‘At Ain’t No Bunk!

Ah seed a young feller in a lil blue car

Ah node ride away heez a row-day-o star

Is bucket-sized at wuz black azz night

Wuz a look on ‘is face, sayed he’s a ready ta fight

 

calf roper

Ah node loss a cowboyz long time aygo

Most from a drugstore an not row-day-os

They chawed toobaca, cussed an drunk beer

Wore pointy-toe boots an was never afeared

 

They rode ‘em a bull, wuz juss a machine

An roped a old cow a munchin its feed

Them boyz wood fight if a dood drop ‘is ‘at

Or if a consarn galoot hit dare boot winny spat

 

Yep, ah use-ta ride wit a orneree bunch

We rode are horze an got are nose puncht

Them wuz a dayz when we wuz fulla some spunk

Now it’s cowchiz we ride, an ‘at ain’t no bunk

 

Copyright © 2012 C. Mashburn

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Buzz Cut!

Hair cuttin’ ain’t changed much in the last fifty or so years. They still cover you with that sheet thingy to keep the hair off you, the chairs are pretty much the same, and they still use those darn clippers. I don’t like hair clippers, mainly because the noise they make when you turn them on makes me nervous. They make a loud clacking noise then settle into an electric hum, but it’s the initial “clack” that gets to me. The sound tends to summon up some real bad memories that get my eyes wide and my old ticker to thumpin’.

Okay. Some of you are out there snickering and saying, “Oh? This is the dude that ain’t afraid a nothing?”

Well let me tell you something: I used to be afraid; I used to be scared to death. The situations that made me afraid varied, but the source was always the same… my old man. One of the times he scared me the most, was on those Saturday mornings he’d set me down in a dining room chair in the kitchen for what he called a “hair cut”.

The problem was, he wasn’t any good at cutting hair, and that, combined with the fact it scared the daylights out of me just being in the same room with him, made for one gut-twisting Saturday morning.

Dad was a crew cut, flat top, kinda guy, and boy when the Beatles hit the States, you shoulda heard him cuss them boys. He didn’t like long hair on a boy. He was a red neck all the way.

My brothers and I should have been so lucky as to be able to sport a nice crew-cut or flat-top, but due to the old man’s lack of expertise with the clippers, we spent the majority of our childhood with what’s known as a “buzz-cut”. He always set out to do a regular cut, but it just never quite worked out. Seems it always came down to that last little finishing touch, an “oops”, a cussing fit, then… buzz cut.13162050_10208195540359540_322867260_n

Many times, sitting in that chair for thirty minutes or longer all tensed up with fear was almost more than I could take. The guy meant well, and I’m sure he would’ve sent us to the barber if he’d been able to afford it, but I wonder sometimes if he knew, or cared, what he was doing to us. Sometimes, I think he knew full well the fear he instilled in us, and I think he enjoyed it. And, I don’t think that was a good thing. A kid shouldn’t have to live in constant fear of a parent.

Things have changed; not for all kids, but I’d say for the majority of them. Parents today give their children a lot more say in what happens in their lives. It’s a two edged sword though, and I’m not so sure the way it is now is better than the way it was then. It seems to me there is a severe lack of discipline, which has led to a generation of young people who have little and many times absolutely no respect for their parents, or, for that matter, adults in general. I think we might have gone too far the other direction, if you know what I mean.

 

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Wanted: Trustworthy Mechanic

We’re in the process of downsizing, and one of the items we decided to shrink was my Rangerpickup. So, I put the word out to my car guy (SIL Sean) and BAM! The big Dodge is gone and a little Ford Ranger is in the driveway. The dude don’t mess around! The Ford is a 2011, and get this… it only has 15, 600 miles on it. I ain’t lyin!

This morning, I took it to have the oil changed and get the tires rotated and balanced. The tires are the factory originals that came on the truck when it was new, and I looked them over good when I… Read the rest of this entry »

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What Do You Want From Me?

Too many times—too much of the time—we wander through our days, feeling only the pain, seeing only the bad things, when there is so much beauty, and so much to be thankful for. Even I, as positive about life as I’ve become, find myself grumbling and blind at times. Forgive me.

butterfly on hibiscus 10-25-2016 quote

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Things Certain

I used to think it was funny when our English lit teacher, Miss Chapman, would try to get us to figure out what a poet was saying–what might be hidden in his words. I always thought the words a poet wrote meant exactly, and only, what they said.Well… I reckon I might’ve been wrong.

Marbles In My Pocket ~ The Official Blog of Charles L. Mashburn ~ Poems, Short Stories, and random thoughts from the author of "Be Still... and know that I am God"

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man

There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.

That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,

And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

from The Gods of the Copybook Headings ~ Rudyard Kipling

 

The following poem was inspired by Jack London’s short story, The Law of Life. As I read it, I could not help but draw a parallel between the death of the old indian, Koskoosh, to the state of—possibly the dying of—our country.

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Too Much Information!

Sometimes we get overwhelmed by the things of God, and many of those times it’s because we’re confused by too much information. In our desire to know and be close to God, we try to take in too much, it all starts to get jumbled up, and we find ourselves trying to make sense of it, rather than experiencing the joy of it.

lake quote

And while they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement, he asked them, “Do you have anything here to eat?” Luke 24:41

 

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Almost Morning

Sometimes, I come across poems and stories I’ve written, and I don’t remember writing them. And once in a while, I read one and think, “Hey! That’s not too shabby for an old hack.

Marbles In My Pocket ~ The Official Blog of Charles L. Mashburn ~ Poems, Short Stories, and random thoughts from the author of "Be Still... and know that I am God"

I’ve been on both ends of this candle, and neither was any fun in the end. And, unfortunately these things often lead to the end.

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