Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Honorable Mention in Poetry at 2011 New York Book Festival
2011 New York Book Festival. I received an Honorable Mention in Poetry for my self-published book, "Letters to a Prisoner"
Please visit our web site at www.diyconvention.com for the complete results.
Please visit our web site at www.diyconvention.com for the complete results.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The nation is controlled by
The nation is controlled by deviant mutant aliens from another galaxy.
First contact was established in Ancient Egypt. We mutants had to buy Cleopatra off. The slaves were no problem. The pyramid design opened a door into our solar system. It was all part of the Master Plan.
The second group, also aliens, scared the hell out of the Inca. There were too many white faced hairy sightings to ignore. Our gifted writers and artists shared. They used leftover blood as ink. Sacrifice was later outlawed and we left. The jungle took over.
We aliens later financed the Hollywood film industry. Drugs were routinely administered and abduction, a regular occurrence. We carefully implanted the ancestor's seed. We ignored the prime directive. Clean-up is beyond our compliance. The producers have run amuck.
My father, another alien, was banished to this planet due to a selective hearing problem and a low tolerance for rule adherence. Mom was an artist. She went to the dark side of the moon ahead of Neil Armstrong. It was a covert mission. That is where the beta writing strain comes from. Our family is responsible for infecting the populace. Our ways remain too advanced for this culture. They still believe in deities despite our best efforts. Our science and telepathic abilities have to be reproved over and over again. Magic and illusion have gone the way of Monster Quest. The ratings speak for themselves.
Alpha Centauri was where our troubles began. Dad was the brilliant young Captain aboard, the newly commissioned, Venture, Starship class Z7653, Star date 2511. He beamed down ahead of security and was found in a compromising position with a Centaurian leopard. Later they accused him of commercial spot altering. They said he was trying to profit from it. Dad claimed that he found the leopard like that, but they knew better, him being infected by something called writers block. We still don't talk about it.
The inflexible High Council, made up of many aliens, banished him to the past on this archaic planet, with one moon, where they don't even have three eyed emerald fish and the locals are so ugly, it has us permanently constipated. We had to teach them our language. I would give anything for a bowlegged Alterian hump sucker. Not only are they delish, they relax the bowels, which makes our kind much easier to get along with. It produces minor gushing. Rapid fire bursts have resulted in some casualties in the Midwest. See product package for additional warnings.
The truth is Donald Trump, a talking head alien, had to be pulled out of the presidential race.
President Obama and his arch rival Osama bin Laden, also talking head aliens, are being called back to HQ. Osama is already back. All the money-power brokers are supposed to report for reassignment. Trump's show, The Apprentice, is too successful, which is highly suspicious in the present global climate. There is talk about a nude circus in Atlantic City, no word yet on if that includes the audience.
Here is the latest news from HQ. It is classified Code RED, the highest priority.
We're pulling the plug on the Earth experiment. The Dirt and Ash Concert is SOLD OUT. WE WILL DEPART behind Lady Gaga's, a hot alien babe, latest stage design. Hot air, lava, and plate shifting is escalating. The weather is out-of control! Simon Cowell and the X-Factor are unstable.
It is time to depart and resettle elsewhere.
The Mother spaceship arrives in 2012. Let the world-wide internet deprogramming commence.
This is the final transmission; Viking, over and out!
First contact was established in Ancient Egypt. We mutants had to buy Cleopatra off. The slaves were no problem. The pyramid design opened a door into our solar system. It was all part of the Master Plan.
The second group, also aliens, scared the hell out of the Inca. There were too many white faced hairy sightings to ignore. Our gifted writers and artists shared. They used leftover blood as ink. Sacrifice was later outlawed and we left. The jungle took over.
We aliens later financed the Hollywood film industry. Drugs were routinely administered and abduction, a regular occurrence. We carefully implanted the ancestor's seed. We ignored the prime directive. Clean-up is beyond our compliance. The producers have run amuck.
My father, another alien, was banished to this planet due to a selective hearing problem and a low tolerance for rule adherence. Mom was an artist. She went to the dark side of the moon ahead of Neil Armstrong. It was a covert mission. That is where the beta writing strain comes from. Our family is responsible for infecting the populace. Our ways remain too advanced for this culture. They still believe in deities despite our best efforts. Our science and telepathic abilities have to be reproved over and over again. Magic and illusion have gone the way of Monster Quest. The ratings speak for themselves.
Alpha Centauri was where our troubles began. Dad was the brilliant young Captain aboard, the newly commissioned, Venture, Starship class Z7653, Star date 2511. He beamed down ahead of security and was found in a compromising position with a Centaurian leopard. Later they accused him of commercial spot altering. They said he was trying to profit from it. Dad claimed that he found the leopard like that, but they knew better, him being infected by something called writers block. We still don't talk about it.
The inflexible High Council, made up of many aliens, banished him to the past on this archaic planet, with one moon, where they don't even have three eyed emerald fish and the locals are so ugly, it has us permanently constipated. We had to teach them our language. I would give anything for a bowlegged Alterian hump sucker. Not only are they delish, they relax the bowels, which makes our kind much easier to get along with. It produces minor gushing. Rapid fire bursts have resulted in some casualties in the Midwest. See product package for additional warnings.
The truth is Donald Trump, a talking head alien, had to be pulled out of the presidential race.
President Obama and his arch rival Osama bin Laden, also talking head aliens, are being called back to HQ. Osama is already back. All the money-power brokers are supposed to report for reassignment. Trump's show, The Apprentice, is too successful, which is highly suspicious in the present global climate. There is talk about a nude circus in Atlantic City, no word yet on if that includes the audience.
Here is the latest news from HQ. It is classified Code RED, the highest priority.
We're pulling the plug on the Earth experiment. The Dirt and Ash Concert is SOLD OUT. WE WILL DEPART behind Lady Gaga's, a hot alien babe, latest stage design. Hot air, lava, and plate shifting is escalating. The weather is out-of control! Simon Cowell and the X-Factor are unstable.
It is time to depart and resettle elsewhere.
The Mother spaceship arrives in 2012. Let the world-wide internet deprogramming commence.
This is the final transmission; Viking, over and out!
Friday, May 27, 2011
For Better or Worse
Who Knew?
It used to be different
Your parents picked one out
You maybe got to meet him once
before the big day
And that was that; simple, right?
Today we have endless possibilities.
We get to shop
pinch, squeeze,
check for soft spots, and rotten cores
before we put them into the cart
and bring them home.
A sharp few get free samples!
Parents, relatives, the family pet, the goldfish, plants
and the residual offspring
from the last vain attempt at matrimony
all get a shot at playing detective.
If he looks, sounds or smells off
it’s over.
And so it goes, back and forth, round and round
until the happy day you say, I DO!
Especially if there’s a dress, cake, crystal and fine linen.
Never mind you are in hock for the next hundred years
And that the bank gets what’s left of your anatomy
You are in love!
Everything goes really well throughout the honeymoon
Just that little scuffle, over nothing really, too much luggage
But he’s perfect; he picks up after himself and; get this girls,
HE CAN COOK!
Although it is a gamble, it does require effort and good recall
especially when those little annoyances start to crop up.
And there is the slight chance that they will turn on you
from all your daily devotion and care
and start to actually expect, consistent good treatment, until death!
Sometimes thirty, forty or even fifty years go by, well past any hope of regaining your lost figure and skin elasticity.
This is when strange growths start to pop up and you can’t remember the last time you had your period or what you did with your dentures?
Then you learn to cope with the little tics, a veritable sideshow of frolicking fun.
Belching and farting take a back seat to these jaw-dropping marvels.
Sneezing, spraying cold germs over a six mile radius
walking naked on the patio with a towel in one arm
and holding one finger on a nostril and blowing the snot out the other side
and then wiping the juicy remains into said towel,
or the ever favorite, hawking up a loogie and sailing it past the dog.
The possibilities are endless for the mature madam.
Of course you can always counter, with some unique sounds and gestures of your own.
Savor the possibilities!
You could
back up; try to sit on them, while using the commode in the dark
or squeeze a dab too much soap
into their favorite coffee mug.
Prepare yourself!
It will result in some hedonistic repercussions,
percussion being their expertise.
Unfortunately, as with all gaming activity
we eventually must face up to the fact
that perhaps our luck has run out, we need to move on, cut our losses
quit while the going is good.
Make alternate plans
like retail therapy, escape into a movie,
adopt a Pomeranian.
Take a long hard look in the mirror
have a talk with our post-menopausal selves.
Ladies, take it from me, it is cheaper to keep him
And you get to keep the hairdresser and your credit rating.
Do you remember
when divorce wasn’t even an option
when they put a scarlet letter on you?
Do you remember when they use to
accuse you of being a witch
burn you at the stake?
Talk about your odds?
I mean, what if the Martians
that we were
created to mate with,
had pursued love instead of war?
Had planted cash crops, practiced random acts of kindness,
been vegetarians,
listened to their mothers or done any retirement planning?
Who knows where we would be today?
Instead their legacy left us dependent on dinosaur juice
and double dog daring dictators
while wasting money we don’t have
on an angry planet still in the throes of labor.
A planet that doesn’t care
if our thin sausage casings
survive her vog thrust ratio
not to mention, escape the pull of gravity.
A bit technical, I know, but
everybody knows that, for better, usually gets lost
when it’s time to go to Venus and visit the relatives.
And worse, is what you get
when you let the Martians
direct the satellite broadcast
while driving the spaceship.
It used to be different
Your parents picked one out
You maybe got to meet him once
before the big day
And that was that; simple, right?
Today we have endless possibilities.
We get to shop
pinch, squeeze,
check for soft spots, and rotten cores
before we put them into the cart
and bring them home.
A sharp few get free samples!
Parents, relatives, the family pet, the goldfish, plants
and the residual offspring
from the last vain attempt at matrimony
all get a shot at playing detective.
