Description -- At the Dog Show

Massive of brachiocephalic nature,

with a heavy appearance in stature,

covered in soft loose skin, her

shape like an elongated bucket

meso-form whose body is longer

than height at her cross, accentuating

her long form,

the bitch being slightly longer

than the dog.

The cranium face proportion

is her 60 to 40 percenter

width of skull provides three-fifths

of her total head length.

dog of medium size, eumetric,

Rustic and well proportioned,

with a straight profile and black face.

Seriousness of such is calculated

measured by how far it varies

from standard requirements such as

Excessive wrinkles in facial and skull

which don’t detract from the dog’s expression.
*
*
But my dog

has Square outline,

A triangular, narrow angled square head,

and an appearance light weight,

A tail that is curly, very thin,

... of equal thickness throughout length

some deformed, and then again

some of her sizes are very small and also very large;

Dorsal line saddle shaped, small chest, weak front,

Ribs insufficient --

She has tight skin without elasticity,

Light coloured eyes,

Eyes too close together and obliquely

Deep set, not projecting.

Excessive jaw protruding,

A few missing teeth;

Ears rooted too high in her skull --

A skull which is round and arched;

slobber that seems to seep --

skull and facial lines divergent;

Flat fine hair, a poor mask marked,

A long thick neck, insufficient.

But a very kind bark !
_____________
Retrieval by Pat Darnell
Copyright © 2010 Patrick Darnell
[SOURCE]

It Happened this Way

J says | October 12, 2008 at 6:52 am
[ ... ]

Now the whole “associative” can of worms is a lot of fun. Imagine that I wrote a hymntune (a new “Amazing Grace”)…and PD wrote the lyrics. We copyright it and a few days later there are two Youtube slideshows using our hymntune as underscore. One features photos of children in prayer. The other features photos of vertically-challenged transvestite albino nuns wearing Doc Martens and stomping kittens and puppies. Imagine how detrimental this second association will be to our career! Somewhere there’s a lawyer out there for this case.

Have I been “served”?  http://jinright.edublogs.org/files/2008/10/01-moopig-hymn.m4a

The brothers from the Moopig Marching Monastic Mass Choir had a few issues with the irregular metrical footprint.

Pat Darnell and Friends says | October 13, 2008 at 8:15 am
I tried to avoid being called out for days now… Imagine that I wrote a hymntune (a new “Amazing Grace” )…and PD wrote the lyrics.

Well, J, this will teach ya’ to never do that again…

Transecting transvesting
I’m lost in mySpace
entitled zigzagging
albino Schoolmates
vibrato clapping
paunched boozing
many nuns Catholics
minimalist specialists
Transvestited conjugal
A transvest tripe licked me face

Coney Isle warm begot mellow
Sylvia strongest mask photo’d
Marclein martelled cantorello
Prologue of the nuns’ priest tale
‘de Chaucer an old, odd fellow,
Blind Doc Marten Martello’d

Monica, aria impressed, begot ciro:
‘Waar kan je te koop
‘E’en husky als
‘splatted triangle’s blackmails
‘als puppies kopen dear’o
‘van spotter in noord… escargot!

Canto Kinta prologue’d
Double forte rittard
Of the nuns’ priest tale –
Once entitlement zigzagging
Now, nuns shit wedging
toward this ending
on a Discordant chord…..
and much oath and pledging….

Pat Darnell and Friends says | October 13, 2008 at 10:23 pm
Oh my Gawd… ( :-o Holy Mackerel !! Sweet Mother of Jesus and His Step-Dad… vertically-challenged transvestite albino nuns wearing Doc Martens and stomping kittens and puppies… making irregular metrical footprints

It’s a good start, I think… no? Not served: U D Man… *[genuflecting large big dumb animals]* We Serve U

Reply | Pribek says | October 13, 2008 at 10:40 pm
now I’m not going to be able to get that tune out of my head


PHEW!
Copyright © 2010 Patrick Darnell

Singing Falsetto

by Pat Darnell | 2010

The best place to play

They call the ghetto

Where is there a park bench
... to lay down
... none in the shade

Where I can curl up
... and do time again

... can't afford, I don't ask
... lead a conscience green

... read your last letter last night
... whimpered alone

... all for lost time
... scripts down a scene

Unscripted it felt
What I think
ask her: No. It's done.

What am I going to tell everyone?

Little League Sign Up Day

by Pat Darnell | 1995

Sun struck driver
creeps by
urchins carry
boom boxes on shoulders
along sidewalk warm
playin' winter's discoveries
like teenager alarm.

Cabin weary moms
stretch out
in dusty, musty
jogging suits
a little saggy

faded and bagging
on hibernated legs
and torsos a little loose
like pajamas on the Mamas

Every one out
for a look see
at salted curbs
debris, will there be
one more frost?

on Easter...?

before soil disturbed
by daffodil, tulip
strawberry, and weeds

No sign of Dad yet
no hurry, except
for those in charge
of today's
Little League Sign Up

Around you see
those with tans
already they
been livin' largess
heavy hitters
who split
during winter mess

Yes; some Mom's 've been yachting
Some Dads leisured on Feb beaches
near America's Cup sweeps
lucky ones with nose up
richer gettin' richer
parents persnickety,
their kids are all pitchers!

Try-outs in the gym
winters melting
in fields wetting
So the clickety-clack
of baseball bats
must wait till
winter whey
all goes away
in seasonal decay
is born Little League Sign Up Day !

Pain Never Ending

by Pat Darnell

My Pain is endless
it never ceases
On waking, it cringes
At dusk, infringes
Keeps me sleepless

A neck strain today
toothaches yesterday
rheumatism, eye strain,
I'm not pretending,
Enemies? Your revenge
on me, I'm getting

Daughters your anger
answered this appendage
As pain never end-age
Upon a man intending
no elder life like this

Sometimes a lung
sometimes a thumb
feet like slabs of numb
chest's dull nag ...
... head hung

By witness of bone
these prizes I bear
alone
can I mitigate home

No mantel nor cloak
to conceal or abide
this stranger than life
episode I wish to hide

My humble prayer
to God above ...
release all my folk
from this despair

Calmly, quietly,
in warm attachment
... let me go,
for these pains impeding
pain never-ending
no one should ever know.

