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BY Davey H

05/01 Direct Link
It is once again Ed-A Walter’s
death day anniversary – his chozen day
for truncating his life.
A day of his choosing
– just look at us all;
so much time we are losing
B-4 taking a fall.
What of Ed-Z Walter’s strife?

While still young and wiry
he started a diary
which was in itself a vain act;
yet later we found
in those pages bound
his discreetly culled ‘suicide pact’.
So throughout his short years
Ed-Z may have had fears
of living or making the most;
and though he’s departed
here Davey has started
to produce an annual post.
05/02 Direct Link
He held fast to the now-distant past
‘oer Ed-Z’s hand so dirty;
three decades have elapsed, we see
yes, for years of thirty
we have had no Ed-Z.

So is it too late for Ed-Z Walter’s
work to collate before we all falter?
Let’s say we could appease adoring throngs
and morph his writings into songs.
But sadly, at that thought, we murmur ‘alas’,
because for naught that chance did pass.
Thus, Ed-Z’s papers may likely go rotten
as he obviously preferred to be forgotten.

Thus ends this year’s annual prosaic paean to the remarkable and intentionally short-lived Ed-Z Walter.
05/03 Direct Link
Now if you ask Davey H what does he think
of the modern-day ball point pen,
he’ll give you a frown
and put both his thumbs down,
with a wink,
he’ll tell you then:
“here’s what I think:
these pens run out of ink
with just one, then you’re shit out of luck;
so ball point or not
they aren’t so hot
and in fact, man, they totally SUCK!”

Whew! Davey H has, for the past two days
with much pizzazz kept the fire ablaze.
He sought a cure; he was so sick it
meant before he left the thicket
05/04 Direct Link
of snot production and fevered cough
he needed reduction to shake it off.

So after burning a whole bunch of wood,
Davey is learning: “so far, so good.”
Now mental and physical health he’ll seek;
never mind wealth; he still feels quite weak.

And speaking of ‘weak’, it was way more than one week – more like six. And the greatly beleaguered Davey H readily admits he should have hit the garlic sauna a whole lot sooner.
But damn! As they say
‘that’s water over the dam.’
Now, after those two months
of germ-laden hell,
Davey the dunce
is finally well.
05/05 Direct Link
One side effect was
a shocking disintegration of his cursive.
As sobering as that may be,
it wasn’t the end of the world
for Davey was alive, you see,
with upper lip still curled.
He needed still to cross his ts
whilst chamfering small rs,
then a-swagger into the breeze
to change oil in the cars.

100 Words, no more, no less
– the caution he would heed;
yet if his cursive was a mess,
how could he ever read?
He fondled a discursive thought
while sitting on his bum;
yet ’twas nearly all for naught
because of one stiff thumb.
05/06 Direct Link

The thumb in question didn’t move well
as it was mighty sore;
but per suggestion he did dwell:
100 Words, no less no more.

That having been expatiated, the grate Davey H laid plans for the day, precious few of which involved copying and pasting 100 word blocks into a browser. And as an aside,
old Davey enthuses:
he will not confide
as to which browser he uses.

And being such a part of the busy-ness bunch, he won’t even fart or stop to take lunch.
Getting out and in the groove;
no need to flout but please do improve!
05/07 Direct Link

Optimal performance he will always seek
with no need, though, to attain any peak.
Events, of course,
will sure wear him down,
in the past tense with force,
he won’t sport a frown.

Also on these daily flings
Davey won’t do stupid things.
Striving, driving to each town
will tend to send the gas gauge down.
When gas gets low
oh well, aw, shucks; 
it’s time to go and spend some bucks.

No on to the next semi-big thing: Spring.
Yet by the time this gets posted,
spring will have been toasted,
but it’s sure nice to hear sparrows sing.
05/08 Direct Link

Yes, on the topic of sparrows – particularly song sparrows – Davey occasionally looks forward to working outside on his makeshift rolling workbench, cutting and mending fresh loops of Carlton Magna-Chisel® chain and sharpening other badly damaged chains, all to the accompaniment of vigorously singing song sparrows.

Last year, they took to the white pine tops on the north side of pastoral Don’t Laugh Its Paid For Farm’s property and sang their hearts out.