If he looks, sounds or smells off
it’s over.
And so it goes, back and forth, round and round
until the happy day you say, I DO!
Especially if there’s a dress, cake, crystal and fine linen.
Never mind you are in hock for the next hundred years
And that the bank gets what’s left of your anatomy
You are in love!
Everything goes really well throughout the honeymoon
Just that little scuffle, over nothing really, too much luggage
But he’s perfect; he picks up after himself and; get this girls,
HE CAN COOK!
Although it is a gamble, it does require effort and good recall
especially when those little annoyances start to crop up.
And there is the slight chance that they will turn on you
from all your daily devotion and care
and start to actually expect, consistent good treatment, until death!
Sometimes thirty, forty or even fifty years go by, well past any hope of regaining your lost figure and skin elasticity.
This is when strange growths start to pop up and you can’t remember the last time you had your period or what you did with your dentures?
Then you learn to cope with the little tics, a veritable sideshow of frolicking fun.
Belching and farting take a back seat to these jaw-dropping marvels.
Sneezing, spraying cold germs over a six mile radius
walking naked on the patio with a towel in one arm
and holding one finger on a nostril and blowing the snot out the other side
and then wiping the juicy remains into said towel,
or the ever favorite, hawking up a loogie and sailing it past the dog.
The possibilities are endless for the mature madam.
Of course you can always counter, with some unique sounds and gestures of your own.
Savor the possibilities!
You could
back up; try to sit on them, while using the commode in the dark
or squeeze a dab too much soap
into their favorite coffee mug.
Prepare yourself!
It will result in some hedonistic repercussions,
percussion being their expertise.
Unfortunately, as with all gaming activity
we eventually must face up to the fact
that perhaps our luck has run out, we need to move on, cut our losses
quit while the going is good.
Make alternate plans
like retail therapy, escape into a movie,
adopt a Pomeranian.
Take a long hard look in the mirror
have a talk with our post-menopausal selves.
Ladies, take it from me, it is cheaper to keep him
And you get to keep the hairdresser and your credit rating.
Do you remember
when divorce wasn’t even an option
when they put a scarlet letter on you?
Do you remember when they use to
accuse you of being a witch
burn you at the stake?
Talk about your odds?
I mean, what if the Martians
that we were
created to mate with,
had pursued love instead of war?
Had planted cash crops, practiced random acts of kindness,
been vegetarians,
listened to their mothers or done any retirement planning?
Who knows where we would be today?
Instead their legacy left us dependent on dinosaur juice
and double dog daring dictators
while wasting money we don’t have
on an angry planet still in the throes of labor.
A planet that doesn’t care
if our thin sausage casings
survive her vog thrust ratio
not to mention, escape the pull of gravity.
A bit technical, I know, but
everybody knows that, for better, usually gets lost
when it’s time to go to Venus and visit the relatives.
And worse, is what you get
when you let the Martians
direct the satellite broadcast
while driving the spaceship.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
They're Loose!
Bull Mastiff puppies
explore their territory
hunting for tidbits.
Nothing else survives
on their watch. Chickens, lizards
observe puppy time.
To dance with these bulls
requires fancy footwork
most drop out, first day.
explore their territory
hunting for tidbits.
Nothing else survives
on their watch. Chickens, lizards
observe puppy time.
To dance with these bulls
requires fancy footwork
most drop out, first day.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The English Teapot and the Ceramic Pitcher
T: The Queen sends her regards. She trusts her subjects are well?
P: I am humbled, that the Queen would take the time to ask. What does her royal highness think of the current world view?
T: What do you mean?
P: Why, the end of the world dearie! Do keep up!
T: Ah yes the end of the world, The Queen is taking a no comment approach to this matter. Personally I believe it is pure and utter nonsense.
P: Oh yes, well down here in the trenches, we are taking bets. Right now it stands at 100 to 1 against. So, are you in?
T: Good gracious NO! I have my station to consider. It wouldn’t be proper. After all what would the Queen say?
P: The Queen is in it up to her eyeballs! She’s wagered the crown jewels against it but she’s a crafty wench! The royals will stay in power either way.
T: So what kind of liquid are you holding?
P: Nectar of the gods, dearie! Dark warm ambrosia, guaranteed to cure what ails you. The Monks have been working on this recipe since the Dark Ages.
T: What’s the recipe?
P: I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I’ll be castrated, if I tell!
T: Castrated-WHERE?
P: Do you see that top band around my neck?
T: Yes?
P: Well, don’t spread this around but, it is the weakest part of my anatomy, if it cracks that’ll be the end of me. I will be rendered useless. They will send me to the compost piles...
T: NO- NOT THE COMPOST PILES!
P: I’m afraid so, and then I will be banished from the kingdom and no one will ever speak to me again.
T: You need not worry my Brave Heart, I vow on my honor as a lady in waiting to vouch for your character.
P: Thank you, my lady-If you please, do you have some spare cups to pour some of this precious nectar into; there's a good friend?
T: There you are, Brave Heart---I trust that there is plenty more where that came from. I have an idea, let’s toast to the end of the world!
P: Cheers, My Lady!
T: Cheers, Brave Heart!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Asses and Elbows
Look Mom, I can stuff
my head plus one elbow, up my ass.
Quick come see, what do
you think of this? Maybe I
could get a job in the circus
you know one of the sideshows?
Say yes, please, pretty please? I promise
to send the extra money home.
What do you mean, what about the dog?
Of course, him too! I’ll make him
part of the act.
He can hold the flashlight!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
I Should’ve Had a V-8
Tanka 5-7-5-7-7
played with the puppies, practiced
Zen meditation
taken stills of three Pacu
gliding through cool clear water.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
On the Prowl
A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc... until line nine that finishes with just one syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.
Sprawled atop the comforter, clever
white whiskered kitten cries and purrs
wrinkles tiny nose at twin
scratches mirror double
meows at smudge when
mouse emerges
game changes
hunter
food.
Sprawled atop the comforter, clever
white whiskered kitten cries and purrs
wrinkles tiny nose at twin
scratches mirror double
meows at smudge when
mouse emerges
game changes
hunter
food.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
They Don't Bark
His didn’t.
Three months and forty pounds ago
we loaded
our new puppies, two Bull Mastiff brothers
into the
back seat of the car.
Our little bundles of joy
playful, cuddly, lick your face
tail wagging
pistons of power.
Muscle pups
that fly
eat rocks
like tissue paper, and
leap through the air
like they were shot
out of a gun.
Small giants
still growing.
Two heart throbs
tweaking
evocative cords.
That chatter in tongues
that only their mother,
a brawny brindle lass, with pink toenails
that lives in Aiea,
could appreciate.
Meanwhile
Uncle Zeus
his most royal Great Dane highness
has completed the first round
of inspections
and graciously agreed
to teach them the ropes.
So far,
he has taught classes in:
I. The Perimeter
II. Mapping out the exact corner where the neighbor’s dogs live
III. How to mark your territory
IV. Where to drink water out of the pond
V. I have the bone and you can’t have it
VI. Midnight Howling
They all got an A
in that last subject.
I am so proud.
Our choir
is a dedicated group.
They practice every
time they hear a siren.
Sometimes they will wail
up to three or four times a night.
In fact they enjoyed Midnight Howling so much
they have already enrolled in the daytime course.
We’re planning on sending them
to the AKC national competition
maybe even hire a handler.
I am curious
about their pedigree though?
This particular trait
must have skipped a generation,
because their
Mom and Dad,
don’t bark.
Three months and forty pounds ago
we loaded
our new puppies, two Bull Mastiff brothers
into the
back seat of the car.
Our little bundles of joy
playful, cuddly, lick your face
tail wagging
pistons of power.
Muscle pups
that fly
eat rocks
like tissue paper, and
leap through the air
like they were shot
out of a gun.
Small giants
still growing.
Two heart throbs
tweaking
evocative cords.
That chatter in tongues
that only their mother,
a brawny brindle lass, with pink toenails
that lives in Aiea,
could appreciate.
Meanwhile
Uncle Zeus
his most royal Great Dane highness
has completed the first round
of inspections
and graciously agreed
to teach them the ropes.
So far,
he has taught classes in:
I. The Perimeter
II. Mapping out the exact corner where the neighbor’s dogs live
III. How to mark your territory
IV. Where to drink water out of the pond
V. I have the bone and you can’t have it
VI. Midnight Howling
They all got an A
in that last subject.
I am so proud.
Our choir
is a dedicated group.
They practice every
time they hear a siren.
Sometimes they will wail
up to three or four times a night.
In fact they enjoyed Midnight Howling so much
they have already enrolled in the daytime course.
We’re planning on sending them
to the AKC national competition
maybe even hire a handler.
I am curious
about their pedigree though?
This particular trait
must have skipped a generation,
because their
Mom and Dad,
don’t bark.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Blood Sport
I see you over der Zeus.
Did ya eat?
Did ya have a good breakfast?
OMG, He’s eating shit!
NO, Apollo
Ehh, Ehh! Ehh, Ehh!
Don’t EAT THAT!
PEW, talk about ya bad breath!
Drink Water Apollo!
Go rinse ya mouth!
OMG, that feral chicken is in his mouth.
He’s clamped down on it.
Oh shit, the chicken’s ass is gone!
There are feathers everywhere.
I can’t look!
No ZEUS No,
not you too!
Apollo stay!
Zeus!
Rocky!
God, are you watchin this?
I need a break!
Did ya eat?
Did ya have a good breakfast?
Oh, Oh
What are THEY eating now?Apollo, don’t eat that!
What is that?OMG, He’s eating shit!
NO, Apollo
Ehh, Ehh! Ehh, Ehh!
Don’t EAT THAT!
PEW, talk about ya bad breath!
Drink Water Apollo!
Go rinse ya mouth!
Rocky?
