Business as Usual

By Rick Williams


Devoid of brain activity
the misfits come apply.
Unencumbered by intelligence
and barely getting by.

Workers that can't find a job
are welcome at LaCroy.
Brain-dead doesn't matter;
the dregs they will employ.

A new-hire's basic skills
can vary quite a lot;
They may look like they're intelligent
but be really devoid of thought.

Some may look like they're deranged
but still be good at work.
They may show up unshaven
but at least their brains aren't murk.

Occasionally they turn out to be
alcoholic bums instead.
If they do show up on time
their fumes would wake the dead.

Most workers badly need their checks
they're always almost broke;
But yet they always buy their lunch
and never fail to smoke.

Many of them seem to miss
a day of work per week,
and yet they are the ones
whose finances are most bleak.

Some of us have stayed so long
our rut is way too deep
we've passed the point that we can leave;
the rut sides are too steep.

There are often times we want
to find a different place;
a different work environment
or just a change of pace.

Even though I've been there a while
I sometimes have a fright:
What if I find in the morning
my job vanished overnight?

Two brothers own the company
and both are fairly old;
their heirs don't seem to want the throne
but I'm sure they'll want the gold.

What if one or both expire?
They're getting up in years.
Will the company survive
or be the end of our careers?

I hate the thought of being forced
to join the job search fray;
to give up all I've earned and done
to job hunt every day.

Limericks for Mark

By Rick Williams


Mark is a Volkswagen man
who is moving his entire clan.
When he took stock of his stuff
he found it was tough
to fit all of his goods in a van.

For an easier move he could tell
that his "baby" he needed to sell
the rag top, his treasure
and that gave him no pleasure
but for his family he'd bid it farewell.

Selling a guy's project car
can leave an emotional scar,
and it is even more so
when you know there is no
other like it either here or afar.

The accumulation of car stuff takes time
and costs many a nickel and dime,
so to let any go
is most surely a blow
to a fellow that loves grease and grime.

Moving can be quite a chore
whether local or to faraway shore.
Because we accrue
there is so much to do
when we pack boxes ready to store.

Just remember in the midst of it all,
when everything you do seems to stall:
You can always just ask
if you need help with a task
Be it email or a telephone call.

Blog Pressure

By Rick Williams


Just because we both have blogs
you can't always expect
the words to drip and flow with ease
or witty thoughts connect.

Sometimes when we try to post
we notice and we see
that everything that dribbles out
is boring as can be.

It would be nice if every post
had some wit and fun
but sometimes only bland exists
when our "exciting" day is done.

All we can do is sigh and think
of something good to write;
something that will bring a smile
or otherwise delight.

There are times when we sit down
to write our greatest tale
we know we have it all worked out
but words just seem to fail.

The things that happen in our lives
to us may be big news
but when another reads our stuff
could be boring to peruse.

Some blog posts are diaries
or "What I did today:"
and others are fond memories
of things that slipped away.

Some posts are chronicles
of an occurrence or event
we hope to get it written down
before our minds have went.

Some posts are quite negative
and more of a soapbox rant
when something gets under my skin
that I try to forget, but can't.

Some of my favorite posts have been
the ones like this that rhyme.
I think that they're more special
perhaps a tad sublime.

Apparently these poems I do
are, by readers, not preferred;
For comments from those readers
are hardly ever heard.

Perhaps that it's instead the case
that folks don't want to see
an attempt to be creative
or any such debris.

Maybe dirt is what they want
like magazines they read.
Who did what, to who, and how
is what the readers need.

I hope I pointed all of you
to what our blogs entail
pleasing everyone is hard
and we sometimes fail.

Chromatic Discontentment

By Rick Williams


The colors of the rainbow
one day stood in the sky.
They formed a circle as they stood,
and words began to fly.

The color Blue was first to speak,
and looking left and right,
said, "I'm the prettiest color here;
at least within my sight."

Purple scoffed and said, "No way.
I'm much less plain than Blue.
I am mixed of you and Red
so I'm prettier than either of you."

Red flushed her cheeks in anger.
"Are you saying that your hue
is better than my crimson tone
because you're mixed with Blue?"

She said, "If I could leave this line
I don't know where I'd go,
but it would be near someone else.
That--for sure I know."

"I'm pretty and important."
Orange was heard to say.
"A fruit was even named for me
that helps people start their day."

Yellow piped up in a squeaky voice,
"I am so cheery and bright!
My color makes mustard and lemons
and flowers like daffodils look right!"

Then Green, in a sultry voice, chimed in.
"I'm am the color of life," she said,
"The world of plants is my claim to fame
so I'm most definitely ahead."

They all began to argue
and grumbling ensued
each claiming only they
were perfectly hued.

Then, above, a pleasant voice was heard,
and a light began to shine.
She said, "What is all this bickering
and why do you all whine?"

"To argue of your beauty
like each of you were best;
don't any of you see how much
that each of you is blessed?"

"I haven't the color of any of you
for White is the absence of all;
still, I am happy as I am,
seeing smiles during snowfall."