Inside Outside

Play on carpet
with domino
look through a box
bang my head
on the window

Happily clap
with wrists up
and up, elbow up
goes wild my pup

The storm descends
always washes away
I get out of the wind
as the stormy weather
interrupts my play

Quickly return
to my Spring-scented day
in the yard ...
... full to the curb
covered with juicy clover
puppy runs all over ...

Play outside ...
till the storm clouds cover
play outside ...
till the clouds come over

Stiff thunder scares me back inside
gray sky thunder makes me hide.

Life Changing Events

by Pat Darnell | Foggia '05

Check all signs
parlay the scriptures
call the Comforter
repeat the six prayers
from prayer chair

Deliver pet dog
at kennel by dinner
Toss her to the chain links
she muffles a query:

Do not eat this
Look, I did this
... this or, this?
You did none of it.
I did every thing
You did nothing.

Light flashes
on -- then on again --
YEPP' and MP3
Cellular, then off,
then wait, then
crackle...

Then BBC, then engines
very large engines
Then a push through
weather

A rock skipping over the clouds
a stone flies again

Do you know
where we are
?

Muncheritis

by Pat Darnell

Hanging upside down
on a pine branch
like a wren looking
for an aphid

I let the Minsky
frisk me because
I wouldn't blow
in his tube

Then it struck me
this is like images
within a mirror
with attitude

And I swear
that is not why
they jumped me
in verisimilitude

Of my actions
as it is plain
I was only out there
searching for food.

(Today, May 2010)

Earth Does

by Pat Darnell

What tethers
us in space?

No tackle
nor knots I've seen

like a kite
on a string

pulls to earth
us back in

a bucket
out of a well

depth breadth
comprehensible expanse
trek out a far distance

not to be lost
at our entrance

looking for face
recognizable out in space

what tethers us
in space?

Everyday at 17:00 hours

Prophets are Jawboned


How can I go on believing the greater you is in me?
Burst-ed bones of broken legs into a fire
potash and embers of Yaupon and Aspen
And jawbone of an ass
Jutting out, smoky mass --
Turning watery eyes watery
Crackling, disturbing to the finish
A wash of mountain yonder made
End of day, in fixed array
Devoid of end shade
Fixed time light dappled
Ordinary mottled
And variegated home
of praying mantis

Darnell 2006

Tough Love

by Pat Darnell | Nov 2007

Don't you ever
want to know
how I got here?

'Want to know
how I put
this road
behind me?

I thought you
would want to know me
if I became a tree
you might carve
your name
in my bark

And return one day
and see how
I protected you.

Let Loose a Tear

by Pat Darnell | Nov 2007

This crying
should probably
stop,

in a decade
or three

I keep trying
to write
the alternate ending

Sort of turns
out like a
letter within a story

True love reared its head
leered at me
then went to bed

Goal achieved
like background music
at cinema twenty-three

Focus on victory
break through stillness
celebrate in warmth

Accept my fate
story goes on
as endless coast

Of treasure, love, sea
tears and prophecy
some old songs

Lifts a few of my burdens
takes me back
'n lets loose a tear

Concert of Circle

Concert of song
see the fellowship
of women strong
... it is the songs
of children ...
of child birth ...
and so on

and of desire
and of great longing

Hush, maybe, do not disturb
their heartfelt songs
prayers in concert
... hear sisters sing
about their children
and their lives ...
with their hums,
between belling ...

Observe how they
grow chatty ...
around the bread
along with fishes that
seem to always follow
women ahead

Peering there --
just behind Jesus ...
... amid branches
sifting streamlettes,
and tinkling triplets ...

Singing their songs
to sustenance,
to strength,
from beginning to end
fellowship of women...
isn't it remarkable
their concert of circle.

Patrick Darnell (2001)

Descry

by Pat Darnell


Dangling at the end
Of the food chain

Was a soldier.

Who lost his wife
His gun, his son,
And nearly his life.

When then he found a clarinet
That upon it had his name,
A honed woodwind,
primed him in
breathing easier,
until one day,
He wrestled a tree
Finally fell
His body went
To pieces, which
All the creatures ate.
A happy feast that day,
At heaven’s gate.

His soul escaped
Not devoured
In final hour

A hand reached out
To catch him,
Put the young soul on a cloud,
At about half past two,

The soul of the soldier
Said, “Thank you.”
The one with the hand
Told the soldier’s soul
his new name --

“Metronome.”

And the cloud’s address
is 12, a matchless home.


The clarinet re-toned
with scales of delightful scores,
Notes uniform, and impossible
For human ears to hone.
On that same day
Upon earth fell
Twins, borne ‘neath
A channel, in gale,
whereupon two games
Will be played.

Each would owe life
To the soldier’s demise
While shepherds
Pastured their sheep, ‘neath birds
In their freedom flight,
To the river to drink

Their blood is from
The river flowing
To the iodine sea
They fly above
the living pleasure
as rocking waves knead
the banks, fertile with seed

As naught has ever
Been seen froward
Nor in reverse, evinced
In famish, nor, glory ward,

Obscurity, nor lucidity,
Neither scheme, schism, nor worry,

Beheld the brilliance in life
as a dread vantage of rough
High-spirited games
Dangled by threads above gulf
Just below cloud twelve
Stirred at soldier’s end, just
A gnash ahead in the food chain.


1991

Willy's Turkey Chilli Paste

Three years workin'
and he ain't tellin'
what it is ...
... you are smellin'

by Pat Darnell

Three years work ...
and pot likker still
tastes like chicken ...

Just Kiddin' !

Prawn to King three
clock is tickin' time
turkey bastin' -- let it be,
thrice cooking ...heat lickin'
Fahrenheit two hundred nine...