NO, Rocky, Eh ,Eh! Eh, Eh!
Leave that chicken ALONE!NO, Rocky, Eh ,Eh! Eh, Eh!
OMG, that feral chicken is in his mouth.
He’s clamped down on it.
Oh shit, the chicken’s ass is gone!
There are feathers everywhere.
I can’t look!
No ZEUS No,
not you too!
Apollo stay!
Zeus!
Rocky!
God, are you watchin this?
I need a break!
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Little Monsters
The door slammed,
echoing down the long hall.
echoing down the long hall.
Mom gasped,
Quick,
hide the wrappers,the cookie monsters are home!
Friday, May 13, 2011
Pacific Golden Plover
Aloha,
Rain Bird flies home to
Alaska.
** Plovers migrate home to Alaska during April-May and are back again August thru October for the winter.
Beach Walk
You got ya walkers and ya talkers.
Oh how cute, are they PUPPIES?
SIBLINGS?
What BREED Are They?
After tha first few minutes and
definately by tha end of our walk
I got tha speech down.
Yeah lady,
Dey’re Bull Mastiff braddahs
five and half months old.
Der well behaved, even tempered and
Yeah, dey’ve bin NEUTERED!
Look at those PAWS!
Yeah Lady
Der gonna be massive!
Only Five Months, Looks like You’ll Have Your Hands Full!
The puppies want ta say hello ta everyone.
Rocky likes ta wade in da surf, gonna catch a big one!
Apollo wants ta inspect everything on da sand,
pick it up
chew on it
and den spit it out. He’s da smart one!
YO—AND dey like ta drink der water outta
a plastic water bottle too.
Some people just walk on by
dey like to look da odda way
not dog people, I guess?
Der walkin- is more important
gotta keep dat heart rate up
or you ain't aerobic.
Won't be able to eat dat
extra donut or MacFlurry
if ya get my drift.
But, like I said
You got ya talkers
And ya walkers
Later!
Oh how cute, are they PUPPIES?
SIBLINGS?
What BREED Are They?
After tha first few minutes and
definately by tha end of our walk
I got tha speech down.
Yeah lady,
Dey’re Bull Mastiff braddahs
five and half months old.
Der well behaved, even tempered and
Yeah, dey’ve bin NEUTERED!
Look at those PAWS!
Yeah Lady
Der gonna be massive!
Only Five Months, Looks like You’ll Have Your Hands Full!
The puppies want ta say hello ta everyone.
Rocky likes ta wade in da surf, gonna catch a big one!
Apollo wants ta inspect everything on da sand,
pick it up
chew on it
and den spit it out. He’s da smart one!
YO—AND dey like ta drink der water outta
a plastic water bottle too.
Some people just walk on by
dey like to look da odda way
not dog people, I guess?
Der walkin- is more important
gotta keep dat heart rate up
or you ain't aerobic.
Won't be able to eat dat
extra donut or MacFlurry
if ya get my drift.
But, like I said
You got ya talkers
And ya walkers
Later!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Rainy Day
I’m old and cold my body creaks
my posture is inflamed,
I am resigned to be confined
my teeth have been reclaimed,
but I won’t lie, I’d rather die
before I go insane.
***
The yard, a pool
for howling dogs
to paddle in a boat
will rush and swish
reward a fish
for flying over moats.
Oh happy fish
I sure do wish
to eat your white fillet
but I must swish
instead of fish
And so my meal, I feel
will get away, today.
my posture is inflamed,
I am resigned to be confined
my teeth have been reclaimed,
but I won’t lie, I’d rather die
before I go insane.
***
The yard, a pool
for howling dogs
to paddle in a boat
will rush and swish
reward a fish
for flying over moats.
Oh happy fish
I sure do wish
to eat your white fillet
but I must swish
instead of fish
And so my meal, I feel
will get away, today.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Freelance
I've carved a creative niche
bitter sweet
difficult to deal with
as I saunter down your street.
My verse is clipped
And NO, I’m not a waitress
my heart beats true
my wits, a tender matrix.
I’ll stay for endless hours
to snap a simple view.
I direct my burning lens
to puke a primary hue.
It may affect your estimation
you see I have a reputation
It requires lots of concentration.
MY degree is in DEDICATION
to MY WORK.
You can’t be caught obscene
with dis drama queen.
Yeah my BAD
I mean
my gear is often stuck in
some balls hairy
places
lacking social graces
with dried egg plaster
embedded in our faces.
I’ll frame
you full of life
smug and satisfied
bare-assed naked
soaked
in all your lies.
SNAP DAT!
I am an artistic dish
itching
to generate, maybe palpitate
because I can imagine
you was once a gift, your mama’s boy
her pride and joy
intact, a sap-- JAIL-BAIT
that wouldn’t DREAM of being late
or make me wait
full of phony excuses
foul abuses
to face the boozers
sucking users
that refuses, to make the right choices
to grow, their WIRED VOICES.
WHY?
cause nothing shoots better
than living in your car.
And because I work for da STAR
you know.
Yeah-- I’m Mitch
and one dizzy bitch
what’s it to you?
YOU—standing there solid
in your dirty J. Crew.
And I am an artiste!
Won’t you be my candid shot
and play wit me some more?
Maybe later we can pan and zoom
by the corner candy store.
Because my lens is in your face
so shut the FUCK UP
don't dis me in MY SPACE.
I’ll just keep you AWHILE
What was your name, KYLE?
just turn yea sweet cheeks to da left
And babes, give me a big SMILE!!
bitter sweet
difficult to deal with
as I saunter down your street.
My verse is clipped
And NO, I’m not a waitress
my heart beats true
my wits, a tender matrix.
I’ll stay for endless hours
to snap a simple view.
I direct my burning lens
to puke a primary hue.
It may affect your estimation
you see I have a reputation
It requires lots of concentration.
MY degree is in DEDICATION
to MY WORK.
You can’t be caught obscene
with dis drama queen.
Yeah my BAD
I mean
my gear is often stuck in
some balls hairy
places
lacking social graces
with dried egg plaster
embedded in our faces.
I’ll frame
you full of life
smug and satisfied
bare-assed naked
soaked
in all your lies.
SNAP DAT!
I am an artistic dish
itching
to generate, maybe palpitate
because I can imagine
you was once a gift, your mama’s boy
her pride and joy
intact, a sap-- JAIL-BAIT
that wouldn’t DREAM of being late
or make me wait
full of phony excuses
foul abuses
to face the boozers
sucking users
that refuses, to make the right choices
to grow, their WIRED VOICES.
WHY?
cause nothing shoots better
than living in your car.
And because I work for da STAR
you know.
Yeah-- I’m Mitch
and one dizzy bitch
what’s it to you?
YOU—standing there solid
in your dirty J. Crew.
And I am an artiste!
Won’t you be my candid shot
and play wit me some more?
Maybe later we can pan and zoom
by the corner candy store.
Because my lens is in your face
so shut the FUCK UP
don't dis me in MY SPACE.
I’ll just keep you AWHILE
What was your name, KYLE?
just turn yea sweet cheeks to da left
And babes, give me a big SMILE!!
Thor’s Hammer--A No-Show!
Thor’s hammer threatens
Kolohe Wahine golf
at Pearl Country Club.
Weather remains dry
forecast updated to cloudy
thunder a no-show.
Five Women golfers
laugh hysterically over
piss poor performance.
Saimin and Pepsi
lunch, revives tired bodies
Sun comes into view.
Kolohe Wahine golf
at Pearl Country Club.
Weather remains dry
forecast updated to cloudy
thunder a no-show.
Five Women golfers
laugh hysterically over
piss poor performance.
Saimin and Pepsi
lunch, revives tired bodies
Sun comes into view.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Happy Mother’s Day Mom!
She gets up early
to dress and shower.
Today she will slide
into a comfortable pair
of slacks, large top,
and Reeboks.
She will comb her short white hair
clean her glasses
take another Aleve
as the coffee brews
while she straightens up
before she gets into her car
to drive into town.
It is Sunday.
Today she will earn double time.
Tomorrow she has the day off.
Tomorrow she will celebrate
eat pizza at the mall
with her youngest daughter
the one who remembers to call her every day
the one who drives Dad to the Doctor
and isn’t too busy
or too far away to spend the
afternoon with her Mom.
to dress and shower.
Today she will slide
into a comfortable pair
of slacks, large top,
and Reeboks.
She will comb her short white hair
clean her glasses
take another Aleve
as the coffee brews
while she straightens up
before she gets into her car
to drive into town.
It is Sunday.
Today she will earn double time.
Tomorrow she has the day off.
Tomorrow she will celebrate
eat pizza at the mall
with her youngest daughter
the one who remembers to call her every day
the one who drives Dad to the Doctor
and isn’t too busy
or too far away to spend the
afternoon with her Mom.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
No Flowers
Send me no flowers
no pretty petals
velvet soft.
Send me no long stemmed
beauties
whose dewy fragrance
waft.
Send me no posies
that require
casual note
if you care.
for they will surely die
their purple blooms
will choke
into a speckled brown despair.
Send instead
a cactus or a weed
that will not wither
or get into a dither
from neglect
that can be left
to survive in a
brown thumbed void
unchecked.
no pretty petals
velvet soft.
Send me no long stemmed
beauties
whose dewy fragrance
waft.
Send me no posies
that require
casual note
if you care.
for they will surely die
their purple blooms
will choke
into a speckled brown despair.
Send instead
a cactus or a weed
that will not wither
or get into a dither
from neglect
that can be left
to survive in a
brown thumbed void
unchecked.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Barber
He looks competent enough
standing there in his white shirt and dark trousers
as he makes slow deliberate steps
in a well worn semi circle
pivoting left and right
his sharp scissors shaping and clipping
carefully clicking along to a favorite tune
as dark mounds pile up on the floor
a shaggy witness to his art.
