Missie


A high compression young gal.
An Oldsmobile Pal.
A special woman in her own way.
Big Block Oldsmobile’s her way to say.

How she feels about her daily driver.
A front loaded four fifty fiver.
Does all of her own work.
Her modifications she doesn’t shirk.

Grease under her fingernails.
Tells the world her tales.
Of hard-fought work with a smile.
Cuts and scars give her style.

On the backs of her pretty hands.
She bleeds Royal Purple into the sands.
In her driveway shop.
In her heart nonstop.

Like a Magaflow Pro Star 500.
Guys in her rearview mirror wondered.
What the hell just blew by them.
Oldsmobile Rhapsody in the key of RPM.

 Bear witness to the Beauty and the Beast.
This Lady from the Southeast.
Bewitching in her tilted smiles.
An enchantress she beguiles.

All those who come up against her.
She vanishes in a stop light blur.
Most of us Olds guys know it’s her car.
To most of us Olds guys she’s our star.

 She’s the real deal alright.
Talking to Missie is a delight.
Her southern drawl is dear to your soul.
She makes us all feel whole.

Would rather go to a drag race than watch football.
Which puts her at the head of my class call.
Likes the smell of race gas and tire smoke.
Would wear it as a perfume and that’s no joke.

 Lives and breathes drag cars and hot rods.
Likes the songs of ringing dual quads.
Addicted to big inch hard leavers.
I believe she’s got a bad case of Olds Fever.

 This damsel in an Oldsmobile.
This beautiful little lady who’s heart feels.
Everything that’s going thru her ride.
Vehicular gremlins from her cannot hide.

 I’m honored to know her.
Your opinion of her I will not defer.
She will always be my friend.
A woman to the very end.

I salute you Missie our Southern Belle.
Your story to my friends I like to tell.
Women like her are rare on a logarithmic scale.
She’s the beauty in this Oldsmobile Tale.

Dave Proffitt
11/30/2012
12:08 AM.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bad


I wonder why one man would kill another.
I wonder what he thinks when he kills a mother.
What goes thru his mind at that time.
This ultimate of all crimes.

I wonder how murderers put themselves there.
This timing of when and of where.
In times before were good men.
In times before of when.

They were younger full of hope.
Meeting life’s obstacles they could cope.
Some of these with families, some without.
Sure of everything no fear or doubt.

They walk thru this doorway to death.
Savage men, gentlemen of one breath.
From one to the other and back again.
Society’s heroes, society’s bane.

We love to hate this kind.
No love for them in our hearts we find.
I am guilty of this thought process.
But still I wonder when I reprocess.

The fact of what caused this to transpire.
A string of events that will backfire.
While others cunning will conspire.
To do these deeds they will require.

An absence of feelings and pain.
To their fellow man has slain.
I wonder what has erased this part of them.
Good parts overshadowed and condemned.

What were once good humans.
At a time was wonderful now ending in strife.
This radical shift from good to bad.
This loss of soul, a melody so sad.

So I watch as they elevate the table.
Plugging in needles to make him stable.
Some with faces of fear, some with a smile.
Traversing that long green mile.

The warden nods his head.
The switch is thrown, a machine of the dead.
Pushes its lethal serum of death unto his veins.
Cold and sparkling into him it rains.

I watch as the life spark fades from his eyes.
The link with this world starting to die.
His head starts to tilt and drop.
Does his best to make it stop.

Looks at me with wondering, fearful eyes.
Pleading, fading and afraid, he realizes.
There’s no stopping this train.
His wasted life his biggest pain.

I find myself feeling sorry for this man.
I am amazed and confused that I can.
I watch as his life light departs his body.
His eyes now empty their light disembodied.

The loss of any life renders the soul.
It cannot make anything whole.
Still we say he got what’s coming to him.
A melody in Death’s hymn.

Never be remembered for the good he once did.
For the laughter and smiles he caused as a kid.
His part in the cosmic balance of life.
His part in this tragedy and strife.

And you tell me this is sympathy for the devil?
I have no sympathy for this man out of level.
Who am I to say what made him this way?
His errant path from life he’s strayed.

And so I wonder why I even feel this way?
So I tell myself there will be better days.
And I pull the plug on this scenario.
Still my feelings hit me with this vibrato.

Will not let go of me so easily.
This melody plays so dark and eerily.
Rampaging thru my mind banging and crashing.
Into the darkest parts illuminating and flashing.

The intellectual energy to turn these mental gears.
Is fleeting now for I fear.
The rhyme and reason for this is beyond human spirit.
The bearer of these colors in hue of dispirits.

So the rotors of time will blow away.
These dark memories to me that weigh.
Upon rational thought.
Upon our intentional blind spots.

And so I say unto you any loss of life is a tragedy.
But often useful and a necessity.
In my mind no room for repeat offenders.
The Bad will come in either of the genders.

I have seen too much of death in my lifetime.
Never comes in beauty or the sublime.
Of these two I recollect.
Of these two my heart collects.

Dave Proffitt
11/14/2012
9:56

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Witch


Fire red hair with glacial blue eyes.
That burn with fierceness that mesmerize.
When she smiles at you.
Her heart is true.

