viva la

Another silly poem post
Just because I like to write them most
Perhaps that isn’t true
Then again, who knows why I do the things I do
I don’t know, that’s for sure
The words decide where to go
And my fingers only work to assist
But this is the last you’ll have to endure
The last this month with rhyming flow
The urge for more, I shall resist



He was King.  Not by birthright.  Not by succession or election. But because he had worked for it, fought for it, scraped and kicked and gouged and won battle after battle as he ascended to the top, to the throne.  And there he sat, surveying his dominion, King of all he could see.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, anyway, until recess was over.

Then he would have to earn it all over again the next time his class raced out to the play structure.

He was looking forward to it.

it is what it is

The holidays are coming. The holidays are coming.
Family and gifts and events and food and stress.
Don’t forget to bet who leaves dinner first fuming.
Don’t forget to wear your best suit or fancy dress.
That’s not festive music, that’s your blood drumming.
You’ve too many commitments, too many to impress.
The holidays are coming. The holidays are coming.
Aren’t you ever so very much excited?
I am. Can’t you tell? I’m positively beaming.
Or maybe that’s just a looming dread…


They set the charges and light the fuse
And then seem surprised at the explosion that ensues.
Are we failing them or vice versa?
And why must we think of it as winning or losing?
Parenting doesn’t have to add up.
It isn’t a game. There’s no playbook, no ending.
Yet everyone who has ever been one
Thinks their doled expert advice will fix every problem.
The truth surely is far simpler,
Every child is unique and will be raised different.
What worked for the experts
Is a guarantee of nothing but days ill spent.
But this isn’t about that at its core.
It’s about two little hooligans from kingdom lore
Doing everything in their power
To work against the rule of the land, their parents,
And then being reduced to a cower
When facing the consequences their actions rent.


What is it about the sound of can of soda being opened?  So inviting… So enticing…
Is it magic?  It must be.  What else could it be?

Science?  Our body replying to the sound in a conditioned response because we know the noise represents sugar and fun, and in anticipation of that we are flooded with serotonin and maybe even some adrenaline.  Well, okay, maybe science is the answer but is that really all that different magic?

And, besides, what would you rather do: order a can of science? or order a can of magic?