Mark A. Williams
                            SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018

___________________­

Wow Mark,

Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!

Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.

All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.

(RIP Jimi Carlsen)

Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!

Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.

I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.

I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah  back together.

Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018

A is for Adam the Aardvark and his band the African Ants
B is for Broderick the bumble bee who thinks they are pants

C is for a cynical cat named Crusoe
While D is for Darwin the delightful deer
E is for Eric the elephant who always drinks my beer
F is for Fernando the Fox but in Spain he known as  Zorro
He lost his wife Matilda last week and is now brimming with sorrow
G is for Gerald and yes he is a Giraffe
He wore odd socks last Tuesday and made Heinrich the Hyena laugh
Imelda is an Iguana and she is quite immense, though she is really old but has unstoppable sense.
Jack the Jackal has a regular name but he is an assassin and has a pretty good aim
K is for Kimberly who happens to be a kangaroo but she doesn't live in the outback anymore because she lives in London Zoo

Laramie the Llama lives south of the United states , he loves hiking in the mountains but one thing he hates, is being mixed up with Arnie the Alpaca.

Monty the Moose loves drinking maple syrup and playing ice hockey,
yes he is a stereotype but I am his Jockey
Nero the Narwhal is the unicorn of the deep, he loves scaring sailors and loves to sleep
Olive the Orangutan is a neighbour of Kimberly the kangaroo
but they have a plan to escape from London Zoo.

Pug is a Pig , just a regular pig, but he wishes to be ferocious and really big
Quentin is a quail and buddies with Pug, he likes eating sunflower seeds but never a slug
Ramon the Rhinoceros also dwells in the Zoo and is part of the escape plan with The red ape and kangaroo , he'll actually be the one to bust them out,
but to get his attention you really must shout.

Sylvia slithers, Sylvia is sleek if you were a mouse and saw her, you'd go EEK!
Terence T. Tiger is terrified, because he was asked to escape from the Zoo,
yes with the Red ape , Rhino and Kangaroo.

Ulysses is a horse who super glued a horn to his fore-head , he wanted to be the last known Unicorn because he heard that they were all dead. Vincent is a Bat, just a Vampire Bat,
he doesn't really like blood but is enemies with Crusoe the Cat.

Warren the wolf has many female fans but spends half the day with Eric the Elephant drinking my cans .Xenops is not an alien , it's just a rain forest bird, I'll give you more info as soon as I've heard
Y is for Yul and I don't mean the bald actor , this Yul is a yak but does watch the X factor
Z is for a Zebra named Zak and yes he does know the Yul the Yak , they were introduced by a certain kangaroo, and now it's their job to visit London Zoo

SILLY SEASON, SLIPPERY SLOPES AND SOME SNOW SLUSH    
From the 7th diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.    
       
WOW, it was already Christmas Eve. It goes to show, 'time flies when you're having fun', for winter was amongst us again. This year's weather was awfully cold, with the temperature dropping to only two degrees, it was freezing outside. I said, to my parents, 'it seems to be a silly shkeason for this time of year, and without any real good reason'.    
     
My dad, had gathered some wood for the open fireplace, that he had made for us inside. We then all sang songs and ate our multi coloured marshmallows, straight off the wooden sticks, to make us feel yummy, once inside our tummy.    
     
My mum Flo, said, with her cheeks as red as a rose, from the heat of the fire, which was making her cheeks glow. 'Do you want to go to the snow, for a couple of days'? We could have so much fun, in the white, cold snow'?    
     
So, the next morning, Dad packed up the car, with ski's, gloves, boots, jackets and even some ski chains for the slippery wet road tar.    
     
Mum, packed some food, drinks, our tooth brushes and even a hair brush and a comb. Then we hopped into the overloaded car, and headed off west in search of the white, cold snow.    
     
We finally arrived at the Shivermetimbers Ski Lodge, and the manager Monty Lopez, was there to greet us, and gave us the keys to our regular ski lodge. It's a funny job, by the way, for a bloke that can't even ski, due to vertigo, unbalanced and all.    
     
Once inside our weekend ski lodge, we quickly lit the enormous fireplace, which was built, smack in the middle of the very large lounge room.    
     