To whatever she does.
She’s just this way because.
She’s a witch and doesn’t know it.
Doesn’t know how to stop or quit.

A most lovely woman if ever there was.
She makes me feel good because.
Her lovely heart is fierce.
Her words never pierce.

The fine human exterior.
That never sinks to the interior.
She makes most feel superior.
And no one ever felt inferior.

In her presence.
In her pleasance.
She weaves her magic.
From the open sea pelagic.

Walking in the woods with her.
The leaves whirl behind her and stir.
Strange lights in the trees when we pass by.
The wind thru the trees whispers and sighs.

Unaware of all this she smiles at me.
Asks me about the lights in the trees.
I tell her she’s the reason they are there.
Smiling thru little girl’s eyes she stares.

In wonderment and recollections of herself.
She puts the serious on the shelf.
Has an inkling of what she may be.
Sometimes afraid to look at what she sees.

Wonders why sparks from her fingertips fly.
Wonders about the glow in her deep blue eyes.
Sometimes she chooses not to believe.
What’s obvious to others as they perceive.

This lovely 21st century witch.
A twenty first century time line glitch.
Rare in this day and age.
With wisdom from the mind of a sage.

Knows not why she is.
Knows more about what gives.
Surrendering secrets to this witch supreme.
All the secrets of nature to her doth beam.

A natural to whatever she does.
To all that is and all that was.
Makes me feel good just to know her.
She smells of sea breezes and myrrh.

An elemental in the purest form.
Could tame the wildest storm.
If only she knew she could.
If she knew she would.

And what of this witches name pray tell?
I have hopelessly fallen under her spell.
And her name crystallizes in my brain.
 The wind whispers , ” Laraine, Laraine”.

Dave Proffitt
11/11/2012
8:16 am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too Long Looked After


He’s 43 years old and still a Mama’s Boy.
Goes to work so he can support his hobbies and toys.
Married to a neglected wife.
Her unsuccessful efforts fill her with strife.

Too Long Looked After.
He seeks no change hereafter.
Much too long looked after.
No picture of a man but one of disaster.

Unwilling to clean up after himself.
Too lazy to put his clothes on the shelf.
Beneath his duties as a man.
Beyond his abilities as a human.

Enjoys being the bully to his loving wife.
Enjoys playing with her emotional life.
Threatens her with divorce on a weekly basis.
The blood to his brain in a state of stasis.

Too long looked after.
A Mama’s boy to a disaster.
Backs down from any man that gets in his face.
Yells at his wife to feel better this man of no grace.

I cannot befriend this person of abuse.
I cannot condone his wife’s misuse.
I cannot understand his misplaced laughter.
I can say “Too long looked after.”

Takes his wife’s efforts for granted.
His views of her duties often slanted.
By what she’s costing him in food.
By whether he’s in a good or bad mood.

Unable to see what she does for him.
Attentive to his every whim.
Washes his clothes, keeps the house clean.
Makes his lunches, cooks his dinners this queen.

Taking its toll on her soul.
Tears on her face roll.
Taking its toll on her heart.
She resurrects herself from the start.

I am witness to this behavior from her husband.
Makes me embarrassed that I am a man.
Such a disgusting example of the male species.
Such disregard for her his verbal atrocities.

Too long looked after.
Too long the drafter.
Too long writer of bad manuscripts.
Too long the cub bear fumbling the bull whip.

You do deserve a divorce.
You deserve to do for yourself of course.
You deserve to suffer her absence.
You deserve to miss her forever more.

Dave Proffitt
11/5/2012
9:49

Quantum Mechanics for Dogs


Dave my human was reading this book the other night in bed. I got up on the bed and lay down beside him. One of my favorite places in the world to be. I looked at the cover of this book. The only reason I know it’s a book is because I got into trouble for chewing the corners off of one of his books he really liked. He said in a disappointed at dog tone, “Ziggy look what you did to my book!” Because I really feel bad when Dave is upset with me I remembered what a book is.

So Dave talks to me about everything. I don’t understand half of what he’s saying but I like listening to him. It makes me feel good, I don’t get lonesome or bored this way. He was telling me that he didn’t get some of the things he was reading in this book. So he told me about these little tiny things that are smaller than Iams dog food chunks. He said they are way smaller than that. Hard to imagine, until I thought of ants. Then it made sense sort of. He says these things are called “particles.” I don’t know how humans say this sort of stuff it just twists up my tongue. Then he told me that they are called funny names. Things like protons, and neutrons, electrons, bosons, mesons, and these things that sound like candy bars called quarks. He said there were quarks with flavors!  Those made me drool a little. He saw that and said “you can’t eat them Zeph.” He also told me that they have even stranger names, like “strange, and charmed, and have this thing called spin.  Hey I could chase it if it was spinning! I’m starting to like quarks. I’ll bet their chewy. 

