Honey, my honey

Why do you scamper about so?

I try to bring you in before dark,

cold, damp dusk descends unsafe

about you, but you stay on your lark.

Hope that you come to the door,

but check it every twenty minutes,

just in case you get hungry.

What a troublesome bundle of fluff!

Every other time you do show up,

hungry or bored or chilled, and mewl loud,

accusing me of neglect or abandonment.

But might this time be a first?

Hit by a car?

Grabbed by a hawk or owl?

Stolen and carried afar?

Nabbed by animal control?

Just have to live with my fears again,

since I am too soft on you,

and let you outside every time

you cry “please” to me.

Not sure who is more guilty here.

Oh wait, what is that I hear at the door?

- end

October Woods

High tech so far away now

that I am deep in elm and ash,

swooshing through leaves

as I hunt down the right trail.

Problems recede under filtered

glare of October sunshine;

“What does anything matter?

Look at the beauty of nature!”

For a time the world's problems

get postponed as I breathe

leafy air and absorb bright color.

This, a last gift from Mother...

Before she slams us with snow,

punishes us with bitter cold and ice,

hides it all in darkness so we fall.

Spring will come hard, prayer by prayer.

But today I am gifted autumnal beauty.

Hurrah!

-end

New Gods

Wind turbines, wind turbines spinning away the day,

Busy blades chopping up particulate-laden air,

a harsh spin cycle

for the big polluters

chagrin.

Wind turbines, wind turbines catching bright suns rays,

spinning and tossing prism beams every which way.

Gleaming white towers topped by coruscating hopes.

Old windmills must have seemed like man’s prideful

assault on the gods - modern giants even more audacious

shred Odin’s beard, and rile up the denizens

of Asgard to no end. Bolts of lightning fury may

rain down upon them, yet to no avail.

Move over, obsolete deities --

the Alternative Energy gods have arrived;

They rule over all who have come before.

- end

Ballad of the new Pandemic

(tongue planted firmly in cheek - sense of humor on)

This is a tale of two doctors and a nurse,

who set out to help and came back much worse.

They went over to help, and brought back a plague.

One doctor went to Omaha and got a new serum,

He recovered and was cured, you should'a heard 'em.

They went over to help, and brought back the plague.

The other ended up in Texas and tragically died.

The relatives and the medical community cried.

They went over to help, and brought back the plague.

It was thought it stopped there, but alas was not to be;

A young nurse got infected, by some protocol breach.

They went over to help, and brought back the plague.

Now she is in isolation, and may not recover;

From the President on down, reassurances hover.

They went over to help, and brought back the plague.

Move over, climate change, forget the ISIS threat.

Any challenges from Russia will somehow get met.

They went over to help, and brought back the plague.

Economic disasters and stock market gyrations

do not really compare to pandemic mass infections.

For the time being a deadly virus has center stage,

Ebola threatens mortal fever, no matter your age.

 - end

Book Links Links Links

Experimental Tales www.createspace.com/4973862

The Osmotics www.createspace.com/4661301

Mirror Worlds www.createspace.com/3633147

A Strange Enterprise www.createspace.com/4281639

Future Property www.createspace.com/3859469

Shadow Intersection www.createspace.com/4113022

 

Happy X-ray Trails

The day we saw x-ray trails

out among some Messier objects,

enthusiasm for space was re-born.

Rejuvenated and enhanced was our

excitement for exploring the greater cosmos.

Alien exhaust plumes really got our BP up.

A building frenzy took place overnight,

New populations arose on Moon and Mars,

spinning colonies scattered like spores out

towards the Kuiper belt and Oort cloud.

Although many understood that natures laws

are immutable across the Universe and time,

traveling ship captains were still surprised when

who should greet them in the vast beyond but

replicas of themselves.

Bipedal humanoids succeeded on other worlds, too.

Replete with qualities (good and bad) similar to us.

The wars began soon after. Ultimately the whole galaxy was

trashed with the scattered debris of warfare.

We never learn, no matter where we are.

Only our religion, way of life, belief system

is correct – theirs is foreign, alien, wrong.

Let the shooting begin. Let the dying keep on.

No one ever wins, until the whole universe

winds down and ends – in another

Big

Bang!

Dissapearing Cranium

Where did you go,

Mysterious one - all head,

no body – no past - no future.

Why a girl?

You rose from flat to shimmer,

taking form and shape.

Although sculpted you

seemed to emerge from

another dimension,

Plensa's dexterous portal.

Wherever you went,

you carried the answers.

Left an empty space,

that filled up with questions

before someone shoved another

sculpture in to fill your place.

Poor substitute it is,

for your unending grace.

Perhaps someday we will

see you again, floating in space.

