Monday, September 29, 2014

Comforting Frequencies

Clicking thru the options on a smart TV,
I select music channels, favored songs,
Youtube picks, documentaries, poetry...
Endless variety on MP3 players these days.

At times I may wonder what happened to
old-fashioned broadcast radio, AM and FM.
The AM band still exists, sustained by talk shows,
news, sports, weather and good old-time religion.

I listen in the car, gratified that this leftover beacon from
the 20th century is still there to inform, entertain and comfort.
My interest lasts anywhere from a few minutes to an
entire car ride. Then I shove a memory stick into the slot,
and await a thousand favored ambient tunes to begin.

It is good that the AM past is there, although
my focus still seeks the novel and unique.
These jaded brain cells crave stimulation.

But,
AM radio is my shag carpet,
pleasurable to mental toes,
missed only when it is gone,
Taken for granted when present.

Like everything else.

 - end

Monday, September 22, 2014

Innocence and Guilt


We think we are all innocent, justifying our actions in some form of self-interest.
Yet we are all part of the problem, really guilty of something or other.


It is OK if I do it, but not you!
I can sin, cross the line, perform an indiscretion,
but, by God if you do it is the lead story for the 6-o’clock news.

We walk around, two signs hanging over our heads:
One announces Innocent, and the other pronounces Guilty.
We wrote the Innocent sign, but someone else authored the Guilty one.

Damned bystanders anyway.
What do they know.

- end

Monday, September 08, 2014

In the absence of sound, scattered words remain

The words still come out of my fingers,
though my sick throat constricts
their timely exit from tightened lips.
Great ideas in mind still stew and linger.

Someday the mental darts will find their mark,
but until then they must endure a momentary lark.
The fingers crab-scratch them out on paper's stark
white surfaces for later use as authorial sparks.

No cold virus can forever prevent thoughts
from propagating over an unwary audience;
Though give reprieve in response to suppliance –
but the piper will still be paid, eyeballs still caught.

The weary author pauses in his vindictive script,
ponders which potion will relieve the onslaught –
send mouthwash or cold pills to the viral battlefront?
Some Gelcaps get gulped without another thought.

Back to tickling the keys and torturing the eyes,
keep typing and delay a potential poetic demise.

     - end

Saturday, September 06, 2014

World Wars are a Bug's Grocery Store

In 1914, young men marched off to become bloody hamburger for god and country, in a horrific world war.

In 2014, young men are being sent off to become bloody hamburger for god and country.

Nothing much seems to have changed in the last century.

Except that the insects still feed well when thing go awry.

Perhaps those insects are behind all the jihads and territorial grabs.

They know no beliefs, have no concept of an afterlife, hold no moral positions.
They just know that when the humans kill each other, the eating is good.

Maybe a thought for the day might be,

“Get along with your neighbors, and starve a bug or two today.”

     - end

Friday, September 05, 2014

All your friends are doing it

So why not experiment yourself?  Find out more here:

https://www.createspace.com/4973862

Thx for taking a look-see.




Thursday, September 04, 2014

Psst - can we talk

You know, a lot of people have been disappearing lately. Hollywood stars, famous CEO's, even cypherpunk programmers. Every single one added something to our society in one way or another, and their lights will be missed, even as other “lights” flare up to take their place.

      The continuing reminder of our mortality is sure persistent. It just seems to run in spurts or waves. When yet another batch of famous and beloved folks leave us, it hurts – a part of me dies with them. Just wonder how much will be left and for how long.

      The urgency to do something, anything picks up in intensity. Even as the physical powers fade, the mental voices seem to multiply. And yet the need to pause and relax and reflect is no less important. No wonder time picks up speed with each succeeding year. We are so busy trying to be all we can be, and reflect on our being. Wishing one and all many good times ahead.

- end