About Me

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Sometimes, I just need to go for a bicycle ride, on my Schwinn Cruiser, around the Loop Road, Rainclouds or Sunshine. And sometimes, when Lifes circumstances prevents me, I do it anyway, with Windy thoughts peddling circles in my mind. I am D.M. Beebe . . . Born July 07, 1967 in Seattle, Wa. Sprouted one hour away, due North East, in the fertile Tualco Valley. I didnt really ever go too far away from the Valley, as I didn’t need to. As Life in Tualco Valley, seems to have always intrigued me. As I pay attention to the Valley, I do notice the slight changes every day. Throughout the 4 Seasons, within the Valleys full Spectrum, Rainbow array. When I watch, and when I pay attention, I develop many reasons. To have many thoughts about Life, throughout my Lifes Seasons. So I think about Life, and about Nature, and Plants and Animals, and Humans. And how it unfolds, within my mind, and my thoughts, and my insights. And so I write Story Poems of my Lifes experiences, and of my observations. And so I go forth, to reveal my conclusions, of my slightly insane perceptions. Thank You for reading my Poems . . . D.M. Beebe

Friday, December 19, 2014

Short Story : All You Can Eat Bull Frog Legs Dinner Tonight, and Karaoke !

I was bored on a Saturday night so I drove to town looking for something to eat and something entertaining to do, by the way, my name is Fred Bogg.
If I had to describe myself, I would say I am a very round man, with big rubbery lips, and a bald head covered in liver spots, and oh ya, I have a big appetite.
I was fiddling with my radio when I saw a green neon sign illuminating over the Main Street sidewalk as I was driving by that read ' All You Can Eat Bull Frog Legs Dinner Tonight, and Karaoke ! '.
I thought to myself, that sounds really good, so I turned my diesel puffing truck around and found a spot to park out front as close as I could get because I dont like to walk too far if I dont have to.
I parked and got out, lit up a pre dinner smoke on the sidewalk 5 feet away from the entrance, and observed for 10 minutes all the customers inside eating, before I flicked my smoke down on the sidewalk, still burning, and then went inside.
By this time I was really hungry, especially after staring through the sidewalk window all of the distinguished locals thoroughly enjoying themselves upon the deep fried breaded Bull Frog Legs.
The hostess, a skinny little lady with green eyes, seated me in the corner at a small little table, as I was by myself and could only take up so much room in this busy establishment.
I didnt mind the corner table though, as I like to have my back to the wall, and can thus feel safe and protected while I eat, and can also watch all of the entertaining activity occurring in the busy establishment at the same time.
The waiter, a skinny little guy also with green eyes, took my order, and in no time brought me the special of the night, a jumbo sized platter of deep fried breaded Bull Frog Legs !
The whole time was very entertaining and the Karaoke for the night was different versions of ' Jeremiah Was a Bull Frog ' which for everyone , myself included, found to be very entertaining and enjoyable as I sipped my mighty fine wine.
I sat there and ate jumbo platter after jumbo platter of these mouth watering deep fried breaded Bull Frog Legs until I could eat no more, my stomach was so round and full that I needed to stretch and go outside and get some fresh air and have a satisfying after meal smoke.
I almost felt guilty, almost, at how cheap the bill was, as I paid my very affordable bill for my very satisfying deep fired breaded Bull Frog Legs Dinner and left a very generous 5% tip.
Then I went outside to the front sidewalk and lit up that refreshing after meal smoke and I took a big drag and exhaled my smoke which blew back inside before the entrance door shut.
I decided to go for a walk down the sidewalk and around the corner of the busy establishment and down the alley while I had my smoke.
As I walked down the alley and found myself at the backside of the busy establishment, I looked up and was met with a storm of activity going on back behind the building.
It was like a war zone scene colored in green and red with hundreds if not thousands of Bull Frogs everywhere !
Bull Frogs that had made it were wheeling around in squeaky wheelchairs with bloody bandaged Bull Frog stump legs leaving bloody wheelchair trails on the sticky pavement.
Some of them that had a tougher go at it in the kitchen were on the gurney with curtains drawn, alls I could hear was Clear ... Zap ! Clear ... Zap ! Didnt make it. Time ? Then Thump ! As they were flung into the dirty, bloody dumpster 15 feet away.
Some were in dirty, muddy, white 5 gallon buckets full of swamp water waiting to go into the kitchen on the back side of the building, I could hear sounds coming out, Chop ... Haruuump ! Chop ... Haruuump !
For some reason their big bulging Bull Frog eyes seemed full of fear as they haruuumped and watched through the open back door to the kitchen the human with black eyes and a white coat and big metal bloody cleaver chopping off their Bull Frog Legs.
As I puffed on my smoke I was confused and it didnt make sense as I am just a human, so I let out a big greasy deep fried Bull Frog Leg Belch that kinda sounded like Baruuump, and walked backed to my diesel puffing truck, got in, and drove my way back home.
As I drove home a torrential rainstorm was coming down and I could not avoid driving over at least 100 Frogs that were leaping and jumping all over the roadway.
When I got home and got to my porch by the swamp, feeling nice and full and and relaxed and satisfied, I lit up a evening smoke and realized it was a pretty quite night as I puffed on my smoke.
Normally the night time foggy air is filled with sounds of ribbiting and croaking coming from the back waterways, but it was quite tonight for some reason that I just couldnt understand as I am just a human.
Huh, oh well, I thought to myself, as I flicked my smoke down on the yard, still burning, and then thought, that sure was a good ' All You Can Eat Bull Frog Legs Dinner ', I hope they have that again next week.

D.M. Beebe

Friday, December 5, 2014

The old Ben Howard Road Winter's poem -

Back in the old Ben Howard Road neighborhood,
Time were different then, times were always good,
We all trusted, and we knew, who all are neighbors were,
We all as neighbors, were there for each other, to have that cup of sugar,

Some years, Winter's snow fell, and blanketed the Valley,
Out of the barns and sheds, came out the skates and sleds, and it was a fun time Wonderland rally,
Definitely days of old, definitely days of which I am Winter's time fond,
When we all skated and sledded together, on the old Haskel's Slough frozen pond,

Hot chocolate in a mug with cinnamon toast of course, in the humble old kitchen abode,
The moms always had ready for all of us kids, in any house along the old Ben Howard Road,
We all contributed, and we helped each other, as we all did get along,
Those days on the old Ben Howard Road, growing up together, where we all did certainly belong,

Maybe hike up to the cabin, way up beyond Stephen's Waterfall up on the hill,
Or walk the shortcut Trestle track to town, get ready to jump if you hear the BNSF whistle,
Dad worked for BNSF for 30 years, sometimes Dan and I went with him Ballard to Wenatchee,
Homeward bound through the Stevens Pass Tunnel, the Monroe jump off, then walk the Trestle track home did we,

Across the Skykomish River, it was a mile or so long Trestle track walk,
But when we got to the old Ben Howard Road, we would jump down, and not really then have much to talk,
Because we were 1/2 mile from home then, walking along the white line,
Frosty, frozen, white and icy, soon that hot chocolate and cinnamon toast will be yours, and will be mine !

You might think I have made things up, or you might think I have indulged,
But every account is true, making me reminisce and want to old times further divulge,
The old Ben Howard Road, with all of its grand, endearing, and fond memories,
What a great way to grow up, forever in my mind always, to write about this one and more future poem stories.

D. Matthew Beebe