Ahhh, yes – spring to the chickens
that’s where the plot thickens
like adding wheat flour to soup;
for one rammy rooster
and a hen . . . damn!  he goosed her,
05/09 Direct Link

so it’s time to partition the coop.

Then, as again, it was back up to Clover Hill today for another round of malus pruning operations.
The clock was ticking
in the runup to bud-break
and too many chances he could not take,
but rather needed to take stock
while staring at said ticking clock.

The prevailing weather was not so great
up at the Clover Hill estate
but Davey was burning
and had to keep churning
before it was too stinkin’ late.

Next, a thought truncation: in the era before shavers were invented, a hypothetical Davey H would feel weird;
05/10 Direct Link

or maybe he may be thought of as demented
because he’d loathe wearing a beard.

On a closing note,
as Davey no doubt previously wrote:
he definitely wouldn’t make
a very good Amish man or Muslim.

Next, as seasonal transitional weather approached,
the topic of vehicular preservation is broached.

And now it was the first day of spring
and how they heard some robins sing!
It was a pretty sunny day,
and you could say we made the most,
but it will be well into May
before you see this post.

Yes, this March, like many previous ones, had starch. 
05/11 Direct Link

It came in like a boorish, testosterone-crazed African wildebeest and went out like a “play it, Sam.” clueless basking tortoise – albeit with sprinkling drizzle accompaniments.
 
Though this ain’t friggin’ Kansas, it packed lots of windy and otherwise predictably agitating weather conditions. Tomorrow carries a 60% chance of rain, in case you’re interested. So get your Muck® boots out. . .we’re goin’ muddin’!

Now with the slightly longer days here in the lush  heartland, the Don’t Laugh It’s Paid For Farm® workers wrenched free from haze.
They say they can and never ‘we can’t’;
so now the time has come to plant. 
05/12 Direct Link

Each night they bed down in the lodge;
how many bullets can they dodge?
So now spring would be in high gear
with just one thing they had to fear:
out within the barnyard scene
the rooster’s din was getting mean.
And that would mean STAND CLEAR.

They – yes, the infamous ‘they’ – kill pigeons, sell the corpses to restaurants to be consumed as ‘squab’. And cops continue to kill unarmed civilians. But that’s okay, we still have wholesome dens of solace such as sports bars and casinos.
 
This species seems headed for a cliff
just like the proverbial lemmings: stiff. 
05/13 Direct Link

Yet somewhere in Bhutan or Burma, meditators are dipping into sweeping pools anicca-laced calm. And THAT is something worth pondering. But it won’t make it on to CNN, ABC, CBS, PMSNBC, Fox, or any of their bedfellows.

So go right ahead: “inspire” us with tales of Syrian bloodshed, Saudi-led attacks on Yemeni civilians, and ostensible ISIS eradication. We’re just not listening anymore.

It has been a year
but Davey’s still here
and you can bet it will soon come to pass;
just give him a cell
and he’ll work like hell
or you could say that he will bust ass.
05/14 Direct Link

But truth be told, he has grown weary of draggin’ ass. It’s 3/4 of the way through the month of March and Davey's muscles are still lacking in starch.
This seems to happen every year
for reasons not entirely clear.
Davey H suspects it has something to do with detoxification, yet as a non-smoking, drugless, non-coffee drinking teetotaler, he is walking, talking, eatin’ & shittin’ and sometimes spittin’ proof that one need not partake of any of those aforementioned vices to become toxic; it’s a side-effect of existing in ‘our’ world.
Next question (totally and completely unrelated to the preceding text:
05/15 Direct Link

But truth be told, he has grown weary
of draggin’ ass.
It’s 3/4 of the way through the month of March
and Daveys muscles are still lacking in starch.
This seems to happen every year
for reasons not entirely clear.
Davey H suspects it has something to do with detoxification, yet as a non-smoking, drugless, non-coffee drinking teetotaler, he is walking, talking, eatin’ & shittin’ and sometimes spittin’ proof that one need not partake of any of those aforementioned vices to become toxic; it’s a side-effect of existing in ‘our’ world.
Next question (totally and completely unrelated to the preceding text):
05/16 Direct Link

did Sally Field and Burt Reynolds REALLY get it on in the Trans Am during that pasture scene in Smokey And The Bandit? Write answers in the nonexistent box below and be automatically entered in sweepstakes to win an authentic, yes, really true-to-life, down-home gussied-up Fruit O The Loom® Davey H autographed Don’t Laugh It’s Paid For Farm® T-shirt.

