Saturday, June 30, 2012


I don’t know who’s reading this. You may be too late. If so, try not to go insane over the perplex situation of my corpse. The tiny bite marks and miniature hand prints around the throat area would be unsettling if not mystifying to most. But really, if I were you, I wouldn’t sweat it. These things happen. You just never read about it. I imagine this is because the media shies away from stories involving Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster or in my case, fairies.

Just two hours ago, I wasn’t a believer either. In fact, I was the worst sort of skeptic and annoying debunker. I recall my nephew telling me how rainbows were God’s miracles. I broke it to him, they were an optical phenomenon only visible to human eyes by a mere accident of evolutionary development. He cried like a baby to his mother and I haven’t seen him since.

But, really, about the fairies. I stumbled on them in a peculiar way. You know how litterers throw cans and other trash out their windows? I had grown really tired of it, myself and decided to take action. Luckily, there was leftover celo-tape and paper in my desk drawer. Both are great for lifting fingerprints. The police would finally have the evidence they needed, I thought bagging evidence. What I didn’t count on, however, was a single can of soda. It was like most others; shiny, aluminum, etc. Yet, it was entirely unopened.

Why would someone in their right mind throw a whole can of Sprite away? I know some people prefer Coca-Cola or Pepsi, but really. A whole can!? It’s delicious and refreshing. That’s why I wiped it off and decided to drink. It was not my proudest moment but I popped the tab. I expected bubbly delight and sugary ambrosia. The contents proved to be more disappointing as a hundred fairies flew out at my face. The can of Sprite was full of sprites.

I called them gnats, I called them ladybugs, but neither insect screamed in childish delight. Nor did they have glittery, pink wings. Perhaps it was a hologram, I contemplated as I ran for dear life. Holograms are just projections, however, and in most cases decline to eat your face. My hands protected from the worst of it. But fairies were getting through the gaps, clawing mere inches from my eyelids.

That’s when I spotted the tool shed. I never kept tools in it, I just preferred the quaint look. Also, it made me seem handy and was therefore important to my dating prospects. Yet, quaintness and potential girlfriends were far from my mind as the need to have a face superseded. The shed was a haven. Fairies weren’t termites. They couldn’t chew through wood.

For a minute I felt safe in my accomplishment. I even gave fairies raspberries through the window. It proved to be a bad mistake. Fairies have hands and the shed had a doorknob. They turned it before I found anything to block their entrance.

Suffice to say, I was cornered and out of options. I tried explaining I wasn’t the one at the bottling plant who canned them. I even proclaimed my love of mischievous creatures in Shakespeare’s a Midsummer Night’s Dream. They didn’t listen and my eyeballs were far too tasty to ignore. I imagine they had the consistency of those round pears from the Chinese buffet, but can’t be sure. All I do know is it doesn’t pay to be a skeptic. You may think it does before a goblin attack or a unicorn stampede, but you’ll be wrong.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012


My good friend Brock shared some really edgy poems with me last night. He's given me permission to share excerpts from a few. He has a blog at Tumblr, IDGAF. I hope you all go visit!

Locked away in a hellish locker
by the school bully
A demon in a letterman jacket
He’s as rude and crude
as an undertaker
It's time for him to meet his maker.
-Lament of the Pariah

Never knowing what it is
When I talk about things
Jingle bells
and special hells
I cannot ever speak properly
stumbling over my words
fucking adverbs
-Speaking Sucks

Lets listen to some old school rap together
and pretend to be gangsters
even though we are white ass kids
-Sleepytime Poem

Image source: IDGAF via justgingerandglitter

Monday, June 25, 2012

Remember the Days

Remember the days,
When we could be anything?
Our dreams were footsteps,
Laid out in the sand?
We just had to follow
And not stray.

Our castles mightier
Than thrashing tides
Against the shore,
Pulling just a little back
Each day.

