Title blurb




"From one LIGHT come many colors." ~GJ Dürrschmidt

Sunday, December 30, 2012

BreakSLOW (vis-à-vis BreakFAST)




In a hustle-bustle
world on the go,
up way before
the cock’s crow;
I say screw it!

I’m making myself
eggs ‘n bacon,
fresh juice not be
forsaken;
I must do it!

The most important
meal of the day,
I refuse to slam
it away;
I will chew it!

It’s peace of mind,
all said ‘n done,
slow eating can
be great fun;
but who knew it?

While the crazy fools
are wolfing it down,
racing to work all
over town;

…eventually…

I’ll get to it.

~gj duerrschmidt


For more by this writer:

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Plastic Word, Yo!




To be real,
you have
to feel.
To be
fantastic,
you need
only be
plastic.
Artificial
is where
it’s at.
Superficial
is the new
phat.
Shallow
is the way
to go.
It’s not who
you are,
but who
you know.
Depth is
a thing of
the past.
The thinner
one’s veneer.
the higher
one’s cast.
Word:
If this plastic
slipper fits,
to me,
you’re not
worth
two shits.

~gj duerrschmidt


For more by this writer:

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Soup: Therapy for the Soul




Feeling a mental drain
from a world gone insane,
from all the:
shootings after shootings,
political feudings;
tornado destruction,
no power conduction;
ice and snow storming,
damn global warming;
so down with the blues,
I turned off the news
and made soup.

Turning full attention
from normal convention,
I began to:
slice and sauté
garlic ‘n onions my way,
peel and cut spuds,
downing cold suds;
bring it all to a boil,
getting into the toil;
make fresh egg noodles,
by hit’n miss doodles;
happy ‘n high as a kite,
I stirred with delight
making soup!

Cooking comfort food
helps calm a dude,
I must say:
it keeps full focus
on one’s own hocus pocus;
turns off world reality
with blissful totality;
warm tho’ts of mother’s,
of good times and druthers;
heals one’s worn soul,
simply smelling a bowl.
I’ll sleep good tonight,
no longer uptight,
thanks to soup.

~gj duerrschmidt


For more by this writer:
The Orangenous Zone

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Key West: Night After Christmas




Tis the night after Christmas
and all through the house,
not a creature is stirring,
not even a…well okay,
two dwarf albino, 
black-clawed,
amphibious African frogs,
one blue, one red Goramy,
and, oh yeah, almost
forgot the Siamese 
fighting fish.

But, I digress...

The stockings hung on the
wall are still there.
All treasure’s been pillaged,
they’re totally bare.

I'm not wearing PJ's,
nor am I a cap, about
to settle in for a long
winter night's nap;

When down in my belly
there arose such a clatter,
great pain in my gut,
oh no, what' the matter?!

I ran to the toilet and
and threw up the seat!
Vomiting! Squirting!
God, what did I eat?!

Marzipan, chocolates,
Christmas cookies galore,
Bud Lights, brandy coffee,
bean burritos, and more…

Tangerines, egg nog,
cracked nut after nut,
chili dip and hot sauce
now burning my butt.

Sitting here suffering,
one thing's quite clear:
no more of that 
damn egg nog;
I'm sticking only to beer!

~gj duerrschmidt



 For more by this writer:

Sunday, December 23, 2012

From Key West: My Christmas Gift to You


Imagine a box,
not too big or
too small,
wrapped in
paper so
blue;

tied with ribbon,
topped with
a bow,
especially
picked
for you.

Go ahead now
and open
it up;
I can hardly
wait for you
to see;

It’s filled with 
joy and
holiday cheer, 
and  
love to you,
from me.  

Merry Christmas!

~gj duerrschmidt





Thursday, December 20, 2012

Condom Conundrum: The Plight of a Planet, Poetically Speaking




What is the optimum number
of fish in a fish tank,
before there’s not enough air
for all to breathe?