Mum and Dad had their own bedroom, my two much older, identical twin sisters, Emma and Jemma, had the ski loft, while my little brother Lemmy, Smoochy and I had the fold-out bed, that popped out from under the couch.    
     
Early next morning, we all ate bacon and eggs and drank hot chocolate, except for dad, who preferred his hot cup of tea.    
     
After breakfast, the manager Monty Lopez, told my Mum, Flo and my two, identical twin sisters, that they can have, free ski lessons down the back tracks, for an hour or so.    
     
     
But after only about, ten or fifteen minutes, with the, Shivermetimbers ski instructor, Stefan Pettersson, who was from North Poland, they just simply gave up.    
     
Not just because, every time they tried to stand up, all three of them kept falling flat on their backs. But, because Stefan Pettersson, could not speak a word of English, unlike his distant English speaking cousins in South Poland.    
     
I'm sure he was a great ski teacher, but maybe, needed to learn the language of the South as well. Then he could explain to the tourists, from English speaking countries, what he needed them to do, to stay on their feet.    
     
Meanwhile my Dad, along with his old and very funny friend, Trevor Thomas Timberlake, whom Dad has always called Triple T for short, were hiding in the retreat's garage, making another Christmas surprise.    
     
While Smoochy, Lemmy and I were trying to peek in and see what they were doing, we heard loud noises like, Boom, Buzz, Bang, Clunk, Clink, Clank, Smack, Swat, Slap and even Heave-**.We couldn't wait to see what they had made for us, after all of that noise.    
     
As we were walking back to grab a soft drink and bite to eat, BANG the garage doors opened, and that's when we saw our Christmas surprise.    
     
For it was Trevor Thomas Timberlake, dressed up in a very colourful Santa outfit. But, if you think that was funny, 'who do you think was pulling Santa's even more colourful sleigh'?    
     
It was the manager Monty Lopez's, eight very small pet Chiqaua's. They didn't look like they were that strong, to pull Santa's sleigh and Dad's old and very funny friend, Triple T.    
     
All of the kids and I were so pleased. I even noticed Smoochy, with a bit of a glee. Santa Trevor and his chosen helpers, my two, identical twin sisters Emma and Jemma, gave out the presents, to all of the children that were staying at the,'Shivermetimbers Ski Lodge'.    
     
Later that afternoon, my mum, had made a big barrel of fruit snacks for everyone to share. We were all about to start to eat, when all of sudden, we heard an almighty big crash.    
     
For Monty's eight very small pet Chiqaua's, were spooked by my grouse new pet mouse named, Smoochy. He had startled them all and made Triple T's Santa Sleigh, stack right into the table. With the fruit barrel sitting on top, the big crash had tossed the barrel of fruit, onto the ground and it rolled down the slippery snow ski slopes.    
     
Everybody rushed over to see all of the mess. But it actually turned out to be quite good looking, more or less. Because, Mum's fruit snack, had all spilled out and had created a really cool, very cold and quite a colourful, rainbow snack in the snow.    
     
I named that accidental creation of a mess, 'The Sensationally Spilt Rainbow Snow Snack on the Slippery Ski *****'.    
     
We had all decided to head back to our family's very large shack and have chicken nuggets with tomato sauce of course, instead of Mum's colourful fruit snack.    
     
In the morning, we went and saw the mess from the night before. My Dad and Triple T had come up with a clever idea, They had made some square wooden boxes, in such quick style.    
     
We gathered up all of the mess and packed it all into the wooden boxes. Then we made some very cool, fruit coloured, solid snow bricks. We were going to make some igloos out of the colourful bricks, and try and spend a whole night sleeping inside them.    
     
It wouldn't be that cold inside an igloo, we thought. Eskimo's do it all of the time, and they don't seem to catch that many colds.    
     
When morning had come, we had awoken to find the very cool, fruit coloured, solid snow bricks, had all melted away and we were lying in, not so very cool, fruit coloured, soggy, snow slush.    
     
We laughed and cried and hurried inside to get ourselves dried. I called that creation, 'The very cool, fruit coloured bricks, that just didn't stick'.    
     