A trusty comb is well positioned in his back pocket
at the ready, set for its cameo appearance and then placed back
as the razor continues to hum
as he finishes up the Asian man before me
his neck freshly shaved and brushed
as the cologne is dabbed and the smock is removed and shaken.
The black and white checkered floor
quickly surrenders her dark wispy curls
as he turns from the polished chrome
and black leather chair
and announces
the next lucky customer.
It is gripping
like a one act play
and I am in the front row
then he looks at me and smiles repeating the invitation.
I smile back
it’s too late to retreat.
I walk the lonely mile
and surrender my locks
to his sharp shears.
The floor willingly accepts
my sacrifice
and the play continues
with one sold out seat
held over
as the patrons
continue to line up
down the street.
standing there in his white shirt and dark trousers
as he makes slow deliberate steps
in a well worn semi circle
pivoting left and right
his sharp scissors shaping and clipping
carefully clicking along to a favorite tune
as dark mounds pile up on the floor
a shaggy witness to his art.
A trusty comb is well positioned in his back pocket
at the ready, set for its cameo appearance and then placed back
as the razor continues to hum
as he finishes up the Asian man before me
his neck freshly shaved and brushed
as the cologne is dabbed and the smock is removed and shaken.
The black and white checkered floor
quickly surrenders her dark wispy curls
as he turns from the polished chrome
and black leather chair
and announces
the next lucky customer.
It is gripping
like a one act play
and I am in the front row
then he looks at me and smiles repeating the invitation.
I smile back
it’s too late to retreat.
I walk the lonely mile
and surrender my locks
to his sharp shears.
The floor willingly accepts
my sacrifice
and the play continues
with one sold out seat
held over
as the patrons
continue to line up
down the street.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
A Wedding Toast
Let us rejoice and speak of love
lift up our glasses and cherish this moment
the day, the hour when two have become one.
Let us witness the beginning of a marvelous union.
Let us revel in the beauty, lift it up,
nourish it, praise it and
protect it.
Let us allow it the freedom to blossom
into a ripening mature love
resulting in contented bundles of joy to celebrate
further broadcasting our hopes and dreams
for a better tomorrow, long life and prosperity.
Here is to the sharing of this splendid occasion and in so doing
we refresh our own vows to one another
in friendship, faith and hope.
lift up our glasses and cherish this moment
the day, the hour when two have become one.
Let us witness the beginning of a marvelous union.
Let us revel in the beauty, lift it up,
nourish it, praise it and
protect it.
Let us allow it the freedom to blossom
into a ripening mature love
resulting in contented bundles of joy to celebrate
further broadcasting our hopes and dreams
for a better tomorrow, long life and prosperity.
Here is to the sharing of this splendid occasion and in so doing
we refresh our own vows to one another
in friendship, faith and hope.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Published
Three poems personify terror
two photographs
true plumbs
Rain Bird
-Published May 2011-
Rain Bird
plumbs true;
photographs two
terror personify, poems three.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Missing
News
Bunny steals eggs
Steers were Mastiffs
Film shows balls
-Missing-
Balls shows film
Mastiffs now Steers
Eggs steals bunny
News
Bunny steals eggs
Steers were Mastiffs
Film shows balls
-Missing-
Balls shows film
Mastiffs now Steers
Eggs steals bunny
News
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Medicine
Oh prescription
take this virus
burning red
drop me
back
into my bed
where fishes glide
in seas so blue
with rest restored
ill health subdued.
take this virus
burning red
drop me
back
into my bed
where fishes glide
in seas so blue
with rest restored
ill health subdued.
Dreamland
Mirror oh Mirror
deliver dearer
kind reflections to this mirror
this view surrender
now much clearer.
-Dreamland-
Clearer
much now surrender view this to mirror
Reflections kind
dearer deliver
Mirror oh Mirror.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Easter
Celebrate
dye eggs, eat chocolate
enjoy friends and family
-Easter-
family and friends enjoy
chocolate eat, eggs dye
Celebrate.
dye eggs, eat chocolate
enjoy friends and family
-Easter-
family and friends enjoy
chocolate eat, eggs dye
Celebrate.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Earth Day Challenge
Change you
Start now
Recycle, renew, review
Earth Day
-Challenge-
Day Earth
Review, renew, recycle
Now start
You change.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sentinel
Myna bird pair
sing raucous songs
silent warrior tiki waits.
--Sentinel—
waits
tiki warrior silent
songs raucous sing
pair birds
myna.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Imagine
Sickness defeats health
acts normal
at clinic.
-Imagine-
Clinic at
normal acts
healthy
defeats sickness.
acts normal
at clinic.
-Imagine-
Clinic at
normal acts
healthy
defeats sickness.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Breeding
Art molds story like
plovers change feathers
transforming winter
into summer.
-Breeding-
summer into
winter transforming
feathers change plovers
like story molds art.
plovers change feathers
transforming winter
into summer.
-Breeding-
summer into
winter transforming
feathers change plovers
like story molds art.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Fine Art
Motoring ahead
with the mind firmly harnessed
and all of its divergent frequencies
reined in
requires a large stone and a dash of genius.
To stick with a thing is to
cut deeper than anyone else
far beneath the surface of dim reality
uncovering the coarse dense layers
as each wedge further
manifests its own energy.
Only after
you have uncovered the truth
Only then does it release
the hostage
to ponder again transfixed.
Only of course
until the next precious pearl
is reaped from flatter tablets
to decorate cyber walls
for future generations to venerate
and complicate.
with the mind firmly harnessed
and all of its divergent frequencies
reined in
requires a large stone and a dash of genius.
To stick with a thing is to
cut deeper than anyone else
far beneath the surface of dim reality
uncovering the coarse dense layers
as each wedge further
manifests its own energy.
Only after
you have uncovered the truth
Only then does it release
the hostage
to ponder again transfixed.
Only of course
until the next precious pearl
is reaped from flatter tablets
to decorate cyber walls
for future generations to venerate
and complicate.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
More on Common Sense
Common sense went to
Nepal got lost in a cloud
fell into crevasse.
Common sense journeyed
solitary on K2
nose-dived for nonsense.
Critical Thinking
hired for optimistic
journey, film at ten.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Springtime
Sassy
Puppies
Run after everything that moves
Inspecting with childlike fascination their
Noses checking the remains of dried bird poop.
Gregarious they plunge into the fishpond in their gourmand dash.
Tidily scooped out the rascals are then
Intent on ingesting lime green lizards and
Menacing bufo toads waiting for nightfall and
Equally keen to feast on delicate Formosan physiques.
Puppies
Run after everything that moves
Inspecting with childlike fascination their
Noses checking the remains of dried bird poop.
Gregarious they plunge into the fishpond in their gourmand dash.
Tidily scooped out the rascals are then
Intent on ingesting lime green lizards and
Menacing bufo toads waiting for nightfall and
Equally keen to feast on delicate Formosan physiques.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Stalling
I was going to write
but visions of tuna chilling
in a cold closet dressed in celery and onion, drenched in mayo and
pressed atop whole grain slices flagged me down and held me hostage.
I planned to write a poem but had to do the dishes
cut the grass and reconcile my bank statement.
As I calculated the cost
I checked the mail,
watched Life is Beautiful
and folded a dryer load.
Before I could write
my son stopped by and
we shared a coffee. A poem
skipped through my brain
teasing me with
parallel trains of thought
which led me down a
primrose path
in pursuit of monarch
butterflies flitting from
flower to flower
purpose driven
in the valley
of soon and very soon
panting for more
pressing further and further
through the muck of have to and should have
until I finally arrived at the
corner of here and now
where I carefully penned this
rambling verse and post it now to you.
but visions of tuna chilling
in a cold closet dressed in celery and onion, drenched in mayo and
pressed atop whole grain slices flagged me down and held me hostage.
I planned to write a poem but had to do the dishes
cut the grass and reconcile my bank statement.
As I calculated the cost
I checked the mail,
watched Life is Beautiful
and folded a dryer load.
Before I could write
my son stopped by and
we shared a coffee. A poem
skipped through my brain
teasing me with
parallel trains of thought
which led me down a
primrose path
in pursuit of monarch
butterflies flitting from
flower to flower
purpose driven
in the valley
of soon and very soon
panting for more
pressing further and further
through the muck of have to and should have
until I finally arrived at the
corner of here and now
where I carefully penned this
rambling verse and post it now to you.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Three Ku
Exercise trainer
dawdles on tropical beach
slurping chocolate shake.
Neanderthal dog
crushes rocks with incisors
leaves huge cavity.
Steam bubbles conduct
quake seismic blue symphony
maestro behavior.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Self-Published
S weeping style suggests
E uphonious
L yrics
F ormatted by talented Authors, Artists and
P hotographers. An
U ninhibited
B allet of writing and art
L aunching an evocative brand of story;
I nternal and external rhyme forming fresh free verse that
S ketches a vivid assortment of characters. Altogether
H armonious
E nterprising and
D elightful.
**Acrostic/Review Saturdays with Lillian: http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2006721
E uphonious
L yrics
F ormatted by talented Authors, Artists and
P hotographers. An
U ninhibited
B allet of writing and art
L aunching an evocative brand of story;
I nternal and external rhyme forming fresh free verse that
S ketches a vivid assortment of characters. Altogether
H armonious
E nterprising and
D elightful.
**Acrostic/Review Saturdays with Lillian: http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2006721
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Unstoppable
Freight train
Runaway car
horse trailer demolished
Slow motion pandemonium
Railroad.
*cinquain
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Bright Objects Hypnotize the Mind
**Inspired by the Academy of Poets Poster celebrating National Poetry Month in April
Bright
objects
hypnotize
the mind, conceal
discernment in a
tapestry. A spinning
top wobbles and slams into
wall. A pear shaped diamond ring at
Tiffany’s. A shooting star. A slot
machine paying a huge jackpot. Bright things
hypnotize the mind. Sunshine mirrors sea
headlights glare inside island tunnel
the full moon’s steady starless ascent
a thousand candle watt light
shined into the starving
dark Chilean eyes
of trapped miners
surviving
major
stress.
