We are sorry to report the passing of Emmett Joseph Adolph, Sr.
Time to run, time to lose
Time to eat, time to snooze
Time to be nice, not mean
Time to be lean, not green
Have you had a remarkable day?
Have you lost yourself in play?
Growing riches within your mind?
Blowing britches in kind?
I like to run and it feels good
But not until I’m skinny and wood
Getting there with light and focus
After all, no one really knows us
Bread gone, spinach here in tow
Lemons and Mushrooms, some cilantro
Ice and cranberry juice, onions and olive oil
Monterey Jack packs, salmon in foil
I refuse to register my arms. They’ve become fatter and I don’t want that tracked… Not to mention, moderate carpal tunnel in one wrist. Next thing you know, I’d be getting spam wanting me to buy arm products. It’s already started with the Nair and Deodorant commercials. Moreover, I’m not registering the two (Grizzly) arms in my freezer; They’re stamped with FDA already, isnt’ that enough? Even if they weren’t, it’s not like I have Mountain Lion arms in my freezer. I understand what the founders meant when they said Bear arms.
Making copies of your life into a paper fill
Green little monsters rapidly moving in
Typing and fretting, it’s exhausting to find
Pressured by well-wishers and wallet alike
Damn this, I’m going home, I’m going to roam
Sitting and surfing, praying and calling home
Lying in the sun for fun, I run
Hands across the counter beat the drum
I’m on the hunt, but not really, I’m waiting
I’m flaking and shaking, but not really, I’m skating
I’m on the hunt but for what, a snot, a rope?
I’m hunting without a gun, maybe a stick, nope!
Maybe some relief is on the way, I get a call
Mr. Regal, Mrs. Callus, when should I fall
Today is the day; I get the notice, the rice
I knock on the door dressed in my ice
–Jason L. Scarabin
In a world where pleasure is criminalized
The elite fleet stares at your feet
Today it pays to lay and to lay you must pay
Oil boils your curls in foil
Pressure and leisure feathers the weather
-Jason L. Scarabin
I don’t want to see you listening
I don’t want to hear you seeing
I don’t want to taste you feeling
I don’t want to feel you tasting
and I don’t want to smell you at all
Your skin sees my ears
Your eyes taste my nose
Your ears feel my fingers
Your nose hears my eyes
and your tongue smells nothing
But how can we live, go on pretending
with all we dull our senses, we haven’t a thing to bring or sing to the king
shoulders taste ok
tongues see ok
ears smell ok
noses hear bread but is it dead in the red bed when we wed?
–Jason L. Scarabin
Hey Jason, I finally remembered my password….where are all the photos? things have changed a bit…how do I go about talking with someone from TPRA
Today, I outlived Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll lived 42 years 7 months and 8 days. Today, I’m 42 years 7 months and 9 days old. Since August 16, 1977, the day Elvis died, I’ve thought of this day.
My parents are passionate Presley music fans which made me one too. Elvis Christmas music is our favorite and each year during the holidays, his music is played for nearly a month. There can be no Christmas without Elvis Presley.
Having said this, I was very nervous about my visits to the toilet yesterday. I suppose Elvis represented what all of us could become – a mega-super famous star! So, even though most of us will not – and did not – obtain such fame and fortune, there’s a little psychological funkiness going on with the toilet on a day when one passes through that moment in time (42 years 7 months 8 days).
Alas, I made it. Though two trips to the toilet were made (for #2) yesterday, I sang quietly “If I can dream” and “Burning Love.”
I’m sorry you’re small, not tall, not thick
I’m sorry you’re obsessed with lack of d_ck (your own)
Peeny small man, your jealousy is despicable
You’re not smart and you’re not slick
I’m sorry small man, your mind is injured
I’m sorry dolt, you prey on unaware minds
Spend your time aching to destroy others
While you frown in the mirror at your ugly face
Small man, you were not given tools, you’re not fortunate
Your hatred of yourself will never benefit anyone until you’re awake
Your hatred of others will never benefit you until you’re under
Hey small man, your control of others will never be
You’ll live in pain in misery all of your days
You’ll always look to cut others to the bone
Because you see, little man, you have no bone
spine or you know the other kind
Little man, I don’t wish you well
I wish you nothing but continued humiliation
You know the kind you get when you look in your mirror
Oh I forgot, little man, I’m not sorry