Sunday, April 25, 2010


Two men sharing fire,

Outside, in the cold....

Designated smoking area.

SKILCRAFT Writing Utensil

The ball-pen is labeled: "AntiMicrobial",
It's both cautionary and proverbial,
Promising doom for all bacteria,
Which happen to arrive in the area.

That such power is held by something so small....
It's a government pen, after all.

Telephone Poles

In Japan, all the wires go on poles,
Held up in the air.

In France, the wires are buried,
So it seems they're not there.

Which one is better,
I cannot say why....
But look up in Japan,
And lines cross the sky.

Bushido Poems

The Samurai brush-stroke poems in the moon-light.

The blood on their swords, long before wiped clean.

Is it only those who know the bitter pain of battle,

Who can love quiet beauty on a quicksilver night?

After The Blast

Let's wait until the smoke clears,

The swirl of emotion, the mist of tears,

The human state of medula-fears,

Once ignited, billows and veers

And does not settle, sometimes for years.

Pasta Special

The patrons piling-in for lunch,
The staff is buffed and ready.

Today they are a hungry bunch,
The special is spaghetti.

No talk, no jokes, just noodle-munch,
Tastes good, but not so pretty.


The women stalk slowly,
An an ancient pace.

They hunt in groups of
Two, three, and four....


Stopping to gaze and gather,

At the Walmart.

True Believer

I love my god, and love my priest,

Who sent me to this friendly place,

With a bomb wrapped-round my waist.

Meter Check

The water man buzzed the front door
Like he was supposed to do....

And I was cleaning the floor,
Like I was supposed to do....

But the vacuum cleaner was too loud,
And I could not hear his call,
So we passed like birds in a cloud,
Flying fast, so as not to fall.

Friday, April 16, 2010

On The Eve Of A Move

There is something to be said for permanence --- Dwelling in the same place until the dust piles on dust (monumentally) in the unseen (unreachable) corners of the residence, like the memories -- but less fleeting...

It's only when you move, pull up stakes, switch homes, leave for a new address, etc., that the accumulation of "stuff" -- which was your life -- becomes evident...

And then, you are faced with this simple choice:

(1) Do I carry (literally) the piles of my past to the new place?


(2) Do I pitch them into a dumpster?

I suppose it comes down to the strength of your back, your energy level, and/or how much you want to pay the movers.

So, I get to do a triage, of sorts, on the things which have been generated by my live (and the lives of my family) --- And each object parted-with, feels like a small death.

Murphy's Law

I think I'm gonna make it...
Just need to get
From here to there.

Running though the cruel rain,
The ATM's in sight,
With 5 minutes to spare.

Never again to drink so late,
With a sick smile I swear...

And into the store I jump,
Victor over time and feeling great...

But "happy" quick-time turns into despair...

The ATM is "under repair".

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Workstation AM

Signing-on, the screen flashes blue,
Glow-projecting this day's fate...
Coffee buzz.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Dont Forget This Morning

Gray skies, the color of freshwater pearls,
Cool and refreshing hours...
How can I make you last?

Gray skies the color of burnished silver,
Temperate, with flowers...
Slipping into the past.

Gray skies the color of arctic fox,
Celestial soothing powers...
Why must you flee so fast?

Thursday, April 8, 2010

ElzoHarm Art (No. 4)

From The Mind Of Albert Camus...

Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.

Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

I shall tell you a great secret, my friend. Do not wait for the last judgment, it takes place every day.

Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.

In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

I Gotta A Job To Do

I'm off to do this Wednesday's work,
Walk out into what is not known,
Happy to amble right into the murk,
Though I'd much rather stay at home.

Black Raptor

The hungry crow on his flower-perch,
Considers me below, as if to say:
"If you were somewhat smaller,
You would serve well as my prey."

And gazing back at the omnivore,
In my medulla-brain, I feel,
An ancient instinct-anxiety:
"Human being -- as a meal".

I'm relieved to be too sizable,
To become the corvid's game,
But I lower my eyes, and
Stalk away quietly, all the same...

(Art by Mark Niemeyer)

Cold April Wind

Walking home through the gloom...
The cold blow from the North,
Pin-holes through my thin jacket
Teasing with me, pushing me...
First from the front, Then from behind,

And I think of my scarf,
Hanging useless,
On the hat rack,
Back in my office.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


Sun Woman radiates creation's rays
Her eyes blue-green, the color of life,
Watching fauna and foliates for a trillion days,
Evolving complex, in competitive strife,
Where it all heads, even she doesn't know...

And she keeps up her burning, solar-glow,
Some times killing, sometimes making things grow...

