Sunday, August 29, 2010

Fighting On Prime Time

I got my invite to the Jerry Springer show.
They giving me a chance to go blow-to-blow
With my faithless friend, who crossed the line,
And got down and dirty with that woman of mine.

Jerry Springer, my hero, my only salvation,
Paying me to biatch-slap, in front of the nation,
And even if you don't think it's proper or right,
You be on the sofa watching, come 9 o'clock tonight!

I'm setting things straight on the Jerry Springer show,
And afterwards, I'll pound-down cold beers, don't-cha know,
It ain't about revenge or putting out the trash,
It's all about my 500 bucks, and I'll take it in cash.

(Inspired by a random comment from my daughter based on watching a lot of "My Name Is Earl")

Saturday, August 28, 2010

En-Daka 円高 (Strong Yen Exchange Rate)  

Strong yen is an oddity
Good for Japanese tourists
And Tokyo's buying commodities

But listen to the expatriates' hollers
Living in Japan,
With salaries paid in dollars.

Unteachable In School

The part of the brain which memorizes things,
Is different from the one where thoughts occur,
Both co-exist in the same skull, lurking,
Awaiting, the chance to create, or refer
To a filed-away answer to a standardized test,
Which separates the average ones from the best...

It's good to know that the brain will provide,
A list of rules, and resources to use,
But how will it help one to pick and decide,
Someone to love, or which neck-tie to choose.

Saturday English Senryu

(More inspiration from the Cloud)

Always remember,
You are unique...
Just like everyone else.

There are three kinds of people,
Those who can count,
And those who can't.

Chastised, bureaucrats promise
To cut red tape

I tried to daydream,
But my mind,
Kept wandering.

Quit Buying The Arabs' Oil

Luxury and pleasure
Are available, for a price,
Paid from our treasure
Sating desire, honoring vice,
To the last measure,
Without thinking twice,
No looking back...
We spend the coins of our mortal purse,
Running circles, in the cul-de-sac
Of our thirst-full lives -- our curse.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Avian Drama Viewed From Train Platform

A sparrow climbs a tall thin weed,
Like a tiny monkey
On a tiny palm tree,
Grasping the stalk & eating the seeds.

As it gets near the top,
Then the weed starts to bend,
In a graceful arc,
Dropping the bird on the dirt,
Gently, in the end.

Mosho 猛暑 (Part 2)

Yet another sweat-hot August day,
I'm soaked-through, and heat-stressed,
Out on the streets, earning my pay,
But something is different,
And it causes me to rest,
Close my eyes, and listen through my skin,
To feel the small shift
From the season I'm in...
The breeze has changed to sultry, from steamy,
The Sun's angle lower, reflections less gleamy,
All caused by the tilt of the planet's spin...
Summer is slowing -- Burning itself out,
Until all that's left is the glowing embers
Called September.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The (Invisible) Elephant In The Room

It's there, but I can't see
It straight-on, rather feel
It, peripherally, avoiding me
As if to remain unreal
And unconfirmed, resembling
The hint of a shadow gone 'round
The corner, the air still trembling,
From where it ran, without a sound,
Before I could get there,
Hoping to catch, and hold it close
To my heart -- And I swear
I won't get nauseous or morose,
No, I'll be relieved, relaxed, jocose...

It's the Leprechaun of living-on,
It's the Imp of knowing my existence,
Which I cannot help but chase,
In response to an insistence,
That there has to be a trace
Of meaning and adventure
In the neutral comfy-cozy place
That is my life, sans-vesture...

Predictable, repetitive, the hours and days extend,
And the slippery Imp is disinclined
To show the Rainbow's End,
So, I keep on trucking, growing old, no pot-of-gold,
Yet strive to buy what can't be sold,
A grim-faced hiker on the karmic wold.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

ElzoHarm Art (No. 12)

I am hurt, and I need to heal,
Where can I go, where can I rest?
The pain is spiritual, but real,
And it keeps me from sleeping, lest
My dopamine dreams conceal,
The answer, the cure, the blue-green vale
Of pine trees, and grass, and peaceful air,
A portion of nature, pure but frail...
And I lay me down on the pine needles, where
The shade of the branches cover me,
To protect from the rains of mystery...
And I relax amidst magic blue-green trees,
Arboreal peace, an enchanted breeze,
Cooling, calming, curing the disease...
The trees are like gods, so I pray, on my knees,
To the quiet of the hollow, its being to cherish,
Every day, every month, every year, 'till I perish.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Gray Mist Of The Soul

A fog flowing in the woods,
Softly suggests of vagueness
Uncertain directions and
Intentions headed to dust...

Like drivers, we can't see too far
Past the headlights, and trust
We’ll arrive, wherever we’re bound,
Babbling-away on the phone in the car,
For drive into the fog we must...

So, we find comfort on familiar ground,
Flow-on with cycles of holy events,
Keep habits, gadgets, and lovers around, 
Which give illusion of order, peace of mind,
A rhythm to carry us forward,
Groping, hoping, cozy, and blind,
Through our one-time only,
Remorseless, earthly grind…

A fog in the woods, touches everywhere,
It still can caution, it still can scare,
And can hide what's not really there...

(Art by Mark Harm Niemeyer)


Where did the word come from?
That appeared upon this screen...

From a mental memorandum
That exists unheard, unseen?

Expelled from synapse and cell
Perhaps, like an idea-sperm
Which swam through mental jell,
And psychic isotherm,
Down my arm and to my hand,
Then in my consciousness to land...

I type the word in consummation.

A minor miracle of creation,
Completed in a magical way,
I can't understand to this day.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Women's Progress With Cosmetics

As a teen, her make-up is for the dance,
In her 20's, it's for a man to find,
By 30's, it's when she has a chance,
In the 40's, it's for her own kind.

Bird Steals Sandwich From Man

Seahawk, Seahawk,
What do you see?
Soaring above,
And looking at me.

Seahawk, Seahawk,
Dives for the land...
Aims for the burger,
I hold in my hand.

Seahawk, Seahawk,
Does a mid-air munch,
Flying away
With my former lunch.


MOSHO is Japanese for heat-wave hot,
As in humid-sticky August air,
Which cooks things in a summer rot,
And beckons sweat-springs in my hair,
Which then drip-down around my ears,
To soak my shirt with sodden smears...
Each day, until the Autumn nears.

Monday, August 16, 2010

How Men Got Learned

To run out and hunt for something to eat,
Was considered a blood-skill and mannish thing,
Men killed and gorged on mammoths' meat,
Which thereafter caused their vanishing.
Then women stepped-up with nuts, roots, & wheat,
To save humankind from famishing…

Which is how men came to turn in their spears,
In return for shovels and garden shears.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Senryu For A Sunday

(Derived from nuggets discovered on the Internet cloud)

If, after the first time,
You don't succeed,
Redefine success.

Good health is merely,
The slowest possible rate,
At which one can die

While confession is good,
For your conscience & soul,
It's bad for your career.

Is reading in the bathroom,
Considered a form of

Seen it all.
Done it all.
Can't remember most of it.

A conscience is what hurts,
When all your other parts,
Feel so good.

Radioactive cats,
Are thought to have,
18 half-lives.

Consciousness is:
That annoying time
Between naps.

Give me ambiguity,
Or give me,
Something else.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Eat Your Vegetables

I want to eat sirloin, as much as I can,
But I'm stuck with a serving of yogurt & bran.

I'd love to eat pizza, 'til dusk, from the dawn,
But I can't shirk the sensible diet I'm on.

The things I could do to a tray-full of pies,
Would make you turn red, and roll-back your eyes.

Instead I've got cabbage and beans vinnagrette,
Which have NO chance of making my stomach upset.

Neurotic attentive to calorie detail,
I chew at the bars of my vegetable jail,
Dreaming of meatloaf, to no avail.

After An August Rain

Pasted to wet pavement,
A late-summer thing,
Cicada wing.

Monday, August 9, 2010

High Waters

A handful of men stroll through their lives,
Well-meaning, with jobs & children & wives...
But oblivious to sartorial taste,
Wear their pants too high on their waist.

Fishing Fool

A crow dived into the ocean
To catch a fish like a cormorant,
A risky action and notion,
Which bordered on abnormarant.

A cormorant, watching the folly below,
Cried: "CAW CAW" ("Hey stupid" in Crow)

Saturday, August 7, 2010

2010 College Football --- Bring It On!

Nebraska ranked in pre-season Top-10
Where it's supposed to be, again...
Block & tackle the Big-12 goodbye,
Then, let the future begin...

Rural Reality

Run-jumping from the
Tired, city-stained car
I burst-out with a joy-cry
Into the spectacular green
Of the farmland meadow

The air is so clear and clean
That it almost hurts!

"Squish" goes my polished shoe...


Message Received At Edge Of Next Galaxy

I am Voyager, and
I bring a message to you
From a worn-out planet
Colored mostly blue
Populated by beings
Called man...

Run, while you still can.

Freedom Of Movement

Stuck on a traffic jammed road
I look up at the clouds
And wish I could
Travel in a wind-blown mode...

Why Travel?

The allure of the road,
Is not where you go,
But how you get there.

Mahalo For Blissful Ignorance

Welcome to Island Time and Aloha land,
Where things slow down to a sun-tanned view
Of rainbows and waves and fish, from the sand,
Where you might try to run, if that's what you do,
Back in the east, where the time-clock is king,
And progress and stress vein-through every thing,
But not here, Bra, watch the Hula and chill,
Forget all the deadlines, and go where you will...
{As the sharks circle-in for the kill.}

Downtown Dinner Drag

I found out, later on, we went there because
Of her memory of love-long-lost, it was
A locally-famous 4-Star grill,
Where the view was ocean & tropical-nice,
And the food was fancy, but basically swill,
Dished-out at a cheeky exorbitant price...

Once seated, I gaped at the stilted menu,
Then wished for a chance to escape from the venue,
But, deflated, defeated, and trapped in-place,
I grinned at the waiter, and tried not to think
Of the bill, and our girl with the pretty face,
Who snapped photos of her blue-colored drink...

Resigned to my fate and degraded digestion,
I toyed with the artichokes, fennel, and bisque,
And waited for a chance to make a suggestion,
That we finish our entres and flee, lest we risk
An assault by dessert, at the hands of Steven,
Who'd been bringing our food since the evening's inception,
And now pushed sweet-pies, as if to get even
For some sin unnoticed, or fiscal deception
By previous guests, who ate but excluded
The tip, assuming "gratuity included"...

And how could the uncle, who brought us along,
Be at once both so happy and utterly wrong,
Heaping praise on the restaurant, service, and fare,
While ordering cream-cake, and insisting we share
Over coffee, which signaled the end was in-sight,
And the torture was stopping, but try as I might,
I could not feel better the rest of the night.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Benny Decker's Statue, Yokosuka Chuo-Koen

The bust of a former Captain from the Navy
Famous back in occupation days
Is placed and postured so his stoney gaze,
Looks over the edge of a bluff, where maybe
If he could still see, he could watch the waves,
Of Tokyo Bay, which lap against the landfills
Which have long since buried
Yokosuka's beaches... But the verdant hills,
Remain, with an ageless message, carried
By spiders and kudzu vines, who attach
To the Captain's statue, in a slow embrace,
A small signal from nature, which somehow I catch
As I pause to wipe the sweat from my face.