The Making of Los Caped Barbarinos

Shelly Seuss and Flying Flower

by Rachel Hoyt

I was running down a dream

when a new one flew to me:

a scooter gang making a scene

with capes flapping wild and free -

We smile at the joy and laughter around

(whether it flies with or at us)

and seek to enhance that which surrounds

the heaven where two wheels took us.

I whispered out my dream

to a flower flying by -

It echoed like a scream,

shot my dream across the sky -

"Shelly Seuss shall ride," said the stars,

"and she will wear a cape -

With Flying Flower you'll surprise cars

and make bystanders gape."

Now we scoot down our dream

following its scent beyond the breeze,

attempting to emit a glee beam,

while giving the world a cape tease.

© 2013 Rachel Hoyt. All rights reserved.

 

 

Technorati Tags: Scooter, Gang, Group, Poem, Rhyme, Poetry

 

 

A new scooter gang is forming in SB

which aims to fill the town with silly glee...


(Sorry that the video quality is a bit lacking.
We are happy to accept any extra GoPros you're packing.)
 

 

Flying Flower flying...

 

 

 

Shelly Seuss learns to fly...

 

Hippity-Hop Makes Flippity-Flop

Watching bunnies hippity-hop

makes my heart go flippity-flop.

I've never seen them jump real high,

but think they love it more than I.

No wonder there is a contest

to see which rabbit hops the best.

What's that you say?  You did not know?

That's because Europe has the show.

There the bunnies compete to win.

Here the burning desire is thin.

The Angora that hopped for me

was certainly quite cute to see,

but I imagine its nothing

compared to the fluffing

the European bunnies get.

Missing their show brings me regret.

What show, you ask? I'm happy to say -

October 30th is the day

the first European Champ will be crowned

and, maybe, a new pastime found

for lovers of furry hoppers,

pretty pets who are show stoppers

and people like me who like to

watch the fun things that animals do.

© Rachel Hoyt 2011.  All rights reserved.

If you are interested in adopting

a fluffy bunny who likes hopping,

contact B.U.N.S. today

and give a bunny a place to play.

Their festival last week was super fun!

I wish I could bring home every last one.

BUT, I've already got a mini-zoo,

so these bunnies must rely on you.

Cracking Cascarones

Image by Simon Howden via freedigitalphoto.net

Once a year in Santa Barbara the streets get covered in confetti.

I doubt the clean up crew ever really feels they're ready

for the onslaught of Fiesta and it's trail of debris -

the millions of paper remnants it inevitably leaves.

If one in four of the thousands of annual visitors

buys four cascarones from the ladies on the perimeters,

that would mean at least ten thousand glittery eggs

leaving a pile of confetti down under your legs!

As the paper piles began to form not too far away,

I wondered what the cascarone was meant to say?

Though I find some joy smacking my friends on the head,

this act must mean more to someone who is long dead.

Sure enough, the tradition dates super far back,

although an exact date my resources did lack.

Perfumed powder was the very first cascarone filler,

but breaking the egg has always been the thriller.

I didn't expect to learn that they came from the Chinese.

Marco Polo carried them to Europe across land and seas.

Maximilian's wife Carlotta brought them over to Mexico
and there the people created the confetti version that we know.

They say cascarones commonly celebrate the end of lent.
 They are used to invite ladies to dance with a gent.
After forty days with no meat nor freedom to boogie
it breaks over your head, then you get down and groovy.

This year when I venture to get my taco and churro,
I think I'll look differently at that confetti down below.
Though we may not be using them for the religious purpose,
It is the time of year we party to let go of all that irks us.

Like many before us, we crack the cascarone as our sign
that it's time to party down in whatever way which you pine.
And, if you're not a fan of Fiesta's tasty Mexican food,
crack cascarones over dim sum.  They invented them, dude.

© Rachel Hoyt 2011.  All rights reserved.


Technorati Tags: Entertainment, Blogging, Fiesta, Humor, Mexico, Poetry

Drop Dead Beach Weather

Photo © Rachel Hoyt.  All rights reserved.

One hundred and fifty two years ago yesterday,

the beach town where I live had a VERY hot day.

It was so flaming warm that birds fell from the sky

and cows toppled over dead before they knew why.

Who knew Santa Barbara held the record for so long

without becoming known for weather that's weird and wrong?

I've long wondered why the June gloom fog surprises everyone.

Perhaps that day long ago is why we're known for summer sun.

© Rachel Hoyt 2011.  All rights reserved.

This rhyme is being shared at the Thursday Think Tank, Poetry Tow Truck 25 and the Poetry Pantry.
If you're visiting from one of those places, please leave your post links for me.

 

Technorati Tags: Entertainment, Blogging, Weather, Humor, Beach, Poetry

Finagling Floatopia

Image by chrisroll via freedigitalphoto.net

Though Isla Vista is connected

to Santa Barbara, it's rejected

for not fitting the perspective

of the overall collective.

Students come and go so much

leaving rental damage and such

that people fear the things they touch

and that the city will be their crutch.

It doesn't help the city any

when students roam the streets a-plenty.

They rarely have more than a penny

to pay to clean up after many.

It's not so much to ask, I think,

for masses to need permits to drink.

If the Foatopians don't want to sink

someone must write their name in ink.

Will the youngsters rise to the task

or just sit drinking from their flask?

Be safe and clean up is all that we ask

for floaters to float and sunbathers to bask.

© Rachel Hoyt 2011.  All rights reserved.

My NaPoWriMo poem #15

Technorati Tags: Entertainment, Blogging, NaPoWriMo, Humor, Floatopia, Poetry

Barrel of Monkeys Driving Test

A little while back on a day trip to the wineries,
I invented a new safe driver type test.
My designated driver had a barrel of monkeys,
just hanging on my car seat... 'cuz they're the best!
So I hung those cute little red monkeys, four in a row.
Said we'd whine if they swung wild or fell down below.
One monkey fell after several hours of watching,
but it was while navigating a bumpy dirt road.
I must say, they don't slow much from the factory notching,
and there was never a risk we'd implode.

Since then I've been thinking on this subject more.
The idea could be used for fun field sobriety exams.
I think policemen would absolutely adore...
childhood games played by drunk dudes and madames.
Jenga and Pin the Tail on the Donkey might be a little tough,
but Twister, Operation, or Charades would be even more rough.
Perhaps for April Fool's day some precinct will try...
by the power of Chief Wiggum, I hope they do.
Of course, for their prank to successfully fly,
they'll need permission to slightly harass me and you.

I would think Pictionary game night at a dive bar,
is likely to draw a decent sized crowd.
Of course those who don't like it would run far,
because Pictionary players can get pretty loud.
Or, you might be able to increase daytime payouts,
with card tower creation or domino pattern layouts.
I think you'd be surprised who would enjoy,
the chance to relive memories of being a child.
Most men like the chance to act like a boy;
the ability to feel like they're really getting wild.

I, for one, will always remember that special day,
when we invented the barrel of monkeys driving test.
No worry or care could get in our way.
We were living in the moment and forgetting the rest.
Ok... so, perhaps the wine influenced the monkeys hanging in a row.
Then again, we were sober when inventing Early Morning Merlot.
I'm just the type who finds great joy in little things;
and have even more fun making fun of myself.
Mischief... oh the joy it brings.
Hard to leave it on the shelf.

© Rachel Hoyt 2010 - 2011

Do you want your blog link to appear within a rhyme?
Participate in a Smiley Sociology Study sometime.  :o)

This rhyme is being shared on One Stop Poetry. 
Head over there if more poetry you wish to see.
It's also a part of the Poetry Potluck on Reflections and Musings,
head over there to find more poetry worth perusing.
Technorati Tags:

Entertainment, Blogs, Comedy, Funny, Opinion, Writing

Poor Randy Boy

One morning my radio spoke of squatters in Montecito,
and at first I thought the idea sounded quite neato.
Many estates in the area aren't lived in year round...
wonder how long I could live there before being found?

Then came the twist...  it's Randy and Evi Quaid!?!
In the guest house where their friends one stayed?
If they truly still own it, why not stay in the main house?
Also, no estate owner I know is as dirty as a louse.

Since then, the story has spread for all the world to see,
as he seeks asylum like a critter hiding in a tree.
But since I think publicity is what he really wants to get...
here's an O Danny Boy rewrite I hope you'll never forget.

------------------------------------------------------------

Poor Randy boy, the courts, the courts are calling,
Santa Barbara's not taking his side.
So now he's gone... to Canada ran crying.
Hollywood star whackers made him run and hide.

But he'll be back when more admit what they know,
or when producers offer him a show.
Then finally, to Santa Barbara court he'll go.
Poor Randy boy, poor Randy boy, they stalk you so.

© Rachel Hoyt 2010 - 2011

 

Technorati tags: Entertainment, Blogs, Comedy, Funny, Opinion, Writing

The Permit Dance

Occasionally I enjoy googling "this month in history".

I'm horrible at trivia, so the answer's always a mystery.

This time I was reminded of a little festival called Woodstock...

August 15th was the 41st aniversary of that gala of rock.

Coincidentally, I recently watched a movie which taught me
a few superfilous facts on how the concert came to be.
Apparently the original location denied the permit,

because a few of the locals threw a great big fit.

They didn't want their town to be invaded by hoodlums,

even if it could boost local establishments' incomes.

So the festival was moved to a different town nearby,

and Wallhill hosted the festival despite social outcry.

I wish Santa Barbara could think more like Tiber,

and encourage more festivals, concerts and fairs here.

But, it seems the permit process really has not changed,

and that musicians and hippies will always feel estranged.

Before summer began I was planning to attend,
the West Beach Music Festival for 2010.

But as the ticket sales date began to draw near,

all kinds of controversy I began to hear.

The permit was issued, but then pulled back,

due to complaints from neighbors about tact.

But even once security, etc. was increased,

the objections from neighbors did not cease.

Forced to move to a soccer field and cut one day,

Twin Productions continues the plan to stay.

Unfortunately many have waited to buy a ticket (like me),

so they can't seem to come up with the $90k deposit fee.

All this back and forth seems a bit passive agressive.

The whiny neighbors are getting more than oppressive.

So to lighten the mood, I've re-written a famous tune...

using the hokey pokey to mock a collective goon.

You put the permit in,
you pull the permit out,
you put the permit in,
fans of West Beach scream and shout...
You hold another meeting,
change the concert all around...
that's what SB's about!!

© Rachel Hoyt 2010 - 2011