Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Festivus, and Merry Winter Solstice. However you decide to celebrate, may your gifts be better than these. And if you will be participating in what North Americans refer to as a White Elephant or Yankee Swap gift exchange, I hope you are able to stun your colleagues and constituents with gifts as random and disturbing as these.
Lucky Nuts Squirrel
gave up his feet for fashion.
They scratch my neck, though.
She represents WOMEN’S LIB!
“Where’s my pot pie, bitch?”
Well, you’re a sad pair.
Don’t cry tears of da feet, just
slipper on, you two.
Big ‘billy Ammo:
Show ‘em all you’d go “postal”!
[Gun not included]
And sad writer …and reader…
Who invented this
robot arm to malfunction
and choke your life out?
Useless canine ghoul,
Someone rubbed your nose in sh**
Knick-knack, that is whack.
In the name of the
Holy Toast I pronounce you
buttered and tasty.
Autumn in my favorite. The weather has just started to hint at the end of summer and beginning of autumn, so I am swooning. I love everything about fall and wish it would last…this is my official welcoming:…
Three Pieces on the Smoke of Autumn
by Carl Sandburg
SMOKE of autumn is on it all.
The streamers loosen and travel.
The red west is
stopped with a gray haze.
They fill the ash trees, they wrap the oaks,
They make a long-tailed rider
In the pocket of the first, the
earliest evening star.. . .
Three muskrats swim west on the Desplaines River.
There is a sheet of red ember glow on the river; it is dusk; and
the muskrats one by one go on patrol routes west.
Around each slippery padding rat, a fan of ripples;
in the silence of dusk a faint wash of ripples,
the padding of the rats going west, in a dark and shivering river gold.
(A newspaper in my pocket says the Germans pierce the Italian line;
I have letters from poets and sculptors in Greenwich Village; I have letters
from an ambulance man in France and an I. W. W. man in Vladivostok.)
I lean on an ash and watch the lights fall,
the red ember glow, and three muskrats
swim west in a fan of ripples on a sheet of river gold.. . .
Better the blue silence and the gray west,
The autumn mist on the river,
And not any hate
and not any love,
And not anything at all of the keen and the deep:
Only the peace of a dog head on a barn floor,
And the new corn shoveled in bushels
And the pumpkins brought from the corn rows,
Umber lights of the dark,
Umber lanterns of the loam dark.
Here a dog head dreams.
Not any hate, not any love.
Not anything but dreams.
Brother of dusk and umber.
you can make it on your own,
cuteness sustains you.
Why the white biscuits?
Horses come with built-in hooves,
you don’t need shoes.
Dearest llama mop,
I want to braid your hair and
make a fort in it.
Janet Jackson mane,
Black Beauty runs like a breeze…
a very light breeze.
Russian nesting doll horses.
Where’s the next smallest?
This post is dedicated to another website that I find both entertaining and unsettling: Crappy Taxidermy. These photos are all from this delightfully horrifying site.
Rabid Ol’ Yeller
Dive bombing all of us.
Get my rifle, son.
Disturbs me so much
Texas Chainsaw Massacre…
Scots and goats don’t mix.
The eye in the sky,
A Canon raven zooms in.
Nevermore, my head.
You look like you are gonna
Come out of the booth.
Dogs playing poker,
Rico Suave playing gin,
In his deer fashion.
Smiling stiff doom,
Toothy decor for your room.
I’ll club you myself.