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Monday, July 30, 2012


   Jesus Christ!!! Does no one question that all religions worship a male as the highest power. Does there not seem to be a control issue here. Muhammad, Allah, the father, the son and the holy ghost(perhaps the ghost is bisexual).

    Here is a hospital, it has wards because it is to care for the masses not the most affluent. Bed one needs to have the christian last rites so the priest arrives with the holy book, water, sacraments and garb to denote the status of holy person. Praying in a whisper the preacher bends over the member of the flock who will soon depart for greener pastures. All the gestures are performed according to ritual.

   Bed two has a Hasidim Jew, also soon to depart. The rabbi dons the yarmulke, and takes his holy scarf from his waistline, allowing the fringe to flutter in freedom. The rabbi, another male leader of the religion opens his holy book and begins to sing and sway to the music of the soon to be departed blessing for spending life as the good book declares is appropriate.

    Bed three is the muslim, his bed must be moved to accommodate his closest relative a imam to put his rug, that was rolled up and transported under his arm, down on the hospital floor, so he can kneel facing west, and pray to allah. His relative knows it is the hour when the holy are called to give praise, it is the law, and he cannot leave the bed, his relative is paying homage in his stead.

   The three die at the same time, at the exact same hour, minute , second. Their gods having the need to recall them from the same place at the same time. And they were gone. And their holy representatives pick up their paraphernalia and depart to the same elevator to the same exit to depart the building. They tip their hats in acknowledgement of the others, and go on their own ways.

   The hospital is not a public institution, it is a hospital funded by the proceeds, tax free proceeds of the donations paid to the catholic church, an organization whose hierarchy is totally male. And these males have asserted the rule that females have rights to lead the community from any of their official titles. That the females have the right to serve is lauded, and their right to be served, denounced. Unless of course you are Mother Teresa, living under the rule of poverty in some godforsaken hole, tending the lowliest of the flock, to ensure their affinity for her religious organization.

    The females on the planet have been subjugated because of their physical position, for  the propagation of armies of the gods they serve, so their intellectual defense of the organization they have been born to is revered by rote under punishment from the opposite sex which is physically stronger, most of the time. So the females have less ability to enforce independent thought or desire, subjugation by brute force. And they bow and praise the lord.
    Ah men, the mantra indoctrinated into the females generations upon generations. The word as a religious term repeated and repeated in most christian gatherings. The female receiving no standing, she is regarded as Whooo man, warnings for other man to stay away from their personal property.

   And speaking of property, each of these male institutions have ordered whooo man, the male right to dominate their physical being. It is their attempt to control the population of their allies, in an attempt to control their enemies, and still the female, with little time left from their religious duties of paying homage to the male and his instituted laws of his instituted ruler of the realm, follows ten paces behind and bows to their laws.

   And now, in America, there is a faction of male, which believes there is no place for this institution, or rather still. believes there is a separation of the lines of living these beliefs and the law of the land that serves All the people whether or not they hide their income in declaring religious donations on the income tax forms. Allowing for the rights of a small body of individuals who do not wish to continue with the male domination indoctrination.

    Why, as yet, has no one challenged the legality of income tax deductions as discrimination against those who have not as yet, and I reinforce the as yet, formed a non traditional religion for the express purpose although not declared in the minutes of the formal meeting to describe the purpose or teachings of said institution, to funnel funds away from supporting the institution of the government of these united states of America.

   As yet, the females, have no majority of insult, there are the old school students that repeat the mantra ahhhhhhmen, with an orgasmic delight, thanking them every day, all day long and forever for their, the females right to forever praise the male, and his allowing them, the females to be seen in their, the males, presence, albeit in some groups, totally hidden from view, so they appear as black fabrics floating in the wind, and not individuals.

   Ahhhhh the religious right! Their dexterous exercise of freeedom!

Sunday, July 29, 2012

London Olympics 2012

     NBC's performance for the opening of the 2012 Olympic Games in London England was less than mediocre.
     The sound was no adequately adjusted for us viewers to hear the commentary, which was also wanting in substance. There was not a clear explaination as to what was going on. We watchers waited to try to glean an idea of what was evolving. It was not until the turf was being removed that we got the inference of the evolution of a nation/country. Tis a pity, because it is a good story. And a nation of people invested of themselves to make an acceptable appearance.

      Besides that, the camera work bounced around from site to site without weaving the story, it was all of a sudden in one place then another. It, the camera, did not attempt to put a face to some of the thousands of volunteers who gave, to make the games work. We got to see the royal family, and the stars of Britton, all the faces we already know. We never got  a glimpse of the thousands of volunteers. We never saw any of London, or the land outside the arena. They told us of the works project to rebuild a depressed area, but they never showed us what they were talking about. They brouught us to London and never  showed us anything that is London. They showed us all the bodies that filled the arena, and never the faces that went with them.