Sun Woman's beauty is gorgeous and bright,
But can only be glimpsed at the edges of night,
And only for moments, lest it burn-out your sight...

Her heat is the price for being alive,
I rationalize, as I gasp in the shade,
And slather-on lotion, SPF-35.

Sixth Of April (Me & Shakespeare)

Is there a point where it makes a difference
That you've noticed the repetition
And the futility...?

(...A tale told by an idiot...)

And does this realization allow
You to somehow rise above
The day-to-day unfolding of time...
To leap --- And grasp a handful of happiness...?

(...Full of sound and fury...)

I suppose it's so...
Piles of joy, there for the taking,
Like the bags of used food
That feed the morning crows ---
Beautiful black killers in the April dawn.

(...Signifying nothing...)

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Miura Beach Backroad

What can you say about a sky
Cloudless, and a pure pale blue...
Perfect and serene cover,
On a cool afternoon.

Its beauty is only outdone
By the pristine white, not yet pink,
Blossoms on the sakura tree...
The branches covered,
In an exquisite sprout-blanket of flower petals.

I spy an amazing spot...
A corner lot, behind the barred windows
Of an uncaring apartment building.
A virgin patch of soft grass,
Beneath today's sky and the flower-trees...
A perfect spot,
It lies empty and ignored and unappreciated.

It is so beautiful...
I wish I could trespass,
Lie down there on the grass,
And never move,
For a long, long time.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

ElzoHarm Art (No. 2)

The 6 Bests Quotes From Epictetus

All religions must be tolerated... for every man must get to heaven in his own way.

Difficulties are things that show a person what they are.

If evil be spoken of you and it be true, correct yourself, if it be a lie, laugh at it.

If you wish to be a writer, write.

We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak.

Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.

- - - - - - - - - -

Note: Epictetus was a humble, Stoic Philosopher from the 1st and 2nd Century A.D. Born into slavery, he showed such promise that his prominent Roman owner allowed Epictetus to take lessons from the greatest Stoic teacher of the age, Musonius Rufus. He eventually gained his freedom, was banished from Rome with the other philosophers, and lived out the remainder of his life teaching at his philosophical school in Nicopolis (NW Greece, in the Prefecture of Preveza).

The Code Of Nebraska Football

Dear Lord,

In the battles we go through life,
We ask for a chance that's fair.

A chance to equal all our strife,
A chance to do or dare.

And if we win,
Let it be by the code...
With faith and honor held high.

And if we lose,
Let us stand by the road...
And cheer as the winners go by.

Day by day,
We get better and better...

A team that can't be beat...

Won't be beat...!!


A New Day In My Life

Sun's up ... On any given day
Given by god they say.

I look at the morning mirror,
Can't think of the day or the date ---
I scrape the hair off my face,
Auto-resigned to my fate.

The new day is special,
But feels kinda lame ---
The future is mystery,
But the same old game.

Each day is precious and new,
But mostly I just slog-through.

Friday, April 2, 2010

ElzoHarm Art (No. 1)

Facebook Haiku

Sitting in the computer's ghostly glow,
Tapping fingers, collecting friends...
But still so lonely.

Philip Larkin

Philip Larkin was an English poet --- His, is the only book of poems I have ever bought.

Reading his words, I guess "something clicked" and connected to my middle-aged core.

Below is one favorite...


Beyond the dark cartoons
Are darker spaces where
Small cloudy nests of stars
Seem to float on air.

These have no proper names:
Men out alone at night
Never look up at them
For guidance or delight,

For such evasive dust
Can make so little clear:
Much less is known than not,
More far than near.

More poems, of all kinds, are at this link:

Savings Withdrawal At The Bank

People -- all shapes, sizes, and colors,
Standing, shifting weight, in tandem numbness...

Small boy, jumping around, fidgeting with line-rope,
He acts-out against the bored-angst we all feel gnawing inside...
Until his Mom takes control.

It's proof that time has different speeds:
fast-forward, standard, and line-in-the-bank slow...

Solid proof of Einstein's Relativity Theory:
"Time passes in inverse proportion to your sense of hurry."

Meanwhile, the line --- ooze-creeps forward,
Fast as a glacier melts.

Spring-time In Shoppers Plaza Mall

Gazing at spring on a banner...
Colors --- Lavender, green, and gold.

It hangs above the heedless heads
Of shoppers in the mall...
Mute advertisement for the real thing,
Under the moist gray sky.

Missed Out On Subway

The feeling in my gut
Is like there's a team of minute jerks
Going to town...
Scrubbing the stomach walls
With little brittle brushes.

There is but one solution...

Aha! A Subways!

But there's a long, lunch line,
And I have no time...

(Sound of tiny jerks cheering)