Title blurb

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

Monday, July 30, 2012

Two Old Coots by the Sea

I'm retired now from working,
but nowhere near from life;
I'm done with all that parenting
stuff, scot-free from any wife.

I’m not alone, nor am I lonely,
contentment’s now my plight;
no longer burdened by my life,
it’s of my life here that I write:

I’m residing now in Key West
in a small artsy, comfy, condo;
Vinnie, my VW bus, 'n myself,
with lotsa beer and lotsa bondo.

Two gracefully aging bodies,
sharing one fun youthful spirit;
we refuse to ever act our age:
ask why, and we won’t hear it.

We’re both getting a bit rusty,
yet we still go hunting up fun;
our evenings may end sooner,
yet we always get ‘er done.

We creak ‘n ache now and then,
the day after when feeling stiff,
we have our WD-40 ‘n aspirin 
to adequately lube 'n give a lift.

Most heads turn 'n cameras click,
whenever we come cruising by;
kids smile and make peace signs,
while the elderly pause ‘n sigh.

A fantasy here on Fantasy Island;
while others dream vicariously,
we're living large in first person:
two old coots down by the sea.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Monday, July 16, 2012

Holy Crusade: In Search of Self Realization

I remember being young,
handsome ‘n hung;
with a bold song within
still yet to be sung.

Everyone told me what
and who I should be;
stifled my spirit when it
so longed to be free.

Things then were different;
if I’d only known,
how much they’d all lied,
I might’ve grown

Into the person I always
knew I could be,
much sooner, more fully,

Yes, I’m off to a late start,
but better than never;
to conquer self realization 
is my holy endeavor.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Group Photo (Class Reunion)

We know we can’t go back to
to those times and places we
held so dear;
still we journey from afar to
gather here,
challenging memory and to
seek closure.

We have gone different ways,
shy or bold;
tasted failure and success, all
stories told;
we are old friends, not friends
who are old:
a picture of life with imperfect

~gj duerrschmidt

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Saturday, July 14, 2012

Identity Crisis: Lost in Rhyme

How should I live
the rest of my life?
Still not knowing
is a mental strife!

A rustic cabin on
the mountainside,
deep in the woods
where I can hide?

A wooden cabana
on a tropical isle,
livin’ la vita loca
in a covert style?

An artsy apartment
in some major city,
lost amid millions,
writing silly ditty?

An old hippie bus
on the open road,
chillin’ all the way
in free spirit mode?

Who am I, really;
does anyone know?
By which persona
should I now go:

A mountain man,
or a Jimmy Buffet;
an artsy metro guy,
or a gypsy rough it?

I’ve been all four,
from time to time;
searching for self
in lines of rhyme.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Thursday, July 12, 2012

Boys of Summer Rising

(Photo courtesy of Zachary Wilde)

Knaves ‘n waves ‘n salty suds,
sunshine glistening on y’er buds;
wet, revealing swimming duds…
Tame those thoughts for now.

Wild, matted, windblown hair,
the smell of ocean in the air,
playing all day without a care.
The teasing flies so freely.

Tossing a football hand to hand,
with lots of tackling in the sand,
the body contact feels so grand.
Time will come for scoring.

Running and diving in head first,
sand in all cracks feels the worst;
frolicking naked builds a thirst.
It’s five o’clock somewhere.

Playfully drying in nature’s own,
not surprising some have grown;
it’s nice to see you’re not alone.
Beer cans pop in celebration.

Sitting with towels loosely hung,
sipping suds, the night is young;
one by one the empties flung;
sun gently sets into the sea,

 to the boys of summer rising.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Best Seller

I’m writing a new novel,
it’s going to be hot;
most likely a best seller,
of substance it’s not;

it wreaks of familiarity,
hints of surprise,
foreshadows its ending
(yes, the man dies);

it brims with characters,
who have none;
looking to screw others
simply for fun;

it offers shallow intrigue,
sadness, disaster;
chasing many a lost cause,
but, oh the laughter;

rich in naughty animal sex
(I couldn’t forget that:
the choking of chicken,
the licking of cat);

something for everyone,
written to please;
it dots all of the i’s,
crosses all of the t’s.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Monday, July 9, 2012

Old Stiffy

I’m writing sensual poems
fully erect;
an issue with blood flow,
I would suspect.
When seated long it tends
to get hard,
so, I try to go walk it off 
in the yard.
I'm sure it's not what you
might suspect.
I’m talking about my leg
let's have some respect.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Soul Food

It’s not so much a
matter of texture;
it’s nutritional
value is nothing
to boast;
there’s something so
spiritually uplifting
in a slice of
cinnamon toast.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Sunday, July 8, 2012

Back Door Genie

On the shore,
a turning tide
reveals a lamp
the sand.

In my reach,
on the beach,
I take it
in my hand.

Rubbing it
thrice, a
blinding light
takes me to a
magic land:

“What’s your
sex, or treasure?
But first, please

Be at task,   
before you ask,
I’m a bottom
at your 

~gj duerrschmidt

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Proud Cloud

Cotton candy
cloud cock,
erect against
the sky;
freely floating
fluffy fun;
looks anything
but shy.

Cotton candy
cloud cock,
soon no one
will see;
fading fastly,
faint ‘n flaccid;
a playful

~gj duerrschmidt

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Saturday, July 7, 2012

Summer Breeze (or Sex on the Beach)

sea salt,
ocean spray;
lost in play;
shady palms
us sway;
as we start
to go
all the way.