Mum said, gather up all of that, not so very cool, fruit coloured, soggy, snow slush, and I will create you a new all time favourite, colourful fruit creation.    
     
She had put the slush and the fruit into several ice trays, and had placed solid sticks over each block and made them stick out a bit, from each of their ends. She then, cut holes in the middle of some plastic cups and placed the cups, on one of the ends.    
     
After a while, our very cool, frozen fruit delight, was ready to bite. We all had one, and yelled out yum, good on ya Mum. For, not only did the cup catch the melting ice, it also caught any fruit that fell off the side.    
     
I named that creation, 'Colourful Ice-Drips & Fruit-Drops in a Cup'. That's my Mum for you, always likes a good clean mess.    
     
Dad said, what a great idea, and that we should all listen more often to our Mums. Then, my Mum joked, 'if only your dad would listen to me more often'.    
     
That night, I was back in my fold-out bed, that popped out from the couch, I slept like a bug in a rug. Even Smoochy, crawled into bed, and gave me, an ever so tight hug, on our very last night, of our silly season, ski holiday trip.

Walking back onto the street around nine O’clock
Pizzerias, Clubs and white guys with dreadlocks
Moving like sea urchins with an urge to mock
Hey 2 for one at Roxy’s for black rubber *****

I’m carrying two bags of groceries; One with a pie
There are no stars in the city. Just the moon in the sky
I move lazily and tired as evening joggers pass by
“God I wish I was more active.” I say with a sigh.

I ascend the stairs because the **** elevator is broken
One flight. Two flight. ******* wood surely is oaken
2 minutes of climbing the obstacle that’s unspoken.
I suffer for being the Asian, the part-Korean token.

I reach my apartment, music playing through the wall
I feel worn out and about ready to fall
But I walk in and proceed, feeling anything but tall.
The time has come. I walk to the kitchen from the hall.

I live with three roommates: Sam, Dean an Owen.
Sam is shut in his room. He’s a DJ and I think Samoan
Dean is weird. Don’t ask about flagellated protozoan
And Owen is a reader and blogger. Just plain Owen.

I place the groceries on the counter, I stumble.
Owen is reading and I hear him mumble
“Did you say something?” I grumble
“Wrong Pie.” He says, his words fumble.

“What?” I don’t understand

   “Wrong pie.” Owen says again.
I point towards the pie on the table. “What, this?”
    “Yeah.” He says.
    “What’s wrong with it?”
    “Everything.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, it’s the wrong pie.”
    “How?”
    “It’s apple.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “But I thought you were going to get cherry?”
I shrug my shoulders, “Yeah but they were out.”
    “Where did you go?” Owen asked, but he knew.
    “Just that corner market.”
    “Well why the hell did you go there, you know they don’t have **** there.”
    “Does it matter?  I got most of the things.”
    “Yeah, most.  Not all.  You didn’t get the right pie.”
    “Does it matter?” I tell him. Owen closes his book.
    “I think so.”
    “At least I got a pie.  You guys said, ‘Hey man, make sure you get a pie’. You didn’t say get a ******* cherry pie!”
    I try to calm down, but the blasting of dubstep remixes warp my thinking process.  Owen leaves the kitchen and knocks on the doors. He tells them I’m back and that I ******* up the groceries.
“I did no such thing!” I yell, “You ***** think you told me what to get but you’ll all too into yourselves to ever know what the *******’re saying and you come off as ignorant over-privileged *******! Yeah Owen you’re so unique” I mock sarcastically, “Must be why you dress exactly the same as every other hipster here, going online and vlogging about the same **** a 12 year-old in suburban America would talk about and his ***** probably haven’t even dropped.”
    Owen’s eyes are wide, never seeing this side of me before. Sam and Dean open their doors to see all the commotion.
I walk back in to the kitchen and grab the pie.
    “Here *******!” I toss the pie as hard as I can so it hits the ceiling. The tin tray falls to the ground and the apple crusted pie is splattered, stuck to the ceiling like an IKEA fan made of butchered apples.
    I open the door.  “Dubstep is just edited noises of transformers having ***!”
I slam the door and leave, walking back downstairs and onto the street


Roommates ******* ****. I was tired of their **** and rules.
They used me for their homework, Working me like a mule
I’m barely able to pass my classes, let alone graduate from school
So trivial to help them just to earn my cool.

