Do Mothers Go To The Mother Land ?

Do Mothers Go To The Mother Land

Where do mothers go

Where do mothers go

When done with this

Do they go to the Mother Land.

Do they wear slacks

and Put their feet up  on

old dented military desks

like battle weary soldiers

And talk of the bawling sack of

Love

That tore their bodies open

Pillaged their breasts

Rampaged across their  vaginal channel

Could it be they have their own

Amended  story

they chose not to share.

Where do mothers go.

Do they fall from grace

Like pearls from a broken necklace

must we read between the lines

To find where they have fallen

Are they the hidden meaning

We always heard about.

Where do mothers go.

The first to see us naked.

The first to wipe apple sauce off our chins.

The first to wipe our bottoms.

After seeing us take our first step

The first to see our  heads

ricochet off the coffee table

And is it so strange she should

bemoan  only for a moment her

Savaged youth and plundered breasts

Derek Earl Houghton

Flat Earth

Flat Earth

I believe all conspiracy theories.

I  resist all rational explanation, 

no matter who offers it,

No matter how respected, 

no matter how qualified.

No matter what the evidence proves.

The more outrageous the better. 

I want them to tear their hair.

I want them  to stomp their feet 

I want them to grumble how backward I am, 

How gullible and stupid I am.

I want to get even.

I want to return the one hundred

year old  insult. 

I only talk to Flat Earth people now.

They make sense.

The attitude is refreshing.

I like the way their wear their hats

I like the twinkle in their eyes.

I like the way they cover their ears and

And yell La la la la la  so they can’t hear anything.

This was the kind of faith I always dreamed of .

They are my  kind of people.

I am one with them.

I am getting a big red four by four pick up

To pray to ,

Because that’s how we Flat Earth folks roll.

Common sense makes no sense.

Why bother making sense when common sense doesn’t

Derek Earl Houghton

An Optimist a Pessimist and a Realist walk in to a bar.

An optimist a pessimist and a realist walk in to a bar.

The realist proceeds to  pays for the first round of drinks.

The Optimist credit card was maxed out so he couldn’t buy a round

The Pessimist didn’t believe in credit cards and he was short on cash.

The Pessimist and the Optimist, familiar with the realists' unfailing pragmatism,

expressed great appreciation for the drinks.

The realist, being the realist that he was , knew neither of them had any intention

of ever  paying, but he believed, to the very depths of his soul, that

even fanciful pals deserved a drink from time to time

and an evening out on the town.

Derek Earl Houghton