YOU HOLD ME TIGHT

You Hold Me Tight

Clay Hurtubise

  

My dear, you hold me so,

We travel miles, and  miles,

Through sun, night and snow,

All with huge smiles, huge smiles.

 

With every turn you let me know,

By keeping me seated, planted firm.

To you my stance I owe,

Never once do I squirm.

 

Life’s journey sees no end,

So we march on, speeding through.

Not breaking loose, just a bend,

You hold me tight, my Elmer’s glue.

 

We are made for each other, you and me,

Together we complete the drive through life.

We zoom by rivers, mountains and trees,

We slice through canyons like butter and knife.

 

Now with the snow against my tush,

You’re cold to me when we now meet.

But buttons you know I like to push,

That’s why I love my heated seat.

LINE OF CONSCIOUSNESS

Line of Consciousness

Clay Hurtubise

art by James DeVere

 

With a simple pause,

A respite from ordinary,

Why is now because,

Because is arbitrary.

 

Thoughts go on a trip,

Tripping though my reason.

Reasons need not equip,

My mind with high treason.

 

Treason from myself,

Treason from expectations.

Put all that on a shelf,

Explore all new stations.

 

Free from that, which bound,

Grey matter now explores.

So much now unwound,

Opening all new doors.

 

Familiar now adjourned,

Old and never seen.

Every corner turned,

My heart emits a beam.

 

To think what I had thought

I bought what I was taught.

Taught life full of fraught,

Now fraught lies in vacant lot.

 

Another turn, another bend,

Can’t wait to see around the curve.

I look ahead, I don’t pretend,

Wandering mind must observe.

 

Observe all that I never saw,

Never looked, never cared.

Wandering now, all in awe,

No need ever to be scared.

BUILDING

BUILDING

Clay Hurtubise 2008

 

The roof rest on the walls,

The walls are tied to rafters.

Together they create halls,

Halls of cries and of laughter.

 

No matter how strong they may be

No matter how pretty they may look

On one thing we can agree

What they rest on is the hook.

 

To hammer, nail, and splash paint

To use ladders, pails, and a crane,

If with labor we have no restraint,

Then our labor is in vain.

 

To be strong, united, of one mind,

To make sure to test ole time,

What we make must be intertwined

And a firm foundation is sublime.

 

Not a house or a home

Not some place on a trip

What I speak of is of is in a tome

It is ourselves, our soul, our ship.

SNOW

SNOW

CLAY HURTUBISE 2008

 

Do not reach out to save my soul,

Rather, continue on toward your goal.

Your goal of achievement, goal to be rich.

Turn away from this fresh dug ditch.

 

Perhaps a different path I’d followed,

Perhaps my soul would not be swallowed.

Swallowed by greed and the easy path,

Not one to stop, to pause, do the math.

 

Fortunate, lucky, I had been,

My youth was reckless, easy to spend.

Spent on the now, not always fair,

Though perfect sight, no vision there.

 

Vision of your beauty, beauty so deep,

Your aim for riches is one to keep.

Keep your sight on issues of wealth,

Wealth of friends, love, and health.

 

Health of heart, mind and soul,

Health of that of a larger goal.

Too late we met for my path to alter,

In my next life I will not falter.

 

Falter not I, for I shall know,

Know the importance of the falling snow.

Snow and all the beauty from heaven above,

Snow that frees my soul like a newborn’s love.

FART

FART

Clay Hurtubise

2008

 

 

The food I eat, it matters not

In my gut it sits and rots.

From solid it goes to wicked gas

My body says it has to pass.

 

A phhhht here, a phhhht there,

People passing stop and stare.

Their eyes widen and mouths agape,

Strides quicken as they try to escape.

 

Another phhhht and I may faint,

Least will happen is I’ll repaint.

Even my nose says enough is enough

Intestines response is: ”Well that’s tough”

 

Tried all the pills, diets and more,

Now I package it, for the Marine Corp.

Non-lethal bombs, that’s what their called,

But should one leak, everyone’s sprawled.

 

Repackaging them works,

Just one of my quirks.

I consider it my national duty,

My friends, though, consider it fruity.