Farseeing, slow cook toil
like desert gravel boil,
mesquite leaf grind,
Darjeeling, still no oil

Mocking birds don't mock,
'cause beads of sweat pock
meaty cook's forehead
and his big arm-like hocks

Cigar meshed and wet
between monstrous molars
ash mixed in pot sweat
and ash falling to floors

Foliage swept and ground
watered in morning rain
added dandelion to mound
pewter pot boilin' plain

Beads of sweat
... form stains
on chef's hat ...
his legs and neck strained

Pot's right!
... he exclaims
Grandpa was right
... it is the same

But whoa it is tough
... to embrace today
what some remember
... as good old days.

But down home we try
We're willing 'n braced,
To sit by and cry
... when we all taste:

Grandpa Willy's ...
... Wild, Turkey Chilli.

[pd. 2004]

Lord let me die in a Book Store

Lord let me die
in a book store

So my last look
is edges of books

let my head fall
on the bones of Elisha

atop collections
of Natural Curiosities

In the Barnes at noblesse
or Joe's Book entrance

let my arm grow limp
under weight of clearance

99 cent bargains in tow
of Pollack, Tristan and van Gogh

So I will have died
just as the dead rise

so, Please do not weep
over my face ... nor book

You might get wet
the type on my place

or dampen picture anthology
of one more LOOK .

[pd]

Patch

by Pat Darnell

Shadow won't stick
won't stay attached
sent me adventuring
for thimble and tack
'n needle to patch.

Patch where past
meets a future
but jealousy flaps,
cuts quick ... a
perfect suture.

No more than rocks
can walk on water,

with little faith and stuff,
to arms! ... say for starters
shadow always tempted,
... sure enough ... Seems,
Shadow always gets broader.

[pd.2009]

Don’t be codger to me old man

by Pat Darnell

I don’t like being tossed aside
I am fretting my fate
Kitchen spills may be small
But too many broken hearts
Simply we do not repair all
You hear distant voice
A fond soundtrack
Predestined of choice
And you fret and crack
I had my heart attack
I reveal my full heart ache
You listen but abate
As heartstrings leave slack
Difficult flat to mitigate
even for hummingbirds
to trans-navigate
You are Specie of Strength so youth say
Don’t be codger to me old man
I am not interested
And you are in the way
Or, as you don famously
To point out the way
To clues of nerve chords
To invert our shameful play
Thanks but no thanks
You play too many tricks
I loathe your blood anger
And garlands festooned
Like piñatas beat with sticks
Seeds of salvation are rand
And not in your hands ole man
Nor in the works of your hands
From raptors talons, I howl back to say
Into this imbalance youth threw me too soon

Restorations

by Pat Darnell

We are founders unintended
... of sports medicine
we were the cutting edges
... when they invented
special restorative surgeries
... for the body mended

it was our duty back when ....
to offer our booty and then
... as cargo for surgeons' opportunists
our ankles, knees, shoulders and shins
... hips, ham strings, coccyx in stadiums
ribs, elbows, femurs and wrists
neck, nose, ears and craniums

and for athletes who fight and smoke
... a lung or two could be doctor's duty
We invented bruises, strawberries
All those sports injurious pokes ...
... that sound fruity; but we aren't chow ...
... we were there, to bust some brow!

And yes, gave it we our all
... enthusiastic to the wall
followed our coach all the way
out the tunnel hall

e'en to Korea ... if that be the day
we were there to win or fall...
we always showed when called
... smash mouth, crack back, football

Now look we are YMC referees
... and assistant coaches at your call
Saying in the Fall:
"Our knees once tore
when runners swerved ...
on dives when they soared
... ligaments and tendons torn
.. under pressures too great to borne"

And, one couldn't help that much,
since big boys is as big boys does
but aftermath spelled doom
on a College team there's no room
for knees crumbled and busted
... schoolboy dreams' faded to dust did

Today Mister Doctor DeBakey
at the Sports Medicine bakery
they repair knees precisely and quickly
Then you are told ...
... you to get out there and swiftly
and put your repairing knee to task

We used to run on sore knees, yes,
... but not because they convalesced
but because we had a game to play
back then, all that surgery waits ...
... for another day of instigates,

Run like a warrior
... kick like a mule
... dig like a mole
no sniffling, that's the rules

Breathing so hard
... you bruise your ribs
drink tons of water
... not Mr Pibbs

Follow the ball
... follow your coach
... warriors big, warriors tall
... We're stoked,
... smash mouth warfare, football

We old guys really did sacrifice
hoped those who'd come next
... would hear our parables
appreciate what we practice
and understand  injuries' tolls ...
... some aren't repairable .
and football fascism ...
has claimed our souls
and our injuries have played many roles.

King’s Vine

by Pat Darnell

Beneath King’s boots
Ancient vines tug
From exigent roots
And links divine

oak limbs hold them
Up very high then
How thick or thin the vine
Is how high the vine

And repeats ...
... for all time

Vine without End
Without end Vine

[pd. 04.11.2010, Bryan TX]

The TEXANZ Vote ... You can't Understand This

by Pat Darnell

For Texas to be cool-zz
and vaulted into modern schiz'zes;
it must establish new rule-zz's
that is, all the 'S'es in Texas
should be changed to 'Z'es where 'X'es.

That's Auztin, and Houzton
could move to the rhythm'z
of Dallaz, and New OrleanZ
flowin' like 21st century-isms

Too cool
on the bayou

and no one Mezz's
with things Texazz's ..
LouiZiana we assimilate
then make Vatican City
... our Sister State

just before we Seccess-'Zate
from the US of America reprobates...

... there we are just a donor state;
Federales, they continue to vacillate ...
in quack zeonotrope schiz-ates ...

NEXT Week press:
We presentate ALAZKA state,
put simply, don't mezz
with the Sarah's syndicate.

[pd\Bryan, TX. 04.17.2010]

Restless Rustler

by Pat Darnell




Just a Donor?

