A.G.E's Joint

  250 years of conflict Of victories And disappointments We sit and watch the parades go by. Ribs are on Potato salad at the ready With fireworks substituting  For the real war.

  Red Fruit On white plates Eaten by tiny hands Band singing together An American tune As blue and yellow bombs Eplode overhead

  Where does thy loyalty lay? Is it the King? This brave enterprise established? We embark on a noble purpose An adventure like no other To acquire fortune unencumbered by the Throne Then, true patriots, Are thee ready to seek death Rather than the subjection of the Gilded Boot? Forward, into battle  For it is just.

The pictures fill the screen News crews are arrested And attempt to suppress The negative mirror image Of what we supposedly stand for. Reprehensible behavior is celebrated As hell broke luce. We watch helplessly Cruelty only humans are capable of. Would we tempt fate to intervene? Or be the cowards  Knowing nothing changes  Until the time  When time is no more? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Topic-Dave Coon Pic-Tyler Myrth Pic guesses: Overlook, Aerial view, Down in the Valley, Inheritance, High Ground, 

A lone cow stood placidly at the fence as the end of the day came. Smacking cud competed with the bullfrogs for the dominate sound. Bitter timothy hay mixed with sweet alfalfa, the mass shifted from front to back in her mouth. Every few minutes a bit of it would pass down her gullet and then back. In a repetitive motion that was controlled only by instinct she would dip her head to the ground for replacement. This was the way of her world.  It was much quieter in the pasture tonight. The old  Farmer had a get-together last night. Twangy sounds came from the farmhouse, high pitched voices that made her nervous. The men seemed to like them though, hooting and hollering.   Sweet smells came from the shed where they laid up the dead pigs. One of them must be getting burnt for some reason.  The men then laid up this huge ruckus. They brought out the fire spitting sticks and were taking turns pointing them at various things set up on an old oak stump. One woul...

  Another hot Friday night at on the patio at Good Ol’ Days and we were at our normal spot on the patio.  The evening was warm and the beer was cold.  We had hung together since elementary school and now that we were in college, little had changed.  Friday and Saturday nights were spent at a table in a bar somewhere.  The fact it was the Fourth of July weekend just made it more of an excuse to down pitchers of beer and eat Flower Pot sandwiches.   The tab was on its second trip around the table, when the discussion turned to what everyone was going to do the next day.  There was going to be a pool party, but that didn’t start until later on.  Someone said  we should float on the Chattahoochee River.  And in the drunken fog, that sounded like a damn fine idea.  We had access to a couple of six man rafts, so equipment wasn’t going to be problem.  Transportation back would be.  But we would call someone...