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Sunday Squibs

 



In these nervous days, hand gel has replaced holy water as our go-to devil preventer. 



The world is the rock, 

Worry the hard place. 



When art fails to move

And has nothing to teach

The artist must fall

In the arms of pastiche 



When all else fails

Instructions read

Know they too

Astray will lead. 

The only way 

Right way to start

Is read the lines

Writ on the heart. 



His day is my night / Of brains he’s bereft

His dark is my light / He lacks manly heft

My dear opponent / My dear opponent 

There to the right   There to the left



Some cooks are forever trying new things 

While offering their guests stale excuses

Let them master instead a handful of treats

Like the mamas and granny babushkas 



It would be interesting to visit one of those stars a million light years away. But would it be much different than the one just over the horizon?



We’re told to be our brother’s slave

To always be a giver

Unless of course the bastard tries

To sell us down the river



Most people are decent, but in every field there’s at least one Wicked _____ of the West.

 


The tip of my tongue gets more crowded the older I get. 

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