I flipped up my hood and rushed through the streets
I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t care who I’d meet
A slice from Death Metal Pizza, a drink from Fat man Pete.
I need to let loose. Relax and take that invigorating leap.

I stumbled upon an old movie theater, playing classics, new and old
“I want tickets for all the shows.” To the box office I told.
I bought popcorn and milkduds. I think my chair had mold.
And watched as Al Pacino was out of jail; being paroled.

Carlito’s Way, then intermission
A glimmer of previews then Pulp Fiction.
Ezekiel 25:17 and blasts of omission
From Jules’ and Vincent’s handgun ammunition  

After the credits roll I get three hot dogs and a large soda
Next movie: The Evil Dead, enough to put me in a coma
AH ******* demons Killing like the cancer of lymphoma
Scaring me and making me spill my watered-down cola.

Next was the Monty Python to ease the chills
Ensuring talking fish, puking and hilarious thrills
I really enjoyed the collective animation stills
I was relieved from the films and I had my fills

Now I had a good place to come and let loose, relax and laugh
And I wouldn’t have to display my clustered, boiled wrath
To my ******* roommates. Maybe I’ll move out on their behalf
We’ll see how it plays out. I’ll write a “*******” graph.

But thanks to them I found a new way to survive
Which is better than the alternative; a desperate suicide
Watching movies late at night is better for me than to die
All ascertained from the incident of the wrong ******* pie.

After the well-know,
charismatic,
extremely photogenic,
wonderfully articulate,
jeweller-turned-gardener,
your mother dotes on,
this cat is named.
 
He is none of the above
I should say
but I like him.
He reminds me of my late cat
Poppy, a more gauche pusscat
you’d be hard to find.
 
Poppy was a farm cat
of uncertain progeny.
Monty is certainly better bred
but (as we say in West Yorkshire)
‘daft as a brush’.
 
And now for the T.S.Eliot bit . . .
(in the style of
​Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats)
 
Curled up upon the green chair
With his head against his paws
You can see his body breathing
Up and down
 
He’s been busy all day long
Doing absolutely nothing
Save a bit of this a bit of that
And washing clean his paws.
 
Life’s so hard
For such a busy cat,
When you’re asleep in bed
He’s about and out
 
Networking the side streets
Monty likes to know the scene.
These cats could teach us all
A thing or two.
 
In the morning he may be dozy
But you should see him after dark
Sharp and bright and really
On his toes.

remember the melding
of gilmore and bing
the springfield gates
and desmond ring

remember the trojans
and fools in the pack
sea fair jeans
and corkscrew flat

remember the cabin
and *****’s garage
the gary point dunes
and moncton mirage

remember the warehouse
the water logged seats
tin foil caps
and simple retreats

remember the cave
and turn on the cut
emery’s mini
and hamilton’s hut

remember the burger
and shake in the air
bubs in the back
with little despair

remember the valley
and 66 ford
burgundy lips
and samworth’s chord

remember the plainsman
a 7 inch log
the ***** old frenchmen
and bore-*** hog

remember the javelin
and mushay’s wheels
beaumont’s baggie
and jennifer beals

remember tough charlie
tossing brad rand
the belyae roundhouse
and beer in the sand

remember park polo
and scaling of firs
sleeping in rafters
at 8 bucks per

remember the mayflower
and brothers von grant
the max air follies
and chivalrous rant

remember the flipper
the floyd and the clap
banana boat sunday
and pemberton trap

remember the purples
the rasp in the street
the oliver jokers
and shady retreat

remember the gators
and brick house café
a flash in the pan
and crib cult stay

remember the church
and talbs on the bridge
goofy’s memoirs
and cypress ridge

remember smaldino
whom perry cut short
***** and a ****
and moria’s port

remember the zuker
and gilligan’s isle
the pep chew bust
and 8 tooth smile

remember the action
at blundell and one
the nauseous fumes
and pump house run

remember the canyon
and rock on the cliff
a tourniquet bind
that kept us adrift

remember lake skaha
and jvc tunes
the j bain query
and peach fest goons

remember the irons
and broad entry beads
the alexander boys
we must pay heed

remember the gates
the 12 hole stare
the hospital bed
and ky affair

remember the farmhouse
an open air deck
the john deere tractor
and cowboy neck

remember the wheat field
and jimmy crack corn
the burlington plaza
and fraser street ****