I noticed ...
The other day
Me brain ..
Began shutting down

Big galvanized ...
Heavy tubular steel
Gates clanging shut,
For eternity? Yikes!
... that sound

‘Life as moral issue –‘
Clang!
‘Positive reinforcement –‘
Clang!
‘Decision making –‘
Clang!
‘Objectivity –‘
Clang!

Mass on top ...
... I suppose,
Has no longer any time ...
... for all those

Ouch; I’m sore --
-- I was just a donor,
And now all is pared,
-- Less than more?
Does not seem square.

A surrogate in space;
During an erratic pace;
‘Where Life ... uh ... Life and ... er –‘
Clang!

[pd. Bryan, TX, 04.11.2010]

MooPig Movie Reviews: "Sleeper [1973]"

Imagine our future
as seen in this
Woody Allen suture
Apes don't read philosophy
so each one is
out for one's self ...
... could be,
our future was sunny
back when,
Woody Allen was funny.

by Pat Darnell

It was late
one early night
we were watching
"Sleeper" on the tube--
you know, with Keaton and her
Silly putty nose ...

She claims two
positions and trends
'Sex' and 'Death' as harbingers
-- presage to what will become --
but those two ideas have ...
... already been done, so that
When it comes to an end
we wish it to go on.

Elm Street is much changed
Robots like HAL, the avenues roam,
getting confused at crossroads
just like humans getting hanged
-- like Jurors' contrasting impressions,

Ambivalent as Nietzsche tomes ...
... as adverse to change in direction.

By the way; Sleeper never sleeps
and, whatever he eats, he slips on --
like cannot be real, because peels
and rinds remain behind with giant chicken,
which prompts the plot to thicken
and creates apprehension ...
... about His POD
left around to satisfy His pons ...

Di'a's and Wood'e's very funny troubles
often bring out their stunt doubles
-- like His new robot dog pet, Tricky-woo,
when He Sleeper gets his brain rubbed out --
Puppy is a sport too ... as its
command is his master's wishes ...
... makes one question about:
'Say, what about the fishes?'

We wonder why She disbelieves He;
because later He disbelieves She;
all because 'Big Brother ...
... redesigns their pedigrees;
so that two equals three --
'Till the end we are a'swirl,
but thankfully, in final scene ...
da' Boy kisses da' Girl.

[pd\Bryan TX\04.16.2010]

Kin of Word

Rosetta Stone Comic
by Rebecca Migdal May 11th 2009 (5814.88) Hello There--
I'm Rebecca Migdal, my webcomic is Rosetta Stone and it's better than being bitten by mongeese. Or mongoooses. It updates daily and you can read it at: http://www.rosettastonecomic.com
BTW--every chapter is also published as an "animated" comic that's narrated by the author, with original music. (No, I do not sleep. SOURCE)
This was yesterday's comic:

O_O

(~~)

(*__V__*)

Kin of Word
by Pat Darnell

Words of this age
With similar kin
Frivolous escapades
Pandemonium ruled
Din leaping out
darn world schooled
So generous reward
None have before told

Millions of syllables
Muddlesome word action
Ignoble Works of false passion
Some clipped like roses
bombastic tablatures ...
... scrolls of skins
Muddlesome prose ...
... and all their kin

Response to "Sky is Crying" by Elmore James

Pat Darnell and Friends says:
March 24, 2010 at 10:59 am |  Bryan, Texas
Another Impromptu Unsolicited Lyrics by Pat Darnell
Inspired by Elmore James “Sky is Cryin’” and only took nineteen minutes to pen.

[Spoken Introit over Slide]
Really can’t blame it
… on anyone else
even if I preferred death
I’ve got eight lives left.

Blues Man

[Music Direction: Sniffingly]
I’m a bluesman
and a Houston Astros’ fan
that combination …
… ain’t too sublime man [ya' kno']

So you see … like the sky,
I cry’s all the time
My last good memory
Comes from 1969

My favorite actor’s he,
… Ernest Borgnine, din’t you hear…
and, Stocks I bought 2KY…
tanked in twenty aught nine

I’m a Blues Man dude
and an Astros’ fan, so,
when the sky is cryin’
I’m a Dome Man too

My wiring is cooked
as thin as cotton twine
and some bad person took,
my good shoes all shined –

And then d’ey stole…
my George Foreman grill
That I got …
at Downtown Good Will
but e’en that…
… din’t cook all the time

So, go ahead on…
… ya’ll doin’ most fine
… ask around my neighbors
what you pro’bly gonna find?

[Thas' right]
‘Dey don’ e’en kno’ my name
[Jus' that I]
I is the Blues Man…
… and a Houston Astros’ fan
Cryin’ like the sky …
… I was a Domes Man too…
Just the same, all the time.

Hey now, I ain’t through –
I is a Blues Man…
… [Wha's my name ...]
… and a Houston Astros’ fan
All the time, just the same.

Yeah the sky is cryin’
Baby right down on my
South Side Houston Bolo tie
Baby I can’t take it no mo’ …
Tears runnin’ on down to my
blistered, bare naked and raw
bloody — swollen — toes
_________

Pat. Pend. APR 2010; Darnell

Street Urchins

by Pat Darnell


Be quick on the
Onto brother,
Bring water first
Before the others hit
Your water-skin shirt
and taunt you for fun
Fountains drip
Catches too much sun
Do not stop to sip

But bring water swiftly
To where we pitch proud
Pennies, listen brother
for many, of us grumbling
First off, coercing, a crowd
And then much worse

Baud cussing a’hitch loud
That’s where we will be
Around in the alley ...
... with powerful thirsts
pitch'n roll'n pennies first
And, and watch them hit


Like craw-daddy’s crawl’n
Go to hell you others all’n
Watch your pennies stall’n
Climb out of your ditch
Mine stop at the wall,
... leaners at a pitch.

Oh, brother, on, onto
Bring water ... Be quick
All my pennies are tricked,
My coppers are leaners,
‘n they ‘re coming in tall
We're gonna win it all.
_________________
NOTE:  Pitch Penny 

"There are a whole variety of games which simply involve the throwing of coins or discs at walls or at holes in a bench, chair, wall or box. This game has been going on for time immemorial and its origins are lost in time.

