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:

The Orangenous Zone 

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:

The Orangenous Zone

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

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:

The Orangenous Zone

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

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:

The Orangenous Zone

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

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:

The Orangenous Zone

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:

The Orangenous Zone 

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:

The Orangenous Zone 

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:

The Orangenous Zone 

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