remember the pincers
and wee ***** white
the concubine fractures
and strong overbite

remember the carving
portrayed at the scene
the billy goat battles
a young man’s dream

remember lord brezhnev
and moby the ****
the second beach sun
and paper bag trick

remember the screening
the silver light show
banshee boots
and phipps’s throw

remember the epic
and baby oil block
trash can brassieres
and window rock

remember the law
jack rabbit in may
an 8 track mix
on alpine way

remember the dunes
a pig on the spit
the underarm hair
and corn bull-****

remember old frankie
and bursey head post
the koa leaves
and tiki shore host

remember b taupin
the lyrics he left
cold muddy waters
an odd treble clef

remember street regent
the trips in the night
the trailer park cap
and lightheart fight

remember kits causeway
mortimer and beaks
jk's cabin
and muscle bound freaks

remember glen cheesy
and billy the less
the frozen puke patties
and borkum mess

remember the catfish
and pickerel rock
the emerald meadows
and rainbow dock

remember port dover
with fish on a stick
wayne in a bunker
holding his ****

remember the ironside
limes in a tree
the usc campus
came with a fee

remember the duster
an arrow in heart
the frog man bug
that would not start

remember the zimmer
the ram air hood
a family wagon
with panels of wood

remember peace portal
the 33 back
the power built drive
and dangerous tack

remember the reds
the blues and the greens
the furry point island
and country book scene

remember the springs
and i 95
a lone state trooper
with blood in his eye

remember may’s cabin
and stuff in between
the frame and the picture
and morning snow scene

remember the boss
with a 302 scoop
the diamond tuft console
and back seat coupe

remember ioco
the **** and the spit
the skid road race
and hurst floor kit

remember the shore
and tents in the park
a campfire roast
and kerosene bark

remember the hooger’s
kit kat club
the colvin’s and setter’s
a man called bub

remember the creature
with silk strand hair
and afternoon flask
with little despair

remember quilchena
and robbie the mac
the rice stead box
and tap on the back

remember miss williams
a pilgrim’s salute
the fairmont sister
with all of her loot

remember port ludlow
a scotman on dock
the everett street bridge
and single leg sock

remember the masters
and all of the roar
the faldo follies
at norman’s door

remember jeff samson
tied in a tree
the robertson fastback
with white leather seats

remember the balance
and pulling of 4's
the moncton warehouse
and hollywood ******

remember the hospice
with carter in wear
the power of gospel
and magic in prayer

remember the mini
counting the crows
aberdeen villa
where all of it grows

remember the ballroom
the battle of bands
the buccaneer bikers
and front row stands

remember the steely
and 50 odd pulls
the crook in the cranny
and pilsner bulls

remember the mustang
tb paul
the ****** shack sergeant
was missing a ball

remember dear kevin
head first in the pool
a sheik in a minefield
and ****** gas fool

remember the rumble
and bats in the night
an old lady screaming
to a young man’s delight

remember cliff olsen
that sick little ****
who will be in shackles
on lucifer’s truck

remember the bumpers
and cutting in line
the mice on the ****
and bo in the pine

remember the law
stabbing the corn
a bucket of ammo
and mekong horn

remember s boras
the piercing of yes
the color line paper
sikosie at rest

remember the pinto
and seven road plants
mother’s fine pizza
a trial lawyer’s rant

remember the kennedys
with ***** painted black
a pond in the shadows
where monty looked back

remember von husen
the sea to sky test
a farm hands daughter
was one of the best

remember mr pither
and mao sae tung
helena the cougar
and egg foo young

remember the cinder
and frances road bake
***** the whitehead
would make no mistake

remember the quan
and mental mix
the java hut sister
with pixy sticks

remember j rosie
banging his head
in a moment of dr
we thought he was dead

remember the hammer
discussions caught short
siddrich and roger
and monty’s abort

remember 6 nations
and KOA
the pool hall fight
when everyone stayed

remember the skinners
and tommy the med
the lost tough china
and bubs in the shed

remember the doobies
zeppelin and cars
floyd and the *****
and shankar’s sitar

remember old dustys
the blue and red chair
the cypress hill caves
and mullet cut hair

remember the promise
and vows that we made
on the 2 road stairs
in goodman’s brigade

remember those moments
and handle with care
for the garamond stamp
will always be there…

