Sunday, July 9, 2017

maybe it's time

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

maybe it’s time

maybe it’s time, people

time to give up on “civilization” and “progress” and “building a better world”

every generation is snowflakes to the one before

every generation of humans is safer and more comfortable than the one before

and the other creatures of the earth disappear, one million after another

a few are kept safe in zoos

the same zoos humans keep themselves in

but where does it all end?

the humans with their “progress” are digging a pit they will never get out of

must they drag the other inhabitants of the planet down with them?

maybe it’s time

to let the cities crumble

let the highways be overgrown

and the airports be abandoned

and the nuclear power plants be shut down

and the smart phones thrown away

and the grid be shut down

before it is too late

and walk into the sunset

back to the woods

with little red riding hood

and the wolves

and grandma

and cross the rivers and the deserts and the mountains

back to the garden of eden

and the olduvai gorge

and gather at the river

for a nice meal of grubs and roots

and watch the moon come up over the ocean

with our cousins the lemurs and the sharks

Saturday, July 8, 2017


by brig. gen. percival t sternwall

let the stars fall from the sky
let empires wither and die
though away the heavens roll
i have an immortal soul!

let the skies be filled with thunder
and worlds be torn asunder
and a million trumpets blast
you will not have heard the last

of my spirit as it flies
to a world that never dies
that never doubts and never grieves
the world of those who believe!

o skeptics in your hovels
who before eternity grovel
and crouch in darkness and gloom
there is life beyond the tomb!

Thursday, June 15, 2017

after the war

by major stafford sternwall

although it had become acceptable since the war to walk around without any pants on, jeffrey always felt more comfortable wearing pants, especially when the musgraves came to visit.

he thought there might be some pants belonging to grandfather’s old suits hanging in the closet of the back room on the fifth floor, so he made his way, with as sprightly as gait as he could manage, up the back staircases.

there were, of course. no candles on any of the walls, and no servants to light them, even if there had been.

jeffrey reached the fifth floor and began walking down the dark hallway.

how peaceful it was ! there was no sound, except for the barely perceptible ones of the huge spiders spinning their white and grey webs…

but there was nothing for it, the musgraves had to be “entertained”, so with a sigh jeffrey continued on his way to the back room.

but when he reached it and opened the closet door, he heard a voice, an all too familiar voice behind him…

the giant snail!

and of course it would be peevish, and want to talk interminably about the old days, before the war…

Thursday, June 8, 2017

the ogre, the tailor, and the minstrel

once upon a time there was an ogre.

the ogre set up shop outside a village, and began systematically kidnapping and devouring its inhabitants, one by one.

the strongest men in the village, including the woodcutter, the blacksmith, the sheriff, and the sergeant-at-arms, sallied forth to fight the ogre, but were quickly despatched and devoured.

a little tailor resolved to defeat the ogre. he found a stout stick and attached his tailor’s needle to it, and announced his intention to the village.

most of the villagers laughed at the tailor, although a few pious old woman told him they would pray for him.

as the sun rose in the sky, the little tailor set forth with his weapon.

what the tailor did not suspect, and what the villagers did not suspect, was that the ogre had grown weary of the village, and had decided that very morning to move on to fresh pastures.

the ogre was in the act of packing his knapsack with some of the bones of his previous victims, to gnaw on in his journey, when he saw the tailor approach.

the ogre made short work of the little tailor and devoured him in one gulp.

but the ogre was so outraged by the effrontery of the village in sending so feeble a champion against him, that he entered the village and completely ravaged and destroyed it, killing almost everyone in it.

the only survivor was a minstrel, who took to the roads, where he eked out an existence begging and singing for his bread.

among the songs the minstrel sang was the tale of the heroic little tailor, and how he slew the ogre and saved the village.


by wiggly jones "the little hippie boy"

who am i
who walks this earth

a shapeless creature
in tennis shoes

and shades
and baseball cap

and if people
passing by

could see
inside my soul

and see all
that i have thought

and done
in my life

and what dreams
still remain -

a few
might laugh

but most
would nod politely

Friday, May 19, 2017


by wiggly jones "the little hippie boy"

some people read thousands of books in their lives, and others never learn to read.

some people do heavy labor almost every day of their lives, many others work thousands of hours in offices and stores and factories, others never work a day in their lives.

most people can see, but some are born blind.

some people consume tens of thousands of gallons of alcohol in their lives, and others never touch a drop.

some people, such as prostitutes, have thousands of sexual experiences with thousands of different people in their lives, others have none at all.

some people, such as soldiers or members of militias or security police, kill thousands of their fellow humans with their own hands, most people will never kill even one.

some people spend decades, day after day, killing cows and pigs and chickens, others never see a drop of blood from any living creature deliberately spilled in their lives.

millions of people write poems that no one will ever read, a tiny handful write poems that are famous and memorized by schoolchildren.

some people are taught to pray as children, and continue to do so every day throughout their lives, others never say a prayer.

many other examples could be cited - drinking coffee, eating doughnuts, eating cheeseburgers, doing crossword puzzles, collecting stamps or baseball cards, playing games such as chess or go or monopoly - millions do these things every day or dedicate their lives to them but many millions more never engage in these activities at all.

hundreds of millions dream of becoming world famous entertainers or athletes, a minuscule handful do so.

many people go through life loyal to the tribe or nation they were born into.

a not inconsiderable minority embrace some different loyalty.

another, perhaps larger, minority never really give a shit about anything.

once every few hundred years, a person will start a religion that is embraced by millions.

am i missing something?

i wish all people well in their passage through this strange world.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

2 poems

by corrine delmonico

names my dad used to address human females of all ages

baby doll

boom boom




sweetie pie

names my mom used to address human males of all ages

big boy



lover boy


wild thing
you burning hunk of love