     - end

Hamming it up

I decided to build a Ham Radio today,

A homemade set to transmit and receive;

Can hear overseas news without delay.

Momentous events carried on the relay,

Transmitted faster than I could conceive;

I decided to build a Ham Radio today.

Many other household projects defrayed,

intricate wiring and soldering achieved;

Now I can hear distant news without delay.

Remote greetings and frivolity also conveyed,

Cultural exchanges of new ideas to be believed;

It was a good time to build a Ham Radio Today.

Precise assembly instructions duly obeyed,

Successful operation left me greatly relieved.

Now I follow worldwide events without delay.

How many new folks I have met is hard to say,

dozens of QSL cards have already been retrieved.

I decided it was time to build a Ham Radio today,

Now I can track world events without delay.

- end

Change in the Weather

Supposed to be sunny, they say.

Warm and balmy 70 degrees;

When morning arrives, so do the clouds.

Raindrops and wind soon follow.

Once in a while is forgivable,

but several times a week – condemnable.

Spring and Fall are unsettled of course,

so why don't they admit defeat and say,

“Folks we are just not sure what it will do.”

Honesty one can appreciate,

especially when assessing the weather.

Talking heads on TV can speculate,

turning leaves and caterpillars still do better.

- end

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 20^th 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

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

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

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

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.

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

RD-180 part two

…But having mulled over the facts I have to back off of my earlier fury some. “Our side” has produced the Saturn V F-1 engines, after all. Five of these pushed astronauts and hardware all the way to the Moon. Not only did we get them back, but in succeeding missions we even sent a moon buggy to drive around the lunar surface. That in addition to the lunar lander and Apollo service craft. We made it several times, and then built the Skylab. A booster stage was used as housing for a capacious station, sent up in one flight.

Today we have the Delta-IV heavy, which can throw quite a bit of weight into orbit. There are also the solid rocket boosters which flew the shuttle, and can be re-purposed for other craft. If we ever get the Space Launch System built, that will be an enormous booster, possibly bigger even than the Saturn V. Our side has accomplished a lot too – and made mistakes, just as the Russians have.

Fair is fair. Enough of this subject. Thanks for reading.

 

RD-180

So far the fall of the once exalted,

our technological wunderkind thought
so superior in so many ways. Humbled
by a simpler engine design producing more power.

The so-called backwards industrial power of Russia

came up with a rocket technology so far ahead,
we still do not have anything like it. Even today,
the Russians have more powerful rockets than us.

Our distracted, cellphone-glued society can stay

oblivious as long as we want. But we are being
surpassed and bested on the world stage.
In a state that refuses to go along with a
national education standard, instead turning
out religious-ideological lockstep copycats...

Perhaps we deserve to be bested, lost as we are

in the illusion of our own superiority. Blinded
to the necessity of hardware and engineering hard work –
we instead disparage science and research, and follow
the cultural dictates of our new Chinese masters.
And we keep buying Russian rockets, unable to muster
the will to even design anything ourselves anymore.

Pathetic.

 

 

Disco 2000 NYC

They found a way to be free,

Partying all night and getting paid;
it was a club-funded drug spree,
For those bodies it was easy to get laid.

Outrageous costumes to outdo each other,

Cutting catty remarks their casual chat,
They forged careers out of party matter.
Sex was their first and last fringe benefit.

The “piper still had to be paid,”

skittish club owners placated,
Police scrutiny dodged or avoided,
Drug dealers paid (or laid) off.

The final outcome was predictable,

Murder and addiction took their toll;
Casual barbarism seemed despicable
From these kids dressed up as trolls.

Some clubbers used up their fame fast,

Best years spent, their lives soon crashed.

     - end

a big WTF

Robin Williams   1951 to 2014
 

How one can have everything,

be on top of their game, with
money and loved ones and fame.
Then get depressed and rob
themselves and us of it all.

What horrible thoughts,

what cruel stabbing words
or depressing circumstances
could cause him to do this?

We will never know,

since he took that to his grave;
Left  behind three unreleased movies
and decades of laughter to savor.

Your self-inflicted act was inexplicable.

Words do little justice to an untimely fall.

     - end

 

Fair Exercise

The traffic is here, crowd noise is clear,

can hear performers from far and near.
Congestion and celebration are common:
Time to get out two-wheeled transportation.

Then it is ride the scooter to work,

leave the car parked in the driveway;
Or perhaps ride the bicycle to the store,
A way to exercise and buy groceries too.

Still one must dodge pedestrians on the sidewalk,

pedal furiously to stay ahead of impatient cars.
No matter how you get here to there,
the traffic is always hectic at the fair.

At least I can safely surmise,

It is good to get the exercise.

In another week it will all be done,

Driving the car again will be fun!

     - end