**Double etheree
Bright
objects
hypnotize
the mind, conceal
discernment in a
tapestry. A spinning
top wobbles and slams into
wall. A pear shaped diamond ring at
Tiffany’s. A shooting star. A slot
machine paying a huge jackpot. Bright things
hypnotize the mind. Sunshine mirrors sea
headlights glare inside island tunnel
the full moon’s steady starless ascent
a thousand candle watt light
shined into the starving
dark Chilean eyes
of trapped miners
surviving
major
stress.
**Double etheree
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
GOD Grew Tired of Us
That was when he created dogs
It was an off day
his son was lost in the wilderness
and he couldn’t find a decent grape
let alone turn it into wine.
No rest for the almighty!
Then his old buddy Lucifer
saw himself in a mirror
and suddenly thought
he was Caesar. And there was
some nasty talk about repossession.
So what was GOD to do?
He needed a friend
something that would love him
through the thick and the thin
the good, the bad and the ugly.
He needed good karma
to change the landscape
make the world a softer place.
It required creativity.
And lots of newspaper to soak
up those messy leaks and logs.
And GOD knew that
after listening Oi weh
to that voice crying in the wilderness
it was time to give his nephew
John the Baptist
a companion
someone he could cuddle up with
between those power locust lunches
with the new recruits.
So GOD created dogs
Tall dogs
small dogs
skinny, bald, muscled, hairy, yapping
howling at the moon dogs.
Spirited furry canines that didn’t bite the hand
that feeds them
who would love man and wo-man
no matter what they did.
And GOD relied on wo-man
to speak up and let man know
when he was getting crazy and warlike.
And although she tried to model good behavior
Man did not always listen, so sometimes he was sentenced to go to sleep in the dog house
which wound up being not so bad
because he could always rely on his furry friend
to lick his wounded alter ego
and show him that
he was still redeemable.
And if worse came to worse
his devoted friend would introduce him
to the new female dog
down the street
that’s
had all of her shots!
It was an off day
his son was lost in the wilderness
and he couldn’t find a decent grape
let alone turn it into wine.
No rest for the almighty!
Then his old buddy Lucifer
saw himself in a mirror
and suddenly thought
he was Caesar. And there was
some nasty talk about repossession.
So what was GOD to do?
He needed a friend
something that would love him
through the thick and the thin
the good, the bad and the ugly.
He needed good karma
to change the landscape
make the world a softer place.
It required creativity.
And lots of newspaper to soak
up those messy leaks and logs.
And GOD knew that
after listening Oi weh
to that voice crying in the wilderness
it was time to give his nephew
John the Baptist
a companion
someone he could cuddle up with
between those power locust lunches
with the new recruits.
So GOD created dogs
Tall dogs
small dogs
skinny, bald, muscled, hairy, yapping
howling at the moon dogs.
Spirited furry canines that didn’t bite the hand
that feeds them
who would love man and wo-man
no matter what they did.
And GOD relied on wo-man
to speak up and let man know
when he was getting crazy and warlike.
And although she tried to model good behavior
Man did not always listen, so sometimes he was sentenced to go to sleep in the dog house
which wound up being not so bad
because he could always rely on his furry friend
to lick his wounded alter ego
and show him that
he was still redeemable.
And if worse came to worse
his devoted friend would introduce him
to the new female dog
down the street
that’s
had all of her shots!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Alternative Publishing Panel
Saturday, April 16 · 10:30am - 11:30am
Kapolei Public Library
1020 Manawai St. Kapolei, HI
You have written a book but are wondering how to get it published. Join us for a panel discussion by three published local authors as they share with you a variety of different publishing options you may not be aware of to get your newly finished book off to the presses. They will discuss self-publishing formats, publishers, online options and self-publishing. They will fill you in on the pros and cons of their choices and provide a list ot the publishers and options they discussed.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Easter Island
A single row
of moai statues
stare
from massive ahu platforms
out beyond a cloudless coast
their landscape now
arid and treeless.
They face the sea and wait
for no one in particular.
The old ones have long since passed over
their silence roars like a cannon.
Traces of their language
frame an obscure curtain
as one face cracks
crumbling at the chin.
Tiny shards slowly release
the life-force that plummets
soundlessly
towards the jagged rocks below
taking old knowledge and forgotten history
along for the ride. Hammered and
lost at the bottom
by conflicting views
and swept away at last
by the raging sea.
That culture's most famous features are its enormous stone statues called moai, at least 288 of which once stood upon massive stone platforms called ahu. There are some 250 of these ahu platforms spaced approximately one half mile apart and creating an almost unbroken line around the perimeter of the island.
The Legend of Captain Bly and the Mermaid
Word Bag
(deluxe, rope, weight, lifesaver, broom, gauges, battery, fishnet, tide calendar, cooler)
The Tide Calendar hung lopsided
its edges curled and yellow.
Water flooded the bilge
the relic listed to the port side
barnacles clung steadfast
to the thick rope tightly tied to the dock.
The cabin reeked of mildew
and stale urine. Pitted gauges
balanced haphazardly amid the dust and grime.
In the corner a couple of dead AA batteries rolled over a faded photo
of the vessel and her captain.
A beauty in her prime
she was in desperate need
of a stiff broom, spit and polish.
Rusted cans of off white deluxe deck paint
stood prominently
beneath the starboard seat cushion.
The scarred cabin door
hung on for dear life
like a holocaust survivor.
Captain Bly once a handsome rake
regularly drank
his dinner, his vessel was aptly named
The Heeia Kea Queen after The African Queen.
His cooler was always well stocked
with green bottles.
His weighty reputation had
stretched beyond the confines of the small harbor
and swept throughout the windward coast.
He always wore a black shirt
the collar ripped at the neck
thin against his salty frame.
Often comatose
he dreamt nightly
of snaring a mermaid
in his fishnet.
He was her Lifesaver.
The next day
he would wake in a cold sweat
as she disappeared
into the sea flipping her tail
splashing him with sea foam.
One fateful morning he was gone
that was better than thirty years ago
Some say that the mermaid took him
others say it was them green bottles.
Either way
he finally succumbed to his deeds.
So keep in mind
A full cooler
doesn’t float
as well as a life preserver
even if you are a lifesaver
and unless you have gills
you could wind up sleeping
with the fishes.
****
(deluxe, rope, weight, lifesaver, broom, gauges, battery, fishnet, tide calendar, cooler)
The Tide Calendar hung lopsided
its edges curled and yellow.
Water flooded the bilge
the relic listed to the port side
barnacles clung steadfast
to the thick rope tightly tied to the dock.
The cabin reeked of mildew
and stale urine. Pitted gauges
balanced haphazardly amid the dust and grime.
In the corner a couple of dead AA batteries rolled over a faded photo
of the vessel and her captain.
A beauty in her prime
she was in desperate need
of a stiff broom, spit and polish.
Rusted cans of off white deluxe deck paint
stood prominently
beneath the starboard seat cushion.
The scarred cabin door
hung on for dear life
like a holocaust survivor.
Captain Bly once a handsome rake
regularly drank
his dinner, his vessel was aptly named
The Heeia Kea Queen after The African Queen.
His cooler was always well stocked
with green bottles.
His weighty reputation had
stretched beyond the confines of the small harbor
and swept throughout the windward coast.
He always wore a black shirt
the collar ripped at the neck
thin against his salty frame.
Often comatose
he dreamt nightly
of snaring a mermaid
in his fishnet.
He was her Lifesaver.
The next day
he would wake in a cold sweat
as she disappeared
into the sea flipping her tail
splashing him with sea foam.
One fateful morning he was gone
that was better than thirty years ago
Some say that the mermaid took him
others say it was them green bottles.
Either way
he finally succumbed to his deeds.
So keep in mind
A full cooler
doesn’t float
as well as a life preserver
even if you are a lifesaver
and unless you have gills
you could wind up sleeping
with the fishes.
****
Friday, March 18, 2011
Leisure
You can do what you like
No strict guidelines to follow
No appointments to keep
Bliss.
~
Do you prefer dark chocolate
Or creamy vanilla
with your strawberries
heaven.
~
Currency has been
converted.
We now take
Room keys.
~
Time stretches
across an undulating
sea,
Anna Karenina rises.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Taking Back Custody
Write a story that is between 100 and 150 words. The trick is you must use the following words: drink - rock - damage - heartless - destiny - cruel - abandon - lost - regret - bastard. Words may be used in different formats (for example: drink, drinking or drank)
It’s a new day
to rock!
Amend some damage.
Make better choices.
Listen up.
Read the signs.
And not fall for the same
old mistakes this time.
Abandon the whine
and regrets
for the heartless bastard
that did you wrong.
Re-write that song.
Outwit the cruel fanatic
that led you astray
paved the way
for your friends who lost
the game of life.
Rewrite your destiny.
Because drinking to get drunk
or getting wasted
to unwind
for you
isn’t cool
it’s a crutch
And you are smarter than that.
So carve a new path
And never
ever
look back!
It’s a new day
to rock!
Amend some damage.
Make better choices.
Listen up.
Read the signs.
And not fall for the same
old mistakes this time.
Abandon the whine
and regrets
for the heartless bastard
that did you wrong.
Re-write that song.
Outwit the cruel fanatic
that led you astray
paved the way
for your friends who lost
the game of life.
Rewrite your destiny.
Because drinking to get drunk
or getting wasted
to unwind
for you
isn’t cool
it’s a crutch
And you are smarter than that.
So carve a new path
And never
ever
look back!
Rabbit Ears
We ran into
Peter Rabbit
at the Beach
and dared to ask the question
What do you get
when you introduce
two bull mastiffs males
to a fluffy white rabbit?
