• a poem in ‘b’ ~ or ~ am i right? •

First off, this don’t scan,
so get used to it.
But, listen up.
You’ll be glad you did.
Capisce?
One of the very important things I learned,
from my time living in Brooklyn,
(New York – in case you’re from Mars…)
(hold for applause)
is that…and, I wouldn’t lie to you,
let me tell you,
is that…and I noticed this right away
(I’d have had to be blind,
and, bat-shit crazy, not to,
am I right?)…
is that…and, again,
this is very important,
so pay attention,
and please make a note of it…
is that…by the time somebody…
and it could be anybody (honestly),
a family member,
the local priest, who could say?
a random guy on the IRT…
Wait, where was I?
Oh, yeah…what I learned,
is that,
is that,
by the time somebody
gets around to calling you,
a ‘rat fuck’,
it’s probably already too late to leave.
(I was going to say, ‘leave with dignity’,
but, who am I kiddin’.
Am I right?!! Am I right?!!
Are you kiddin’ me?
Please.)
~ Tim Burchfield
12/11/17

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• vcr day •

I’m looking at a stack of movies.(Whup, I’ve been “organizing” again… does it never END?)
I’m thinking about a VCR day.
Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Notting Hill. Can you believe it? (I’ve, finally, I think, pretty much gotten over my aversion to what’s-his-name; I hear Julia Roberts gets (got) good reviews, but I’ll be the judge of that. (My mom had a thing about ‘her mouth’. I couldn’t see it, “What, ma, it’s UPSIDE DOWN??!!” I’d speculate.
What she’d say, I couldn’t make out, something about a horse, I think…but I digress.)
Oh, man. Frantic. Paris, France, International Intrigue. Harrison Ford and Betty Something…I met her, once, at an elevator landing. It was on the fritz. The elevator. You know, for a little woman, she could make a big sound. Still, though, thoroughly nice, to the core, to be sure, and neat as a pin, and, “Oh, my,” (as my Gran used to say,) “She’s no bigger ’round, than a MINUTE!!”
BUCKLEY. Betty. SEE!!?
I knew I’d get it, eventually. (Not exactly one for the quick comeback. I shall be the first to admit it. Insult me at midnight, and I shall have devised such a Retort of Devastation that you’d just better be glad that I didn’t come up with it ’till three, when you, like most sane folk, are somewhere safe, neatly tucked in bed, and sound asleep. But, I digress.)
Wow! I haven’t seen The Mummy since forever. (I wonder if the CGI will ‘hold up’, and, oh, heck, I haven’t been really, really bugged, by what’s-his-name, the fake Tarzan dude, in years. I don’t think I’ll even get nauseated, just looking at him, and that’s before he speaks…as I once may have done. See? That’s progress.
What? Moulin Rouge!!? God, I love, that, what’s-his-name, that Brit, Jim Broadbent, I think (see, I could just look at the box, but such is the ethical aspect of my views on ‘research’, it these days of, “Cause I said so.” Hey, I grew up in (such) days….”Don’t bother me with the FACTS son!” Oh, dear, I’m getting all verklempt, just thinking about it, it’s like Old Home Week.)
I love Broadbent’s voice, and style, and seamless expertise, whew!!
Oh, man. Casablanca…forgive me, I think I may have got a little light-headed, there.
Where was I, oh, yes.
How I used to adore a VCR.
And, as to movies, and whot-not, I’ve got too many to count. How I’ve loved them, over the years. I’ve been away, too long, I feel.
So, why not, maybe…renew an old love affair?
But then (this may need a re-think), there’s…what’s-his-name…
~ Tim Burchfield
11/12/17

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• imagine a world of ‘good listeners’ •

(Would it really be all that much better?)
My parents didn’t think so,
and I think they were right.
We, too, have an important job to do.
‘Ignorers’ of the world, unite!
~ Tim Burchfield
9/19/17

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• an equal opportunity assessor •

“When I’m out on the street,
regardless of age, race, creed, sexual orientation, size, gender, what-have-you,
I pretty much always use the same unbiased assessment,
with everyone I meet:
‘Human being, human being, human being, human being,
…asshole…
human being, human being, human being’.”
~ Tim Burchfield
8/3/17

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• the role of a friend •

You are no friend, friend.
You only pretend to be a friend,
always with the passive aggression,
always with the snide retort.
Let me tell you about friends, friend.
Friends don’t hurt for fun,
or rip each other’s guts out for sport.
Friends don’t laugh at your pain,
enjoy your embarrassment,
exult in undermining your satisfaction,
poo-poo your gains,
remind you of your past failures,
and follies,
winnow out your weaknesses,
and worries,
all the more, to underscore.
A friend won’t hobble your confidence,
with the teasing jibe,
the unwarranted witticism,
the stinging barb,
the bad report.
That’s not the role of a friend, friend.
That’s what family is for.
~ Tim Burchfield
5/22/17

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• no, seriously •

People crack me up.
No matter how, ‘unfunny’, they are,
still, they amuse me.
Primarily, (I think)
it’s because
they take themselves…
so seriously.
There’s a, ‘disparity’, you see?
No? Well, in time, you will.
(And you will laugh, uproariously,
and, those present, will share,
meaningful glances,
and, ‘up’, your, ‘drip’.)
Not to worry, it’s all good.
No, seriously.
~ Tim Burchfield
2/8/17

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