"The most well know example in England comes from Norfolk and Essex and is called Pitch Penny, Penny Seat, Penny Slot, Tossing the Penny or Penny in the Hole. Essentially pennies are thrown across the room and into a hole carved in the seat of a high-backed settle or wooden bench.

" ... Pundits needn't be concerned - this just makes it easier to construct your own boards without any worries. Many pub games have been without any official rules for centuries and all the better for it... ..."

Warwick the Warwick

by Pat Darnell

Clean sweep down
Hibiscuses in ground
Free plants from Wal-Mart
Top soil in town

Pea gravel border
Plug grass all around

Spring arrived Warwick
No luggage to be found

235 to Woo, Firefly 42
Torchwood, Doctor WHO
Marathons at sun down

cockle burrs all in a row
what garden variety are those
Remember ...
... big Ball's in Cow Town!

TEXT-ing Can be Third Party

You are a cold hearted person / E flat

You are a cold hearted person
I deserve better from you
I’m just asking questions
Not giving you the third degree

When did you lose your heart?
You don’t give a damn how this is affecting me

Relax -- your sixteen year marriage
Will be over soon enough
You must be very excited
Having a divorce party that night?
With your friends?

If you’re going to
Bitch at me; I‘m not interested

You disgust me

You’re not sorry
I hate your face
I hate your voice
 ‘n I hate you

You are sorry
Your lies are like
The words in the cards you gave me

I bet your boy friend is
Ready for the divorce
To be final

Refrain:
What did I do?
What are you talking about?
I’ve been nice to you
Sorry I’ve hurt you
(What you said)
That was nice
We do have two kids, you know,
We’ll have to talk sometimes
Sorry about putting you through
So much pain

C-ANonymous\ LDavis
"I put culture in my mouth, and poison comes out my ass."

Johnny B Hill

by Pat Darnell

Best Sailor E’er to Be

Johnny B Hill his self
‘best sailor on the sea
Johnny B Hill could sail your skiff
Backwards does he;
... that is ‘in reverse’
' best sailor ever-will-be

Allus' first 'round the course
... without paddle on turns
Rapturous His skills:
inverted as a straddle a'sterns
with strong hand on the keel

Johnny B Hill never had need
... no sirr’ee, not at all.
No clever intervention,
... P’shaw ...
Just wind, sail and a little bit a sea ..
... Come ‘e About! He’d shout ...
With no moment of detention ...
... nor stall

Oh, did I mention ...
He would back that skiff
Right alongside your pier
‘Tween vessels so stiff
‘en with them yardarms all queer

He's a spraying surf so pretty
As rooster tails go ...
Bow-sprits in a half-hitch kitty
Right on your bull nose.

'Dems my final words and I'll be stickin' to 'em.
(Pat Darnell 2010.March)

How to measure blood?
in milliliters, or in gold,
Suppose
in kidneys, or cords
... of wood
say in futures of you
whichever way you turn
... none any good.

Measure blood in
Spill't blood all over
from futile Speculation
of feudalis't mis-action

Measure blood as children --
Dot, Charlie, and Maddie,
Or --
Is blood fattie
thick or gritty like sand
in human hue of hands

so how do we measure blood
... anyway?

 *SMART ASS ANSWER #2*

>> A truck driver was driving along on the freeway and noticed a sign that read: Low Bridge Ahead. Before he knows it, the bridge is right in front of him and his truck gets wedged under it. Cars are backed up for miles.
>> Finally a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walks to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, 'Got stuck, huh?'
>> The truck driver says, 'No, I was delivering this bridge and I ran out of gas.'

Frequent Heartburn

Variations on Themes
by Pat Darnell, and, Sho Nuff
Bryan TX | 01.11.2010

Frequent heartburn
... comes to call
Every time a spuddin' boy
... knocks on this stall

He sees my collections
... of things big and tall
Then, right then, decides he is in
... "Hiddy Mr D; can I see that guitar?"

You men out there
... who got no daughter at all
Is luckiest men ... by far.

'Cause then in comes Slasher
... right behind is Emo, then Bingo
Followed by this kid Gungus Din.

It isn't too purty ... what and all
"Defy all moral maxims"
Them boys is durty
... this shape youth's in

Li'l sister introduces them
... tall one, Short one,
And this one here is Slim
Her brothers all shake their hands
Her brothers all nice to 'em
Then Daughter gets nicer yet !

Frequent heartburn sets in,
Please don't do me like that
Frequent heartburn again,
Betrays what d'em boys is at!

Yep it 'tis Daddy's
... frequent heartburn
That sets up in his craw'


And sure 'nuff goes to town
Daddy's daughters and all
... being nice to boys ...
... twistin'things all around,
Makin' Frequent Heartburn climb
... right off'n the wall,
... so unkind ... Humpty Dumpty it hurts!

Ohh, it hurts!
Say it ain't so!
Anyone have a  TUMS?
... eeeerrrruupppp ...
Oh my God
It burns... it burns
That's it ... I'm dyin'...
Be home by Ten!
__________________

BADMEN*
by Cole Porter, 1916

[Tenores:]
A thoro'ly roaring reckless lot in us you see.
We're everything that you would not desire to be.
All moral maxims we defy.
We gamble, swear and guzzle rye.
We are the pink of impropriety-ety-ety.

[Basses:]
Ha-ha! Ho-ho! What very wild oats we sow.
Ha-ha! Ho-ho! What terrible brutes we are.
Unheeding possible dangers,
We plunder innocent strangers.
Ha-ha! Ho-ho! Ha-ha! Ho-ho! Ha -ha!

[Tenores and Basses:]
Badmen, badmen, picturesquely clad men.
Badmen, badmen, dangerous as madmen.
Badmen, badmen, the world has seldom had men
So likely to hurt you,
So void of all virtue as we.
The very pink of impropriety are we.

