Tuesday, December 22, 2009

My Annual Collections Booklet for YOU...

Dear Friends & Loved Ones:
It’s been 8 years that I’ve been doing these little booklets. (Pictured Below...)Here's an electronic edition that I've put on my blog of it. If you would like to have a pdf format copy of this please drop me an email at -- its2allgood4u@yahoo.com
Let me warn you that it is about 5Mb large. I would be more than happy to email you it. I make little changes each year that hopefully are improving the quality of these booklets. This year you will find more changes. I’ve cut out the recipes this year, and added more poetry, and a few new paintings. I hope you enjoy what's included in this blog post and I look forward to any comments that you may make. Please accept this as a gift to you for this Holiday Season.
Thank you --- J. Allgood

The Good Die Young
By Jallgood
Only the good die young-
Or so the song spouts in verse-
And I think,
Does that mean I wasn’t good?
Was I rejected, then, and
Put on the BAD list?
And while on this trial of thought,
Does that mean really old people
Were, clearly, BAD?
Or perhaps, that,
We are all bad?
Then get a chance
To regress into innocence,
In our old age?
And given the choice,
Can I take a waiver,
Or a “chance” card,
And pass on the old age,
Go directly to dying BAD?
Because, quite frankly,
This getting old DOES NOT appeal.

Spinning a Spokesong
By Jallgood
Calves streaked with black grease,
Cleated shoes pushing through circles,
A mind visualizing completed circling strokes,
Circles spinning, spinning,
Wheels turning, and turning,
A dance upon pedals.
A beautiful symphony of rhythm,
Stroke, after pedal stroke.
A heart singing in the sensation….
Flying on a bicycle.
Surfing upon a wave of air,
Gliding above pavement,
Spinning a Spokesong,
An ever contented heart sings,
The wind races around a spandex clad form,
The speed washes forward.
A praying thought goes out,
For an everlasting non-ending road,
Oh, to be able to go on and on,
And never ever finish,
This spinning Spokesong.

By Jallgood
Fleeting glimpses of another world,
and all that I'm mostly left with are
preposterous images like….
Myself and superman standing at the
tip top of the Eiffel Tower
but this version of Superman
is Burt Reynolds in a Superman outfit with a toupee,
and I wonder….
How his toupee is staying on with all this wind?

Or another image…

I'm a pilot of a large jumbo plane
and my co-pilot is Mr. Bean
who, for some reason,
is trying to refasten his "steering wheel"
with chewing gum
and the more chewing gum he
Uses the more the gum is getting

Or another image…

I'm dancing and singing
in the rain
just like the movie
but Gene Kelly looks like Brad Pitt,
who can dance okay
but can't sing a lick,
and I'm half tempted to tell him so
but then I think
"He's easy on the eyes,
just give him a break."

Or another image…

I've written a musical
and I'm overseeing the dry rehearsal
the name of the musical?
"Catholics and Mormons Living in Harmony"
and we are going over a scene
where Sister Fabian sings
"Miss Molly Mormon
you've got nothing on me…"
done to the tune of "Run Around Sue"

There are several more images…
those are just the hi-lights, so to speak.
Most of them not as outlandish as these
but strange and fleeting all the same.
And I can't help but wonder the reasons
Is it something I ate before bed?
Or is my imagination
just going "Hog Wild" while I sleep?
Or perhaps,
My subconscious is really twisted?
And if that is the case--
I really don't want to know.
Odd Dreams
None the less.
"BOND CAR" By Jallgood

A sunny brisk late Fall morning,
Easing off of the freeway southbound,
A perfectly blond moussed spiked flat
top remained unscathed,
Dark aviator glasses played off well,
With the black leather bomber jacket,
As the two-seater convertible eased off into traffic,
I noticed the license plate,
I couldn't help but smile and wonder,
Perhaps, he faired well in the bond market?
And thus paid for the car, or,
Perhaps, he's a middle-aged man going for an image?
I tend to think that it is the latter…..

