Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts

16 July 2026

La Dama e la Luna

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  She moves like a dream, free of daylight cares; her dress billowing in the breeze. Shadow and light dance across her face, teasing her beauty as she twirls; hidden, then revealed in turn. She is perfection in the sun; but here she is more… she is magic. Almost angelic. Immortal in memory.
  The lady and the moon are twins – one reflecting light, the other emanating it from within – and all the stars in infinite heaven envy them; wishing they could be nearer such grace.
  She inspires both lunacy and peace at once. A solace found in the maelstrom of life.



02 September 2017

Stand

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Even as the fighting ended, peace still seemed like an ethereal dream; something that would slip through your fingers like cigarette smoke. The silence was surreal. The sound of gunfire and explosions, aircraft and dying men faded, replaced by…nothing; not even wind blowing across a wrecked landscape.
  Five minutes ago, they'd been at war – now they weren't. They’d run hunched over; sat huddled in bunkers; crouched in foxholes; ducked, crawled, and dove.
  For the first time he could remember, he stood up; stretching to his full height. He'd been a soldier all his adult life.
  “Now what?” he asked.

12 February 2016

Blessed New Life

A poem to celebrate the late birth of Rebecca Lynn Koenemund:
Lady of Union, Princess of Wilshire, and Empress of Pomona.
By Bud Koenemund: Uncle, Godfather, and Lord Protector of Her Majesty’s northern possessions.

(Written: 2006)

A dawn of golden dreams spills over us,
blinding our thankful eyes with tears of joy
as Nature’s majestic sunrise,
the blessed renewal of life’s promise,
melts the winter snow leaving a new spring.
A child to tempt the voices of Angels
to sing sweet songs of hallelujah
peeks out as we, being but mortal,
stain our cheeks for lack of words
to give worthy praise for this Grace.

Reverent prayers, answered with a precious gift,
now become humble pleas for the strength
of heart to prove worthy of this perfect child.
Each seeking only to provide a lifetime of peace
and protection from the sting of worldly woe,
to love unconditionally, to cheer the smallest victory,
and soothe after the most devastating of defeats,
to teach, and quench the thirst for enlightenment,
and to celebrate the brilliant splashes of paint
that create a masterpiece from a blank canvas.

This pure soul, innocent and celestial,
brought forth in love, enters and prepares to play
the many unknown parts meant for a life.
Pink fingers, the instruments whose talent
God will reveal in his time, reach out
to grasp at nothing, and everything.
And newly opened eyes search to discover
a world both fascinating and frightening,
full of wonder, and then, reluctantly, close
to float within the first beautiful dreams of life.


07 March 2011

"Fat Tuesday" is Insulting to Obese Americans

Just a little satire for Mardi Gras.

My friends, I am fed up with the city of New Orleans. I said, brothers and sisters, I am fed up with the city of New Orleans. I am as mad as Hell, and I tell you I will take it no more! I am sick and tired of being annually insulted, degraded, jeered, mocked, and slurred.

The city and citizens of New Orleans ask for our help in rebuilding, yet they continue to use their paganistic Mardi Gras celebration as an excuse to taunt millions of overweight Americans with their observance of "Fat Tuesday." Fat Tuesday? What, I ask you, is there to celebrate about being Fat? Are these heathens and the tourists they attract celebrating the increase in heart disease and diabetes brought about by being overweight?

Do they celebrate the fact that many overweight Americans are heading for an early grave? Do they not care how hurtful the word "Fat" can be? What will they celebrate next, Wide-ass Wednesday? Fried Foods Friday? Accept this outrage no longer, friends!

As one of the growing masses (in numbers and in girth) of overweight Americans, I call on you to join my new group: the Organization to Reduce Excessively Offensive Slogans (O.R.E.O.S.). We demand that "Fat Tuesday" be immediately renamed a more politically correct "Obese Tuesday." We will no longer sit idly by -- eating our Twinkies and Ring-Dings -- while unthinking and unfeeling people continue to use a term as offensive as "Fat."

Say it loud and say it proud my friends; "No Justice, No Peas…or Carrots, Celery, and Corn!"

In addition, we will soon be filing a lawsuit against New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin for fraudulently claiming that New Orleans will be a "Chocolate City." This blatant attempt to lure obese people to New Orleans with the false promise of nearly unlimited sweets will not be allowed to continue.

Thank you America!

Bud Koenemund
Grand High Exalted Poobah of O.R.E.O.S.

06 August 2010

The Metamorphosis...or Not!

This morning, I intercepted a suicide bomber within an inch of my left foot. Normally, I keep a rolled-up newspaper handy in order to deal with such attacks. Unfortunately, my weapon of choice was not available this morning, so I grabbed my favorite biological weapon, "Ortho Home Defense Max."

I must take a moment to say - without prompting or payment from the good people at Ortho - this stuff is great! It kills any kind of bug, inside or out. And, it makes spiders "dance" before they die! Yes, I know that sounds horribly sadistic, but when it comes to spiders...

Let it suffice to say that there is now one more filthy, eight-legged fraker writhing in Hell, along with Shelob and her evil minions.