Wait
For
It
No-- it’s not,
a lucky foot,
Or rabbit stew
Do You Give Up?
These super smart canines know
that with rabbit ears
They can get not only
local network broadcasting
but with any luck
Animal Planet
and The Dog Whisperer.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Great Pacific Garbage Patch
The Great Pacific Garbage Patch
should scare the hell out of you.
We don’t even know how big it is
because it keeps growing.
Located somewhere between Hawaii and California
it is one of seven garbage islands
spread across the world’s oceans
funneled and trapped by planetary rotation,
converging ocean currents and wind.
6.8 billion people will inhabit
planet Earth by the year 2012.
As of 2005
33 million live in Tokyo alone.
Beijing has 12 million.
Los Angeles another 12 million.
And 80 percent of our garbage comes from land sources.
Garbage that
impacts our wildlife
that has the potential to hitchhike.
Imagine
barnacles attaching to floating garbage
not normally found in your neck
of the planet
that can infect another
area’s native species.
Ninety percent of these islands contain plastic items
like nylon nets, six pack rings, balloons,
straws and sandwich wrap.
Water bottles, cups, bottle caps, plastic bags
and billions of plastic pellets called nurdles,
a byproduct of other plastics manufacturing.
Plastic that chokes whales, seabirds and other animals.
Brightly colored plastic pellets
that are mistaken
for fish eggs and krill
that is toxic
can magnify over time
across our food chain
and have an effect similar to DDT.
Plastic that does not break down easily in water
that is cooled and coated with algae
shielded from sunlight and
will last well into our future.
Clean-up and removal of these islands is futile.
They are growing faster than we can clean them up.
Our task begins here
Get involved
Clean up local beaches
Suppress further growth
by recycling and reducing the amount
of trash you throw out.
Your future is at hand.
should scare the hell out of you.
We don’t even know how big it is
because it keeps growing.
Located somewhere between Hawaii and California
it is one of seven garbage islands
spread across the world’s oceans
funneled and trapped by planetary rotation,
converging ocean currents and wind.
6.8 billion people will inhabit
planet Earth by the year 2012.
As of 2005
33 million live in Tokyo alone.
Beijing has 12 million.
Los Angeles another 12 million.
And 80 percent of our garbage comes from land sources.
Garbage that
impacts our wildlife
that has the potential to hitchhike.
Imagine
barnacles attaching to floating garbage
not normally found in your neck
of the planet
that can infect another
area’s native species.
Ninety percent of these islands contain plastic items
like nylon nets, six pack rings, balloons,
straws and sandwich wrap.
Water bottles, cups, bottle caps, plastic bags
and billions of plastic pellets called nurdles,
a byproduct of other plastics manufacturing.
Plastic that chokes whales, seabirds and other animals.
Brightly colored plastic pellets
that are mistaken
for fish eggs and krill
that is toxic
can magnify over time
across our food chain
and have an effect similar to DDT.
Plastic that does not break down easily in water
that is cooled and coated with algae
shielded from sunlight and
will last well into our future.
Clean-up and removal of these islands is futile.
They are growing faster than we can clean them up.
Our task begins here
Get involved
Clean up local beaches
Suppress further growth
by recycling and reducing the amount
of trash you throw out.
Your future is at hand.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
How many Friends Do You Have?
I have four hundred and forty.
He is a new friend on FB
but he doesn’t have any posts on his wall.
He is a relative
but his wall is a blank space.
We share nothing.
We do nothing together.
I have
added him
to my list
of friends.
Cyber space
can be so cold.
The distance
is unfathomable.
The point
relentless.
R.S.V.P.
Thank-you for including me in your event
regretfully
I won’t be attending your celebration.
I have a previous engagement
perhaps another time?
It appears that Madame Pele
has a big surprise in store.
She’s busy cooking up
a decades old favorite recipe. It is a spicy concoction
sure to overwhelm
it promises
to melt the taste buds.
She is rearranging the table
as we speak. Had to lower it a bit
underwent a major transformation.
Clever hostess
insists that everything be just right.
The invitations
have all been sent.
The seating is fixed.
The guest register
reads like a who’s who
on the endangered list.
Says here to take note
the ring of fire
welcomes all
comers.
Mind the dress code and
observe the boundaries.
regretfully
I won’t be attending your celebration.
I have a previous engagement
perhaps another time?
It appears that Madame Pele
has a big surprise in store.
She’s busy cooking up
a decades old favorite recipe. It is a spicy concoction
sure to overwhelm
it promises
to melt the taste buds.
She is rearranging the table
as we speak. Had to lower it a bit
underwent a major transformation.
Clever hostess
insists that everything be just right.
The invitations
have all been sent.
The seating is fixed.
The guest register
reads like a who’s who
on the endangered list.
Says here to take note
the ring of fire
welcomes all
comers.
Mind the dress code and
observe the boundaries.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Llama
Lovely diva brays distinctive solo. She
Lusts for a three year old male. Tamed they
Are friendly and pleasant company.
Mature llamas guard livestock. Once depicted
As the god Urcuchillay by the Inca.
Lusts for a three year old male. Tamed they
Are friendly and pleasant company.
Mature llamas guard livestock. Once depicted
As the god Urcuchillay by the Inca.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Six Word Memoirs on Writing
Voracious words eat writers for breakfast.
Syllable stew simmers notably spicy syntax.
A and E unite against U.
I keeps date with lady O.
I O U an E Mail.
Consonants pick up vowels; add meaning.
Cross word puzzles create sharp minds.
Pencils consistently lose their terse point.
Red pens bleed over tabloid article.
Articulate writers never get over themselves.
Syllable stew simmers notably spicy syntax.
A and E unite against U.
I keeps date with lady O.
I O U an E Mail.
Consonants pick up vowels; add meaning.
Cross word puzzles create sharp minds.
Pencils consistently lose their terse point.
Red pens bleed over tabloid article.
Articulate writers never get over themselves.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Laying Odds
Thank-you to David Johnson for this video
Enjoy!
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1529705457600
The weatherman was wrong.
My back yard is now a raging river.
I'm no expert
but as we speak
a traveling mass of dead leaves and dirt
has clogged the storm drain
and is forming a brown island
reaching towards a gray sky
obscuring mountainous peaks.
The weatherman didn't know
that it would pour
only that there was a
chance of showers.
Swirling streams now converge
on yesterday's cracked soil
flooding crevices
And a thick green carpet
threatens to overtake
and cover the curb.
So be sure to carry an umbrella
and apply your sunscreen
Because being mere lay people
of average intelligence
who live in screened houses
with glass windows
we can't even hope
to predict the weather.
Enjoy!
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1529705457600
The weatherman was wrong.
My back yard is now a raging river.
I'm no expert
but as we speak
a traveling mass of dead leaves and dirt
has clogged the storm drain
and is forming a brown island
reaching towards a gray sky
obscuring mountainous peaks.
The weatherman didn't know
that it would pour
only that there was a
chance of showers.
Swirling streams now converge
on yesterday's cracked soil
flooding crevices
And a thick green carpet
threatens to overtake
and cover the curb.
So be sure to carry an umbrella
and apply your sunscreen
Because being mere lay people
of average intelligence
who live in screened houses
with glass windows
we can't even hope
to predict the weather.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
CONNIE
Cute retiree loves dark chocolate and
Olive-skinned men.
Near-sighted
Nature lover is
Impulsive and
Enterprising.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Sweet Nothings
Decades had come and gone
since they had met
her face was lined and her eyes less blue
but she still had a spring in her step
she could still waltz.
The soft scent and velvet feel
of the petals had drawn her in.
She inhaled deeply
her thoughts in faraway
Rudescheim Germany
in the valley of the Lorelei
on the right bank of the Rhine.
He had taken her out
to dinner and dancing
at a quaint inn
just off the drosselgasse. (lane)
It had been a warm August night
and the food and wine had flowed.
She had felt safe
comfortable in his embrace
as he guided her effortlessly
across the dance floor.
Her pulse quickened
as he murmured a sweet nothing
reminding her once more that
he had stolen
the rose
out of Rosendale
and that their melody
would play on
just like the
player piano
at the famous
music museum.
since they had met
her face was lined and her eyes less blue
but she still had a spring in her step
she could still waltz.
The soft scent and velvet feel
of the petals had drawn her in.
She inhaled deeply
her thoughts in faraway
Rudescheim Germany
in the valley of the Lorelei
on the right bank of the Rhine.
He had taken her out
to dinner and dancing
at a quaint inn
just off the drosselgasse. (lane)
It had been a warm August night
and the food and wine had flowed.
She had felt safe
comfortable in his embrace
as he guided her effortlessly
across the dance floor.
Her pulse quickened
as he murmured a sweet nothing
reminding her once more that
he had stolen
the rose
out of Rosendale
and that their melody
would play on
just like the
player piano
at the famous
music museum.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Elation
Another slice of watermelon please!
Belle barked her order as
Chunks of sweet juice
Dripped down her chin.
Eloise, her Mother, had
Forgotten her bib
Girl, you are a sight! She grinned back at her Mom
Happy, her smile was
Infectious. The remains of the
Just eaten watermelon slid out of her chubby fingers.
Kool-Aid stains
Laced with the sweet syrup soaked her white t-shirt
Mom couldn’t help but smile.
Naturally the fruit landed
On top of her chest
Perfectly. Belle giggled again and slapped the top of the tray
Quite proud of herself
Releasing the
Sticky fruit which promptly slid
To the seat of the highchair
Under her chubby legs
Vaulting a
Wanton
Xing and achieving extra
Yardage in a
Zigzag zoom.
Belle barked her order as
Chunks of sweet juice
Dripped down her chin.
Eloise, her Mother, had
Forgotten her bib
Girl, you are a sight! She grinned back at her Mom
Happy, her smile was
Infectious. The remains of the
Just eaten watermelon slid out of her chubby fingers.