A Mighty Fine Motto By Jallgood
He stood on the porch,
Hands on his back hips,
He recited with a slight southern twang,
"My Papay always told me…
Remember the seven P's,"
His index finger counting off his other fingers,
As he continued on,
"Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance
Papay found it worked;
He was always ahead of the game."
I respectfully listened,
Meanwhile, I was taking in the view,
A gutter barely hanging on by a rusty strap,
And a weather-beaten fence swaying to the wind's whim,
And I couldn't help but think to myself,
What's his definition of," Proper Prior Planning"?
And his definition of "Piss Poor Performance"?
As I nodded and agreed,
Saying," That's a mighty fine motto to live by,
A mighty fine motto."

Car Maestro —-By Jallgood
On a warm Fall afternoon,
The music streamed from the half opened window,
As the engines hummed in accompaniment,
Her arms flourished around
and above the steering wheel,
Her short brown hair swung
in timing with the music,
The semi-truck may have blocked most of her view,
But her imagination was directing an orchestra,
And all this took place at a stop light.
A Sunny Day at the Park
By Jallgood

Sounds envelope me,
Children's laughter rings,
The fountain patters out
a comfortable rhythm,
I relax on a bench,
The sun's warmth on my face,
A slight soothing breeze cools,
And whispering trees,
Put me at ease,
In this oasis
In the city.

Stress!!! By Jallgood
Calmness evaporates in the face of it,
Hands sweating,
Heart palpating,
Nail biting sets in,
Then shaking legs and wobbling knees.
Freaking out!
Thoughts converging in the mind,
Fleeting remnants of ideas,
Sweep the edge of consciousness,
There and gone in a blink.
Faster, faster!
Threads are holding it all together,
A mass intertwining,
Spinning, Spinning!
Out of control!
Juggling, Juggling!
Don't let any of the pieces fall,
Hurry! Hurry!
Please pray an ending in site,
A good ending,
Shared Love By Jallgood

A whisper of breath,
Across a cheek,
A gentle breeze,
Of warmth,
A smile,
Reaches a twinkling eye,
A light squeeze,
Of holding hands,
A hand,
Lightly resting,
On a knee,
A palm,
Smoothly stroking,
Along the small of a back,
Full conversations,
Done in,
Wordless looks,
Quiet silences,
Between two,
Little moments of love,
Flashes of warmth,
Enough to melt,
An icy core,
Of a soul,
A rekindling,
Of hopes,
And dreams,
Long thought dead,
Or out of reach,
Now seem possible,
Because of shared love.

A Scathing E-Mail By Jallgood

Just when you thought it safe,
A scathing e-mail scantily clad has scampered,
For shelter in your “In-Box”,
Scarcely a scarecrow,
On these sinister autumn days,
Has scared you as much!
And the matter of Seven Swans a Swimming,
Could prove to be less savage!
Than scrambling to play a saucy game of Scrabble,
With the ever sassy seventy-year-old Mary,
But sainthood shall never be applied to this satirized e-mail,
That proves to be a scab,
On the scaffolding of your network!
No longer savory to exist,
You send this slippery scalawag to a scarleted trash bin,
And with a sigh of relief,
You carefully scan the rest of your “In-Box”,
For any further dubious characters!
I am Home By Jallgood
My soul has touched the whispering whites of clouds,
And it has felt the depths of burning embers in the earth,
But my heart has found a home,
Entwined in the safety of your arms,
And in that circle of love,
A willingness to ride the tides between heaven and hell,
As long as I can be in your arms,
I am home,
And my anchor is entrenched,
So whatever war the world may wage,
I shall always return to peace,
And the paradise of your loving arms.