Now on to the more mundane news-at-large and its snide commentary coming from Davey H: much berated, the self-named master negotiator’ would not be fully exonerated.
The Mueller investigation
had come to an end
with no instigation
toward foe or friend.
05/17 Direct Link

So We The People would soon see
what would be Chump’s legacy.
He bellows “all clear!”
Well, how dare he?
Whoosh! Lots of wind here;
like a bare prairie.

The next morning, Davey was asked
‘hey, how do you feel?’
In fatigue he blithely asked,
and said “a lot like a heel.”
This was to be the umpteenth
day of disparagingly low energy levels,
and as frustration mounted,
those days remained uncounted.
Suffice to say he was a tad tired of being tired, but he won’t complain
‘cause he isn’t in pain
and his time here has not yet expired.
05/18 Direct Link
Davey won’t be morose
but be rather verbose
in the manner he usually is,
and though he’s draggin’ ass,
it may well come to pass
that he’ll write stuff
with slightly less fizz.

On another completely unrelated note: did you hear about those cunning pirates who were skilled at fitting round pegs into square holes? They implemented what came to be known as the ‘Importable Square Act’.
Having thus leaned on and arm-twisted their well-bought cronies in Congress to get said legislation passed, they could rest on their greedy-assed laurels as hapless lemmings’ hard-earned dollars flowed into already brimming coffers.
05/19 Direct Link
The peripatetic pirates then sailed on ruthlessly for another 4 years or so, having cemented their position whilst sawing the shark-infested waters of American Sick-Care.

It is at this stage of the so-called game
that we express rage at those jokers so lame.

Ergo, Davey hereby announces
as he fairly flounces
his cankers that still are aflame.
Yes, it is time at long last
for him to go cook;
as one year has now passed
since he last cracked his book.
It was time once again
to ripen his kamma,
to put down this pen
and partake of the Dhamma.
05/20 Direct Link
[Then, after a week and a half had elapsed]:
Time yes indeed,
yet again to take stock
pick up pen, write a screed
after setting the clock.
Thus in the past days
at times he felt weak;
yes in fact, a bit crazed,
though he didn’t dare speak.
His unconscious mind roiled,
and at times he would feed it;
this post could be spoiled
if he took time to read it.

So anyway, the grate Davey H was soon
to be free from the safe cocoon
of the meditation seminar,
at which he could see that he didn’t get far.
05/21 Direct Link
That of course, for the course is par;
as it’s not the tradition he’s trashin’:
it just seems each time
that he lowers the bar
in self-deprecatory fashion.
Yet one facet of his existence
is froward, asinine persistence.
And like any other particular class of fools,
old Davey likes at times to break rules.

This time it was the chin-up bar he brought along due to his compulsion to continue monkeying around. It fit perfectly in the bathroom door frame, and he visited the bar several times each day when strength permitted, frequently doing 5 complete, ‘honest’ chin-ups each time.
05/22 Direct Link
The inner journey had been horrendous at times, punctuated by intense digestive distress and chronically knotted back muscles.
Hah! Par for the course, of course.

This is but one aspect of our modern-day existence that gets short shrift, largely due to our nearly universal incomplete understanding; we are, deep down, stress storing machines. And all that tension and reactivity is sleeping at a very deep level. So now with a smidgen of understanding, Davey H could plow into a soft landing.
Then off to the grocery where he did park,
and as he got closer he heard a dog bark.
05/23 Direct Link
A near-constant rattle of shopping carts – some fallen into ill repair
commenced to noisily fill the air
as hobbling shoppers made thoroughfare
No need to piss, no remiss, and no frown;
just enjoying the bliss of a trip to town. 

Then, “Dayum!” Davey exclaimed at the realization that they had blown close to two hundred bucks. “Man alive!”
And like living fungi ripe and in bloom,
‘twas organic matter they needed to consume
in order to survive.