The weeks seemed stronger
Than the months and years
As everything grew less
Before our eyes yet more
Beneath our feet.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Nightingale Blues

Nightingale blues
the lonely hymn, sad song
I've heard you cry
as I have too
in solitude but
not by choice,
no, never choice.
a chance gone awry
as the sunlight waned,
replaced itself with
whispers covered
by the rolling clouds,
a speckling of star
and ghostly silhouettes,
familiar at the same time feared.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

One Poem

I began this poem thinking about a friend visiting the beach and how I haven't been there for some time. Then I ended thinking over my grandpa who is very sick and does not have much longer.

and it's been years

and it's been years
since I felt an ocean
wave pour over me,
the tide pull back my sorrow.

and it's been years
since I last saw the moon
reflect on water as the stars
swayed back and forth.

and it's been years
but I will close my eyes
to smell the salt and hear
a world crash down on me.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Pixie Dust! with Chris McQueeney!

Hello, Old Spicers and Spicettes. It looks the Raving Moonbat has seen new life. Chris McQueeney or Wander as you may know him of Wander without being lost, recently did a guest posting. It's utterly brilliant! Please check it out. He also allowed me to share a poem of his on the site. It's a double feature you can't miss!

Sunday, June 10, 2012

A Couple Poems

Playing with Fire

Breathing the inferno
dancing in the flames
walking on hot coals
to you across the steam.

I'll Never Tell Myself

I'll never tell myself
I wish it were the past
and all I have become
has withered on the vine.

I'll never tell myself
that life has lost its luster
while I breathe and
feel my heart.

Sunday, June 03, 2012

Short Play from a Dream I Had...




A room with a bed and adjacent closet.

[KAT sits on the bed as MAURY paces nervously]

MAURY: Kat, I have something to tell you.

KAT: I suppose it's another affair.

MAURY: No, not this time. That was only a phase.

KAT: Yes, where marriage counseling failed, sex therapy picked up to save the day!

MAURY: Kat, please, just listen! I had an experience. [Kat rolls eyes] Do you see the closet over there?

KAT: I'm not blind.

MAURY: I walked inside it.

KAT: With who? Let me guess, another stripper?

MAURY: You don't understand. I walked inside it and... I disappeared!

KAT: Well, where did you go? Pleasure Town?

MAURY: Kat, believe me that it wasn't an affair. I ended appearing in some jazz lounge. Everyone wanted to hear me play saxophone!

KAT: You must have hit your head or tripped. You don't even play saxophone!

Maury: That's the other thing, I've always wanted to!

KAT: What is it you're trying to say?

MAURY: This closet of ours must lead to a different realm or dimension showing us our greatest desires. You've got to try it.

KAT: Maury, I'm not mental. I really don't care who else you've slept with this time or even how young they were. So, you can stop playing games.

MAURY: I'm not playing games, for Christ sake. Just get in the closet. You'll see.

KAT: All right, but if there's nothing in there I'm going to stay with my mother for a while. Maybe forever.

MAURY: I wouldn't expect any less.

[KAT opens up the closet door and looks inside]

KAT: Oh, I see Prince Charming and a pumpkin carriage!

MAURY: Just walk inside.

[She walks inside]

What do you see?

[He walks slowly toward the door]


[She falls into his arms]

KAT: I saw the stars out over earth. I was flying if you call it that in space.

MAURY: Anything else?

KAT: Yes. We were together. But not like now.

MAURY: How then?

KAT: You never cheated. Everything was whole.

MAURY: Throw that in my face.

KAT: I wouldn't have to if you hadn't done it!

MAURY: Kat, you know I was ill.

KAT: Bullshit. You weren't addicted to sex. So why did you do it?


MAURY: I was in bed one night. You thought I'd gone to sleep and I overheard you on the phone. You were telling Cindy how much you regreted your life with me; how I held you back.

KAT: You weren't supp-

MAURY: Supposed to hear? I wish I hadn't.

KAT: I'm sorry, Maury. I really am. There's just so much I wanted to be.

MAURY: Like what?

KAT: Oh, it's all so silly now. I wanted to be an astronaut.

MAURY: And I want to be a jazz musician.

[KAT, MAURY look at the door]

KAT: Maybe...

MAURY: We still can...

[Both grasp hands and walk through it].


Saturday, June 02, 2012

The Raving Moonbat?

I'm considering ending my political blog, the Raving Moonbat. It hasn't lived up to the expectations or image I had. But, before I send it off, I thought I'd ask what you all thought.