*The original opening chorus. Manuscript in the Music division of the Library of Congress. Introduced by ensemble. No. 1 in the original sequence. (Kimball, Robert. 1992. pg 42, complete lyrics of cole porter, the)

__________________

Younger Sons of Peers*
by Cole Porter, 1916

We've a little secret to confess to you.
what we've been asserting isn't strictly true.
Don't be disappointed when you hear us say
That we are late arrivals in the U.S. A.
Don't be surprised
When we say we're aristocracy disguised.
Please believe your ears
When we tell you we are younger sons of peers
Sons of houses dated
From medieval years.
In Burke you'll find us rated
As younger sons of peers.
We're second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh,
Eigth, nine sons of peerless peers.
We're younger sons of England's most eminent peers.
Younger sons of English peers,
Younger sons of english peers.
'Three cheers!

*This number, the Revelation Chorus of Badmen, might have been the second part of the original opening chorus. Manuscript at the Library of Congress. It might have been deleted before the New York opening. No. 2 in the original sequence. (Kimball, Robert. 1992. pg 43, complete lyrics of cole porter, the)

Long Fingers, by Jayne D'Arcy

Long fingers
Tripping
Over strings of metal

Weaving music
From some other
Plane
Of existence

The Holiest of Holies
Radiates
From his face

Shhh
Listen

-- Original poem written for Poetry Geist

Illustration

Pan Historia: "What do you do to make yourself write when you just feel like doing nothing?"




Pat Darnell:  I paint... then live then write then eat then sleep, then live, then write...


i have faith now in my elderly-ness that the time to write will come around, regardless of self-loathing, or anxiety ... so a computer to write on is my heaven sent 24\7\365 partner.

My next written word is a horizon to the East
... and while I wait for the sun to rise
feel sand 'tween my toes, snow falls tenderly to the beach
... turn myself to live the Seagulls' cries

:: there, an impromptu 13\9\13\9 verse for you guys... .. Okay?

Lassoing the Hurricane

by Pat Darnell

I lassoed a hurricane
Whose name was arcane
Not Bob, Lance or Jayne
Rather every tit, tat and tweedle
of the Mormon-like Bible people
it came to pass, ordained.

And my tender tongue
dry from salted wheat
drives me ever up further
on Aqua d' Puzzo Creek.

The Twelve Days of Wisdom

by Pat Darnell

-- "TWELVE T-Mister-Virtual MOHAWK GRENADES..."
-- one plus ten Mercedes Benz
-- Ten Commercializing Marketeers ---
-- Nine 2009 YouTube Magical Parades...
-- Eight Emotive Rambles, of Votive Ambition ...
-- Seven Works in Progress ...
-- Six Slap Bass Jazz-ists ....


-- Five clever Elves a-Leaping ...


-- Four girls from Hyndsver ...
-- Three non-French-made farm implements ...
-- two Rocket--Men,


-- and a labile Dan-de-li-on on a breeze ..."

A Time to be Wise: "The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted." — D.H. Lawrence

State Street Christmas
by Pat Darnell

get up go on downtown
down to STATE STreet tonight
because i'm told in the cold,
you won't have to fight
to see what's there for you
... in store windows
windows dressed up
right
... for your delights 'n so 'n so

you see, at Marshal Field's
what your visits yield is
what your and my Christmases
... is

Look at people whisking by...
whipping wind that tears your eyes ...
... dry wind, how it makes you cry
tear of new wine, Your

tear that strolls your contour
and makes a path down your face
not to pine, but for others later to follow
all at their own pace tomorrow and morrow

and you might flinch
as wisdom sweeps o'er
you in wisdom's clench
your soul catches gusts to soar

your family farm year-end purchases
never buy French, just as it were
too much of a chance it is -- harsh,
but buy American -- never French,
American-made, farm-tool implements

...and if you can't sing
...and you don't dance
you'll soon be leaving
to join the frogs and occupy France...

and if it's all the same to you
I don't mind if you do
I don't have any Euro's
to come and liberate you.

fin
State Street Christmas
by pdarnell\today
rev12\16\2009
rev 12\17\2009

November

by Pat Darnell

I lost my wingtips in the snow
they came off in the deep sludge
next to concrete curbs i trudged
Seems it happened a very long, long time ago

not quite as long as an age
only as long as an epoch
just under a period possibly
about time of year when birds migrate

i didn't know much about snow
when i moved to live in Chicago
on a street once lined, you know,
with linden trees and honey bees

in November i hated most
icy rain that dribbled down my neck
because i never could remember
to wear my scarf nor my hat

strangely how most of the day
was lost in thawing cycles extreme
in and out of torrid hot and dry buildings
jammed up in filthy cubicles and things

In November, each Thanksgiving I'd think

... to ask the coming wraiths of winter

should I stay and die one more year
or should I leave this big stinker

that to the day, twenty years later
... and ten pairs of florsheims
ignoble frozen digits aching with bunions
time invested in salty slush and rinds
yes, i finally did leave behind,
... Chicago, the Big Onion ...

Impromtu Limericks from Life

Response to Pribek.net  Ethernet:
"Holy Mackerel! This story has everything.


"Beauty contestants…”Gladiators!”~…Nightclub brawl!


"Wait a minute…did you say nightclub brawl? That gets me thinking…
[Source] [Comments]

Did We Miss Something?
by Pat Darnell

There once was a nubian gal — England’s heptathlete
Rachel, a beauty operator when she doesn’t compete

she got bloody for England’s roans
when she sparred Sara Jones

It seems, Rachel Christie can’t abide when Miss Jones speaks.

Miss Jones, too, you see, is a snoggable feast,
from Manchester, her self, she’s a potable trist

but, she talked in a bar to a faraway crowd
with large lungs in her man chest, too loud

about Rach'el's boyfriend’s gladiator wrists

Rachel bound like steam from a radiator
With round-house on Sara J, Rachel KO’d her!

But, Miss England Rachel, had to withdraw
It's because beauty queens never should brawl

Yet twasn't a problem at all --
For home to boyfriend Rach' went, both so glad, he ate her.

