My Key West Muse

Perhaps,

it’s because

you’re such a

bright ray of

sunshine,

such a welcomed

breath of fresh

air;

the friend

I never had in

high school

(yeah, I know…

there’s no going

back there).

Perhaps,

it’s because of

your brilliance,

your sweet spirit,

or being as easy 
on the eye

one can be.

More importantly

you energize,

enliven, 
and inspire,
and

I cherish

your friendship

with me.

~gj dürrschmidt

For more by this writer, please visit:

The Orangenous Zone

Smoke Alarm (or, Having a Crappy Day)

I’m having a

crappy cup of

coffee,

and having a

crappy kind of

a day.

I’m writing

some crappy

ass poem,

because shit’s

just not going

my way.

Where are all

the crappy

people,

when you need

crappy friends

the most?

Oh crap! I

forgot about the

oven,

and have burned

the cinnamon

toast!

~gj dürrschmidt

For more by this writer, please visit:

The Orangenous Zone

Key West Sundae

Take a great big, heapin’ scoop

of dat island sunshine, mon,

‘n slap it down in a bowl.

Drizzle over some of dat crystal

clear, teal blue water, mon.

Mmm, now you on a roll!

Add lotsa fruits, nuts, ‘n flakes,

talkin’ freaky granola, mon:

peeps dat make life fillin’.

Last, not least, a splash of rum

‘n steel drum music, mon.

Enjoy ‘n jus’ be chillin’!

~gj dürrschmidt

For more by this writer, please visit:

The Orangenous Zone

Key West: The Cantankerous Citrus (A Poem)

Lenny the Key lime tree

is most always a prick;

insists I call him Leonard,

when being a dick.

He’s skinny and scrawny,

thorny and lean;

grotesquely anti-social,

he even looks mean.

“If you expect,” he says,

“to get some of these,

then prune me, water me;

I’ll give what I please.”

“Hey, come move me!

I need lots of light!”

the thorny bastard barks,

till I get it just right.

What the hell, Leonard?

Why always so dour?

“Duh, dumb ass. It’s how

I make the limes sour.”

~gj dürrschmidt

For more by this writer, please visit:

The Orangenous Zone

Key West: The Second Thing to Go (aging in paradise)

My short term, uh…

short term whatever,

is no longer what it

once used to be.

I stick to doing one

thing at a time now.

Why, even with that,

I forget easily;

Like, writing about

my short term, uh…

Whatever it was I

don’t have a clue.

Perhaps, given time,

it’ll come back to me.

Until then, this will

just have to do.

~gj duerrschmidt

More by this writer:

The Orangenous Zone 

Key West: Naughty Poem (Indirectly Speaking)

I wrote a naughty poem today

about some very naughty things:

what we like to do in private

with leather ‘n hand cuff rings,

Cool Whip, Hershey’s syrup,

hot, sweet desserts that delight;

whipping it all up to a lather,

licking it all off after the fight.

But, I didn’t divulge just who;

no, that would be crazy to do!

How we pleasure one another

remains between me and you.

I wrote a naughty poem today

about two very naughty boys,

the games they play together,

with whips ‘n chains ‘n toys.

~gj duerrschmidt

More from this writer at:

The Orangenous Zone

Key West: Intimate Conversation

Three cold, burnt chicken legs,

last of the white Italian wine;

romantic table for one, please;

desert at my place, or at mine?

A life of solitude out on the road

needn’t be so lonely an escapade.

As long as one enjoys one’s self,

like tonight, one might get laid.

Here’s a penny for my thoughts.

Why, I’ve a penny for them too.

Does it mean I make two cents,

or do I make no cents to you?

Some of my best conversations

have been like this one, all alone,

over dinner gazing off in space,

gnawing meat right off the bone.

~gj duerrschmidt

More by this writer at:

The Orangenous Zone