Good day, gawd bless;
pay the IRS.
Because living tax free is the stuff of myth.
So says Davey H with wisenend pith:
05/24 Direct Link

“they’re nothing to mess around with.”
Indeed, the compliant’s needs are best served who doesn’t fall on the taxing authorities’ bad side.
So cross each t, dot every I
and try not to cry or holler;
best to be shy with the taxing guy
and give him that hard-earned dollar.
Now let’s be clear: you’ve lots to fear
should you fail to comply;
for interest accrues
and it’s YOU that will lose
when your tax bill gets too high.
So will Davey blanch at a branch of Uncle Sam’s taxman a-reachin’ in to Davey’s bin and grabbing what he can?
05/25 Direct Link

“No worries here,” quoth Davey dear,
as poverty was his factor;
“tell Sam go ahead and raid the shed. . .
just leave me that old tractor.”

Thus ends Davey H’s fiscal expositions with the tax topic broached as April 15th approached.

On a lighter note, Microsoft apparently has a little applet called ‘One Note’. Do any of you have experience with this? It seems like just one more method of cementing lemmings to their computers. And by the time the beleaguered reader skims this post, One Note will have become totally obsolete.
Nevertheless, it is coming up on 1 o’clock am
05/26 Direct Link

(PST, EST, or central time, your guess), and Davey H’s tired fingers say it’s past time to bite the dust for the night.

Next day, not so bright and early:
let’s burn a candle
and get a handle
on things that actually matter;
‘tis in that context
what has us so vexed:
the college admissions scandal
is merely superfluous patter.
In other words, that exercise in stupidity
is worthy not of mention
or for paying the least bit of attention.
So for Davey H to devote even one half column inch to it is a travesty (in a literary sense)
05/27 Direct Link
Elsewhere in (censored) township, Davey passed by Mr. Bllosky, who was actively picking logs with his old ‘packer-back.’ Hey, look it up. It’s an actual functional machine.

Leaving the joint
as the rooster crowed
meant racking up points
before reaching the node.
And although Davey can be
like the busiest of beavers,
he isn’t, you see
high society
and not one of its overachievers.

Now, let’s chat about things you can get away with on a county road. A grade school teacher onced posed this question to our inquisitive class: “if the speed limit is 55, why is it that
05/28 Direct Link

cars can go so much faster than that?”
It was a good brain teaser for kids who were not only not driving yet but would see another five or six years pass before they got behind the wheel.
Yet even at that age, one or two of us figured out that you wouldn’t want your engine to be ‘toppin’ out’ at its maximum revs just to obey a speed limit.
Now, an undisclosed number of years later, Davey has one nagging hesitancy to build his own network – or anything to pay attention to. He staves off calls whilst rarely stopping
05/29 Direct Link

and cultivates balls to resist eavesdropping.
Yet lately amid the clamoring din
he sadly forgot his sign-in PIN!
With such ins and outs
a lot of grave doubts
have started to creep back in.
But regardless of these
Davey won’t, if you please
mistakenly fall into sin;
no, he’ll jiggle his hip
and keep stiff upper lip
and happily raise up his chin!
Now everyone knows how poorly it goes
when income is terribly skimpy;
and though gaunt with want,
the poor man shows
how he is never wimpy!
Thus, it is for all intents and purposes
that Davey H
05/30 Direct Link

places his raggy country bumpkin existence in the semi-poverty category – especially when crafting posts for the security-bereft 100Words.com.
Putting these concerns on the back burner, he prepared a plan for an evening brush burn.
This would be a risky proposition, as Davey had not procured a permit prior to preparing proximate provincial pyrothechnical prowess.
That plan came and went
but no burning was spent.
You could almost hear a whooshing sigh of relief emit like a cloud of hot gas from Davey H upon having made the decision not to burn. After all, it was between rains and even the
05/31 Direct Link
slightest hint of a breeze struck terror into his heart of hearts.
Now it really WAS tax day, April 15th,
but Davey, let’s say, had already paid,
and on that note had cut his eye teeth.
To Uncle Sam he did bequeath (censored) dollars and (censored) cents in full, to be exact.
At first, reluctant sun poked through the persistent cloud cover, ushering in some optimism for a potentially productive work day.
Later, from out of nowhere, the heavens opened and gushed forth a deluge. This hadn’t been the first time da shit had poured, and wouldn’t be the last.