Southpaw Jones

Poetry that Rhymes
And flows. And builds a bridge. And inspires:

Owed to Fryday

The weekend
Not lacking in fanfare or bliss
Has risen from darkness
To give me a kiss

A kiss on the lips
Or a kiss on the cheek?
Who cares if it signals
The end of the week?

Who cares if its breath reeks
Of onion and dung?
Who cares if it slips me
A demon’s forked tongue?

It’s better than Monday
And Monday’s dumb friends!
Who can’t find a fun day
Before Sunday ends?

I tell you the truth now
So hear me not partly
Or halfly, three-quarterly
Horse-before-cart-ly

The weekend
And all of its hours unplanned
Has conspired to fire
That mean ol’ boss man

The desk and the printer
Are visions sans form
Your chair hath no buttocks
To keep its seat warm

The office and work
Soon returneth, of course
But don’t let that seep in
And cause thee remorse

For who knows?
Your wish may well find itself born
And the sun will explode
Just before Monday morn.

Fool Around Friday
Silly games for silly times:

Online Museum of the Week
Demonic Tots and Deeply Disturbing Cuisine:

From PLAN 59: THE MUSEUM (AND GIFT SHOP) OF MID-CENTURY ILLUSTRATION

Quotopia
Freshly-picked quotes from the ol’ reference collection:

At the request of the Catholic Church, a three-day sex orgy to be held near Rio de Janeiro was cancelled last Friday. So instead I spent the weekend cleaning my apartment.
Tina Fey

Plumb, Plumber, Plumbest
Signs o’ the times from Austin’s singing Jewish plumber, Herman Bennett:

Thank you, come again!
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