Reflections on a Facebook Defriending
Here’s a cool thing, for me –
and it shows progress –
when you defriended me
this time I spent only a
few seconds feeling hurt
and wondering why
and then I had more
interesting and important
things to do and no time
to spend worrying about
it, or wallowing in the
drama of it, or feeling vague
guilt over I knew not what.
But I did get a poem
out of it.
I’ve got a plan to sell
a plan to fame
a plan to get money
a dazzling scheme
I’ll network and connect
and shout and tell.
The only thing I’m
lacking is something
And now I give you an ode to Bernie –
You’ll rarely see his mug on FOX
or sitting in a corporate box.
He doesn’t hang out on CNBC,
or get paid by corporations for a speaker’s fee.
The media owned by the insanely rich
isn’t the outlet of choice for his political pitch.
For corporate media has become old news,
and other newer avenues, he does choose.
He emails, blogs, twitters, and does the Eff Bee –
he’s gone directly to the people, for all to see
that there’s another direction for us to turn –
let’s share the wealth and feel the Bern!
– Karen Wingoof
An Ode to the Words That Make Me Laugh
Fricassee and fracas, kerfuffle and prodgious
Prestidigitation and preposterous obsequious-ness
Bovine and waddle, flummoxed fracas
Cacophony and kiester, blunderbuss balderdash-as
Ubiquitous shenanigans, and discombobulat’ed
Debacle and brouhaha, and truly twitter-pated.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
As co-founder of the one true fallacious faith of Humoristianity, I am certainly not immune to the humor of the doings at Malheur.
But when I saw the YouTube clip of the high school girl in nearby Burns, Oregon, sharing how scared the militants had made her, I stopped laughing for a moment.
The militants who have taken over Malheur are criminals – pure and simple – they’ve stolen property paid for by tax-payers and owned by the public – used tax-payer owned vehicles, gotten into government computers, rifled through files with the names and addresses of government employees, and threatened government workers. They’ve told us they are “fighting for their freedom” – but they’ve shown us what really drives them is greed. They are loud-mouthed, posing bullies. They are taking what they have no right to take – including the sense of security and safety of the law-abiding citizens who live near Malheur. These militants are not “patriots.” They are self-absorbed, self-centered terrorists with no apparent regard for anyone but themselves and their own, and with a sense of entitlement that is beyond comprehension.
If these bullies had been of a different race or religion do you think they would have been allowed to go on this long? It is insane.
Clowns in camo, camouflaged clowns
bullies and drama queens
with egos without bounds
Warblers, buffleheads, grossbeaks,
cranes, sparrows, pintails, and geese
were formidable foes for the militant geeks
I am rooting for the birds.
T’was Two Weeks Afore Christmas
T’was two weeks afore Christmas and all through Eff Bee
not a creature was stirring – not a she, he, or me
We were prostrate and spent from the holiday bustle
not a twitch could be seen from the teeniest muscle.
We lay all unblinking in our respective beds
while visions of gift-wrapping swirled through our heads
And clad in our jammies and our way cool madcaps
we had the vague hopeful hope our bodies would take naps.
Holiday jangles and jingles pinged through our brains –
Presley, Crosby, and Mathis taking us down memory lanes –
and would we remember every member to be gifted?
We mentally went through our lists, hoping none were omitted.
There were homes to be decorated and cards to be sent,
parties, caroling, and cookie-making, and we hadn’t made a dent.
But with a collective sigh we remembered there and then
that it’s really about good will to all creatures, women, and men.
And so our thoughts finally settled and our bodies relaxed
as we thought of those we love and a world festooned in pax.
With our hearts wrapped in kindness and the world as our ‘hood
We’re all brethren and sistren – and verily, it’s all good!
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, from A Poem Lives On My Windowsill (available on Amazon.com)