Sung to the tune of The Lumberjack Song by Monty Python. Back-up Mounties optional.


I never wanted to be Sandra Dee!

I... I wanted to be...

A LESBIAN!
(piano vamp)

Leaping from bush to bush! As they float down the mighty rivers of
Finger and Thumbia!

With my best girl by my side!

The Blond!
The Brunette!
The Giant Snookie!
The Natural Red!
The Little Spinning Skinnamarink!

We'd sing! Sing! Sing!


Oh, I'm a lesbian, and I'm okay,
I like to broadcast that I'm gay.

Chorus: She's a lesbian, and she's okay,
She likes to broadcast that she's gay.

I see straight girls, they're not like me,
But I think that can change.

If they'd just let me kiss them.
Their lives I'd re-arrange.

Mounties: She sees straight girls, they're not like her,
But she thinks that can change.
If they'd just let her kiss them.
Their lives she'd re-arrange.

Chorus: She's a lesbian, and she's okay,
She likes to broadcast that she's gay.


I cut down guys, I wish and hope,
That others would join in.
I wish straight women would think,
that *** with men was sin.

Mounties: She cuts down guys, she wishes and hopes,
That others would join in.
She wishes straight women would think,
that *** with men was sin.
Chorus: She's a lesbian, and she's okay,
She likes to broadcast that she's gay.


Oh I'm a lesbian and I'm OKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK K!

From the moment they gave him the measuring tape
That's the second Monty started to measure away
Measuring this and measuring that
From the round side of rings to the square side of flat

He measured the span on the wings of a fly
The knees of the bees as they buzzed him by
He measured the toot from the sound of a flute
And the beat of a drum, Monty measured that too

He measured the space between space and time
So there were no mistakes he measured it in the light
Pulled the tail of a lion to measure its roar
The teeth on a shark but only up to row four

Monty measured the clowns from the circus in town
With a wink and a nod, the upside of down
He measured the dinner his mom sat on his plate
Then for dessert, he measured the cake

The last thing Monty did before he went to bed
Was to measure the pillow where he laid his head
And in no time at all, Monty was fast asleep
Where in between snores he measured his dreams

I mentioned Monty Hall
In what I thought was casual conversation.
Maybe I interjected,
...yeah, like Monty Hall.
But still,
A woman taking a drink of ***** gurgled,
A fella rolling a spliff snickered;
Even the dart thrower stopped;
They chorused in unison, Who?
****! Monty Fecking Hall.
Door #'s 1, 2, 3?
The few listening were confused.
Maybe it was the tone I used.
One face had a glimmer,
Almost a gesture of recognition
Tracing his  pierced eyebrow.
Really!
Monty Fecking Hall.
One day, in the not too distant future,
They'll hear,
What's a Fecking Jedi?

Thank you for your time here.
You were amazing; you are and were fascinating.
You are and will be remembered dearly.
Goodbye, Monty Oum; in our memories everlasting.

People ask,
"When did you fall in love with him?"

And I reply,
"I think it was
That time
We watched Monty Python
Together
At 2 a.m."

Slashers Defined

In response to my piece, Slashers, it was requested that maybe I could
reveal at least which band or other info these great guitar players performed for to gain their claim to fame. I don't want to spend too much
time on this defintion, but will give what info I think is pertinent. If you do not know some of the names I have presented to you, and you are a blues,
rock, jazz, fusion guitar fan, I suggest you take the time to listen to some of their work. I have included some of my favorite incredible fusion players that do not have a super star following, but are renowned in their group of fans, probably mostly musicians to some degree.
If you are a frustrated guitar player like I am, do not listen to the likes of  Holdsworth, Johnson, Gambale, or Morse unless you love being tortured.
Anyway on with the show.
        