What is the optimum number
of men on a planet,
before scarce resource start
all men to seethe?

Civil behavior turns to civil 
disobedience,
when there’s not enough to  
feast on and drink.

With only so much water,
air, and crop land;
man’s annihilation quickly
approaches the brink.

Technology can only delay
the inevitable;
the answer's not genetically
engineered corn.

The earth suffers from man's 
procreation;
to ward off its death man must
stop being born.

~gj duerrschmidt




For more by this writer:

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Irreversible (Sandy Hook: Death is Change Forever)




Once a life has
been taken,
it can never be
returned.

Wood cannot be
wood again,
after it’s been
burned.

Nor can milk be
milk again,
after being
churned.

Death is change
forever,
still some haven’t
learned.

~gj duerrschmidt




Sunday, December 16, 2012

Gay Marriage: This Bud's for You!



I really don’t know what
I would ever do,
if the day came when I
no longer had you;
you breathing in my face
so close to my head,
you sleeping like an angel
naked in my bed;
cuddling me like a pretzel
nice ‘n buttery hot,
sweet, salty, ‘n ready to
give it all you’ve got;
joyful in the thick times,
also in the lean,
caring for ‘n doing for me,
never being mean;
making mundane moments
special in my life -
my best friend ‘n fuck buddy,
my forever, loving
“wife.”

~gj duerrschmidt


 For more by this writer:

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Primal, Uninhibited Youth


Ah,
to be young
and
totally aware
of one’s
primal nature,
not giving
a care
what others
may think,
or
have to say.
just
living life
raw
in your own
sensual way.

~gj duerrschmidt





For more by this writer:

Key West: A Clutch Cable Climax



Like always, he started slowly,
making sure all moving parts 
had adequate lube;
pumping my clutch as needed,
commanding the gears while
gripping my tube.

He drove me faster and faster,
taking me to new places I’ve
not before been;
masterfully slowing ‘n stopping,
pulling out of gear and then
thrusting back in.

He rode me it seemed forever,
up and down main street then
an alley ‘round back;
stopping only to shift direction,
then kept right on trucking like
King of the Mack.

When about to bring it all home,
there was no question who’d be
getting there first;
we managed to finish together,
once last pump and my worn
clutch cable burst!

~Vintage van GO[gh]
(a.k.a. gj duerrschmidt)


For more by this writer:

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Key West: On Hold



Sipping a hot to-go cup of café con leche,
eating a cold chicken Alfredo bread bowl;
not much in the way of Sunday breakfast,
but has a strange way of uplifting my soul.

Sitting in silence contemplating morning,
dreaming of boats that’ll never be bought;
not working on books I should be writing,
but writing things that take little thought.

Watching day after day drift by distracted,
blaming inspiration for not sparking anew;
not so that I’ve lost my passion for writing,
just for now I’d rather get drunk and screw.

~gj duerrschmidt



 
  
For more by this writer:

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Snowgasm, or Reading Henry David Thoreau




Reach for Henry David Thoreau,
when you’ve no where else to go;
when your world is full of snow,
grab some Henry David Thoreau.

Walden, Or Life in the Woods,
brings it home, delivers the goods.
You’ll pop an intellectual erection,
from its rich philosophical reflection.

Just take it firmly in your hand;
flip the pages as quickly as you can.
You’ll come more than you’ll go,
reading Henry David Thoreau.

~gj duerrschmidt


For more by this writer:
The Orangenous Zone 

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Key West: Where Any Cock-a-Doodle-Will-Doo




One young cock keeps
me up all night,
crowing his heart out
so randomly;
one of a band of
young roosters,
that roams around
aimlessly.

Another young cock
is now restless,
growing with passion
so playfully;
one of a band
of young suitors,
that wants love and a
safe place to be.

Key West has many
young roosters,
all crowing at night
for some ass;
some ignored off in
the distance,
while others get laid
smoking grass.

~gj duerrschmidt


For more by this writer: