Saturday, December 31, 2011
And what will be a much more quiet moment
At the shrine two hours from now -- no rush,
While the crowds flow, thin, and drift
Away, so I take this moment to gather
The thoughts that come to mind, and shift
Them into the words that now appear
On screen, and lead to thanks for the gift
Of another hour, another day, another year.
This Buddhist bell was temporarily set-up at Joganji Temple in Ishinomaki City, Miyagi Prefecture (one of the places badly damaged by 3/11). Starting this afternoon, visitors were allowed to ring/gong the bell for good luck in 2012. No limit was set on the number of times the bell could be rung ---- Usually, the priests ring the bell 108 times, during New Year's Eve ceremonies... To wash away the previous year's "108 sins" identified by the Buddhist faith...
I know, because I can hear the sound
Of the singer's voice, loud and urgent, in stark
Contrast to the peaceable gloom in my room,
Where I sit and contemplate the year almost done...
The countdown contiues on toward its scripted
Ending, goodbye to the old year, hello the new one!
The drunks will yell in the cold, and kisses
By lovers with chapped lips, all of which misses
The reality, amidst the fireworks and heated wine,
That nothing has changed, this night is just another
Night, which will tick-away until the sunshine
Of just another day, casts its clear piercing light
Onto the abandoned park, where much is still fine
And mostly unchanged -- Time to put the right
Foot in front of the left, amble into a new year's day...
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Is quiet, empty, maybe distracted
From the normal buzz and
Business, the drama enacted
Which I call my working life,
Now paused, goals refracted
Into a softer coloring of rest
At the end of the year, when
The trigger is released lest
The tension takes over again...
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
And the gathered crowd will
Look for a rodent's shadow
To predict whether winter still
Would remain too long, or depart
In time for an early spring to start;
How the hairy tunnel rat gained
Such power, is a mystery unexplained...
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
It was after we pushed the doors
Open, springing their hinges, we
Charge-trampled across the floors
And I finally got my hands
On the shoes, when some bitch sprayed
Red pepper, and punches started
To fly, but I pushed, kicked, and made
My way out of the mob, and departed
Teary-eyed, but unrepentant, unafraid...
Which I am due to make
In the afternoon, tomorrow,
I lie back on the bed to take
Some time to relax and rest,
And I gaze at the tree
All color and sparkle, best
Displayed this Solstice night,
The eve of a feast, I doze away
In the dim festive light...
Friday, December 23, 2011
Quotes from the web:
"There are several Japanese traditions connected with the Winter Solstice, mainly connected with warding off disease. The most popular one is taking a hot yuzu bath. Yuzu is a small yellow or green citrus fruit grown in East Asian. With a flavor somewhat between that of a grapefruit and an orange, its peel and juice are used to garnish Japanese cuisine.
The yuzu bath tradition holds that if done, it will help prevent colds for the coming year. A report from the Mainichi Shimbun indicated that origins of this practice are unclear. However, one word in Japanese referring to visiting a bath has the same pronunciation as Winter Solstice, Toji. The Mainichi speculates that tradition likely gained popularity after being promoted by public baths as a way to draw in visitors. Even this year a number of reports of public bath and hot springs throwing in hundreds of the fruit have been written over the last the week.
A similar tradition to the yuzu bath is called “azukigayu,” and involves putting azuki red beans into a bath, again to ward off colds for the year.
A third, slightly different, tradition is eating pumpkin on the solstice to help prevent paralysis. The Mainichi again claims that this origin is shrouded in mystery, particularly since pumpkins were imported into Japan sometime around the 16th century."
- - - - - - - - - -
"Winter Solstice marks the time of the year when the light returns as the sun shifts and starts to move northward again. In Europe, the tradition of the yule log is celebrated on Winter Solstice. A special log is brought in and placed on the hearth where it glows for the twelve nights of the holiday season. After that, it is kept in the house all year to protect the home and its inhabitants from illness and any adverse condition. The yule log is the counterpart of the midsummer bondfires, which are held outdoors on Summer Solstice to celebrate the shortest night of the year. It is also customary to place mistletoe around the fire, which is the plant that grew on the oak tree, sacred to the Druids, the priests of the old Celts. Among other uses, mistletoe is thought to help women conceive. The Christmas tree also dates from old European or pagan rituals. It was the time to celebrate the renewal of the earth, and greens were used as the symbol. Branches of pine, cedar, and juniper commonly used brings wonderful fragrance into the home. Red candles are used to symbolize the fire and heat of the returning sun as the days begin to lengthen."
- - - - - - - - - -
"In pre-historic times, winter was a very difficult time for Aboriginal people in the northern latitudes. The growing season had ended and the tribe had to live off of stored food and whatever animals they could catch. The people would become troubled as the life-giving sun sank lower in the sky each noon. They feared that it would eventually disappear and leave them in permanent darkness and extreme cold. After the passage of the winter solstice, they would have reason to celebrate and regain hope in the future as they saw the sun rising and strengthening once more. Although many months of cold weather remained before spring, they took heart that the return of the warm season was inevitable. The concept of birth and or death/rebirth became associated with the winter solstice. The Aboriginal people had no elaborate instruments to detect the solstice. But they were able to notice a slight elevation of the sun's path within a few days after the solstice -- perhaps by DEC-25. Celebrations were often timed for about the 25th."
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
"On esthetic grounds, if on no others, I cannot accept the view of death taken by most of us, and taken by me during most of my life -- on esthetic grounds therefore I am obliged to deny that so extraordinary a thing as a human soul can be wiped out forever. No, the dead are about us, shut out by our metaphysical denial of them. As we lie nightly in our hemispheres asleep by the billions, our dead approach us. Our ideas should be their nourishment. We are their grain fields. But we are barren and we starve them. Don't kid yourself, though, we are watched by the dead, watched on this earth, which is our school of freedom. In the next realm, where things are clearer, clarity eats into freedom. We are free on earth because of cloudiness, because of error, because of marvelous limitation, and as much because of beauty as of blindness and evil. These always go with the blessing of freedom." (Saul Bellow)
Monday, December 19, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The world is calling, money to be made!
Too scared to feel, too busy to be tired...
Start the screen-suck in my beige cubicle,
Kiss-up endlessly, try not to get fired,
Resigned to the sad fact I'll never
Again be the innocent they hired,
Promote to Associate, big annual bonus,
No family, niceness, or inspiration required.
RED is really into it with the kids, in the groove, living the dream.
BLUE is trying hard to follow, but needs to do something tighter with his pants.
YELLOW, a slightly overweight, last-minute substitute, is about ready to fall over.
PINK and GREEN are trying to warn about the monster getting ready to eat everyone.
Friday, December 16, 2011
The bare branches of the winter trees,
Yet the colors, scattered on the ground,
He treads on, but never really sees...
Beauty, small miracles, spread all around,
Only discerned by chance, by degrees...
|(Imagery Art by Mark harm Niemeyer)|
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The aftermath of Thanksgiving
Stares up at me, accusatory,
From the scales... But it's too cold
To exercise, yes, that's my story,
And I'm sticking to it, despite
The realization that another big
Eating day, with presents, is right
Around the corner...
Amen, and silent night.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The difference about what will happen soon
Is that though we watch, and hope for the light,
The shadow, inexorable, will cover the moon,
Turn its silver to orange-brown in the night
Sky, under which we mingle, ogle, and swoon,
Trusting time, in the end, to put things right…
Which it does, and we move on to the next thing
To fill the hungry chasm of our empty hearts,
While the moon, renewed, softly shining,
Beams ghostly blessing, as our next act starts.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Burger King Japan's 2011 Christmas special ... is an innovative one: the "Pizza-Sized Burger," featuring four Whopper patties cut into triangular "slices," which was all over the Internet when it was announced, to no one's surprise.
So I decided to give a closer look and try one out (it just premiered this week).
Half of the hulking sandwich gets done up like a regular Whopper; for the other half, customers can select a "fresh avocado" or "cheese nacho" variation.
Burger King is also selling a "party set," which adds an order of French fries, onion rings, chicken wings, and four sodas to the mix and retails for around $35 (the Pizza-Sized Burger alone can be purchased for around $22).
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Instead of voices with sound
The antenna boys send out waves
To others like them, around
The planet, and it saves
On the stress and wear and tear,
Silent joy waves going everywhere...
Beamed to all the nations...
No headaches, no noise,
Free your head with the antenna boys.
(Art by Mark Niemeyer)
Shot, lest I forget, lose track,
Or deem it not worth the bother
Of calling her to come back,
She who is the reason I drink
After drink after drink,
She, who sank me with the smile
Unoffered, all I can think
Is to get shit-faced while
Hope disolves with a nod and wink.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
nodokeshi ya ugo no nawabari niwa suzume
after rain, a gang war
* * * * * * * * * *
uguisu ni damatte iranu suzume kana
not hushing up
for the nightingale...
* * * * * * * * * *
manzai ya kado ni inarabu hato suzume
begging actors at the gate--
pigeons and sparrows
in a row
* * * * * * * * * *
oki yo oki yo suzume wo odoru chô wa mau
wake up! wake up!
Monday, November 21, 2011
On and through the new-falling snow,
The snow a gift from an arctic
North, to places way below,
Like where I am driving now,
In a rented Nissan, rolling slow
And careful on the cold white-
Carpeted street, so peaceful, although
I'm also afraid and straining
To remember long-unused winter
Navigation skills to finish the remaining
Miles safely to my warm empty room...
Friday, November 11, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Lay me down on the fallen leaves,
Under an autumn sky so blue,
It almost hurts my eyes to see
The beauty, which cuts through
The dullness of a nameless day...
Blue, orange, and gold undo
The blindfold, and open a way
To slowdown, stop, then lie
Down on the leaves, orange and gold,
Like I used to do, before I got
Too busy, too cultured, too old...
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
On a bluff, above the utter devastation
Wrought by the giant ocean surge
Of an awful earthquake’s creation,
Stands a small and ancient stone
Monument, which, once weeds were
Cleared, its message was shown…
Anxious words, carved long ago into
Its weathered face, trying to mitigate
From centuries ago, the awful fate
And future pain and watery death for
Those who now arrived, and read too late,
For those, now homeless or alone:
“Don’t build your homes below this stone.”
Friday, November 4, 2011
Hunting, in the rugged hills
And valleys of a dusty
Distant land, which kills
The careless -- Searching
For the men hunting for me,
Brutal blood sport thrills
Pursued kinetically, relentlessly,
By high-school graduates,
What more excitement
Could a young man ask for…
With mind-game squabbles,
Frustrated cops, faction versus faction,
But it all came together when,
During a quiet pause in the action,
A dude stands-up and hollers
“Hey Mr. Rich Man, what the hell
do you do with a billion dollars?!
Do you finger it, count it, roll in it,
Make love to it -- you can’t spend
It all before your lifetime’s end!
Hey Mr. Rich Man it’s time to repent,
Give your gold to the 99 percent!”
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
But instinctively I reach
For the Blackberry
= = = = = = = = = =
At my desk, Tele-working,
Trying to show
I can write clear syntax,
Despite the Merlot.
= = = = = = = = = =
The small delicious pleasure
Of sitting on a week-day
Watching others go to work...
1. A few peas short of a casserole.
2. Fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.
3. Driveway doesn't quite reach the road.
4. As smart as bait.
5. Doesn't have all his dogs on one leash.
6. Forgot to pay his brain bill.
7. The logs are ablaze but the chimney is clogged.
8. The hard drive is spinning but the OS hasn't been installed.
9. If you stand close enough to them you can hear the sea.
10. Has a full six-pack, but lacks the plastic thingy that holds them all together.
11. Any slower and he'd need to be watered once a week.
12. His cornbread isn't done in the middle.
Why humans keep repeating
The screw-ups of history,
Ignoring what was earned
Through hard-knocks and pain,
Till they're re-taught again,
This is not just about nations,
But the family, the office --
Us idiots of all stations...
2. Happiness is not an ideal of reason, but of imagination.
3. If man makes himself a worm he must not complain when he is trodden on.
4. Immaturity is the incapacity to use one's intelligence without the guidance of another.
5. Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life.
6. Seek not the favor of the multitude; it is seldom got by honest and lawful means. But seek the testimony of few; and number not voices, but weigh them.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Who didn’t make it out
Of Dunkirk, all we knew
Was that our war was over,
And we’d have years to stew
About it, far from the cliffs of Dover
In a camp run by Germans, who
At the time thought they would
Win, but they didn’t have a clue
Of what was to come, falling
From the skies to blow apart
Their cities into dust, the appalling
Destruction and death, as the art
Of war would be played to conclusion
Ripping to painful bloody shreds
The temple of Teutonic delusion.
Tired and bored, but alert
Making decisions, wielding power,
Over mostly trivial things -- your feet hurt
Along with your back, while time
Ticks away, never to be retrieved,
Until your watch is properly relieved…
Afterwards, burden gone, you
Go outside to have a smoke,
Marlboro menthol in your hand,
And feel like the punch line of a joke…
At least you get to sit, instead of stand.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Covers and threatens to suffocate
All creativity, leaving banality
Or, yet worse, a dried-up celibate
Soul, incapable of stepping off
The treadmill -- stuck in a state
Of impending check-mate,
The bright lights never getting
A chance to beat the betting.
I climb up a rock, with my hands
And muscles, no ropes, no cleats,
I am unstoppable, defying gravity…
And limpet-like, my grip defeats
The force that would fling
Me down onto the safety mat,
Placed carefully, intending
To break a fall from the boulder,
Mitigating an otherwise ugly ending…
I climb for the challenge, the thrill
Of ascending vertically on an
Unforgiving granite face, until
The top is reached, the goal achieved,
My tendons and fingers relieved,
And the feeling which follows
Is beyond normal pleasure:
Minutes of dopamine's treasure...
Friday, October 7, 2011
In space’s outer reaches
Where astro-mysteries hide,
Is a strange phenomenon:
Two cosmic heads collide
And crash, releasing
Energy and light in massive
Heroic amounts, and ceasing
To exist thereafter… passive
Remnants speeding away,
In awesome colorful display...
With lots of money
And a trophy wife
Taxes are no worry
Which my lawyers
Fix in a hurry
I give to the poor
Just enough to keep
Them away from my door
Take as much profit
As I can get
Then fly off to spend it
In a corporate jet
Of course I have more
Than I ever will need
An endless surplus
To feed my power
Nurture my greed
Going through life
As one of the rich
I don’t look behind
Or below, which
Would only remind
That life’s a bitch
For those with less
Who can’t buy happiness
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A dog always watches with careful eyes,
Not understanding words, but oh so
Sensitive to movement, smell, and size,
And signals about the pack, of which
It is a member, so the dog tries
To see past the sounds the human makes
And grasp who follows and who leads,
Who needs protecting, and it takes
The time it needs, always watching
Signals and events that transpire
With careful ancient eyes, like
The first time it approached man's fire...
Where egrets fed on loaches
And frogs, is now a different place
Growing cabbage and leeks,
And only gods know where
The egret flies and seeks,
Elegant-white in the air,
Looking for the rice paddies
No longer there...
I wish I could explain,
About man's-made change,
Why things don't always remain...
I wish I could still see the egrets,
That things stay the same...
An apartment neighbor I suppose,
We both stare at the number changer
Display, wordless and so still, we wait
Lowering, in confined space -- and tension
Marks the seconds of our slow declension,
In a pulley box, which controls our fate,
Suspended and dangling-down a shaft,
As we silently refuse to contemplate
Possibilities to awful to mention...
Onto the ground, softening under the sun
Now shining strong, after the typhoon stopped,
And through their sour-butter smell I run,
Slowly, so as not to over-heat,
And nearly trip on the broken bird-wing
Skeleton of an umbrella on the street,
Twisted and bent, it’s bereft of utility,
Spindly aluminum proof of a cyclone’s wrath,
Of nature’s strength, and man’s futility,
Revealed in small bits, in the aftermath…
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Which host our indiscretions
And drinks on sparkling sand
Amid the exotic color and noise,
Of hawkers and katoys…
Summer vacation in Phuket
As long as the money lasts
The most fun you can get
Till medical help is needed.
From the green of the cherry
Tree, gives a whisper, not a shout,
Under a pale blue sky, still very
Humid, this day it’s about,
The puffy clouds are a vapor trail
Signifying, like the bell crickets’
Arrival that summer is stale,
And headed towards a cold
Denouement -- like ships put to sail
Carrying cargo, already sold,
To merchants who have bought us
Long ago, sight unseen, untold...
Women and Men
Starts off as peace,
And sexual Zen,
But rust settles in,
Magic times decrease
Never to return again,
And the battles begin
Which do not cease,
Which can't be won
Unless damage is done...
The war between
Women and Men,
Kinetic or unseen,
Can be halted
Before love dies,
Before things get too mean,
Or the look in her eyes...
Into outposts of shadows,
Into corners, where it meets
The dust that has gathered
In my room, where the light
Of the screen shines blue,
A square-ish beacon which might,
Like a window opened
Out onto a troubled night,
Allow some fresh air in,
Allow creation to begin...
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
The story of the flag can be traced to Nebraka's preseason camp when Jack Riggins, a Fremont native and U.S. Navy SEAL, spoke to the team for about an hour. The speech left an impression on the players. "He gave us probably one of the best speeches I've heard," Cassidy said. "He really got everybody fired up and just talked about having the guts to try, and not be afraid of failure." Riggins gave his American flag to the Nebraska Football Team Unity Council, and told the players they could do what they wished with it, as long as they took care of it. The team chose to have the flag be part of the Tunnel Walk. The flag was placed in a stand near the bench during the game, and it may continue to be part of the Tunnel Walk this season. The flag has been on several missions, and it was an honor to be next to the flag for the Tunnel Walk, Cassidy said. "He said they bagged a lot of bad guys under that flag and gave it to our team as a Nebraska guy and fan," he said. "That flag was in Afghanistan. The game we play is of little importance in comparison to what they're doing over there. It keeps things in perspective." (From the Lincoln Journal Star)
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Standing at the counter at Tully's
Ordering caffeine product, to be awoken
From a fantasy, it would seem,
Involving the sweet barrista before him
Who appeared in the past night's dream...
She proffers the coffee, with a smile,
Unaware, offering sugar and cream,
He says "just black", all the while
Wondering how she got inside his head...
Wondering if she'll reappear,
The next time he's in bed.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Cracked and closed,
The hubris-buffet of power
Is irresistable to those
Least capabily of humility --
It's just how it goes.
A sense of awe-entitlement,
Derived from the devil-deal
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Go better, it seems,
On skates or wheels or wings
Moving excitedly through the air,
But not necessarily
Headed for anywhere...
Randomly speeding scarily,
Just as fun as a circus ride,
So much better than being still,
Or static-bored, nowhere to hide
From the toad who will
Squat on your soul, and otherwise
Smother the light you could shine
For all to see, driving
Down the country median line,
Away from the cloying, cleaving
Ones who drag and deaccelerate,
Unable to forgive your leaving.
In motion you can feel and see...
In motion is when you're finally free.
|(Geoffrey Hamilton, 1955-2011)|
Awake, middle of the night,
Can't get to sleep,
Something's not right...
Maybe it's knowing
That as hard as I try to keep
From thinking of impossibility
And the way things end,
There will be no bestowing
Of slumber tonight...
Maybe it's a feeling deep
Inside, over the loss of a friend,
Realizing he'll never see again
The programs the T.V.s send...
Saturday, August 20, 2011
2. Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men. (Quintus Ennius)
3. Millions long for immortality who don't know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon. (Susan Ertz)
4. A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies. (Gustave Flaubert)
5. Because of indifference, one dies before one actually dies. (Elie Wiesel)
6. Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it. (W. Somerset Maugham)
7. Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order. (David Gerrold)
Friday, August 19, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
What a glorious feeling!
...I'm walking under a
Brilliant insistent summer sky,
Filled with mobile clouds,
Under a merciless hot
I'm walking across a parking lot,
Headed back to nothing special:
Another day at work...
And the parking lot is is hot!
You could fry a dozen eggs
On the Hellish asphalt...
Well, the clouds are mobile,
And they're moving along with me,
Casting their shadows ahead
Of my walking direction,
Providing, in effect,
And almost miraculously,
An angelic umbrella of shade
From way up on high...
What a glorious feeling!
To see the clouds' shadows
Marching-on before me,
As if I were the recipient
Of some sort of Heavenly UV-escort...
But, they won't believe me,
Back in the office...
Launched, gently, by hands
Of those who abide and cope --
They watch the summer river's
Current urge-away the floats,
The candle's flame shivers,
Flickers, but burns its flame,
A testament to expectations
That happiness will stay the same...
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
2. Generally speaking, the errors in religion are dangerous; those in philosophy only ridiculous.
3. Heaven and hell suppose two distinct species of men, the good and the bad. But the greatest part of mankind float betwixt vice and virtue.
4. Nothing is more surprising than the easiness with which the many are governed by the few.
5. Truth springs from argument amongst friends.
6. What a peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain which we call "thought".
7. That the sun will not rise tomorrow is no less intelligible a proposition, and implies no more contradiction, than the affirmation, that it will rise.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Feels worse, after the
News says it's "so hot"...
- - - - - - - - - -
Mowing the lawn,
Even after 20 years,
Is unchanged -- still a pain.
- - - - - - - - - -
The border between fantasy,
And science fiction,
Is where, exactly?
- - - - - - - - - -
The transplanted flower wilts.
- - - - - - - - - -
Suburban matrons' happiness:
Stretch yoga pants and
Boxes of diet brownies.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
2. Face the facts of being what you are, for that is what changes what you are.
3. Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
4. Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.
5. People commonly travel the world over to see rivers and mountains, new stars, garish birds, freak fish, grotesque breeds of human; they fall into an animal stupor that gapes at existence and they think they have seen something.
6. People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.
7. The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.
8. The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins.
Is a cricle of brown dirt
Easy enough to see,
There, in the middle of the green
Lawn, now absent of shade,
Squirrels gone, as well the haven
For birds, the old sick tree made...
Where the tree stood
The grass does not grow,
But the breeze flows freely,
And I wonder if they know,
The birds, who now wing across
Where the tree used to be,
Of its absence, of our backyard loss...
Father off to work,
Teenager back from party.
- - - - - - - - - -
Which are read, mostly,
By those who write them.
- - - - - - - - - -
On dreamy-dulled vacation
Lots of time to lull-relax
But still check the Blackberry
- - - - - - - - - -
A feeling of total hopelessness
Trapped in middle seat of five,
Economy section of a 747-400
- - - - - - - - - -
Under the dinner table
After a big meal of beans
- - - - - - - - - -
Instictively watch the clock:
Closing moments of a tight game,
During a sermon run too long.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I'm walking under rainy skies:
Shades of gray, which curl and drift
So elegantly -- And I realize
This day is a treasure and a gift
We must enjoy, but never waste,
Use the time to enrich and uplift,
And carefully step to avoid the haste
With which we often squander
The precious moments through which we wander...
Don't die, but fade away,
But it's not that simple
Nor dramatic nor clean,
There's multiple outcomes,
If you know what I mean...
Some become symposium talkers
While others are dog walkers,
There's sitters at board meetings
Givers of Walmart greetings,
Some relearning how to drive,
Others just happy to be alive...
Ultimately -- shine, fizzle, or fade,
Each sleeps in the kind of bed he made.
Monday, July 4, 2011
He holds in his hand a slithering
Wiggling tube of flesh
Standing in the midst of dithering
Hollow men and random robots
Wandering under a blithering
Sun, without much purpose...
Hence the waving of the asp
Coiled striped reptile of death
Squirming in the prophet's grasp
As he calls out the news
Of pain and happiness yet to come
Which are not ours to flee or choose
Until the work of fate is done
Like the earthquake in Japan
Endless war in Afghanistan
The scientific triumph of man
Turns out to be the biggest mistake
Our history a poorly told joke
Belly laughs over the mess we make
Eat and multiply until we choke
Just listen to the man with the snake...
Friday, July 1, 2011
And beard trimmed shorter
Than before, and where
He used to be covered with
Dirt, and oozing beyond repair,
Seemingly hopeless, now fixed,
But still with the crazy-man stare...
What is he thinking
As he sits with his bags and wine,
Or is he quietly sinking
To where the sun don't shine,
Weighed-down with the devil's gift
Of bad karma, too heavy to lift,
He's all cleaned up, but can't arise,
Or wake from the null that shows in his eyes...
An example from the edge
Of the nest, to the ledge,
Whereafter, the child swallow tries
Its wings, fluttering, crying...
The child does not fall,
The mother watches it all...
And soon the child will be trying
Swallow aerobatics on the breeze,
Eating legions of insects with ease,
But it started with mother swallow
And flight testing under the eaves.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Is the purest powder white
Sloping down into a dark
Warmer place, out of sight,
Where skin, the color of harvest rice,
Is cocooned, soft and tight,
In layers of silk and cotton...
A place, where if entered,
Time and intention are forgotten...
Friday, June 24, 2011
In a tiny miraculous spiral,
Around and up, to where they end,
On top of the stalk of a flowering grass
On which small butterflies attend
To the business of nectar and bodily needs,
Breathtaking beauty and wonder,
Right there, in the weeds...
Life's too short for the way you sing,
Crying with the notes of an alto sax,
Casting gloom over everything...
Just because you can't pass on your genes
To co-mingle with those of another,
Do you know what that really means?
You need to go talk to your mother.
At the cranky customers I greet,
I sell them fat and sugar --
All that they can eat;
Dazed repetition of soda & fries,
I'm half-dead on my feet,
My boss is a truly lovely guy
An anal-aggressive treat,
This job of mine is a butt,
And I'm the bicycle seat.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
And the cobblestones, reflective
Under the tumbling rain,
Mirror the neon light beams
Shining down on the city street,
Where shadows breed, grow, and meet
Mingling with puddles and streams...
From a window, opened up above,
Music drops with the rain,
Staining each moment, each further step,
With memories of love,
With the haunting verse
Of a half-forgotten song...
Remembered for an instant,
And then mathmatically paled into obscurity,
With distance traversed.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Imagine being in the white house -- off center in the photo (taken by some heroic fool) -- watching T.V., or sitting on the toilet, or cooking-up your favorite fry-pan recipe, or making plans for the week-end, or praying, or whatever... When all of a sudden there's a big shake & rumble, and you get settled-down saying it's just another earthquake, and you're picking-up the books that fell off the shelf --- but meanwhile this monster wave rises up above the normally placid beach where you dug for clams and made sand-castles... You never had a chance, my friend...