It's easy to get fat:
Gobbling food up "stat"
Intoning prolific
Proclaiming pontific
Pigging out while you chat

New Camden Times


© Port Whitman Times 1998
     Who teaches these movie actors how to smoke? Look at John Travolta or Gene Hackman or worse yet, Robert DeNiro. All of them hold cigarettes like adolescents behind the barn, and taking large puffs on these fake prop cigarettes that look like they're burning, but emit no smoke, so the actors look as though they were actually inhaling. Hey fellas, the movies are not like the stage or even TV where you can fool us by indicating. We're so close to these characters, microscopically on top of them, that we can pick out every minor flaw, every hair out of place, every mini-inconsistency in the continuity. So what do you think, we're gonna miss the fact that, we who view smokers sucking on their fags every day, are not gonna see that these guys are rank amateurs at taking a drag, breathing it in for the optimum "delivery of the nicotine" to the system, and breathing out a slim stream of what's left? Come ON!
     And WHY do these characters have to smoke anyway? Just because somebody's cliche idea of a tough guy or a gangster is someone who does all the corrupt things to his own body that he does to others? Really, surely there are many Mafia wiseguys who take as good care of their bodies, while they have them unperforated by bullets, as any health food nut, who work out regularly at the gym, who abstain from alcohol, coffee, fatty food, and eat no more than three eggs per week. Smoking doesn't make you tough anymore, just foolish, especially in the closeups.     
HenryFrancisco PW Times




© Port Whitman Times

​Heather growing on the hill
Yearns in blossom to fulfill
Bless'd occasions
Repairing abrasions
Nature's aspects thus distill

Prospectively dying,
Brings doctors relying
On steps they connive
To keep one alive
Medications applying

The workplace beckons
As soon as one reckons
That like it or not
To exist one ought
To give motion its seconds

Music is nought but caprice
To dazzlingly release
Whimsy's composer
Who acts as a poser
In notes fabricating a feast

Spirits: the target
Of musical argot
Tempting the souls
With euphonic strolls
Begetting a tuneful strut

Think, would you want
To be thought a savant 
Whose intelligence smothers
Or else could your druthers
Resign you to be nonchalant

Where to go, what to do
Hinges now and then on who
You are and where you're at
On the bench or up to bat–
Exhibiting competence hitherto

Freedom of fancy
Could be a bit chancy;
Size up repercussions
 That set off discussions
Far from romance-y

Adapting to mortality
Requires a mentality
Of limited vision
Involving collision
With spirituality

When all of our lives, at ends
Are lastly deprived of friends,
Our dreams offer hope
We'll slide down a slope
To a pool of what Heaven portends

Who would speak for God
Purveying thoughts that prod
Behavioral morality
Everyone giving the nod?

Henry Francisco

If it tastes good, then

Remember for the next time,