He said that there are also these things called photons. He says that’s why we can see. These little things must have eyes on them maybe?  There’s this other particle Dave called a neutrino. I guess they can go right thru you.  Dave says you can’t feel that. I think I did!  Woof!  Okay I’ll quit barking.  Now he says that these particles are like Oregon drivers and once in a while run into each other. Crash!  Woops!  Woof!  When this thingy called an electron crashes into another proton some of the kids in the car get kicked out. He said the kids names are Gamma Ray photon and funny names like that. Gamma’s kid sister’s name is positron. She must come from a divorced family I think. Now according to Dave the sister or the brother will crash into someone else. Wow what a bunch of bad drivers huh?  Now this part sort of hurts my head a little bit. He is pretty good at explaining this to a dog, that be me, so I’ll try and tell you how this works.  When Mr. Electron crashed into Mr. Proton, he was driving along this highway called the “timeline?”  Whatever the heck that is. Anyways when the kids flew out of the Proton mobile they went off on a tangent, I image they were kinda pissed off too.  So when sissy positron crashed into the next particle I think this was something called a neutron, there were more kids kicked out. One of the kids name was also the same and he is also Gamma Ray Photo. Dave says this is some sort of conservation of energy deal, I don’t get that part but I believe him. Anyway the other kid that got throw out of the bus went down and backwards out the back door of the “timeline.” Dave also said this kid was on a tangent too. Sounds to me like all these kids are really pissed. Dave told me that’s how things go back in time on what’s called the sub atomic level. Wow my head really hurts. I’m gonna go raise hell with Dave so he takes me outside to pee. I need to tear around the yard and chase the balls.

Okay we’re out in the yard. Dave has my Kong in his hand. He calls this the “proton.” Wow more school. Okay okay, I can dig this kinda school.  He says “now Ziggy (he calls me that when he plays with me) the Kong or proton is gonna be shot down the particle accelerator, which is my arm.”  “ I want you to follow the proton alright?”  Not to worry here Dave I’ll catch the damn thing!  He throws the Kong, woops “proton.” It wobbles; I guess protons wobble a lot then? Dog Logic.  Wobbly protons how awkward. I’ll have to tell my wolf cuz Wyatt about wobbly protons. He’ll laugh. So this thing lands and I’m on it. He says when the proton hits the saw horse outside the shop that the saw horse is really a neutron. Still looks like a sawhorse to me.  He said that because of the way the Kong, shoot proton, hits the neutron that due to its angle (haven’t figured that out yet) will go off on some tangent, (I guess the Kong got pissed off for hitting the sawhorse now huh?) Hey don’t tell Dave I called it Kong and sawhorse okay? So that makes it bounce up onto the deck.

    I got this orange Chuckit Ball Dave calls it a Gamma Ray Photon.  I guess that’s because it’s orange? Dave said this is a high energy particle. I’ll take his word for it. I also got this other ball with little knobby like things that stick out and tickle my gums. Dave calls this one a positron. Dave says this is something called “antimatter.”  Actually it “don’tmatter” to me. WOOF WOOF! Dog Humor. He says it’s opposite of an electron which my green tennis ball that L gave me. He talks to me a lot. He told me when I brought the proton (Kong) back to him that, “This is science Ziggy!” He seemed genuinely pleased with himself for teaching his dog what he calls Quantum Mechanics.  Dave told me he doesn’t really understand it very much but likes to read about it. He understands it more than I do. I like being the particle chaser though. He told me that you can’t teach monkeys Quantum Mechanics. I also believe that. I never thought monkey were very smart, Dave told me once he went to the zoo and the monkeys were throwing their own poop at people and masturbating. How undignified. When was the last time you ever saw a German Shepherd doing that?  Well I never!  Wuff. 

Used to make me mad when these scientist types used to say that monkeys are smarter than dogs. I don’t think so. Dave says he never thought that monkeys were smarter than dogs. Finally someone on the Discovery Channel did a show called Dogs Decoded. And I’ve become vindicated!  It also had a shot of my cousin Wyatt the wolf on there. The humans finally admitted that dogs, that be me!, were a lot smarter than the humans thought they were. Duh! Duh Duh!  It’s about time!  It showed this monkey trying to get this treat from under a cup. The human testing him would point to the cup and the monkey because he was so greedy, always got the wrong cup. What a dumb ass!  Woof!

I get lots of hugs for being a good “science doggy” Dave’s tag for me when he’s got his science teacher hat on.  Sometimes I get to be hot rod mechanic too. Dave lets me cruise around in the shop while he’s “wrenching” on his hot rods. I like the word “wrenching”, it reminds me of wrenching something lose with my teeth sorta like the time I “wrenched” the stuffing out of his old comforter. Dave didn’t’ like that much so I don’t do that anymore either. Sure was fun though. I was the dog hero rescuing my girlfriend doggie from the deadly comforter. Of course I had to kill it and shake it just a little.  I think my Quantum toys are outside right now. I don’t think rain will hurt my “proton” or the positron that L gave me. I like the positron a lot it smells like L. She’s nice. I like it when she kisses me.  Maybe I like Quantum Mechanics after all. Getting hugs from Dave and kisses from L for being a good science doggy is worth being a Dog Scientist!

Woof Woof!
Zephyr.