Taboo

Taboo. How thrilling, absolutely exciting it

can be to do that which you have been told

not to do. Taboo...the word itself sounds so

foreign and exotic. Why, it rolls off the tongue

with such unbridled eloquence. Taboo—to

willfully do that which you have been told

you are not supposed to do. As a child well

into my age of knowing, I ate a hot dog for

lunch while at a friend’s house. It was on a

Friday, I recall, and I being raised a Catholic,

was prohibited from eating meat on Friday

at the time. The day of the week had slipped

my mind. And later that day when I thought

about what I had done, I feared my heinous

act would surely send me straight to hell

should I die before I could make a sincere

confession before the priest at my church the

next day on Saturday. My friend was raised a

Protestant, and because he was of a different

faith, he could rightly claim immunity from

any wrong doing. Not fair! For me, Father Sullivan

would likely give a Penance of making a good Act

of Contrition and three Hail Marys. Hellfire, had I

only known that, I may have asked my friend for

another hot dog. Ah taboo, the sinfully delicious-

ness of you...Pass the mustard, please. Gladly, I

would fall to my knees, bow my head and faithfully

recite six Hail Marys for that. Taboo, sometimes

for me and not for you. Go figure?

Chris Hanch 3-29-18

Bury Me Not...

Some prefer a “proper burial”—you know,

flowers, casket, weeping mothers and daughters,

biblical chapter and verse, pallbearers, and all

the rest. Others figure, in the end cremation,

without all the fuss and expense gets the job

done. As for me, personally, I elect the latter.

With far greater convenience, my ashes should

fit appropriately into a cardboard box. Anyone

who so chooses could easily hold my remains

in their hands. And considering the life I have

lead, the ash of my new existence shall weigh

relatively nothing. Oh, and no Amazing Grace,

please. A lively, Freddy Mercury, rendition of

Don’t Stop Me Now would be fine…

I'm burnin'

through the sky yeah 
Two hundred degrees 
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit 
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light… 

Chris Hanch 3-28-18

A Matter of Taste

What does it say about you when the
old fishing trawler is more appealing
than the multi-million dollar yacht?
And when you are drawn to the rusting

truck in the junkyard, and scoff at the
brand new Lexus passing by, would others
question your sanity? Your appetite for a
good pork chop rather than ordering the

choicest of steaks, may lead some to
shake their heads and claim, you’re nuts
and making a huge mistake. You can’t
help it, you see the beauty of randomness

over the fastidious structure of regulated
order. What does it say about you when
you find the homeless person has a more
compelling tale to tell than the boasting

rhetoric of the billionaire? To you, cotton
seems a more comforting fit than satin or
silk. A sincere smile and kind word mean
more to you than does a day’s pay. It does

not take much to please you, does it? Your
child’s kindergarten drawing with its lopsided
house and blazing pink sky amazes you. And
the refrigerator seems a fitting place for its

display. You’ve always felt that the Louvre
was overrated. Besides, the fridge is much
closer to home. Eat your heart out, Monet!

Chris Hanch 3-27-18

Rosé of My Mind

Little did I know that years ago these days
would eventually catch up to me. Indeed, there
were signs along the way—days, months and

years slipped away—times carelessly set aside,
forgotten and ignored. What inspired me to take
your picture then? And what now, after all these

years has brought me to this cellar of mindful
fermentation to seek and savor this vintage
revelation? Little did I know years ago, that

in this my time and place, I would be holding
your picture, wondering where you are? And
how it is that I have grown so old and gray in

my remembering? As with any fine wine, aged
to perfection over time, today is the day I pop the
cork, releasing the sweet fragrance of your mellow

bouquet. The label tells a story: For rain and shine
for you and me measured harmoniously, it was a
very good year.

Chris Hanch 3-26-18

Seven Burma Shave Signs From Life

Faith

Hope

Love

Hate

Despair

Fear

Laughter

Tears

Advance

Retreat

Line

After

Line

Biding

My

Time

And...

A

Bunch

Of

Other

Stuff

Is how

I got

Here.

Chris Hanch 3-23-18

Where I'd Prefer to Be

At the end of all days, some will say,

heaven or hell arrives; others claim,

reincarnation, a transformation from

who you were into a new lifetime of

earthly being. Heaven or hell is for

eternity; reincarnation recycles a soul

until some optimum purpose is achieved.

Then and only then can Nirvana be

perceived. Happy Hunting Grounds as a

finale sounds pleasing should it be, at last,

finding some eternal peace. For one in this

lifetime I happen to occupy, I would not

be satisfied with either a permanent situation

or having Ground Hog Day do-overs until I

get my existence right. Personally, I’d prefer

bidding all you folks, Good Night. Oh, and

will the last to leave please turn out the light.

And could one of you kindly scoop up the

crap in the litter box. For when it’s all said and

done, you see, a fresh and clean place to go is

all I’ll ever need.

Chris Hanch 3-22-18

Countdown by the Numbers

Everywhere in the world, every minute of each
and every day, there is a countdown going on.
Can you hear the clock ticking?

With your own eyes, can you see the numbers
slipping away by years, months, days, hours,
minutes, seconds?

There may be a race to be run or a rocket on
the pad prepared to launch. We seem to be
preoccupied—If only there was more time.

Foolishly, we keep trying to amass and achieve
more and more, ever increasing our activities
needing to pursue.

See that fellow over there on the hill? He has
his hands on the detonator at the ready. I do
believe he’s looking over here at you and me.

Which one will it be? Gives one pause to wonder—
Is that a countdown we hear? Indeed, today may be
the day. By the numbers...5...4...3...2...1…

Chris Hanch 3-21-18