FiNiku

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Shards that can delight;
Sharp enough to lacerate,
Puncturing silence.

Lacerating shards?
Hello darkness my old friend,
Come to bleed with you...

Dancing on the breeze
Slicing through the emptiness
Glass needles of song

a killer sharp tune
lurks somewhere in voice and head
inspo needle, push!

All is sharpness here;
Compared to Tozan's three blows
Bodhi with a point!

It was the sharpness
that made it flat in the end;
the nail-poked tire.

Tired is what I am
Can't write, can't listen, can't see
AT least I'm still here.

The Great Leveler
Isn't war, famine, or disaster
It's simply fatigue.

Hope you feel better, Tim.

Carpenters level
May be my favourite tool;
It helps me build stuff.

Imprisoned bubble!
Just looking for a way out!
Can’t make heads or tails.

Do carpenter's tools
Having inner lives, longings, wants, needs
To be close to you?

I see what you’ve done
And we’ve only just begun—
So many puns left!

Godley & Creme song;
"I pity Inanimate
Objects". A good one!

https://youtu.be/PsHDXE7BbxA

You're on top of it!
Interplanetary craft
Soon will be landing!

Imprisoned bubble?
That's the next eye surgery.
Cataracts come first!

(The delights of age.
After the eyeball's over,
Twenty-twenty rules!)

It's watching chisels
Chipping away in my eye
Puts me off woodwork....

Readers used to be
My fashion accessory,
Worn over contacts.

Now I’ve ‘transitioned’:
At several hundred a pop,
Every day’s the same.

Fancy trifocals,
Seven hundred bucks a pair. Sad
Oldsters FiNiKu! Smile

Get off of my lawn!
Yeah, that’s right: 5 syllables.
(Crazy kids these days...)

Kids are welcome here. Smile
You know what honks my horn most?
It's the damn dog turds.

Place for everything,
And everything in its place.
This is not that place.

Some things have no place
I'd add, as an addendum.
Somber mood today. Sad

A worthwhile dog trick;
Folks should teach their canines to
Clean up their own turds.

Whole family is home!
An event as rare as wine
From Ben Franklin's days!

Writing dialect,
I remain defeated by
Transliteration.

Must ask the surgeon:
How can there be cataracts
When the eye's on ice?

The very thought hurts!
Eyes on ice! Leaves me frozen
Don't like doctor stuff!!!! Smile

When I ask my wife
For triple Scotch on the rocks,
I see icy eyes.

Would you prefer Scotch,
Or your marriage, on the rocks?
(Glare ice conditions.)

Just forget the Scotch
And start collecting the rocks;
It's a gneiss hobby.

What? Dig a big hole?!
My solution is better:
Start drinking Irish.

Rocks unearth themselves!
Cousins in Colorado
Weed them from their beds.

Leave rocks in their beds!
How cruel to wake them up!
Those rocks need their sleep!

And for that matter,
No disturbing the bedrock
Or we’ll all be doomed!

These matter matters
Rock my Flintstone bedrock mind!
Heavy mattering!

(I'm from a town called Flint) Smile

Dino; Flintstones dog.
Dino's also Dean Martin.
Any more Dinos?

Dino the Red Wing
Yclept Ciccarelli, scored
A crap ton of goals.

We're fossils exposed!
Sad concreted agéd bones...
Let's get our rocks on!

Each February
A bumper crop of rockers
Shoots up from the soil

In February
The rocks get knocked together.
That's how soil is made.

That and the dead things.
Everything decomposing
Back to building blocks.

Thanks, bacteria,
For turning all those dead things
In to nice fresh dirt!

I thought The Dead Things'
Eponymous first album --
"Fresh Dirt" -- was quite good.

Sometimes first is best,
But subsequent tries decay,
And help make compost.

Like my own music,
where a little sh!t must fall
to grow the roses.

The first is freshest.
Also littered with debris.
But don’t overgroom.

Mediocrity
Is the rule; most of our stuff
Truth is, kind of sucks. Smile

Test of your own stuff
Can you still listen to it
Once you've heard it thrice?

One thing I do lack
A lifetime's effort to find:
Objectivity.

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