Week-o!

Week-o!

Out-ho, out-ho,
  Weekend come and me outta here.
Out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out-ho.
  Weekend come and me outta here.

Work all week and Friday come!
  Ho, ho, hum, in office doldrum.
Have no sight of noontime sun!
  Ho, ho, hum, in office doldrum.

Punch me clock so me can go.
  Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.
Me got wild oats to sow.
  Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.

Dream me hammock out there hung.
  Oh, oh, oh, the weekend's fun.
'Laxing me bod out in the sun.
  Oh, oh, oh, the weekend's fun.

Out-ho, out-ho,
  Weekend come and me outta here.
Out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out-ho,
  Weekend come and me outta here.

She do call, c'mere, hon!
  Uh, oh, oh, the fun is done.
Got weekend chores to be run.
  Uh, oh, oh, the fun is done.

Work both days in broiling sun.
  Mow, mow, mow, the grass' so long.
Muscles cooked until well done.
  Mow, mow, mow, the grass' so long.


Out-ho, out-ho,
  Weekend done and me outta here.
Out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out, me shout out-ho.
  Weekend done, me want outta here.

To Choose or Not to Choose

To Choose or Not to Choose

When asked to choose my side

   Upon the great issues of the day,

I pause for many moments to bide

   As I formulate what to say.

What envy can I feel then

   For those with ready response;

They need not ponder deeply when

   Prepared answers echo with nonchalance.

But so slowly, I too oft consider

   Details and circumstances around

That trouble not the quick bidder

   Who the singular choice trigger found.

In their black and white world,

   Decisions are easy and definite.

The truth is snappily unfurled 

   With a salute quite requisite.

Who will dare to disagree

   With such firmly held stances,

Anchored on one foot like a tree,

   Immune to all argued advances?

To pit one tree against another,

   Grown as deeply buried from its seed,

Merely flails branches without bother,

   To which neither pays any heed.

We slow thinkers soon are lost

   In the forest of quick spouted advocates

Who do all the ground exhaust

   In our forum for public debates.

But yet I stop and take my time

   Although my opinion goes unheard.

Thankless to try to add Reason to Rhyme

    When chanted slogans descend to the absurd.

The Life of a Gadfly

The Life of a Gadfly

Many ages have passed since Hera gave our females the Thirst.  Without the feast of blood, our species would not see its next generation. Now we are renowned for those startling nips and reviled for that small part of our life placed upon us by a jealous goddess.  Io shall forever flee our bites, even as we search for more meaty rumps to feed the Thirst.

Let us embrace our reputation rather than dilute it with the truth about the nectar-sipping ways for most of our adult lives.  Allow the toothless males to revel in the begrudged respect and caution our species elicits amongst the slow and fleshy targets.  Accept the praise in analogue to those amongst the meals who refuse to let complacency overlook the problems which surround their kind – those who prod their fellows with sharp inquiry and rebuke upon their exposed flaws.

From the example of those human gadflies, we should draw self-respect.  Do they not too feel the compulsion of the Thirst, long held in unneeded dormancy, but arising in undeniable urgency when unmoving obstacles thwart improvement and progress?  Will their community grow when merely nourished on stagnant tried-and-wanting ways, following with inertial plodding on the worn path in the wrong direction?  Let their sawing upon the oblivious flesh stir the social body to cast an eye to the site of their attack.  They brave the possible swat to feed the Thirst, but, like us, may be aided in escape by the awoken curiosity  as the startled target seeks explanation before vengeance.  One bite does not kill the bitten; it merely reminds it not to rest too long in one (perhaps ill considered) spot.

Do we claim to have such altruistic purpose in our Thirst-driven meals?  No, we are mere natural mechanisms in the celestial plans of others.  How much cognition can be packed into a bug?  But the results are the same with intentional motivation or repeated side-effect.  Did Hera endow us with the Thirst for good or evil purposes?  How does a bug judge a goddess?  But we have roamed far from Io's tender flesh.  We defended Mt. Olympus itself from the invasion of Bellerophon astride Pegagus.  Who can count all the events we have initiated and weigh their values to the bitten and those nearby?  Or add to the tally those we have inspired amongst our human counterparts?  Let us take pride, fellow gadflies, and give thanks for the Thirst that gives us our identity and role in the world.

Gang Aft Agley

GANG AFT AGLEY

What plans have you within our home

    That in the kitchen you boldly roam?

For dropped crumbs, the floor you comb,

   With hope for a morsel to eat,

In cabinets you search for some

   With questing nose and scurrying feet.

Did we not make the division clear;

    Walls between you there and us in here?

We did not break your nest with a shear

    To drive you homeless away;

We offered no solace to ease your fear,

    No invitation with us to stay.

Nature for you chose a rustic alfresco abode;

    To us, lumber, brick and steel were bestowed.

Another meal is all you think to be owed,

    But we look to a more distant future.

We stow away what you eat as soon as showed,

    Caching and investing for a later venture.

If you do not to our construction give,

    Why do you presume herein to live?

The dog and cat are amply appreciative

    And fulfill their household duty;

But you mooch and steal in acts so secretive,

    Our stockpiles seen as your booty.

When at our hearth, at last, we retire

    And reflect upon our years for hire,

Will our savings meet the comfort we desire?

    And will you remain to demand a share

Of all we strove for ourselves to acquire

    With such meek claims for what is fair?

You had no savings account nor 401K plan;

    You consumed all you found during that span.

Contending supply could barely met your demand,

    If you could, say you, you would save,

But then your controlling hunger began,

    All falling to what you immediately crave.

Should we with charity view your misfortune,

    Adding the cost of your support to our commune?

Even our meager wealth makes your need picayune;

    If all, who can, fund but a small bite,

The deductions would not be inopportune,

    But, how I do wish you stay out of sight.