Eric Clapton – Yardbirds, Cream, Blind Faith, Derek and the Dominos.

Jimmy Page – Yardbirds, Led Zeppe, The Honeydrippers, The Firm

Jimi Hendrix – not only what is, but,  what could have been

Alan Holdsworth – Solo jazz fusion player – hot

Steve Howe –  Yes, Asia - Progressive rock, jazz –

Bill Nelson – BeBop Deluxe, Solo

Terry Kath – Chicago (25 or 6 to 4) – another sad early departure

Ted Nugent – Amboy Dukes, **** Yankees – The madman

Jim Krueger – Dave Mason Band – solo progressive rock

Eddy Van Halen – Van Halen

Ritchie Blackmore – Deep Purple, Rainbow

Jerry Doucette – Doucette (Mama let him play)

Eric Johnson – Solo – New Age, jazz

Frank Gambale – Australian- Jazz, fusion, rock

Goerge Benson – Jazz

Larry Carlton – Jazz, new age rock

Marc Farner -  Grand Funk Railroad

Peter Frampton – Humble Pie, solo

Joe Satriani - New age – solo

Johnny A. - jazz, new age – solo

Danny Gatton – jazz, rockabilly – solo

Chet Atkins – jazz, country

John Mayer – Pop, blues – solo

Neal Schon – Journey

Steve Lukather – Toto

Masyoshi Takanaka – New age, jazz – Japanese solo

Lee Ritnour – Jazz, new age – solo

Leslie West -  Mountain, West  Bruce & Laing

Monty Montgomery – jazz, blues (accoustic you have never heard)

Wes Montgomery – jazz 40's – 50's

Phil Keaggy – New age Christian

Robin Trower – Procul Harem

Brian May – Queen

Rick Derringer – Montrose, Edgar Winter Group, Steely Dan

Robin Ford – John Mayall, Chick Corea, solo jazz, fusion, blues

Carlos Santana – Santana

Ronnie Montrose – Montrose

Steve Morse – Dixie Dregs, Kansas, solo jazz, fusion

Trevor Rabin – Yes, solo new age

Gomer LePoet...

Once upon a time, sweet soldier, we were everything!

We were shy glances and piercing stares,
bitter coffee and sweet cider,
nervous laughter and easy smiles.

We were all-nighters and painfully early mornings,
utter exhaustion and unexplainable energy,
distracted work days and focused only on each other.

We were photographs and video recordings,
magic tricks and storytelling,
Monty Python and Charlie the Unicorn imitators.
(We were total dorks!)

We were late night jogs and wrestling,
motorcycle rides and beach-walking,
seekers of adventure and last minute decision making.

We were short pecks on the cheek,
and long passionate kisses,
fierce embraces and soft caresses.

We were soul-searchers and wound-healers,
dreamers and risk-takers,
keepers of secrets and whisperers of truth.

We were sanity and craziness,
possibilities and improbabilities,
with everything and yet nothing going for us.

We were in love.

I am French and Coloradonian.
I strongly dislike the color orange. Purple is better.
I love vanilla ice cream.
I don't like chocolate flavored anything. It tastes weird to me.
I haven't watched TV in nearly five years.
I haven't gone a day without music.
I am married to my guitar. Her name is Nora.
My best friend is Monty the Dog. He is a dog.
I am attracted to women.
I am a ****** to men.
I think red heads are ******* hot.
I like the number 50.
Facebook is evil. The NSA watches you.
I used ****** for six months.
I snorted ******* for a few months as well.
I smoke *** currently.
I smoke cigarettes currently.
If I had to give up everything, and could only keep one thing...
...I'd keep coffee.
I love Coffee.
My sister Chelsea tried to **** me. *****.
I am random, and can't keep on one subject for too long.
Ooh! Shiny things!
Poetry has kept me on this road for years.
I once wrote a song about pizza. It's probably my best song.
I don't like pizza.
I used to have long hair, but it tried to strangle me in my sleep, so I killed it.
For some stupid reason, my mother named me Abigail Hollow.
(last name excluded)
Why would she do that? I don't know.
I still have a razor flip phone. All the rage, years ago.
I haven't slept on a bed in four years.
I order McDonalds food for Monty the Dog. He's the only one who eats it...
The only girl I ever truly loved died of cancer.
My mom wants me to come home.
I don't believe in God, but I love everybody just the same.
Except Steve Buscemi. He scares me.
What do you think of me so far, my lovely fellow poets?

