Why am I kissing you?

Why am I kissing you? Because I can?

Curiosity got the best of me, now I'm in a strange room.

Forgive the candor, but this reminds me of the ham hocks Mom cooks with soup beans.

Kinda slippery but needs more salt.

This is getting surreal, but if it makes you happy...

Why am I kissing you? Is this how we say goodbye now?

I get a flashback of this every time I approach a mirror.

You're a cute girl and I really like your company

But...doesn't this seem a little contrived?

Why am I kissing you? This is supposed to communicate something.

But, I find I have little, if nothing, to say this way.

You seem to be caught up in this,

But I'd just as soon go work on a project or something.

And why do you get so mad when I look at the TV? Sheesh maneesh.

Why am I kissing you? Because I like your flavor...

But, even I can see this is going nowhere fast, so later gater.

Why am I kissing you? Because usually it can smooth things over...

Or buy me time, or...just pass the time.

Why am I kissing you? If I ever knew, I guess I forgot at some point.

Why do I waste your time and feed your false hopes?

Forgive me?

Why am I kissing you? Well, I'm not, and that's obviously best.

Think I'll stick with letters and numbers from now on.

Tyrant

She's sharp and she's cool
She's patient; no one's fool
Determined

Bubbly when attention's given
Boys talk to her, idea of livin'
Agenda

Waiting in her stance
For perfection wearing pants
Black Widow

Eyes of coal, smile a phenom
Laugh as music, sweet as venom
Medusa

Her heart burns on still
She must enforce her will
Gestapo

Special kind of gal
Not typical, yet so real
Pitfall

As for me, this won't stand
So I hold up my hand
Resistance

She turns and looks on
Spots another, she's gone
Insatiable

Today in History

On this date in 1966: Edwin C. RANT of Canada used a homemade apparatus he hoped would take him to the orient via the center of the planet. However, due to both malfunction and human error, he soon resurfaced in a grain field about 45 miles southeast of Dallas.  The local sheriff was not amused; nor was the landowner, although he later admitted in an interview that he would have "forgiven the feller if he'd a just brung some dadgum oil up with him".

Lamb to the Slaughter

I am a young man
Her hair's long and dark

I'm invited to supper
Since her son is at work

After mutton and rice
We relax and I hold her

So warm and so nice
Her head on my shoulder

Guess her husband was crazy
Left her years before

Hints of hard life till
She moved in next door

It gets close to bedtime
Says she wants me to stay

That I have no cause not to
Tomorrow's just one more day

Secrets are known now
How it feels so right

She tells me she's happy
And that I am her light

But out of a dead sleep
I awake to a scream

She lies in her own blood
Is it just a bad dream?

He says it's all over
Then fires his next shot

Here I am all alone now
Guess this is my lot

Inspired by Proverbs Chapter Seven

Maybe

Maybe I've gotten so used to not touching someone on a regular basis that I've accepted it.
Maybe for me there are things more important than having "a special someone".
Maybe I have a problem with doing things like everyone else.
Maybe I also get extremely frustrated when misunderstood.
Maybe only God will ever truly understand me in this life.
Maybe that's OK.
Maybe it's best not to tempt the heart with things that will only lead to pain.
Maybe I am realizing that true love chases it's beloved.
Maybe I am sure that I have never chased a woman. Ever.
Maybe I don't care to anytime soon.
Maybe even if I did, I'd have to make *choices* as well as sacrifices.
Maybe I feel burdened when a woman pursues me.
Maybe I just want more of God's Kingdom.
Maybe I will take pains to avoid things that distract me from that pursuit.
Maybe I still lack the fortitude to fly near the sun and not become blinded.
Maybe I am my own person after God and family and friends.
Maybe I am a fighter and not a lover.
Maybe I am a cowboy.
Maybe I like living alone.
Maybe that's just the way it oughtta be.
Maybe I need my hind-end raised a few feet.
Maybe I still have some deep-rooted selfishness
Maybe His time to correct that in me just has not yet come.
Maybe you are the finest, gentlest, sweetest, and kindest woman in the world.
Maybe you don't need to strive to prove yourself to me.
Maybe you are a fool for feeling like you do.
Maybe I really have never understood how I feel about you.
Maybe I'll figure that out some day.
Maybe you and I both need to take our medicine, but it ain't the same prescription.
Maybe I have absolutely no business being in the same room with you until things change.
Maybe that's not what I want.
Maybe, sometimes, the only thing worse than not getting what you want, is getting it.
Maybe we're a lot more like Alanis Morissette and Ozzy Ozborne than we'd care to admit.

haiku

sitting in training
tap out haiku on palm to
keep from losing mind

afraid of squirrels
might come into my house and
try to bite my toes

saturday morning
should be cartoons and football
this is so surreal

dry erase markers
one whiff while writing does it
boy o boy o boy

drank too much water
now my eyeballs are floating
it squirts out my ears

how am i to learn
when all the lessons before me
are so obvious

Lord let me thank you
for bringing me here though I
don't know why You did

four hundred thousand
has one four and five zeros
plus that ol' comma

how i love to drink
decaffeinated coffee
soothes my whole body

jug of ice water
poured down my back stings like fire
you will pay for this

a pocket of gas
worked its way through me and left
where'd everyone go?

water falling in water
makes many bubbles
so does farting in bathtub

wind rustles through tree
but I just wish that my poor
kite could say the same.

if you feel depressed
find happiness now with a
word from our sponsor.

when wind is broken
can only repair it with
spraying of lysol.

Very Poor Pseudo-Scandinavian Mythology Composed Mainly While Driving Home From Work

And so Skül held his hands to the sky and cursed the day he was born, for he knew that the spirit of HASBLAAD was messing with his mind.  Oh how he longed for times past when he could climb the mountain and find Rebl sitting there with her long blonde hair flowing down the mountain side, a distance of about 137 feet, where it is washed and dried repeatedly by vixens in the brook.