A taste of my skewed view of the world
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I plan to make life obey.
I plan to take control
by filling my body with fresh air,
pure water and tasty food,
by filling my days
with love and adventure.
I plan to bore the sophisticated
and amuse the skeptics.
I plan to make the future
point backwards
in wonder or confusion.
I plan to create and appreciate
until my cheeks are rosy,
my limbs are sturdy
and my heart is full.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 237/365.
Image by artist at Naco Wellness, Naco, Mexico.
One clear plastic bag
containing a few handfuls of white grit
sealed with a numbered metal clamp,
in case the deceased might try to escape.
One official copy certificate of death,
embossed with seal of the great state,
signed and dated by the doctor,
the coroner and the county clerk.
One cardboard box labeled
“personal effects“
wallet, comb, car keys,
car wash receipt,
half a roll of ‘curiously strong’ mints.
The baggage of death
is largely non-returnable.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 236/365.
Carrot-topped,
self appointed pseudo-monarch,
The Rhino, destructive and shortsighted,
sits, powerful and self-important,
beside painted beauty queen, surrounded
by deceitful rooks and scheming clergy.
Armored knights and outplayed pawns
march proudly past the white palace,
saluting their unclothed king.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 235/365.
Image obtained on the internet.
He loved his Chevy, hot dogs, Hank Williams,
snow cones, and tomatoes off the vine.
He hated priests, rabbis, gurus,
preachers, and politicians.
He loved his grimy fedora, worn blue jeans,
white socks, sneakers, and old T‑shirts.
He hated animosity, racial slurs,
the F word and narrow minds.
He loved baseball, Star Trek,
buttered popcorn, and a good argument.
He hated gospel, opera,
punk rock, hip hop, and rap.
He loved afternoon barbecues,
Thanksgiving dinners, and New Year’s fireworks.
Hated salesmen, cold coffee,
undercooked eggs, and overcooked meat.
He could be kind, generous,
silent, boisterous or devil’s advocate.
He loved his mother, wife,
most of his kids, and a few of his friends.
He was disliked by some, revered by a few,
irritating and confusing to many.
He was grouchy, occasionally affectionate,
sometimes happy and always human.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 234/354.
Like carpenter and hammer
or woodpecker and tree,
hail on the tin rooftop
startles and delights.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 233/365.
This story is not my own.
My friend’s uncle’s brother-in-law’s cousin
told my friend, and they told me
this story that I am telling you.
So I can’t vouch for
accuracy or veracity,
but I can say that,
in my humble opinion, it is
one of the better stories I’ve heard
in the last few years.
Once upon a time—no.
Long ago and far away—no.
It was a dark and dreary night—no.
Lend me your ear and you shall hear—no.
Real stories never start like that…
My friend Robbie told me this story.
He’s one of the smartest people I know,
and he believes it, so it must be true.
His uncle Paulo heard it from his cousin Vinnie,
who heard it from his brother-in-law Jimmie,
who says it happened in the mountains of Peru
with an old curandero called Diabolo.
Diabolo performed ceremonies
for people suffering from ailments
ranging from blisters and boils
to schizophrenia and demonic possession.
He smoked tobacco and drank potions
that allowed him to journey into the deep underworld.
There he conversed with the afflicted’s spirit animal
and learned the reason for—
and treatment for—their illness.
Upon his return to this middle world,
Diabolo would describe his journey
to the patient,
give a blessing and, sometimes,
a tincture, tea, or salve that resulted in a cure.
His reputation spread,
and people came from great distances,
often enduring great hardships
to reach the old man’s hut.
Many were turned away,
for before he agreed to help
they would have to pass a test.
Jimmie was suffering from an
irritating, itching rash with oozing pustules
emitting pale, foul-smelling sludge.
He had been to the doctor many times
and tried many prescribed remedies,
but the rash would always return,
often worse than before.
He heard about Diabolo from a local woman and,
in desperation, made the arduous trek
to the hut in the mountains.
Greeted by the healer’s apprentice,
he was instructed to answer the
prova de autenticidade—
a riddle, a test of authenticity.
After several days of isolation, self-questioning,
and deep thought,
Jimmie returned to the hut
in possession of the correct answer.
Finally admitted to Diabolo’s space,
he was told he would be allowed
to witness the sacred ceremony.
The ceremony lasted three days and three nights.
He saw the ancient one appear to have seizures,
often speaking in unintelligible languages,
and at several points
appearing dead for minutes to hours.
Alternately awed and terrified,
Jimmie also noticed that his rash was fading,
the itching gradually subsiding,
pustules drying up and disappearing.
By the third day, Jimmie was cured.
As Diabolo recovered from his altered state,
he advised Jimmie that he had healed himself—
that solving the riddle was the cure,
and the ceremony was just for entertainment.
He said that anyone who could solve the riddle
would have the ability to heal themselves.
Diabolo also warned that
sharing the riddle with anyone
would result in the rash returning—
without a possible cure.
So if you believe this story
from my friend’s, uncle’s, brother-in-law’s cousin,
and you want a cure for your illness,
you may have to pack your bags
and head for the mountains of Peru.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 232/365.
Sounds of hope, misleading.
Rooms without doors,
windows without keys.
Sounds of hope,
pipe dreams echoing evident whispers,
seem to answer unspoken questions.
Fools’ words spin about my ears
cascading promises of solutions to my fears,
proselytizing easy pathways to truth.
The inward path,
the journey toward self
progresses without shortcuts.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 231/365.
There are always rules,
consequences and debts.
Attend not
to a particular belief system,
but to what works
in any given situation.
Rules,
consequences and debts
vary depending on
four key variables:
One:
activity—
what you are doing,
Two :
location—
what environment you are in,
Three:
time—
when it is happening,
and
Four:
company—
who you are with.
Take, for example, nudity.
Hiking naked alone in Arizona
on a cool summer morning
would be very different than
skiing naked in Colorado
on a frigid January afternoon
with the
minister and his family.
There are always rules,
consequences and debts.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 230/365.
The scald of fragrant steaming
Colombian coffee,
allied with the blaze of Irish whiskey
mediated by sweet Italian cream
and fortified by blueberry scones.
Perfect accord for a cold January morning.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 229/365.
Image borrowed from the internet.
Aldous Huxley and John F Kennedy
died on the same day in 1963.
Two deaths in synchronicity
one peaceful, one violent
both transcendent.
© 2025 Bruno Talerico
Stafford challenge 228/365.
Desert Dweller 