Kool-Aid stains
Laced with the sweet syrup soaked her white t-shirt
Mom couldn’t help but smile.
Naturally the fruit landed
On top of her chest
Perfectly. Belle giggled again and slapped the top of the tray
Quite proud of herself
Releasing the
Sticky fruit which promptly slid
To the seat of the highchair
Under her chubby legs
Vaulting a
Wanton
Xing and achieving extra
Yardage in a
Zigzag zoom.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Indian Givers
*** Inspired by the book,
“Indian Givers-- How the Indians of the Americas Transformed the World” by Jack Weatherford
Mark the writing on the wall.
Take heed.
The painting in the cave sweats.
It elicits our response
to ignore it
will incur a penalty.
Reconsider the truth
of their contribution to our society.
They remind us of when our resources
were many
and the tether that held us
together
taught us true democracy and
revealed how their gold and silver
could provide us with a rich economy.
The Native American healer
introduced us to quinine
and the bark that healed malaria,
later transformed into a medicine show
and reintroduced as a healing tonic.
From the woody vines
of the chondodendron
in Peru
we came to know
curare a deadly
muscle relaxant,
to ointments
like petroleum jelly
still sold today as precious goods
by street vendors in Mali.
We have provoked centuries
of painful forced labor upon them.
Ignored their contributions
and drained the oceans of them.
We know more about the dead
civilizations
then about
the pockets of indigenous still alive.
Long before Columbus
landed in the West Indies
the Inca had built sophisticated highways
and bridges from Cuzco to Quito.
The North American
native pathfinders
blazed interlocking trail networks.
The Iroquois dispatched armies
from deep inside Canada
to the Carolinas.
The indigenous lead the European settlers west
developed a system
of canoes and small boats to reach
every corner and crevice
of the Americas.
And yet the history and culture
of the Americas
remains a mystery
It screams
for discovery.
“Indian Givers-- How the Indians of the Americas Transformed the World” by Jack Weatherford
Mark the writing on the wall.
Take heed.
The painting in the cave sweats.
It elicits our response
to ignore it
will incur a penalty.
Reconsider the truth
of their contribution to our society.
They remind us of when our resources
were many
and the tether that held us
together
taught us true democracy and
revealed how their gold and silver
could provide us with a rich economy.
The Native American healer
introduced us to quinine
and the bark that healed malaria,
later transformed into a medicine show
and reintroduced as a healing tonic.
From the woody vines
of the chondodendron
in Peru
we came to know
curare a deadly
muscle relaxant,
to ointments
like petroleum jelly
still sold today as precious goods
by street vendors in Mali.
We have provoked centuries
of painful forced labor upon them.
Ignored their contributions
and drained the oceans of them.
We know more about the dead
civilizations
then about
the pockets of indigenous still alive.
Long before Columbus
landed in the West Indies
the Inca had built sophisticated highways
and bridges from Cuzco to Quito.
The North American
native pathfinders
blazed interlocking trail networks.
The Iroquois dispatched armies
from deep inside Canada
to the Carolinas.
The indigenous lead the European settlers west
developed a system
of canoes and small boats to reach
every corner and crevice
of the Americas.
And yet the history and culture
of the Americas
remains a mystery
It screams
for discovery.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Remembering Home
Let’s just say
The Beatles reigned
in Tillson Elementary school.
The cute boys,
the songs we danced to during recess.
I can still remember riding home
in the back seat of the school bus,
bouncing high every time we hit a bump
on the twisting old country roads.
My friends and I giggling
in our bright new clothes
just picked up from layaway.
My long straight brown hair
tied back in a ponytail
fastened with a matching colored band.
I woke up early on school days
it got really cold
in the winter
in upstate New York.
The old furnace
was turned down at night
this warmed up the downstairs nicely.
Upstairs the feather down comforter
that grandma sent from Germany
pulled up to my chin,
was all that protected me
from the frigid air in my bedroom.
I would lay out my school clothes
the night before,
dress, tights, shoes,
and race to pull them on.
Goosebumps covered
my arms and legs.
I loved my room, it was private.
I had my own portable TV
and stereo where I could practice
singing,
She Loves You
and I Want To Hold Your Hand
into my hairbrush
each afternoon after school.
Before Mom got home from work
and I had to start the potatoes.
Before Dad
would bellow I’m Home
where’s my dinner?
When being the oldest
meant you were accountable
when everything had a proper order
and my audience
would have to wait
until after
the dishes were done.
The Beatles reigned
in Tillson Elementary school.
The cute boys,
the songs we danced to during recess.
I can still remember riding home
in the back seat of the school bus,
bouncing high every time we hit a bump
on the twisting old country roads.
My friends and I giggling
in our bright new clothes
just picked up from layaway.
My long straight brown hair
tied back in a ponytail
fastened with a matching colored band.
I woke up early on school days
it got really cold
in the winter
in upstate New York.
The old furnace
was turned down at night
this warmed up the downstairs nicely.
Upstairs the feather down comforter
that grandma sent from Germany
pulled up to my chin,
was all that protected me
from the frigid air in my bedroom.
I would lay out my school clothes
the night before,
dress, tights, shoes,
and race to pull them on.
Goosebumps covered
my arms and legs.
I loved my room, it was private.
I had my own portable TV
and stereo where I could practice
singing,
She Loves You
and I Want To Hold Your Hand
into my hairbrush
each afternoon after school.
Before Mom got home from work
and I had to start the potatoes.
Before Dad
would bellow I’m Home
where’s my dinner?
When being the oldest
meant you were accountable
when everything had a proper order
and my audience
would have to wait
until after
the dishes were done.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Feminine Legacy
She had traveled to six different continents
flown, cruised, driven, motorcycled and hiked
had walked inside the empty pyramids of Giza
marveled at the Sphinx
and the Coliseum in Rome.
Toured Vatican City and St. Peter’s Basilica,
hiked up steep mountainous cliffs
to the monasteries in Meterora.
Sailed down the Rhine
waved at The Lorelei
crossed the St. Charles Bridge in Prague.
Motorcycled around the Southern rim of the Grand Canyon
and witnessed the beauty of the fall colors.
She had climbed up steep steps
on the Great Wall of China
and posed for a picture
in front of Cristo Redento in Rio de Janeiro.
She had survived hordes of hungry flies
driving in a rental car
to swim in the great barrier reef in Australia
and along the way had shared dinners with
doctors, lawyers, teachers
seniors and exchange students
some robust and others on their last leg.
She had inhaled the markets of Casablanca
sampled their wares, skirting old men
smoking stale cigarettes drinking strong coffee
holding fast to ancient beliefs
no longer relevant to anyone but them.
Ignorant men
trapped inside decaying walls
stinking of urine and fish guts.
where women
are traded and bred as cattle.
and the smart ones get locked away
in cliff towers, never to be seen or heard from again.
She knew that she was
one of the lucky ones
that this still goes on
today evidenced by
movies of women being stoned
by indifference and fear
innocent
courageous women
who dared to upset the status quo.
Good women and their daughters
discarded like trash
by uncaring husbands.
By fathers who would taunt their children to
eke a living from a stone field
who had summoned the courage
to work for a
widower’s paltry coins
and were later accused of sleeping
with their employer.
She witnessed the degradation
and the intolerance
saw a courageous soul stand up
and speak out, branded as crazy
the name Soraya forever etched
into her hard drive.
She had touched the stain
that is mankind
and still she
dared to hope.
flown, cruised, driven, motorcycled and hiked
had walked inside the empty pyramids of Giza
marveled at the Sphinx
and the Coliseum in Rome.
Toured Vatican City and St. Peter’s Basilica,
hiked up steep mountainous cliffs
to the monasteries in Meterora.
Sailed down the Rhine
waved at The Lorelei
crossed the St. Charles Bridge in Prague.
Motorcycled around the Southern rim of the Grand Canyon
and witnessed the beauty of the fall colors.
She had climbed up steep steps
on the Great Wall of China
and posed for a picture
in front of Cristo Redento in Rio de Janeiro.
She had survived hordes of hungry flies
driving in a rental car
to swim in the great barrier reef in Australia
and along the way had shared dinners with
doctors, lawyers, teachers
seniors and exchange students
some robust and others on their last leg.
She had inhaled the markets of Casablanca
sampled their wares, skirting old men
smoking stale cigarettes drinking strong coffee
holding fast to ancient beliefs
no longer relevant to anyone but them.
Ignorant men
trapped inside decaying walls
stinking of urine and fish guts.
where women
are traded and bred as cattle.
and the smart ones get locked away
in cliff towers, never to be seen or heard from again.
She knew that she was
one of the lucky ones
that this still goes on
today evidenced by
movies of women being stoned
by indifference and fear
innocent
courageous women
who dared to upset the status quo.
Good women and their daughters
discarded like trash
by uncaring husbands.
By fathers who would taunt their children to
eke a living from a stone field
who had summoned the courage
to work for a
widower’s paltry coins
and were later accused of sleeping
with their employer.
She witnessed the degradation
and the intolerance
saw a courageous soul stand up
and speak out, branded as crazy
the name Soraya forever etched
into her hard drive.
She had touched the stain
that is mankind
and still she
dared to hope.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Common Thread
To communicate or not is not in question
whether it is nobler to write
in poetry or prose
requires further examination.
Taste
what moves you.
Observe,
poke
outline and
tweak.
Revel in it.
Stitch boldly
or you will surely perish.
And your cord will fray
beneath the vines
its connection
reduced
to a thin strand.
whether it is nobler to write
in poetry or prose
requires further examination.
Taste
what moves you.
Observe,
poke
outline and
tweak.
Revel in it.
Stitch boldly
or you will surely perish.
