It was like a dance. The aristocracy of bureaucrats safely discussed the fate of most of the world amongst caviar and champagne austerity. The media was kept in a gilded cage with free cappuccinos, meals and lakes. The police scored copious overtime hours, sported new crowd control clothing and broke a few heads. Even the anarchists were on time and organized, playing their role perfectly wearing the right colour even. Who paid for this dance that satisfied one and all? We did. Protecting democracy and freedom while sparing no expense, even the expense of democracy and freedom.
I am happy with the new server (dual core, more RAM etc.) but I am not very good at transferring blogs from one server to another. As you can see with the dog’s breakfast that I have created here.
Download the rules from by clicking here.
It was a funny thing, standing there on king, waiting for a bus to arrive.
It was the kind cold, that made the young feel old, and forget how to be alive.
The wind was strong, as the bus came along. To free me from that Northern grip.
How was I to know, that the wind would blow. Me on to a sinking ship.
As the bus pulled away on that stormy day. I flashed the driver my pass.
While crossing that fence I surely did sense . That someone was watchin’ my ass.
So I turned to look at the chick or spook. That was eyeing my derriere.
But to my surprise twenty pairs of eyes were giving back a vacant stare.
I looked along that bus, and did not make a fuss, cause you know what i did find?
Just to my left, with her vision bereft was a lassie who was quite blind.
So you see, she was looking at me. And what was I to say.
She was not plain, held a white cane and her dog was pewter grey.
I forgotten the cold and was feeling bold, and looked at her lovely red hair.
So I shuffled my feet, and picked the seat that was right beside her chair
I cleared my voice, picked my words with choice and said “hey maam how do you do?”
And no word of lie she looked me straight in the eye, and said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
That sent a chill down my spine, I did not feel so fine. So I looked round the bus again.
And no one was there, not a single chair, like they’d all dissolved into rain.
My fear really did show, I looked aft to bow for a driver that just wasn’t there.
And that dog blocked my way as I started to sway and tried to leave my chair.
She flew to her feet, giving off such a heat that all I could do was repel.
Her hair stood on end, and her cackle did rend with pitch that came straight from hell
She pushed her cane hard into the lard that covered my well fed tummy
The words that she said, hit me hard in the head and she yelled “you ain’t disabled dummy”
Her face it looked pained as I feebly explained why I’d chosen to sit beside her.
And the dog turned around I swear that it frowned, as it bristled it’s silvery fur.
The fault was all mine, as I looked at the sign, on the window across from me.
I surely could tell, i would end up in hell, if I failed with my desperate plea.
I told her she’s fair, with her fetching red hair, and that I am such an ugly man.
Seeing that she was blind, then she may not mind, for what I had hopefully planned.
Twas my hubris you see, that such a beauty as she, would join with me on a date.
We could walk in the cold, and talk till we got old, and with those words I awaited my fate.
She became quite calm and looked rather aplomb, as her gaze scanned my worried face.
And she leaned into me, so that I closely could see, what I had wanted to embrace.
Her face held a grin, eyes brimming with sin, and the bus shuddered to a halt.
Her cane tapped the floor, and blew open the door, and I left with a skip and a vault
As the bus pulled away on that stormy cold day. I still was pretty damn nervous.
I knew i was close to becoming a ghost, on Satan’s own transit Service.
So lastly I mention that you must pay attention, to signage and not to hot chicks.
Or your soul will be fried and forever you’ll ride on the bus numbered six sixty six.
Found words challenge (“make a hurtin’ country poem about dogs, girls, heartbreak and trucks”)
My last meal in Vancouver was at an awesome hand drawn noodle house. The food was yummy and different.