Thursday, July 5, 2012


crazy as a bag of weasels.
gosh, I like that;
crazy as a bag of weasels.
just read that in a book
by Matt Hilton;
"Dead Men's Dust."
crazy as a bag of weasels.
geez, I love it;
crazy as a bag of weasels
I'll be dreaming weasels tonight.
hey, that's alright!
Way to go Mr. Hilton.
you do write good, Sir.
Write some more stuff, will ya?
crazy as a bag of weasels,
Oh, I do love it so.....

speaking of weasels,
I caught a weasel once.
but it didn't like me,
so I had to let it go.
I didn't catch anymore.
it bit me, is how I know
it didn't like me.

this kinda blows, doesn't it?
okay then, I'll let you go.

It's amazing how getting a little at night
can make the day go so right

but not always

always is never here to stay
nor will chickens always lay


then comes this ungodly smell
down from the north
circles the barn twice
the corn crib
finally settles down
in the cellar
dwelling on better times
when it smelt
twice the better

she questions our existence 
in a world
torn and bleeding

in this world
we've made for our children
as our world lies dying

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