Author Archives: blitzken

A Treatise On The Art Of Wooing

1)
When one is entering the courtship dance,
Make  every effort to increase your chance,
By trying to reveal the inner you,
(Which is what one does when trying to woo),
Don’t bother shopping to try and impress,
Kind gestures and words get more bang for less,
Gifts should be simple, few and far between,
Chosen or made to show just what you mean,
For the truth is you won’t get very far,
If you can’t cleverly show who you are!

2)
Wooing should not be a strain,
Close your wallet, just use your brain,
For some intrique, some fun,  and some laughter,
Will more likely get you what you’re after.

3)
There was a young woman named Kimberly,
Hoped  a certain man would woo her you see,
She wanted him to be charming,
Clever and disarming,
And not crass like the other fish in the sea.

Chambered Heart

(On a song writing course we were given 15 minutes to write stream of consciousness. This is my result.)

Heart beats, hands shake,
Feeling like a big fake,
In my head it’s butterflies with wings,
But I can barely find the strings,
On my guitar, which I know well,
But just right now you couldn’t tell,
That when I’m calm and home alone,
Not one missed note,
Not one missed tone,
But that’s the nature of the beast,
That must be tamed,
And then released,
The beast that ruffles every feather,
So sometimes I am not sure whether,
I can do this properly,
I need to train the beast to see,
That this is where I’m supposed to be,
That with the presence of a quiver,
Slight tremolo and nervous shiver,
This is where my light’s revealed,
Where broken parts of me get healed,
Despite the twitching ruffled feather,
This is where it comes together,
That behind the nervousness there’s more,
A feeling anchored to my core,
That there within my chambered heart,
Music is the one true part,
The sacred chalice, golden key,
That shapes and shines the inner me,
And though I really can’t say why,
And know that I might never fly,
My hope will never yield its place,
So keep the sky above me open,
Just in case.

Less of More

Used to be a vegetarian,
That’s what I was before,
Although the things I ate were less,
I managed to eat more,
Now decades on I’ve changed,
Reverted to an omnivore,
I’m trying to learn to eat less,
Though the food choices are more,
More of less, or less of more,
The thing that strikes me now,
It matters somewhat what you eat,
But matters much more how!

Dr.Seuss Moves On

Old fish, new fish,
Sometimes blue fish,
This one is passive-agress-fish,
Makes you think it wants to stay,
But nips your heels anyway,
No, no!
This will never do fish!
No need to even think this through fish.
I don’t want that sort of play fish,
So I’m sending you awayish,
Sorry if it makes you bluish,
But out with old fish,
In with new fish.

Silly-nuss

(another rediscovered little gem from years gone by….)

Sometimes we is us, and us is we,
Unless we really have to pee,
Then us is us, and we is wee,
Until we go behind a tree,
Us can be two, and sometime’s three,
Or maybe more, haha, teehee,
Sometimes so many we’s, it’s us,
But then we have to rent a bus.

YUCK & YUM

(Found myself perusing ancient lists of things I’ve written, and often completely forgotten about, both the piece and the reason for writing it. This is one such.)

Some things suck,
passing the buck,
runs of bad luck,
splashed by a truck,
slime and guck,
people that don’t give a fuck,
those things are Yuck.
But then there’s some,
your dear old mum,
your favourite chum,
the taste of plum,
a place to cum,
a rhythmic drum,
a guitar’s strum,
those things are Yum.
(If any of this leave you pissed,
well go ahead, make your own list…)

THE FLIRT

It’s ever so delirious,
Enticing and mysterious,
Not knowing who is serious,
Or which one has the nerve,
It’s a dangerous position,
Two bodies headed for collision,
Each one making a decision,
Will they go forward? Or swerve?

Mean Technology

Though young,
I’ll give that to you,
I experienced World War Two,
Then the 50’s,
Rock n’roll broke through,
The 60’s,
Well, really, who knew?
The seventies,
When things got real,
The 80’s,
Money the big deal,
The 90’s,
Began to pick up speed,
After 2000,
Well all you really need,
Is to plug in some technology,
Everything’s easier,
You’ll see,
That is unless of course you’re me,
Or friends of mine,
For it seems that we,
Are now cast aside,
Just “used to be”,
No thought,
No care,
Not even a thanks,
And now it seems,
Even our own banks,
Despite the fact,
That they are founded,
On capital OUR  hard work grounded,
Will e’en give us the time of day,
For now, head down,
They seem to say,
That the bottom line is what they mind,
Efficiency’s left us behind,
So when we manage,
Despite our age,
To show up at the teller’s cage,
We meet an unexpected clash,
When we’re told that they don’t deal in cash,
Don’t be surprised when we are pissed,
At the fact society has missed,
The chance to do what we’d expect,
And temper progress with respect,
Instead of bowling forward,
On a selfish ride,
And casting those that lag a bit behind,
Aside.

The Talking

Keep hearing things that I didn’t say,
And that way,
Rather than working things out,
We’ll never know what the other is talking about,
We’ll talk round in circles,
With increasing frustration,
Assured of our stance,
And our participation,
But never quite grasping what’s happening between us,
With me being from Mars,
And you being from Venus,
For just like the tango,
For which it takes two,
Communication’s hard work,
For me and for you!