Melodum Machina: Fritz365 2014
By Fred Robel
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About this ebook
Poetry, serial story segments, and random creative writing; all written over the course of 2014 for the fritz365 blog, as part of an ongoing project. Now in its 5th year!
Enjoy the fruits of the author's labors, in this convenient travel size package.
Fred Robel
Born and raised in Michigan, and currently residing in Northern Michigan. I am an aircraft mechanic and inspector by trade, and a writer as a hobby. My wife and three kids keep me busy all the rest of the time.
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Melodum Machina - Fred Robel
Preface
So we’ve lived to see another year then, have we? Well, that means it is time for a massive #2 of my 2014 content!
You may or may not notice the number of entries is a bit, um, smaller this year. I have nothing but my own laziness to attribute that to. As taking several days off from writing become rather normal for me this past year.
So for 2014, Fritz365, was more like Fritz192. Although I do have an uncounted number of sub-140 character, Twitter poems I did in 2014. Those are going to be incorporated here somehow. I haven’t decided how as of this date. Check the ToC, and see what I did. As well as my amateur illustrations I’ve taken to doing often. Those will be here as well in some fashion.
As I write this, it is Jan 3, 2015; and I’m already doing better than in previous months. As I have written something for all three days of this year so far. Yes sir, I am a reformed man!
I will be busier than ever this year, so it will be a challenge to keep up. I was elected to the local school board last November for a six year term. I suspect that this will entail more personal time spent reading things other than what I am used to spending my time absorbing.
I’m determined to maintain my creative freedom, though; despite being an elected official of the school system. We shall have to see how that works out for me; especially when I get a wild hair up my ass to write something truly deranged. As happens now and again.
You’ll find several random installments in this collection, relating to my stalled Earth 52.5 project. I had hoped to write it into my next novel length piece for NaNoWriMo; but I failed to do so. Hopefully, look for that to be completed and published sometime in this new year.
As usual, new posts will go up publicly on my blog page. The Fritz365 is going strong still! Now in its 5th year!
Cheers,
Frederick Damien Robel II
8th Day of Christmas
Upon this eighth day of Christmas
I celebrate the dawn of a new year
From high atop the amidships crow’s nest
Of the ship John Poole out of Glasgow
Mid Atlantic waves tossing us from peak to trough
Fully redefining what I had considered as being 'tough enough'
Tough enough for this duty
Tough enough for truly
To be swayed about in this exaggerated way
High up in this perch
Watching for 'bergs
Maybe for whales
Or flotsam and debris
Big enough to poke holes in this barge
Though truth be told
I may have drawn this mostly unnecessary duty
Because as assholes go
The Captain was rather large
That and my having been intimate with his favorite scullery girl
Despite the miserable sway
And my thinking I didn't deserve to be treated this way
I sing a song of the eighth day of Christmas
With some sweet maids a milking
In the beams of the sun creeping my way
Orange in the morning on this New Year’s Day
9th Day of Christmas
Nine ladies dancing dominated my field of view
From halfway up the wall of the performance cylinder
I was roughly twenty feet from the stage floor
In a box seat balcony carved out of Lunar rock
Which left me right about at the peak of the dancer's leaps and pirouettes
The Luna City Performance Arts Council had put on a fine show so far
In their annual interpretation of the Twelve Days Of Christmas
By artistically presenting each of the day's gifts from the song
Today's was sort of the least inspired piece though
With its literal presentation of Nine Ladies Dancing
Their nudity an unexceptional addition to the traditional image
With it being so common in the public areas of the city tubes
With a final glance at one of the performers
As she arced beautifully near me in the 1/6th gravity
Her large breasts floating almost weightlessly on her chest
Before lightly returning to the stage floor
I got up and exited into the corridor that encircled the area behind the balconies
And found a stairway to the lower level
I've often found that more enjoyment can be found from the cheap seats
Where people are less jaded in their perceptions
And just in saying that
I realize that I'm part of the problem
I came out of the lower archway into the number eight quadrant of the floor seating
And found an empty seat a few rows back from the stage
Where I quietly sat down
It was then that I saw one of the most beautiful sights of my life
Looking up at the soaring nine ladies dancing
The transparent ceiling of the cylinder was their backdrop
With stars winking in the blackness
And a bit of the Earth looking down from the edge of the vista
I was transfixed as the dancers transitioned from the stage to the air
Seemingly directly over my head
Dancing amongst the stars and planets
The nine ethereal ladies
On this ninth day of Christmas
10th Day of Christmas
The tenth day of Christmas
Stole all the matching socks
So each the ten lords a leaping
Had one bare foot a protruding from their frocks
To put it into Star Trek terms
The Ferenghi sock faeries fell in love with their formula:
Socks + ?? = PROFIT
And so far it hasn't worked out
Breaking all kinds of rules of acquisition
Leaving most the 'verse in a perverse single sock condition
One socked lords a leaping
Are truly just the tip of the iceberg
With their hairy lord toes in the air
Leaping for the tenth day of Christmas
Like they just don't care
11th Day of Christmas
The eleventh day of Christmas
Peed all over the seat
Though I'd asked it many times
To try to be neat
Aim at the floating Cheerios, I'd say
It's fun, it's a sport!