And your cord will fray
beneath the vines
its connection
reduced
to a thin strand.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Quote of the Day
“Behave your way to success-Practice, Practice, Practice!”~ Dr. Phil McGraw
“If practice makes you perfect—Behavior should be added to the curriculum!” ~Cornelia DeDona
“If practice makes you perfect—Behavior should be added to the curriculum!” ~Cornelia DeDona
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Directing Fear
“Feel the fear and do it anyway” ~ Susan Jeffers
Today she showed them what she was made of.
She slowed her pace
found her focus
channeled her energy
allowed herself time to reason and
ignored negative impulses
today had been different.
Comfort didn’t concern her.
Comfort was a well-worn pair of shoes
seconds before the strap broke.
It seeped from her consciousness
trickled down her back
and found warmth in a well-worn hollow
signaling an explicit riposte
from the trenches.
Today she showed them what she was made of.
She slowed her pace
found her focus
channeled her energy
allowed herself time to reason and
ignored negative impulses
today had been different.
Comfort didn’t concern her.
Comfort was a well-worn pair of shoes
seconds before the strap broke.
It seeped from her consciousness
trickled down her back
and found warmth in a well-worn hollow
signaling an explicit riposte
from the trenches.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Childhood Home
Home meant different things at different ages. Music highlighted the various stages of my growing awareness. Let’s just say The Beatles reigned in Tillson Elementary School. At eleven, I can still remember the cute boys, the portable record player and the songs we danced to outside during recess. I remember riding home in the back seat of the school bus bouncing high every time we hit a bump on the twisting old country roads, my friends and I giggling in our bright new clothes just picked up from layaway at Sears and J.C. Penney, my long straight brown hair tied back in a ponytail and fastened with a matching colored band.
I woke up early during school days. It got really cold in the winter in upstate New York. The old furnace in the basement only managed to warm up the downstairs. The upstairs bedrooms were another story. The feather down comforter that grandma sent from Germany, pulled up to my chin, was all that protected me from the frigid air. I would lay out my school clothes the night before, dress, tights, shoes all neatly arranged, and pull them on as quickly as I could. Goosebumps would cover my arms and legs on those mornings. I loved having my own room. I had my own portable TV and Stereo where I could practice singing, She Loves You and I Want To Hold Your Hand, into my hairbrush each night. The door had a floor length mirror, so I could inspect myself before I went downstairs. My sisters had to share a room down the hall; being the eldest had its advantages.
Dad usually left the hall window partially cranked open. I could see my breath as I closed it each morning. The glass always had a layer of frost on it. The black banister would shake from us girls sliding down it; at the bottom the post provided a landing. Sometimes if we hit it just right it would fall off and roll down the hall. Dad never got around to fixing it along with many other things that remained in a virtual state of unfinished; small things like baseboards without molding, wires suspended from the ceiling, the bathroom tub that needed a new hot water knob. We used a wrench to turn it on. It became a permanent fixture. I remember how my Mother would hound him about the closet doors in their bedroom that were never hung. One time he bought Mom a dishwasher, but she only used it once, because he never found the time to get the necessary hook-up to permanently install it. The one time she did use it, he had jury rigged a hose from the back of the dishwasher to the kitchen faucet that he took off of the washing machine. He was always going to do it LATER. There was always some reason why he didn’t have time, or couldn’t get the necessary part. He always had a truckload of excuses, like the neighbor needed his expert help with a project. This usually started another argument about getting PAID for all that help, which he never did.
Poor Mom, she did her best to supplement Dad’s salary and feed and clothe her three girls. She went to work after my sister Angie was born and still hasn’t stopped. I was seven years old and I remember this because I was elected to babysit my two year old sister for twenty minutes, five days a week, until Dad got home. She started as a night cleaning lady in an office building and now at seventy five, she still works part-time preparing salads at the deli in the local supermarket, three days a week.
Meanwhile Dad retired thirty five years ago, stating that there wasn’t anything suitable for someone with HIS qualifications. Mom waited over fifty years for him to finish this and that, and now she has to beg her sons-in-law, because Dad has dementia. He thinks the neighbors are trying to steal his identity. He still drinks too. On a recent visit I took to see them, Angie and I caught Dad acting completely normal when he was out spending time with friends. Mom is still in denial about everything. She says that it’s too late, she can’t leave him now. My other sister chalks it up to LOVE. Wow, all I can say is, “If that’s love, Mom’s a NUN!” Today’s song would have to be, Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescense, I learned early on exactly what I did and didn’t want my home life to turn out like.
I woke up early during school days. It got really cold in the winter in upstate New York. The old furnace in the basement only managed to warm up the downstairs. The upstairs bedrooms were another story. The feather down comforter that grandma sent from Germany, pulled up to my chin, was all that protected me from the frigid air. I would lay out my school clothes the night before, dress, tights, shoes all neatly arranged, and pull them on as quickly as I could. Goosebumps would cover my arms and legs on those mornings. I loved having my own room. I had my own portable TV and Stereo where I could practice singing, She Loves You and I Want To Hold Your Hand, into my hairbrush each night. The door had a floor length mirror, so I could inspect myself before I went downstairs. My sisters had to share a room down the hall; being the eldest had its advantages.
Dad usually left the hall window partially cranked open. I could see my breath as I closed it each morning. The glass always had a layer of frost on it. The black banister would shake from us girls sliding down it; at the bottom the post provided a landing. Sometimes if we hit it just right it would fall off and roll down the hall. Dad never got around to fixing it along with many other things that remained in a virtual state of unfinished; small things like baseboards without molding, wires suspended from the ceiling, the bathroom tub that needed a new hot water knob. We used a wrench to turn it on. It became a permanent fixture. I remember how my Mother would hound him about the closet doors in their bedroom that were never hung. One time he bought Mom a dishwasher, but she only used it once, because he never found the time to get the necessary hook-up to permanently install it. The one time she did use it, he had jury rigged a hose from the back of the dishwasher to the kitchen faucet that he took off of the washing machine. He was always going to do it LATER. There was always some reason why he didn’t have time, or couldn’t get the necessary part. He always had a truckload of excuses, like the neighbor needed his expert help with a project. This usually started another argument about getting PAID for all that help, which he never did.
Poor Mom, she did her best to supplement Dad’s salary and feed and clothe her three girls. She went to work after my sister Angie was born and still hasn’t stopped. I was seven years old and I remember this because I was elected to babysit my two year old sister for twenty minutes, five days a week, until Dad got home. She started as a night cleaning lady in an office building and now at seventy five, she still works part-time preparing salads at the deli in the local supermarket, three days a week.
Meanwhile Dad retired thirty five years ago, stating that there wasn’t anything suitable for someone with HIS qualifications. Mom waited over fifty years for him to finish this and that, and now she has to beg her sons-in-law, because Dad has dementia. He thinks the neighbors are trying to steal his identity. He still drinks too. On a recent visit I took to see them, Angie and I caught Dad acting completely normal when he was out spending time with friends. Mom is still in denial about everything. She says that it’s too late, she can’t leave him now. My other sister chalks it up to LOVE. Wow, all I can say is, “If that’s love, Mom’s a NUN!” Today’s song would have to be, Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescense, I learned early on exactly what I did and didn’t want my home life to turn out like.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Six Word Memoirs for Valentine’s Day
Mint chocolate hearts
savor fresh kisses.
Love willingly skates
backwards through tunnel.
Conversation in most
marriages equals hurdle.
Success in marriage
jumps boundless obstacles.
Relaxed couples reconcile
his and hers.
Surrender in marriage
recognizes who’s boss!
Men drip intelligence
Women glow restraint.
Be my Valentine
dance through life.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Barometer
The Barometer
slowly drops
on a frosty trucker
at a snowed under rest stop
howling for a cup of Joe and
longing for lost serenity while
steering through endless back water towns.
Flashbacks pan on persistent billboards
empty promises on the I-95 and
daydreams of a midnight rendezvous
beneath a star speckled
blanket on a lonely Valentine’s night.
Melting briefly midday
as the pressure begins its hopeful rise on
the whim of a fresh faced
adventurer
with a hall pass
thumbing for a ride
and artfully dropped soon after
behind
a dinghy diner
forecasting more
frigid, pale,
and foul weather.
slowly drops
on a frosty trucker
at a snowed under rest stop
howling for a cup of Joe and
longing for lost serenity while
steering through endless back water towns.
Flashbacks pan on persistent billboards
empty promises on the I-95 and
daydreams of a midnight rendezvous
beneath a star speckled
blanket on a lonely Valentine’s night.
Melting briefly midday
as the pressure begins its hopeful rise on
the whim of a fresh faced
adventurer
with a hall pass
thumbing for a ride
and artfully dropped soon after
behind
a dinghy diner
forecasting more
frigid, pale,
and foul weather.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Just Thinking
Just write something. Don’t over analyze
or dramatize. You are so wise
in that disguise the one that you bring
to the table. The table with the leftovers
warmed over, dried on, caked and baked
a dubious pleasure what a treasure
for the tummy it isn’t funny when
you need the Rolaids.
Because you swallowed
a patch of green in a mean
everything bagel that you left out in
the damp a bit too long
And I could hum along
to the song of plop plop fizz fizz
Oh-what a relief it is, remember
the Brioski
that we,
kept
next to the pink Pepto
Bismol, fizzing in a glass
that in one gulp
we drank straight?
It couldn’t wait until morning
it was never boring.
Oh the sass
of the lass and the lad
making whoopee
beneath a dark marquee
while a row of chimneys streamed
black smoke we choked
on the sound
passed another round
of Rolling Stones and
exhaled peace for our brother’s
bones
in Viet Nam
a flashback scene
in a hippy dream
condemning the Man
and making a stand.
You know what I mean
jellybean?
Monday, January 31, 2011
Oh Juliet, my pet!
Land dwelling reptiles
take their vows seriously
grabbing a quick lunch
Romeo and Juliet
are committed newlyweds.
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