

II.

I don't swat flies
I give them names
I'll admit it's sometimes
difficult to tell them
apart, but you look
for little distinguishing
things, birthmarks and such.
Oh, and in turn for sharing
my cozy pad with them
they reciprocate by
eating the dead skin off
my face and body.
That's why my skin is
baby bottom smooth
that and the dish washing liquid
I use, of course.
I regret that I could never
have the same kind of
symbiotic relationship
with another person.
I tried. I offered piggyback
rides, but my passengers
usually balked when they
found out that time and time again
the destination was my bedroom.

(Somebody lend her a hand
someone lend her a helping hand
cuz she's slipping back
yeah she's sliding back
into burger land)

III.

Such a wasted effort
you ringing my doorbell
and I don't feel guilty when
I don't answer cuz sometimes I do
and I am polite 
and I even accept your literature
and look at it some just to see
if you might have changed your tune....

nope

and I don't feel sorry for ignoring you this time
cuz I know you have a quota
of houses you must visit
with documentation and all
to maintain your good standing
so it's not like it's necessarily
coming from the heart
like the cops at the end of the month
working to fulfill their quota
so I see them chasing down cars
who went two miles over the speed limit
like frogs waiting in ambush for flies
you'll be a little lighter in the wallet
cuz that's the game
buckle up and buckle under
or pay thru the nose

(And she's headed down
that slippery slope
again
sliding back
into burger land
back into the kingdom of 
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
and in the morning
I'll awaken her
with a cattle prod)