But dried urine everywhere
Was all I'd have to report
Not even eleven pipers piping
Could add rhythm to his stream
Apparently just causing him to aim wildly
Doing nothing for the neatness of the team
Perhaps if I could install some sort of penis GPS
To guide the stream to the proper place
Yes on this eleventh day of Christmas
I only wish my son to be a bathroom ace
12th Day of Christmas
On the twelfth day of Christmas
There were twelve drummers drumming
In a marathon loft apartment session
Leaving the neighbors seriously bumming
In a large circle upon the second floor
Of the large old mansion that was now student housing
Twelve drum kits faced one another
Each with its own concentrating, slack jawed drummer
Sometimes the beats were in unison
Other times they were counter to one another
At the worst times it seemed that there was no rhythm
Just an acid fueled drumstick salute to the great Earth Mother
The neighbors called the cops
Who came armed and dangerous
But the drummers beat them back
With beat attack most thunderous
Ear drums bleeding
The cops called the National Guard
Who came in their tanks
And parked right in the yard
Bringing the main guns to bear on the house
The drummers responded with drumming war beats
Calling down lightning from high up above
With cymbal crashes and repeats
The tank hulls shattered
The cops ears bleeding
An air strike was called in
Sending the neighbors stampeding
Hearing the jets coming from far far away
The twelve drummers drumming performed a miracle that day
They drummed and worked magic
Both sensible and darkly tragic
Until that old creaking house
Just disappeared from sight
With a sound like the pop of a soap bubble
And all was immediately quiet in the darkening night
Leaving confusion and chaos
As always happens when something is unexplained
With numerous experts on Fox News making up things to say
All to try to describe this apparent miracle
On this Twelfth Christmas Day
An Apple a Day
Apple apple rolling round
Inside this fishbowl I found
Will you keep the doctor at bay today?
Or will you be eaten with nary a sound?
Dropping the fishbowl with a smash and a crash
It seems I found my answer from that apple
As I sat there picking shards of glass from my skin
The apple simply sat on the ground with a grin
As if to say:
Taunting my magic is folly at best
For it will be me who puts you to the test
Now do you want me to call the doctor for you today?
Or can you hold your pain and tears at bay?
After I picked that last shard of glass from myself
I carefully cleaned myself up
Picked up that apple
And ate it
Arctic Pretend
Polar bears in fake red hair
And cormorants in tight corsets
The researchers stopped to stare
The surgeons gasped and dropped their forceps
It was a spectacle of dress up play
With penguins making way
For more secondhand hand-me-downs
To make a real make believe kind of day
Everyone got in on the fun
With great costumes for everyone
Nobody had to be who they really were
It was an epic game of arctic pretend
Rags In Bags
My once favorite shirt
Is now frayed and rent
The armpits are blown out
The rest thin like a nylon tent
There wouldn't be any water needed
To see my nipples if I wore it
Though that didn't stop me from doing it
It was that stray nail head that tore it
Now it's going into the bag
Along with my worn out socks
Heels gaping open
Into the bag and into the box!
Underwear lurk in there too
Elastic stretched out
Seams in the crotch torn
And some irredeemable stains of poo
Regardless of what they are or where they hailed from
They are in the rag bag now
Destined to end up in the garage rag hamper
Cleaning off dipsticks or mopping up spills
Cast aside from their first glamorous purpose
Recycled and reused
But these rags in bags will end up on the burn pile someday
Bellowing black smoke to mark their passing
Much like me and you
Similes, Metaphors, and Fuck You
"Your honor
Clearly, the sea anemone cannot be faulted for its built in protection mechanism
And by that same token
My client cannot be found guilty because...."
The judge slams his gavel down several times in annoyance
"Bailiff, escort this son of a bitch from my court room!
I am holding him in contempt of court
And he is to spend two nights in jail"
Judge Calvert looks at the defense attorney intently
"Don't you presume to use a metaphor in MY court room, sir!
Next time, I'll move to have you disbarred"
As this vignette proves
Metaphors are very dangerous things
As a matter of fact
This little exchange is itself a metaphor
But it's so abstract
That I don't know for what
Clearly this can be seen as a simile for life
As just in life
Using the wrong metaphor on the right person
Will get you your ass kicked
Quest For Food
Out through the crack in the baseboard
Then a quick scurry to the free standing cupboard
There is just enough room to walk behind it
Then on to the pantry
Which is a perilous five feet away from the far side of the cupboard
Across open floor
Right next to the cat food and water
Tiny nose precedes long whiskers before little black eyes upon a furry face
With quick darting looks in all possible directions
Four creepy little pink paws gallop across the old discolored hardwood floor
A dive under the pantry door
And we're in
Wrong Dreams
Jesus looked at you with bedroom eyes
Making your skin crawl
As his hand rubbed your inner thighs
Keeping eye contact through it all
Then you awoke to find it was just a dream
And really it was your mother all along
Dragging her nails on your skin softly
In every way possible feeling all wrong
But you jerked yourself from sleep
Only to find yourself kissing your sister
Which was oddly arousing down deep
Though tasting distinctly of dog food
Then the alarm shrieked you awake
Your dog licking your face
He has to go potty pretty bad
And this is certainly no dream imagined place
So come on dog!
Who wants to go outside?
Who wants to go outside?
That's right, YOU do!
Spark
The dirty SUV driving in front of me
Is kicking up a dirty spray of ice melt water
That my windshield wipers can scarcely keep up with
In their tattered greasy condition
Suddenly an orange spark arced out of the driver's window