everything goes better with pancakes.

that's a fact.

a stout stack of syruped-up sweet treats,
and all of a sudden a frosty, freezy-freaky day
becomes a full-bellied bellows of blistering brightness.
throw in some soysages, too?
c'mon.
that's a buttload of bangin' business.
don't believe me?
okay.
then how do you explain THIS?:

ka-pow!

one fast...broken, fast.
that's one elite morning feast.
...for your face.
delivered deftly from the gas-flame griddle
to the breakfasty nooks and crannies
of the woodsly goodness.
that makes the post-election indigestion
of stormy, rabid politicos and their respective parties
much easier to weather.
i'm not saying i don't care about it at all.
i'm saying that i care almost not at all.
i'm busy living.
real life.
the independent declarer
and sole soul-sovereign of Folk Life & Liberty
for any and all worthy warrior poets,
berserker barbarian battle-beasts,
active participants,
lightning-striking vikings,
and the righteous rural real-life livers
of the woodsly good life.
the steadfast, stalwart suzerain of
gratitude and generosity.
no ayes or nays necessary, ninjas,
it's all really happening, like it or not.
***********
a powerful pile of panniecakes,
and 4 calamitous cords of hardwood.
that's molto lumberjack like a mutha-'ucka.
my beard is thickening as we speak, even.
and duders,
without seeming too satisfied,
let me brag a bit about blown insulation:
snug.
that's the word.
like a bug, in a rug.
it's still below freezing outside,
but the roasty toastiness is what's poppin' in here.
snug and comfortable and perfect.
that's that Folk Life sh!t.
i'm warm,
i'm full,
i'm doing what needs doing.
the balance of power has shifted
in the house of representatives,
but not in our house.
we're still representing.
and still perfectly poised in partnership,
and stockpiled with plenty of treats.
that's representative of the mountain realm.
hard styles, hard times, hard wood;
never quiet, never soft.....