"Each of you is special
and you're all in great demand.
Without your different hues and shades
this world would be so bland."

The colors were all silent
then a rain began to fall,
and the circle opened to create
the most beautiful rainbow of all.

Fingernail Moon

By Rick Williams


A crescent moon shone down upon
the frosty countryside.
It bathed the fields in ghostly white,
throwing shadows far and wide.

The air was still; no breezes blew;
There was no trace of sound.
The only noises that were heard:
My footsteps on the ground.

A fine, light frost on everything
was bathed in a bluish glow.
The lunar light lit everything
and sparkled like new snow.

Somewhere out there creatures lived
but nothing moved or stirred.
The cold night sky held naught but moon;
no insect, bat, or bird.

It looked like a torn off fingernail
but its brightness would belie
the fact that it was not complete
and but a sliver in the sky.

The Mind's Eye

By Rick Williams


To shoot a perfect sunrise
I have to be in place
before the rays of morning
touch my lens and face.

Shooting people on the street
is challenging to do.
Things like love or loneliness
are moods that I pursue.

I try to see things commonplace
with my mind's creative eye,
to see ordinary things differently;
be they rocks, or trees, or sky.

I try to always be aware
of signals that are sent.
I try to re-interpret them;
to visually reinvent.

Camera settings can be wrong
like focus, speed, and light,
but other things like framing
can be easily half the fight.

A person may have all the gear
and knowledge may possess,
but just because they have the goods
there's no guaranteed success.

To get that one good shot may take
a hundred, two, or more.
The one that's worlds above the rest
that people all adore.

Although photography is very old
techniques remain the same.
The equipment may be more complex,
but it just gives us more to blame.

I'm sure that I'll keep shooting
even though I'm barely "fair"
because it's fun and gets me out
and gives me things to share.

The Shopper's Lament

This holiday time of the year
when, of malls we try hard to stay clear.
The shoppers; all hurrying
like mice; chased and scurrying,
and the parking lots: Places to fear.

We shoppers hardly ever think twice
when it comes to the item or price
because it's the norm
we don't dare reform,
and the stores do their best to entice.

For our loved ones we set out to buy,
but no matter how hard that we try;
we can never resist
when the prices insist,
and we buy for ourselves with a sigh.

Our money is already tight
partly due to less day and more night.
Our heaters all run
because of no sun,
and our power bills tend to cause fright.

In these times when so many need work
and behind them their creditors lurk
they just can't NOT buy
for their gal or their guy.
It's like a duty they can't seem to shirk.

Now the hubbub has finally died down
and Christmas has finally left town.
Our houses are all messed,
and we really need rest,
but we work, or in debt we will drown.

Pictures

By Rick Williams


I checked the web and found them still there
twenty-eight pics of me bare
from a few years ago
when I opted to show
everything to my friends lurking there.

It's the naturist in me I guess
that makes it a challenge to dress
I'd rather be bare
feeling breeze in my hair
It's a feeling that I hate to repress.

There's a little exhibitionist too
that came out when I'd allow them to view
I'd succumb to a dare
without even a care
and off all the clothing then flew.

Brrr!

By Rick Williams


The November cold is here in force
but the stubborn sun still shines.
Thanksgiving plans are being made:
Turkeys, pies, and wines.

I tend to dread this time of year
no skin or skimpy clothes.
Summer is my time of year
as everybody knows.

Although I really must admit
a roaring fire is nice
I just can't stand the long, dark days
or windshields dressed in ice.

Sometimes I have to wonder
as we celebrate this time of year
if the reasons for the holidays
are really to induce some cheer.

What if these days we take
for granted are totally a sham
the Turkeys, hams and Christmas lights
are really just a scam?

The dark and dreary winters
can cause us to lose hope
but what if Christmas and Thanksgiving
were designed to help us cope?

Imagine: Man-made special days
created just to keep us sane
When people in the North go nuts,
stir-crazy from the cold and rain.

Okay, it's really just a thought;
it couldn't be that way
I'm sure if they were both dreamed up
someone, somewhere would say.

So meanwhile, stoke the fire up
or in that hot tub soak
whatever it takes to warm you;
be it drink, or food, or joke.

The Sorry Truck

By Rick Williams


My truck of black; it tested me
it's mood I always guessed.
Sometimes it would start with glee
and others only rest.

Just when I would start to hope
that it was finally fixed,
I'd turn the key, but it said, "Nope"
and my joy would then be nixed.

I never knew on any day
if it would ever start.
I'd turn the key and I would pray
for just a pop or fart.

Usually it was at home
that it would let me down,
but sometimes it would let me roam
then strand me across town.

Sometimes it would toy with me
to see if I would tire.
I'd almost kill the battery
and it might then decide to fire.

That day it knew it went too far
it started instantly,
but I just stared down at my car
and ignored it's last-ditch plea.

Onto the trailer to be towed
it slowly made its way,
and tears from its windshield washer flowed
as it was led away.