By Jallgood
I’m drawn like a moth to a flame,
I can’t help myself,
And I don’t understand.
I’m enchanted, bewitched,
and fascinated beyond comprehension.
It’s as though a switch has been thrown.
I’m off skelter.
So I blame you!
It’s your personal charm,
Your animal magnetism,
And all the other qualities I notice,
That add up to you.
I want to shout
“It’s your fault!”
But I can’t give away that control,
Much as I would like to.
I can’t give that up.
So I keep my distance,
As much as I can.
I need to figure this out, because
This is not the norm for me.
Questions swirl in my brain, mostly…
Why? Why? Why?
Why is it you?
Why such a strong attraction?
I can’t explain it,
And it’s driving me in to madness.
I wonder
Is it me?
Am I somehow short circuited?
I need control!
Control and logic!
That’s what will save me from this….
That’s if I want to be saved?
A Glimpse of God
By Jallgood

I saw a glimpse of God
In your smile,
And my heart soared to the gates of heaven,
And I knew, then,
That you were meant for me,
For you are my gift from God,
And there is not a day that goes by
That I don’t thank Him,
For you.

Three Friends in a Doorway
By Jallgood
And sharing.
Three friends,
Sit in a doorway,
On a warm March day.
Benny, Sally, & June,
When Sally tells...
“It was THIS high...”
Raising her arm,
Benny's face smirks with disbelief,
And June just rolls her eyes.

The Riding Team By Jallgood

We were comfortably crowding each other,
Our thighs lunging in a rhythmic motion.
Sharing the road felt like poetry from heaven.
Riding with a lyricism of the wind at our back,
Anyone could appreciate this hypnotic gliding through air,
A building momentum of a team riding the air,
Each of us on the wings of another desiring to fly,
Or so it felt.
Each of us finding our pocket of air,
Drafting off a rotating leader.
Each taking our one minute pulls,
Then taking our turn at a refreshing drink,
We drift back to the tail of the paceline,
Our humanity mechanized,
My team and I are humanly recharged.

The Bumper Sticker Read By Jallgood
The Bumper sticker read
“God Bless The Whole World: No Exceptions!”
The dry red painted Volkswagon churned to a stop.
She danced out of the car
Swinging the door shut with a loud bang.
Her blond hair bounced under her stripe knitted hat.
Spinning slowly around,
Her baggy frayed pants skimmed the ground.
Her earth friendly clogs peeked out
And her half opened lime green home knit sweater
Swayed around her slender tall form.
She heard music from an unknown source,
And she hummed along,
Marching to a beat
That only she could hear.
Marching up to the Post Office door,
Oblivious to the stares from others,
Or the looks she received,
She swish and swayed,
Alone in her own world.
Trying to save our world
In her own way?

Romantic Love?
By Jallgood
Some define it and declare it
With sappy sentimental verse,

Others, consider it sarcastically
As an illogical emotion
Until it slams up against their heads.

And others, question it…
Does it exist?
Will it ever knock on their door?
And if it does, will they recognize it?
Or feel they deserve it?

Are we all fools in our own right?
Whether we declare it, deny it, or question it.
Perhaps, we take too much time
And worrying about it,
That we miss both the possibility and simplicity of it?
Grampa Slim
By Jallgood

He could have paid for his home several times over,
And the neighborhood was on the decline,
But here he remained.
The 1920’s clapboard house was full of memories,
Some good, some bad,
But it had served simply as his home for over 40 years.
He was a simple man with simple needs,

The same attitude applied to his blue work coveralls,
He wore them everyday.
He had retired 15 years ago,
But he continued to wear them.
After all, they were comfortable, serviceable, and low maintenance,
Which fit in fine with his bachelor lifestyle.
He was a simple man with simple needs,

On ordinary days,
Breakfast was eaten at the restaurant
down around the corner.
The usual two eggs, two sausage patties,
toast and coffee.
It was the cheap special of the day on the menu.
Most afternoons and evenings passed
“Shooting the breeze”,
And a few beers with his buddies.
Down at the local VFW club,
He was a simple man with simple needs,

He knew the sadness
Of outliving a wife, a son, and a daughter.
He had 10 grandkids,
And 13 great grandkids,
He found joy in them.
There wasn’t a day went by,
He didn’t miss “Toots”,
She had been his shooting star.
It had been 12 years,
Since cirrhosis of the liver had taken her away,
Life was full of surprises,
Some good, some bad,
He took it all in stride,
Because he was a simple man with simple needs.

