Friday, December 15, 2017


by nick nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus

width = 500

albert, conrad, edgar, george, ivan, kenneth, mickey, and oscar lived in the city.

so did babs, dorothy, felicia, hilda, jenny, lucy, nicole and priscilla.

albert was not a professional hit man.

babs was not a debutante.

albert and babs did not meet in the park on a snowy saturday night.

they never married or had a daughter named cindy who ran for congress and was narrowly defeated.

conrad hated dogs and never owned one.

dorothy thought smoking was disgusting and never took up the habit.

neither conrad nor dorothy ever joined the communist party.

edgar never did crossword puzzles.

felicia never bought a cookbook or was given one for a birthday present or a christmas present and never baled cookies or brownies or made pot roast with baked potatoes.

neither edgar nor felicia was ever abducted by aliens.

george was a surly individual, and never heeded his sister wilhemine’s suggestion that he get out more and perhaps join the ymca and take swimming lessons.

hilda never bought a vcr or a dvd player and continued to go to movies in theaters, long after all her other friends stopped doing so.

ivan was allergic to cats, but did not find that this got him much sympathy from his fellow humans.

jenny never went on long trips, though occasionally she went on short ones in her capacity as a sales representative for gas-powered washing machines.

kenneth was a very lonely person, and would often complain of being so to anyone he thought likely to be sympathetic.

lucy’s parents had been militant atheists and lucy developed an interest in world religions, especially forgotten ones, and took many books on the subject out of the library.

ivan, jenny, kenneth, and lucy never played bridge together.

mickey always insisted on sleeping in a bed, and would never sleep on a couch or in a chair or on the floor or in the back seat of a car, under any circumstances.

nicole hated stuck up people and people who thought they were better than anyone else.

oscar as a child had been struck by the phrase “the life of the party” but when he got older he did not become one.

priscilla never kept a diary.

mickey, nicole, oscar, and priscilla never went square dancing together.

albert, babs, conrad, dorothy, edgar, felicia, george, hilda, ivan, jenny, kenneth, lucy, mickey, nicole, oscar, and priscilla were not killed in a plane crash together, nor were they ever stranded on a desert island together.

it is likely that none of them ever met any of the others at all.

though one two of them might have shared some tastes or enthusiasms, such as for pancakes or miller lite beer or harry potter novels.

it’s getting late.

Monday, December 11, 2017

far away

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

i think i would like to go far away
where no one has gone before
where folks would listen to what i say
and never call me a bore

i would like to go on a journey long
where the mountains touch the sky
where i could sing my own song
and no one would question why

i would like to go on a trip
where the river meets the sea
set sail on a great white ship
where i could just be me

i would go where no one knew my name
or asked me for any i d
where nobody played the game
and i could be free

you may think there is no such place
and you may be right
i may vanish without a trace
in the endless night

Saturday, December 9, 2017

tim smith

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

tim smith was a terrible person
and did many terrible things
as sure as worms crawl in the grass
as sure as birds have wings

but no one ever suspected
that tim was what he was
and he went on his merry way
breaking society’s laws

he tipped his hat to mrs jones
said good morning to mr brown
but his neighbors never suspected
the monster in their little town

he went to church on sunday
with a smile upon his face
and wrote in the book of infamy
but never left a trace

as the years turned into decades
he kept his crimes well hid
now he sleeps in a lonesome graveyard
and nobody knows what he did

Friday, December 8, 2017

my own poem

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

deserts are filled with shifting sand
the polar regions with ice
but the whole world would be beautiful
if people would just be nice

butterflies live for a single day
turtles for two hundred years
but no matter how long or short they last
they have hopes and dreams and fears

they want to live forever
but such is not their fate
as st peter plays dice wth lucifer
in the shadow of heaven’s gate

if the world had a birthday party
and the universe was a clown
and you were the magician
would you turn that frown upside down?

Thursday, December 7, 2017


by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

when the elevator starts to take you
where you don’t want to go
and your friends used to be named eddie
but now they are all named joe

and the reporter wears a shade of lipstick
that you have never seen
and people look at you and laugh
because your thoughts are unclean

why did you say yes to the mailman
when he asked you for an ice cream cone?
didn’t you know his name was stanley
and his girl friend’s name was joan?

report back to the station
with your passport and a bag of donuts
and wipe that foolish grin off your face
you pathetic putz

i know civilization is collapsing
but that is no excuse
the evening sun is setting
and blackie baker is on the loose

if you can’t get the picture
pick the beer cans off the stairs
tell casey jones to fire the boiler
and grandma to say her prayers

Wednesday, December 6, 2017


by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here

verily i say to you
the man on the fountain said
behind his glasses his eyes were blue
and his bushy beard was red

the snow fell down in soft white flakes
upon the sage’s shoulders
the day was drawing to a close
the air was getting colder

verily i say to you
the prophet repeated
wishing he was in his room
by the radiator warmly heated

vic and vinny watched the man
watched him as he spoke
vic had a dollar in his pocket
vinny was dead broke

vic and vinny watched the sage
and felt his secret fears
he reminded vic of his uncle jack
whom he had not seen for years

a violin is playing
in a room so far away
the prophet climbed down rom his perch
he had nothing more to say

he then set off across the park
with a trembling in his limbs
what was he to vic or vinny
or they to him?

verily i say to you
that everything must end
you should spend your money
if you have any to spend


Tuesday, December 5, 2017


by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

for previous poem in series, click here

under this undulating sky
let us shelter beneath this tree
i will tell you a story
if you tell one to me

up a lazy river
across a placid lake
sir lancelot went out one day
his kingdom for to take

the further shore was empty
no castles did he spy
but he resolved to conquer
or in the process die

he rode across a sandy waste
and on an ashy plain
he had never come this way before
nor ever would again

lancelot rode on and on
his horse beneath him died
he shook his fist up at the sky
and in despair he cried

how can i earn glory
if no monsters show their face
no villains ride to meet me
and dragons leave no trace?

under an undulating sky
the hero turned to dust
but other heroes, undaunted
ride on, because they must