Sunday 8:49 AM Poem Break

"Nay, I'll j'ist k'ip it this'a 'way"
by Pat Darnell

Many have asked me to join their human race?
"Nay, thanks, I'll j'ist k'ip it this'a 'way" ...
knowin' the winds; knowin' my place --
I already been knackered, already been played ...

Many asked what's that smile all over my face?
"What you talkin' 'bout, I ain't gay"
So they say: 'Then you're straight?'
-- I got no time for what ya'll say ..

Many askin' why I'm walkin' away ...
turnin' my back on their disgrace?
"I cain't answer that at'all, you has'n to wait"
... sure enough, answers will soon come your way

Many will ask what's it gonna take?
... gittin' on down the highway;
... makin' ya'll a clean break?
"Nay, I'll j'ist k'ip it this'a 'way"
"None o' that at'all ...
"I'll jist be kippin' it this a' way..."

PD

A Bit of the Muse

by Pat Darnell

What changed;
What skill bloomed;
Where did time go;
Before I knew?

Yet you say:
It is different now for you;
What iron sharpened
Iron in you that way?

What desert flower
Appeared from dry dust;
Who reckoned power
Where once was rust?

For when you say:
"... having found that for which
I did not even know
I was looking,..."

You found sense ...and
...jurisprudence and fate;
Whereby grace one day may complete
Dreams dreamt by Founders who awake
In a splendid place, where,
For a second time their hearts beat

Sunrise Creates a New Day

song for this morning:
... followed me all night long
flute pressed to my ear:
... clamorous frogs hid in my boot
flood gauge showed no rise:
... perked coffee 5:30 AM stood
pleasures when horizon cuts sky:
... locked in gallows humor, our root

Enjoy Bro’s’ and Beatrice's
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUSuVtYoD7k

Bright Morning STAR

by Pat Darnell

P.R.-omises
Devil lived out his usefulness
Journalists congregated
watched transition
--Veil fell
hands shook
unidentifiable vessels
took to the sky and wrote:

"Wedding Day!
Open the guest Book!!"

PR agents witnessed
'n scribbled keywords
invented formula
in their notebooks, today's lines:
...in His tuxedo --
"Jesus; What a Stunner!"

"Fore" -- screamed T V Woods
as he and Father Son Holy Ghost
golfed as a foursome
as the sun rose
over eastern slopes

Jesus teed his Topflite Excalibur up
His caddy chose the Torah gopher one wood
He blasted that Devil old Beelzebub
into non-matter Zone for good!

Jesus Drove 'em
he racked 'em
to the dark side
He put them where light cant hide

"I want to die"
screamed one fool
as he was cooked alive
in stellar stew

and in every bar
on every corner
funny things occurred
every good Palikar
vanished into thin air
As the Groom putted out
twenty-one below par.

film melted in cameras
digital went hairy
Jesus smiled
"It is done;"
Heavy as iron
hitting bone
a joyous Allen Alda
took the arm of
Charlie Sheen
trying their best
to steal the scene

but we wouldn't let them

"See you in week,"
Said Jesus to them and a Greek--
while Marilyn received her wings
and Elvis his crown ...
this party went downtown!

Came the Son's decree:
"To know; and to be--"
passed-over generations
heard this day PR-omises
that every survivor is free
and every survivor drinks wine
made from Lamb's blood

and a portion of the Host
His body that was broke
--Jesus head-lined
front-pages that very morn
in every Home Town POST

"All Those without God are Toast"

Response to Song by Buzz Feiten -- Hey, Dinwiddie

by Pat Darnell

Livin' dinwiddie for a rumor
a rumor that someone,
someone I love, loves me

born again in here
thinking she’ll come back
soon, she'll come back
soon to be with me

can’t get that last word
she said out of my head
anymore than i can forget
that "Cannonball" beat
while lying alone here in bed

If 'n I can be discreet --
If 'n I can tune it out’ --
maybe she set in Arkansas
saying “oui, oui, oui ...”

‘dat’s the dinwiddie divine
po’ diddly, dinwiddie, moonshine heat
pour’n down on me?
dat's her dinwiddie sooner
sending spoons of sugar to me

Ain’t it sweet, sweet a'rumor
... love be sprinkling down on me,
she sure ta'be on that freeway
comin’ right back home to me?
comin' right back home ...

... to be with me.

[another unsolicited "dinwiddie verse " improv from yours truly; the tunes inspire]

This is a Test; Only a Test

by Pat Darnell

There is a test
that helps determine
one's propensity
to seek art

and do art
and seek hidden facets
and find great hiding places

this is the test:
first you notice
that you feel an emptiness
in your heart
while growing up, and,

you have pains in your wrists
you count things all the time
you find patterns in the strangest places
you understand comic books
you memorize all the wrong things for school
you ask questions no one else cares about

you know how to mix all the colors

using only primaries red, yellow and blue
you then graduate,

adding white and black to your palette

you think the greatest silent movie made is Eraserhead
you spend much of your youth crawling around on floors
you secretly explore vacant buildings

such as churches on Mondays
roam behind buildings, and up ramps,
stumble through junkyards,
and walk dry ditches before rain

you get nervous, irritable in bookstores

you hide under things,
you seek cover in bushes, under bridges
you think long after you had a conversation
what you said, what he said
what she said, you repeat yourself,

saying everything twice, saying everything twice
you blush when others notice you

you flush when made fun of

you like to go up in attics

you lay down on the sidewalk and watch ants
you use a Ball jar to catch bees
... and poke holes in the top
so the bees might breathe

you cut country bouquets for your mom

you cannot get enough of cedar tree's scents

you love how coconuts feel

you love wool and felt and Egyptian cotton

you have ability to feel oils of different weights

you find treasure leaps into your sensitive fingers

you have lovers before you have lovers

your eyes are always changing colors

you are scatter brained to some

you, to others their cornerstone

you love the odors of outdoor zoo's

... and barnyards

... and plastics

... and trains, and warm wood

... and rusty metal, and things fried

your taste buds must be firstly satisfied
you listen carefully to others' claims
you trust others for what they say
you love your feet bare on pavement after it rains
you stand close to the stream when it overflows

you watch and stalk animals, birds and crocs
you do not want to disturb them
... but they are too clever for that
you admire animals as they scamper

you love to hold a torch at night
Now if you say yes to twenty or so of thirty-six
questions that pertain to your artistic
evaluation -- though you may not know
how it really is you are this...