A Walk Down Main
By Jallgood

Let's stroll,
And take a romantic turn,
Down memory lane,
There's “Our” cafe,
where we had our first date,
And look!
There's the Boot Shop,
where we've spent many hours,
telling stories,
of how you got
that hole in your boot.....
this time.
And look!
There's the jewelry store,
where you bought my ring,
Oh, to bottle up all these memories,
What a wonderful heady potion!
I'm so glad for this
Walk Down Main.

Fountain Play
By Jallgood

Jazz rhythm,
Irregular and rude.
It's just water,
Shooting up,
Then slapping to the ground.
Peels of Laughter,
And shrieks of surprise,
The shock of running through cold water,
On a hot July day.
Parents hum plans for small futures,
For the little ones who play.
The Leader
By Jallgood

All alone,
Dancing on pedals,
I pause a bit,
Blowing the air out of my lungs.
A glance over the shoulder,
Reveals the pack is back 15 feet.
I pounce and accelerate,
Building that space,
More, and more, to
20, 25, 30 feet.
I take quick glances checking distance,
And again at the top of the hill,
Then again at the crest,
I pounce one last time.
Rising out of my saddle,
The bike swaying side to side,
Smashing my legs for all of their worth.
I start to descend.
I sit and tuck in, while
I keep my feet going.
I take a cleansing breathe to wash,
Out the scalding and sulfurous feelings,
Logged in my throat.
I must stay focused now,
The finish line approaches.
Snow Plow Man’s Ballet
By Jallgood

At 3:30AM
The pristine snow covered parking lot beckons him
A soft white clean slate
If only life could be like this
He couldn’t explain the beauty of it
Try as he might
His wife would roll her eyes.

Maybe, maybe some day
When their son was old enough
Then he could make his son understand
Just like when his dad had shown him.

Taking one more quick sip of coffee,
He turned up the music.
The symphony spiraled
Above the noise of the truck’s heater.

Dropping the blade,
It began.
The first pass cut the parking lot in half
Then the quick twirl of a turn,
A light tap on the brake
And the slight lift of the blade
In unison
Then around for another pass.

Dropping the blade again
Watching the sparks fly
As the metal and cement skimmed along
He picked up the speed on the straight a ways.

Then again a quick turn
Light tap,
Slight lift,
All done in unison,
Then around for another pass.

Then the race along the next straight away
The music surging into a crescendo
And feeling a tug on his heart from past memories of himself and his dad
Of being buckled in on the passenger side, while Dad drove,
Loving the building speed
Just before the turn.
And around for another pass

Oh, these winter moments
Filled with fond memories
Were among his favorite.
They kept those hurried Christmas season thoughts at bay.

The quick twirl of turn,
A light tap on the brake
And the slight lift of the blade
All done in unison
Then around for another pass.

Only in America
By Jallgood

7:30AM on a December Tuesday Morning
The car radio announces a 20 degree dip in temps
I pull into the Wal-Mart parking lot
Outside stands a man with shopping bags on a bench
His red checked flannel shirt hangs out over worn blue jeans
His head is topped by a green and lavender striped stocking hat
He’s eating an ice cream cone
A nutritious breakfast?

Inside the breeze way
Two rumpled men sit on a bench with bundles and used sleeping bags
Debating philosophy over their steaming McDonald’s coffee cups

Hovering by the McDonald’s door inside the Wal-Mart
A pair of Latino girls speaking quickly in Spanish.
A man with a turban and a down jacket exits the store
A middle aged blond bombshell in a fur trimmed leopard print jacket,
and bright purple boots is being check out at aisle #1

All the while I’m thinking …
Only in America
Only in America
Could you find such a melting pot?
(Or maybe just at your local Wal-Mart?)

Season’s Greetings
to all of you!
Wishing that whatever wishes
you wish come true during this
Holiday Season!

No comments: