Art by Mark Harm Niemeyer

Monday, October 31, 2011

My Day Off

Finally a day off!
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...

Tool In The Shed

As I get older, I am becoming more a of "flourescent light" -- i.e., there tends to be a bit of flickering before my light comes on -- so, in the spirit of poking fun at those of us who now, more often than not, experience some "Senior Moments", here are some great & pithy descriptions of "dumb"...

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.

Re-Inventing The Wheel

To me, it's a mystery, 
Why humans keep repeating 
The screw-ups of history, 
Ignoring what was earned 
Through hard-knocks and pain, 
Forgetting lessons-learned, 
Till they're re-taught again...
This not just about nations, 
But the family, the office,
Us grinders, of all stations...

6 Maxims From Immanuel Kant (1724-1804)

1. All the interests of my reason, speculative as well as practical, combine in the three following questions: (1) What can I know? (2) What ought I to do? (3) What may I hope?

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.

Warm Room With A Special Friend

Oh, how I love to sit beside her,
Good conversation,
With hard pumpkin cider...

The Neverending Story

The sixth lap is where the peace
Kicks in, and the pain in my legs
Seems to lift, misgivings cease,
As I push-on to burn-off the
Sugar, salt, and pizza grease,
Pavement pounding, pay for the sin,
Runner versus stomach -- lose or win?

All Is Not As Seems

Morning walk in cloud-filtered light
Which softens sights on the city street,
Grays and bronzes vice the bright
Colors, dampened noises of busy
Tense bodies -- something isn’t right,
Or maybe it is? … for a moment.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

If They Only Knew...

Stuck with the unlucky few
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.

Chemistry Lesson

I wake up to face a bright new day,
Happy-hopeful with the state I’m in,
And all will work-out positive and cool,
As long as I mind to take my medicine...

Naval Station Great Lakes

You stand the watch, hour after hour,
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

Nimitz Highway, Oahu, 25 August 2011

The homeless man
Stands on a median,
Guarding nowhere
From no one,
Like those nobodies
Who barely notice
Anything, driving by…
He stands in the sun-
Baked street
And defends his piece
Of concrete,
Because he can.

寒露 KAN RO  (Cold Dew)

A thick wet blanket of normality
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.

The Climber



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...

Navy Wife

Learning to wait,
Lonely as hell,
She goes through her days
Resigned to her fate,
But it's all right,
She's saved by his smell
On the pillow,
She hugs at night...

Friday, October 7, 2011

Temporary Enjoyment

Happiness happens for an instant,
To be enjoyed in its existence,
However fleeting or transient,
It gives pleasure, then off it goes,
Disappearing without a trace,
Wafting away to someplace no one knows...

Cosmic Heads Bump, Galaxy's Edge



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...

The Power Of Song

So logical, strong, and serious,
He still wonders why,
There are some songs which
Make him float and cry.

Now I Lay Me Down...

Chamomile and Valerian
Soothing into drowsiness,
To fade-forget, where I am
To the edge of being awake,
Beyond which lies darkness,
The wonderland dreams make,
And as hard as a day may be,
It ends in surrender
To sleep, unconditionally...

Lunchtime Visitor

The crow approaches, step-by-step, slow,
On reptilian feet, its eyes deepest black,
Waiting for me to finish and throw
A scrap or bone from a different bird
I’m eating in my car -- What does it know?

A Word From The Wealthy

Going through life
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

Man's Best Friend

 

A dog stares with careful eyes,
    Deaf to spoken syntax, 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, the dog takes
    Its time, alertly watching the
    Signals and actions that transpire,
    With cautious ancient eyes, unchanged
    From the first time it approached man's fire...

White Memory Bird

What used to be a watery space
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...

Too High To Use The Stairs

Awkward, in the elevator, with a stranger,
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...

Post Tempest

The ginko nuts lie randomly where they dropped
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

Welcome Home Lisa

God bless the beaches in Thailand
Which host our indiscretions
And drinks on sparkling sand
Amid the exotic color and noise,
Jungle-bird-like expressions
Of hawkers and katoys…
Summer vacation in Phuket
As long as the money lasts
The most fun you can get
Continues unimpeded
Till medical help is needed.