Oiled bodies
with ease;
swim suits
on is such
a tease;
we slip
them off
and work
to please,
other in
the summer

~gj duerrschmidt 

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True KEN-fession: Barbie BF's Revelation No Secret

I always wanted to
be like Barbie,
I was so thrilled to
be her friend:
shopping all day
at the Mall,
giggling all night
on the bed;
talking cheap trash
about boys,
sharing girl gossip
with no end.

~gj duerrschmidt

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Friday, July 6, 2012

And, the Fortune Cookie Reads...(Making that tough decision)

There comes a time in a man’s life when he must admit that things are beyond his own abilities and power to handle, and he’s compelled to seek out the help and guidance of the Great Force. This is how it is for me, now that I find myself standing at a fork in the road, getting squeezed in from both sides: home and family, and my job in the United States Army.

            As soon as I reached the twenty year mark of service, my wife began to nag me on an almost daily basis to give it up and get a “real” job and start making “real” money. After all, we had five sons to provide for - three already in their teens, and two soon to be - and the costs associated with raising them had already begun to skyrocket. However, I hold an important position at a very challenging assignment of national security importance. It took many years of special assignments serving at trusted positions to get selected for this prestigious job. I’m proud to be a part of something critically important and feel a strong allegiance to my fellow soldiers, the mission, and the continued security of our nation. I also feel confident that, even on my meager salary, our family will survive the future just fine. My wife, on the other hand, vehemently disagrees, and I’m faced with having to make a decision soon, or else.

            So, one day, I decide to place my trust in the hands of fate, and set off alone to a Chinese restaurant, not simply to gain some personal peace of mind time – oh no – but on a mission to seek out the wisdom of the cosmos in the embodiment of a fortune cookie. I strongly believe that the universe is in tune with my mental and emotional pain, and will bestow the sign I need to make the right decision at this pivotal point in life.

            Upon entering the restaurant, I’m invited to take a seat anywhere I like. So, I choose an obscure booth toward the back, away from the noisy all-you-can-eat buffet buffoons.  A server, toting a paper place mat, wrapped silverware, and menu apparently doesn’t like my choice, and insists I follow him over to another table. I give in and follow.

            “Window seat much better for you,” he tells me. “Buffet?”

“No, thank you,” I reply. “I’m in the mood for some spicy orange chicken today.”

“No spicy chicken,” he emphatically stresses. “Spicy beef!”

“No,” I politely correct, pointing at the entrée on the menu. Thinking that he may have misheard me, I add, “The spicy orange chicken.”

“No spicy chicken!!” he snaps back, almost angrily, and adds more loudly. “Spicy beef!!!”

It suddenly occurs to me that they are most likely out of the orange chicken, and he’s trying to tell me that if I want spicy anything, my only choice is going to be the spicy beef. So I surrender to the occasion and order the spicy beef lunch combo and a pot of green tea. He seems pleased that I finally got the point. It doesn’t really matter. Spicy chicken, spicy beef, spicy pork …spicy cat…after all, I’m here solely (and soul-y) to receive the wisdom of the universe.

When the meal arrives, I pour a cup of steeping hot tea and slowly sip it, get lost in thought, and gaze out the window at some random place in space. My family has made many sacrifices over the years as we’ve hopped from place to place, and country to country. Perhaps it’s time we settle down into some traditional degree of normalcy. The boys could finally form some lasting friendships and go to, and graduate from, the same high school. Many I serve with at my present job would consider me a traitor of sorts, bailing on my responsibilities to the nation. Once I announced my retirement, I would immediately become a pariah, and be shunned as I waited for my last day of military service to arrive.

I realize that I have been ignoring the food set before me. The longer I sit and sip, the colder my lunch is becoming, and I find that I’ve come no closer to making a decision. Flagging down my server, I ask for a to-go box and the check. He soon brings me both, and most importantly, the fortune cookie that I trust holds the key to solving my decision dilemma.

I pack the cold, spicy beef, veggies and rice in the box, and set it off to the side. Then, I nervously take the cellophane package from the check tray and place it on the table directly in front of me. In a moment, I will have my answer. I ceremoniously free the cookie and my future, from the wrapper. A slight panic overtakes me as I realize that I cannot remember whether it’s bad luck to eat the cookie first, before reading the fortune, or not to eat the cookie first. When the server returns with the charge slips, I ask for help.

No help at all, he says, “Eat cookie. Not eat cookie. You decide.”

Okay, I guess I have to do what I think is best. I break the cookie in two, and let one half melt at a time in my mouth, along with a sip of tea. Partaking in Holy Communion with the universe has to make either way the right way. Right? Next, I take up the thin strip of paper, holding it securely between the thumb and forefinger of both hands. The time has come. What will it be, oh Great Force: my family, or my nation? I’m stunned by the answer.

It reads: “You like Chinese food.”

 ~gj duerrschmidt 

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Thursday, July 5, 2012

Independence Day

On a rainy 4th of July,
it came as no
to a couple who’d been
stuck all day
each sharing suspicion
of deceit and
lighting very short fuses
as tears filled
words bursting in air,
rocketed by their
proving thru the night,
each had won


~gj duerrschmidt

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