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       A diverse and surprising collection of poetry and humor that ranges from the soft and subtle to the goofy and bizarre.  You'll find talking road signs and conversing planets, wandering words and dancing deliriums.  There are nursery rhymes with footnotes and lullabies with alphabets, sunny winds and wicked grins, all peeking from the rhythm of the poetry.  You'll find out how to spot a fashion model, and the real reason the chicken crossed the road.  And, of course, love is tripped, pondered, and suffered over, in poem after poem after poem.  A celebration of words, emotions, beauty, sorrow, and love, all swirled together like wisps of colored drifting smoke.                                                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                  just received my copy of the first issue of "the alarmist"!  i'm on page 32, and if anyone likes really cool looking magazines with cutting edge, really strange and off the wall humor, then go buy yourself a copy at www.alarmistmagazine.co.uk and enjoy.  it's worth the money!                                                      ----------------------------------------------------                                                                                                                               Brucek's first ever published piece, if anyone should care to read it, is at http://www.derekhaines.ch/vandal/2012/02/short-story-the-lizard-and-the-golden-fish-by-bruce-kilarski/      leave a comment!  thanks!   why can't i stop writing!  what's with all these "!!!!!!"?  will someone please unplug the computer!?  help!  finally!  it's endi.............                                                   --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           A recent round of genetic testing have proven conclusively  that Brucek is indeed human.  This substantiates  what has been suspected for years, due to a number of hotly debated observations and clues; his upright bipedal   gate, his use of opposable thumbs, and his clever handling of tools.  The latter has been especially intriguing, as it suggests, at the very least, a faint degree of intelligence.

         A team of scientists and local law enforcement expanded their search to include Sonny and Sam's Landfill, where he was found in relatively good condition, subsisting on a diet of stale pop tarts and bannana peals.  "Once I got used to the stink," said Officer Stan Stanly, "he wasn't so bad to be around.  Except for all of the mumbling."  

         The fire department was assigned the task of bathing him, and it took all afternoon to wrestle him into some clothes, as he has become quite unaccustomed to wearing any.  He now looks every bit as normal as any other citizen in his home town of Decorah, Iowa.

---------------------------------------------------------                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    THE ONLY PEOPLE FOR ME ARE THE MAD ONES, THE ONES WHO ARE MAD TO LIVE, MAD TO TALK, MAD TO BE SAVED, DESIROUS OF EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME, THE ONES WHO NEVER YAWN OR SAY A COMMONPLACE THING, BUT BURN, BURN,  BURN LIKE FABULOUS YELLOW ROMAN CANDLES EXPLODING LIKE SPIDERS ACROSS THE STARS AND IN THE MIDDLE YOU SEE THE BLUE CENTERLIGHT POP AND EVERYBODY GOES "AWWW!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                       JACK KEROUAC

LIFE IS FULL OF MISERY, LONELINESS, AND SUFFERING----AND IT'S ALL OVER MUCH TOO SOON.

                                                                                                                                                                                                        WOODY ALLEN

AS THE POET SAID, 'ONLY GOD CAN MAKE A TREE', PROBABLY BECAUSE IT'S SO HARD TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET THE BARK ON.

                                                                                                                                                                                                          WOODY ALLEN

MOST PEOPLE CONSIDER A GLASS AS HALF EMPTY OR HALF FULL.  I LOOK AT IT AS TOO BIG.

                                                                                                                                                                                                              GEORGE CARLIN

MAY THE FORCES OF EVIL BECOME CONFUSED ON THE WAY TO YOUR HOUSE.

                                                                                                                                                                                                            GEORGE CARLIN

CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN.  NAKED PEOPLE HAVE LITTLE OR NO INFLUENCE IN SOCIETY.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                MARK TWAIN

IF TOAST ALWAYS LANDS BUTTER-SIDE DOWN, AND CATS ALWAYS LAND ON THEIR FEET, WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU STRAP TOAST ON THE BACK OF A CAT AND DROP IT?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                STEVEN WRIGHT

I HAD SOME EYEGLASSES.  I WAS WALKING DOWN THE STREET WHEN SUDDENLY THE PERSCRIPTION RAN OUT.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 STEVEN WRIGHT

THERE'S A FINE LINE BETWEEN FISHING AND JUST STANDING ON THE SHORE LIKE AN IDIOT.

                                                                                                                                                                                                               STEVEN WRIGHT

I was born in the Chicago suburbs in 1959.  I'm a peacenik and a skeptic and a tree hugger and a athiest, all at the same time.  I'm an ex-member  of mensa.  I didn't get dumber, I just had to quit when the fees got too expensive.  I didn't start writing until I was twenty and away at college.  I started writing poetry, which is always a struggle for me, after I finally realized what an incredible poem Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man" was.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,

Silhouetted by the sea,

Circled by the circus sands,

With all memory and fate

Driven deep beneath the waves,

Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

I was inspired to try my hand at writing humor after watching countless hours of Monty Python reruns back in the '70s.  Thank you John Cleese and Michael Palin.

My favorite authors are probably Gene Wolfe (fantasy) and Terry Pratchett (humorous fantasy)

My favorite bands/singer-song writers right now are--

Old Crow Medecine Show (blue grass)

North Mississippi All Stars (rock-blues)

Jack Johnson (singer-song writer)

Todd Snider (humorous story teller-folk singer-song writer)

My best friend is my son's dog Missie (she loves me unconditionally)

 Here's my list of the booksie authors that most blow me away. (in no particular order, of course!)

*Ousma

*Minusthematt

*Lee Edward Neale

*Dannika Summers

*Kchelz

*MissusMooksii

*AemmaBella

*Saigestarx2

*Maij

*MunkicMunkidu

*Aaihalbs

*Juliette Labelle

*Skai

*Thomas Black

*Gideon Elrod

*Jon Mayler

*Moonphish

*Annat2again

*Chris Gerard

*Teri Cross Chetwood

*Scribe Scrawl

of course, there is writing brilliance all over booksie if you look for it.  i've got the cramps in my fingers to prove it!