A.G.E's Joint

Alien: You know Predator, we should have thought of this a long time ago.  Predator: What? Alien: Settling our differences over a nice game of chess, rather than wreaking havoc and destruction over the earth.  Predator: It IS warmer in here, certainly.   And those puny humans certainly appreciate the effort. Which reminds me, did Godzilla ever get that snow blower working? Alien: Yes, he did. He is now burying the Great Lakes as we speak. Hard for those pesky Do-gooders to cause us trouble if they are frozen in their homes.    Predator: Hahahaha…That is true. ‘Zilla is such a good boy, once you understand him. That Japanese-English translator worked wonders. He now follows orders better than any dog I ever had. More wine? Alien: Yes, Please.Mmmm….That fire is warming my cold, cold, blood.   I could go for some…excitement. Predator: Really? And just what do you have in mind? Alien: Well, you know that lovers can be enemies, right? Predator:

Young one Full of Promise Of life. Where will you go? Will you make us proud? Will you find love? These are the prayers We have for thee. I spent this afternoon at my Church, Holy Innocents Episcopal, Atlanta .  The occasion was a special requiem mass for children who had died from violence in the past year n the state of Georgia. Now, if you look at the normal church calendar, the feast day for the Holy Innocents is December 26. An afterthought in the revelry over the birth of the Christ Child. And so easy to forget all those who Herod slew in the futile attempt to suppress his possible competition. But rules and dates are made to be broken, so the decision was made to hold the Requiem thirty days later. So, we may not forget. Over the last twenty four hours, 464 names were said. In the four years the service has been held, more than 2400 bells tolled. For some, it is the only remembrance of their short time.  In others, families still hold memories dear to

The dust flew up Kari maneuvered the ancient bus down the road. It had been so long since she had been to the farm, not since her Grandmother passed away.  One of her cousins ran it now, she couldn't remember which one.  All she remembered from her few trips out when she was a kid is nothing happened and it was very, very green, like the pot Charlie Cramps used to bring to the bar. A strange feeling came over her as she came closer to the old gate. A joint would help calm me down, she thought. She wasn't sure why she had been summoned out here.  Something about distributing the estate of her father.  The farm belonged to that side of the family.  The family her mother so often tried to hide from.  The only thing she had from any of them was the silver brush with the Cherokee Rose inlaid into the head. The silver had burnished to mach her own color, almost as if it had chosen her for its steward. Indeed, the brush was an object with its own spirit.  One that had sustaine

The words said Crowd disbands To their cars. Sun breaking Through the tears Warming hearts Battle long Relief short Everyone leaves Empty house Time on her Hands, standing Rosemary thyme Potato dish on shelf. Memories In quiet Desperation Who will stop The rain, she Cries out loud Sitting in His large chair Life leaves her.. 

Seafoam eyes Boring into my soul From the 8mm screen   A fantasy in Silky soft   Lingerie Stretching barely Over her assets. Small Fox Chased by hounds Following impulses  They can't control. Your mother Wants you To return Her broken world Can you smell The Gingerbread In the oven?   Can you see The tree house Where imagination Took flight? Or do you only see Needles  And slaps When there wasn't  Enough business? Where are you Mystery. Fantasy. Let us bring you Home.

I've been having fun this week trying to figure this set of prompts out.  I started with some bad poetry: Wisps of steam obscuring the view Of a snow covered walk We look like something the cat drug in Disentangling arms Sweat soaked hair Tender skin We love like lions Fifty times a day. You are Zachariah Level higher than others. Burning brightly Over all. And while everything is in there (the odd fact is Lions can mate up to 50 times a day in season), there was something unsatisfying about it. So, I tried again, using a story about how my cat drug in an owl (or the owl chased him in). And that way, I could mention how owls have three eyelids, one for blinking, one for sleeping and another for keeping their eyes clean.  And I could mention how awesome (again on the level of Zachariah) it was to have the thing staring at me.  But, then people would say: "Pics or it didn't happen".  He was so surprising, I grabbed a beach towel (to toss o

I get this question from time to time.  Who IS Another Government Employee.  Well, I answered this one time:  Who am I?. But that changed over time.  So, I did an update;  Meet and Greet While that helps, it doesn't really capture the essence. I developed the AG.E. persona so I could sign on to the Neal Boortz website and heckle him.  The tag line that used to grace every entry : "Sixth House on Right, Off 9-27, PDK Atlanta" really does describe the location of my house.  Boortz is a pilot and used to keep his airplanes at the airport up the street.  Most of my posts were just making fun of him and his bombastic views.  He would never respond, though. As a writer, I'm all over the board.  I tend towards shorter pieces and free verse.  Rigid forms are too confining to me.  So, you will see very few sonnets.  Only exception is haiku.  They are fun. I do characters as well.  Some have been around for a long time.  Others just a bit. So, welcome to my bar.  I