Looking at the photos in the newspaper, I couldn’t help but notice the pained expressions everybody was wearing. I knew that look. My old drill sergeant helped me learn all about it. It’s that look you get when your nuts are numb. Check ‘em out.

Texas Governor Rick Perry upon being informed that he was speaking in Portland Oregon, not Portland, Maine. If he looks like this a lot, well, you know the reason. His nuts are numb.

President Obama, whose nuts are not numb, just feel that way sometimes after a tough news conference. My, my, my…

How can they accuse Texas Congressman Ron Paul of racisim? Who knew he was black? But what’s he got his hands up there for like that? Is he going to catch a pass? No. Somebody’s throwing one of his old newsletters in his face Incomplete pass, no gain because his gold standard nuts are numb.

Speaker of the House House John Boehner can’t believe that West Virginia Congressman Alex Cantor just reached under the table and tweaked him. No deal numb nuts!

Somebody really should tell Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker that rattling those papers won’t denumbify his nuts.

Oops! Robert Di Niro’s nuts aren’t numb! Lucky, lucky man!

Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid wants to know what happened to the spittoon?. O well, the frequency of this condition is proportional with age. Alas, the more, the more.

Paul Bernenke’s nuts are numb because he just realized there’s no wealth at all in the Federal Reserve.

“You’re all just…jealous,” proclaims presidential hopeful Mitt Romney. Journalist Paul Krugman is speechless. “Yowie, powie, zowie, that was a zinger, Batman!” thinks he to himself as his nuts go numb.

Queen Elizabeth getting a rise out of Prince Philip. (Psst. We got nuts. They have jewels.)

This is why everybody in the country’s nuts are numb.

Even Santa ain’t feelin’ it this year cuz his nuts are numb. “It was only a bottle in my pocket, little girl. I swear!”

You got to have numb nuts if you make fun of grandma around the holidays. Merry Christmas Everybody and a Happy New Year!

i love to be alone
with the world
that’s why i walk
in the wee hours
before the sun
erases the sky
of all mythology

my lonely footsteps
seem to echo
for blocks

up in the heavens
i can see a faint edge of white
run from a queen reclining
in the north
through a swan high
at the top of the arc
to a scorpion’s tail
in the south
pointing to the absorbing center
of the galaxy

the splash of milk is blanched
by the swift aging moon
now reduced to bull’s horns
just above the horizon

because my mind is sneaky
and full of time honored patterns
i’m worrying about my future

one sage of long acquaintance
always says fix your thoughts
upon the now

another says
forget the past-
repeat the mistakes

but the blind
singer of songs
as usual
had the balance right

though a man must
march with the times
he has an eye
for the day ahead
as well as

the day behind

i’m passing a gated community now
suddenly
as if my shadow
triggered it
an electronic gate
starts to swing shut
groaning on its hinges
not a soul in sight

an old world sage
would call this technicality
a synchronicity
a new world sage
far more ancient than
the old world one
would call it an affirmation

our creatively destructive world
would cheerfully remind me
one gate closes
another opens
in any given fiscal quarter

the question remains
what just closed in me
and what is opening?

my oldest friend
would scornfully say
an expletive deleted gate just closed
and what will most certainly open
is your foolish pocketbook

but as my footsteps
now echoing louder than ever
lead me back home
i can’t shake the hunch
he just might be wrong

Marc Ladewig
Author of Odysseus-The Epic Myth of the Hero

the rains have been abundant
and left the rolling hills
fat with grass

driving home
the wind blasted up the hillsides
and made the soft green
ripple like flowing water

all the creek flows have busted their banks
and spread out on the pastures
like lagoons

flocks of white cranes
meditate knee deep
motionless and buffeted
their feathers frumpy
in place of their usual grace
and elegance

one suddenly appears
just off the asphalt
up ahead on hiway 1
struggling in the wind
and almost hit by a truck

something drops from its beak
and a violent gust
sweeps the bird from sight
in a flash

a mouse lays stunned
in the middle of the road
another truck swerves to avoid
crushing it under wheels

as i pass
the mouse comes to
and dashes for the safety
of the grassy roadside

i love escapes
and this one made my day

Marc Ladewig
Author of Odysseus-The Epic Myth of the Hero

The only way
you can talk
to a screaming person
is to wait
till they go hoarse
and whisper
in their ear.

Marc Ladewig
Author of Odysseus-The Epic Myth of the Hero

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: ear, hoarse, ladewig, poem, screaming, wait, whisper ]]>