But, I digress.

My early morning encounter reminded me of two mock news pieces I wrote back in 2005; so I thought I'd post them for you, Gentle Reader. Stay safe!


Bud Forces Launch Offensive Against Insurgents
Disassociated Press
14 April 2005

POMONA, N.Y. – Forces for a Spider-Free Bud’s Room yesterday launched a violent basement-wide counter-attack, including the use of chemical and biological weapons, against eight-legged insurgents.

According to Brigadier General Sy Kopath, FSFBR spokesman, the insurgents have begun what appears to be a spring offensive to re-occupy the Free People’s Republic of Bud’s Room.

“We thought we had the creepy bastards beaten in the winter, but the warmer weather has brought a resurgence in the rate of arachnid incursions,” he said.

While traditional weapons such as shoes, napkins, and rolled up college newspapers have been employed with great success, Kopath revealed that Bud Forces have recently resorted to chemical deterrence in the form of moth balls, and biological weapons developed by S.C. Johnson & Son, Inc. to defeat the arachnids before they regain a foothold in Bud’s Room.

“Our forces are determined to stop the enemy at the border,” Kopath said. “Any that do get in will be terminated without mercy.”

Representatives of the God-less Communist Invading Spider Horde released a statement denouncing the use of weapons of mass spider destruction.

“The use of these weapons (WMSDs) violates multiple international treaties and the GCISH will not stand for it,” the statement reads.

The statement also alludes to The Horde’s alleged nuclear weapons program.

“Last year we laid down our legs in an effort to live peacefully, but no longer. We will not stand by while our women and our young are slaughtered indiscriminately. We will use all our resources to develop weapons capable of defeating the imperialist Bud Forces.”

The statement also decried the recent “April 12th Massacre.” On that day, three spiders and two spider-allies – members of the so-called “Axis of Weevil” – were killed by Bud Forces in a matter of hours.

“We cannot confirm or deny the events of 12 April, but rest assured that once the facts of the engagement have been established, medals will be awarded to those responsible for their valorous acts of Bud defense,” Kopath said, when asked about the incident.


Incursions Rise Despite Bud Claims
Disassociated Press
31 August 2005

POMONA, N.Y. – Despite recent claims of an end to major combat, Axis of Weevil incursions reached a 24-hour record yesterday.

Seven separate attacks were recorded in the Bud’s Room Province between Monday and Tuesday evenings. The Forces for a Spider-Free Bud’s Room response reportedly resulted in the deaths of four spiders, two beetles, and one centipede.

The use of a new biological weapon, Ortho Home Defense Max, and the dramatic drop-off in insurgent activity, led FSFBR Command to declare the Province secure as recently as last week. The new spat of attacks, however, shows that the insurgency is far from over.

“As the infidels bring in new weapons, we will modify our tactics in order to continue this Jihad,” said Harry bin Arachnid, a spokesman for the Godless Communist Invading Spider Horde. “We will drive the imperialist Bud Forces out no matter what the eventual total cost may be.”

Bud Forces Command claims that the rise in the number of attacks is not necessarily an indication of a less secure province.

“It should be noted that none of these attacks resulted in a single FSFBR casualty, or any damage to property,” said Brigadier General Sy Kopath, FSFBR spokesman. “In each case the insurgent was intercepted and killed before completing their mission.”

“These insurgents are not indigenous. They are foreign beings desperately trying to disrupt the upcoming provincial elections,” Kopath said.

Despite the lack of casualties some people believe that Bud Forces should abandon the Province.

“We should just leave. We’ve caused enough destruction and wiped out a generation of spiders there,” said B. Leeding Hart, an anti-war protestor outside a ranch in Crawford, Texas.

Responding to claims that the insurgency is causing a lack of sleep within the FSFBR, Kopath said simply, “The price of peace is eternal vigilance.”

15 June 2010

A Simple Desultory Poem for a Friend

For Sonia

"To make it burn you have to throw yourself in." - Galway Kinnell

We are left with only memories,
and the bitter pain they bring;
like the gentle recall of a perfume,
sweet as the first breath of Spring,
and skin, warm as sun-kissed grass;
as the course of human events
ebbs and flows through our lives,
ceaselessly pulling us farther and farther
from the place of peace we seek.

While the mind can imagine new love,
taking delight in the unknown and
living in the vicarious illusion of dreams,
we awake to endure the cruelty of solitude
and the numbing entropy of hope.
Despite the desultory touch of discontent,
your heart, repaired, though brittle,
will love again; trusting, like Sisyphus,
in the eventual success of its labours.

What could I promise you
that you haven’t already heard,
from much better men than I?
(Though their oaths, long shattered,
now lie strangled in the dust.)
I can not erase my human flaws;
only endure a Promethean fate,
while praying for the pure flame
to finally free my body and soul.

I could love one such as you,
anointing you as my Muse
and spilling my ink in praise;
if I were not already broken,
and the world were not as it is.
I’d reach up to steal the stars from Heaven
and wrap them in a box for you,
but you’d only make me put them back
so that all the world can see.