be accepting of your story
count your blessings so
in self evaluations
you do not waste time any more

Once you are sure
the hard part is past
it is hardest to deny
for your nature is pure
and your method is shaping
you passed the tests

up from deep well-spring sources
flowing as foundling art in you
and you may spend hours and days,
confidently, even months and centuries
with the new, unspoiled thought

leveling your groundwork
surveying the possibilities
developing your technique
simpering about odds and ends

so that eventually you conquer means

to find materials to embody
to find tillable pasture
and favorable schemes
for your artistic manufacture
so when it is done
when it is finished

when it reaches its best end
you will feel empty again
only this time both
in your heart and in your gut
as if you drank liquid mercury

and the pain will last a night
or a fortnight, until you find comfort
and gaze upon your artwork
on a different day in new light

Brad Pitt versus Billy Bob Thornton in a Bar Fight

I once had a bulldog named Prad
who loved most to break men’s spleens
... he jumped up on Billy Bobbing
... and gave his torso a hobbing
while gearing in a snoggin’ with Lippy Angeline …

God awful, t’weren’t it brittly un-sportin’
that after Mr and Mrs Smith cahortin'g
... was a cadaver named Bob Billy Thornton
... left rancid, cuckolded and stiff
as another cornuto that the dog Prad Bitt?

[another impromtu limerick for a hedonistic situation, by Pdaf]
revised just a bit.. picture from images [unk] 09.05.09 pd and again 09.12.09

Only thing left to do ...

by Pat Darnell

Only thing left
Is quit breathing
‘din I’ll be dead
Bless’ed dead

I believe in miracles
Yes I believe
I kin see d’ light houses
E’en tho I’m blind

I hear you breathe
I kin hear you breathe

Tho you don’ know it
N’ I dream

Only thing is
... about bein’ brave
If I quit d’ dreamin’
I’d forgit to breathe
Yes sir, I’d shore be afraid

I met a legless boot maker
He’s drunk allus time, sure was,
he’s drunk all week
sewed me t’ last pair of boots
... I’d ever need

Din I worked
Peeling bark off logs
Enuff to git a horse
It threw me off

I’d been sore lost
I bin lost in a bog
Till dis bogtrotter find me
‘Don’t die on me,’ he said

Guess I ain’t gonna die now
Cuz’ I din’t die then

He gave me this here
Harmonick’ee
We hitched our way
allus t' Missour’ee

Dat bogtrotter tol’ me
Dat’ he had no teeth
I tol’ him I can’t see

Winter in d’ Ozark,
... weren’t too nice
Spint winter
... in lots of ice
I lost the rest
... of my sight
Dat’ bogtrotter left
... one frozen night

But din my luck split
what I find me Missy Miss:
She took best care of us
I called her my Pony X-spress

We caught three trains
All the way to Milwaukee
Pony, she got real sick
In our boxcar trip
... couldn't walk it

One night
... couldn’t hear her breathe
After she’d gone to sleep
Now I got
... too many promises
That I can’t keep

I got no money
No town is mine
Only this mouth harp
And I is blind

I will tell you this:
Every town I gwane tho’
I has a witness, ya’ know
Someone always there

Allus’ helps me around
One was my Pi’ony X-press
Yep, one in every town ...
z'ares somm'ere a princess
I giv'in you a witness
... in every rapturous town

Laundromat

I call this one: Snowy Bleach
by Pat Darnell

I did not know
washing could be so slow

that’s why I throw
everything together

in the Cold \ Cold
washer cycle of love’

no little feat
I use this custom mug

via Zazzle,
bought at Cat-bek dot thug

to measure suds
enough soap flakes to reach

optimum whites
a mug of Snowy Bleach

watch suds cascade
as snow cold cavalcade

buzzing lights
rumbling drums
tumbling flux
gathering glum

a tune by Sade
Diamond Life; Love Deluxe

tufts of fluff on
floor linoleum

door opens up
sparkly eyes lighten mine

hibbidy hi
royal lovely emerged

hubbidy hubb
laundromat zoftig maid

this velvet night
beginning her wash day

bending to fold
surrounded by rolls

of crack quarters
that wealth of labor extols

service my eyes
to desire, but with-hold

certain reserves
till next wash day unfolds

[another impromptu, unsolicited blues song lyric to add to your funnel files] pdnf

MooPig

Pat Darnell and Friends :
I ate a pork rind
it give a thought …
… to my mind
I ate a pork rind
… it give a thought
… to my mind
D’er ain’t no way a’ tellin’
if that lady …
if that lady is mine ….
*[break\ slide]*
I eat a pork rind
it should’a been a sign
I said, I eat a pork rind
it shoulda … gi’ me a sign…
I look’t at another woman
… my old lady slap me blind….
yes she did, yes she did, yes she did
I sed …
Yes I ate a pork rind ….
my old lady slap me up side d’ head …
You see, I am a Muslim
and we don’ eat no rind, in bed,, badda bap ba dowwwww. whomp! Zaa Zaaaa.

Gentle Witness

by Pat Darnell

Please witness
some folks with-holdin'
say I'm a calvinist
most forebode'in

i pout 'n think i should miss
my lips full pleasure
for what kind soul should kiss
my lips upon end
to my full measure


who will find me
in bower where i hide
and summon me
though i sink sour inside

see just out yonder
there is a huge man
see him as my blunder
will too you cover him in sand
as if he were plunder

wake me tomorrow
if you must insist
and if it is Easter
press on, gently kiss

be my very own
gentle witness


Be my very own...
... gentle witness