SKY SCRATCHES #2 By RdotTornello© 2014 & The Village idiot Press ___________________________________________ Vapor trails sharp hard tight fluffy fuzzy loose westward heading aviactus clouds against the blue 26000 plus feet above. Zippers, scratches beyond the blue deep. “A rip in the sky,” she asks why.

DUST BUNNIES __________________________________________________ Dust bunnies come and dust bunnies go. Where do they come from, can we show? That very question was asked some days ago, and posed to minds that ought to know: Perplexed, puzzled, and furrowed brow. Eyes crossed with purpose and wonder, strained. No answer forth coming, dumb as snow. “As a fact, this we know.” “They grow in corners, under sofas and couches.” “As a fact, this we know.” “They can double in size in a day or so.” Again we’re asked, “What do they eat? Where do they sleep?” “Ah, um, ah …” Another mind stumping, mental, exercise treat. “But, they’ve got no feet! Where are their ears” “They’re faster than brooms. They scoot in front or slip around.” “And got no toes!” “They scoot in front or slip around, sliding so fast, scamper to another room. All the while, they ride on the backs of dogs and cats. Dare I say, they play with mice when you’re away.” Cornered, Quickly… they…collapse, your guard comes down and… approached, and… touch to grab, and… they jump-flit-away! They’re gone. Playing peek-a-boo, and Do It All Over Again. “You have a cure?” It’s no use they’ll get away! It always happens. There’s no…..!!! Varoooom, varooom, all gone, all gone. “I got me, ha-ha-ha , an electric broom.” The End

MY SISTER IS A ROBOT Or _________________________________________________ I My granpa is a scientist so I think he knows the best. My mother says that granpa, can really be a pest. I know that granpa knows a lot. He says my sister is a bot. My sister crashes into walls, wobbles all about, then she falters; then she falls, curled up in a heap. Granpa says as he looks to me, “software glitch, set default, its there to plainly see”. So in school and on the street I tell all the people that I meet. At me they look so kindly. They smile light and smile sweet. So on this affirmed! On this I know…his science can’t be beat. (Just between me and you, Granpa says she’ll soon reboot when she cries at night. Daddy shouts to both, “be quiet!” “Or both, he’s going to boot.”) II My sister Kendall, that’s her name. I know of others with the name the same. And I saw that on the screen today, Barbie with HER Kendall played. So maybe, just maybe she IS a beta, just like granpa said. And mom will return her to the store when an upgrade’s made. In the mean time I have yet to find, the proper button, push . And believe me, yes. And how I’ve tried. But every time I go to push, she falls down and cries! III Mommy says, “don’t listen to that crazy gray haired coot. Kendall’s not a robot, sweetie. She’s your sister, and your sister, you can’t reboot.” Batteries not included. No children were damaged writing this poem.

PANTRY GOBLINS By RdotTornello © 2009 revised 2014 & The Village idiot Press __________________________________________________ The pantry goblins call to me, to see if I’m awake. When there are no answers then all my pastries…….they partake. In the morn, I stumble-stubble, not yet quite awake, I reach for a pastry here, and there? I grab for a piece cake? But where? Misplaced by mistake? My eyes go red my mind is numb as ants go running by. I view. I see. My eyes deceive. I cannot believe. now crumbs where empty wrappers lie. Somebody’s been at my goodies and I’m not telling a lie! Who’s been eating my breakfast dessert? Who’s nibbling at my cake? A giggle hidden and chuckle muffled, I swear…..something makes. I’m not crazy. Oh no I’m not, though driven to despair! It’s the pantry goblins in my home. I …know… I’m… not… alone…but where I’ll fix those goblins just you wait and see. I’ll fix them good…and then I’ll be free. Low fat cookies are what I’ll bake Lower fat cakes are what I’ll make! These here items will replace the well made pastries I past, stuffed my face. The low fat pastry’s awful smell to the pantry goblins and will repel. And from my home they will vamoose And to may neighbors will re-move. Good-bye to goblins, good-bye you all. And none to soon will I’ll be walking tall, to my pantry and real cake eat that the pantry goblins, for my trick did fall. The End

FIBRE OPTIC EATING BACKHOE (FOEB pronounced foebee) _____________________________________________________ Have you ever seen the fibre optic eating backhoe? It’s fierce and wild as it goes about its evil task, growling Spewing stinky sooty smoke from its nostrils. Rolling, or crawling on clanky tracks. All sizes and types No country is immune. They grow every where! Roll and dig. Dig and roll See the cable and what hoe? Let’s go. Snap, cut, bzzzt. The computer quick dies The phone quits, the movie ends DARK. Cables incased in concrete The FOEB’s delight, chew right through. Steel conduit? Not an issue with teeth so strong. What-to-do? Don’t you dare approach the FOEB Cause you’ll be an appetizer, and eaten too. burp. The End

DONKEY FROGS As reported by Mackenzie *** _____________________________________________ Mackenzie asked me early one day, “Have you ever seen a donkey frogs frolicking at play?” ‘No,” I responded. What could I say “A donkey frog? Really? Not in my day!” “They hop like zebras bounding away, or croak in the garden as night overcomes day. Gray and green or black and white, donkey frogs can be a most terrible sight. Some are big, oh so quite huge too fat to do anything , they can’t even move.” Mackenzie saw them as she mentioned to me. So I wrote what she said for all you to see. “They’re afraid of cameras and don’t want to be held, If you see one to touch you must stand so still. It will come up and look you nose to your toes Then smile if it wants to, giving a moo.” The End