Having filled my personality on beer, ****, art and awkwardness
my lungs hung heavy and my morals were slightly isolated
as I briefly considered the most direct root
to this girl with the *******, and the possibility to access
which I knew would be quite the test, as I was by far the worst dressed
with my ripped up jeans and hair a mess.
So I finally let these thoughts digress, a decision that I know was best.
For you should not test the strength of my testosterone,  
It should always be firmly placed right back at home.

But it was at this moment where I noticed the difference between state and private school boys.
I was outside smoking the smallest, smuttiest rolled up cigarette
When a boy with a name like ‘Monty’ walked past holding a cigar the size of a jumbo jet,
The feelings I felt, both hate and detest,
As he waltzed right up to the girl with the *******, and muttered a charm under his breath.

So with a drunken heart, I went to order a ***** straight and smart.
But the bar was closed, and my song was sung, so with my head well hung and ego stung,
I left the kings and queens of that party, to fulfil their dreams.
As I fulfilled mine with a river gardens Chinese, the finest cuisine.

I'm looking through at the joys
Which are traveling slowly
On these dim LEDs tonight.

There is eternal love
Behind one of the doors,
And behind plenty of others
There exists a world
Where we begin to dissolve,
But our surface area increases greatly.

Will we luck out,
Or are we destined to call this audible?

I don't know why you
Are coating yourself in this
Jagged exterior of elitism
When you know all too well
How Faust squandered his soul.

Don't tell me I'm repeating my mistakes
Because you don't understand
That I'm bettering myself,
As you glare in to my consciousness
Through your kaleidoscope
Where everything must look like paradox.

Let me think for myself now.

I've weighed the advantages
More times than you have,
And I promise you,
These circumstances are far better.

Love to you is like the Monty Hall Problem,
And you always think there's a bigger prize
Behind the next door.

You aren't increasing your fortune,
And that's not how you win.

I'd say you're not using game theory very well,
And I'd posit that's no way to live your life.

You want to feel calculated and powerful
By approaching love with your Id fully wanting,
And wanting the apex of what it can obtain.

My Library

my library is crammed full, some of it ****,
somethings in there, I don't even get,
but that's who I am, and what I'm about

stories, movies, books and such,
all overflowing into the living room hutch,
I even found an old jar of sauerkraut  

Plato, Brokaw, and Chaos's Gleick,
Saving Private Ryan, and Naked Gun shtick,
I'm here, there and everywhere on the map

Sagan, Obama, and General Powell,
who here remembers, Thurston Howell,
Gilligans Isle, now that was some goofy crap  

and if you know me, my music's the bomb,
some loud as hell and some really calm,
Mott the Hoople, All the Way to Memphis and back

I'll listen to Bethoven, I'll listen to Bach,
but my favorite of course, is kick-*** rock,
Nectar remembered the future, it's in my stack

Sabato likes politics, and Roberts the past,
Dan Brown's novels, has the action real fast,
Schopenhauer had little regard, for the girls

Schindlers's list was a gripping tale,
Titanic was cool but had a horrific sail,
I always really loved, Shirley Temple's curls

Sherlock Holmes, was a real tricky dude,
I remember when I saw, Mary Poppins ****,
Shawshank Redemption, was a powerful flick

Monty Python's search, for the Holy Grail,
old time rock with J.J. Cale,
the first Alien story was really slick

now I've barely opened, the door inside of me,
there's a hell of lot more, of me to see,
so I'll probably be back, with much more to tell

my poetry of course, when I find the time,
always looking for, a reason or rhyme,
see y'all later, come back, sit a spell    

Gomer LePoet...