    There also was no mention of the logistics, how were the blankets illuminated, how many people volunteered, how did they feed all those people. So many interesting facts about the openning ceremony and how they made the event possible.   Worse yet, the questions were not asked. Hey, they just didn't want to spend the money, they couldn't be bothered.

     A nation extended itself to present to the world a picture of who they are and how they grew, and it was lost to the incompetence or the indifference of the broadcast network.

     And then, when the games began, they chose to spend all the time on the stars of the US Olympic team and never shared with us the other teams of  the other nations.

      A sterile show, too bad the people of London, all the money invested in presenting London to the world was/is wasted.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Still sitting in the chair waiting for winter
The suns shine is stark and oppressive
The summer is warming the skies and driving the animal life to hunt in cooler climes.

The fauna has all but disappeared
The soil a golden brown
That rises to the sky with every flicker or breeze

There is nothing to look for
No suprises in the green
No new flower budding
No weed inbetween

There is nothing to look for
Sitting here in the same chair
Waiting for winter.

Maybe it will come with avengence
Maybe it will be a regret to wish for
Maybe it will be as oppressive as the summer
Mayge it will be
me sitting in the same chair looking for winter.

There is a sadness to the time
the less to do
the less to have
the less there is

The people unemployed
The people fighting
The people hungry
The people angry
The people sad
all here with me
sitting in the same chair
waiting for winter.

Friday, July 27, 2012

The anarchist

    My great uncle Vito was an anarchist. He wasn't much taller than a kitchen chair. I always saw him in a suit and tie. His hand was always reaching into his breast pocket for one of the propaganda pamphlets he would pass out to anyone who would reach for it.
    An odd memory was of the whole family seated at the dining table at grandmas and grandpas one Sunday. My long hair fell down my forehead reaching my lip. I went to move the hair away from my mouth so I could continue with my macaroni feast. Then, my great uncle began to yell at me that I should not touch my hair at the table.

    When he saw me chewing gum he asked me if I knew that chewing gum was made of rubber.

     His wife, who was not a blood relation of mine was also strange. She and he would make the trip by train from New Jersey to Brooklyn to visit his sister, my grandmother. It was a four family home. My grandparents had one of the apartments on the first floor, my uncle and his family lived in one of the apartments on the second floor.

     My great aunt would yell from the base of the stairs on the first floor, to call my aunt on the second floor because she wanted my aunt to wash her hair. It was spring and time for her hair to be cleaned. I remember being in the bathroom when the hair was being washed, the water was almost black. I felt bad for my aunt, that she had to do such a terrible thing, to touch such filthy hair. She wasn't even related to my great aunt except by marriage on her husbands side, and she was not a blood relation to him either.

      When my great aunt and uncle would arrive, all the kids would run and hide and avoid both of them like the plague. There was nothing gentle or kind or nice about either of them and we did not bring out any of the best of either of them.

      He was the only one of my grandmothers four brothers that I knew, and I did not like him at all. He was a dictator, a little guy who wielded power within the family, just because the let him. Maybe it was a mark of respect or the weakness of those under the control of another. I was too young to really get a grasp of the hierarchy of the family. He was just a guy I did not like. Not because I did not fully understand his demeanor but because he showed no kindness to anyone in the family. He denied us all a good time. And he is not missed.
The woman standing in the queue at the checkout counter was all in a huff about the delay. The woman behind the counter turned to her and remarked, "What are you getting so upset about? You're gonna die anyway."

what is it.
what do you mean/
what do you want
what can i do

will you help me
will you see me\

will you be there for me
what can i say

time is drifting by
the clock is ticking

and all there is
is right now
this instant
this time
this place
this circumstance
this event
this life
this is now

now is all we have
it is all there is
and yet
we plan for tomorrow
we relish tomorrow
we live for tomorrow

and tomorrow never comes
there is only right now

peace is the only place to be
it is the only time of harmony
it keeps us safe
it gives the body what it needs

like the monks in Tibet
peace harmony tranquility
one with the self
one with the earth

calm quiet peace of mind
with everything spinning around us
we stay still within the self
know thyself
know how to create harmony with in the self
and the self will provide

there is nothing needed
once the self is satisfied
to satisfy the self
one must study what gives quiet to the psyche

can you see the place inside
the place that controls the calmness
the place of peace
the harmony of spirit

can you live with yourself
do you know yourself
there is no one else
without the self in harmony

never mind what anyone else says or does
pay attention to yourself
pay heed to the signals
know who you are
and what is necessary for your well being
with out
and with in
give yourself the best there is
and the best will be yours
the best of times
is the time of peace and harmony
within the self

if you are calm and quiet and at peace with yourself
then you have achieved the pinnacle of perfection
then you know who you are
then you have unlocked all the doors to success
the wealth of oneness with the self
knowing who you are and what you need to be
one with the universe
and the universe will be one with you

give yourself the opportunity to enjoy the freedom
of the wisdom of knowing the self

meet the self so you can live with the self

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Say something funny
almost fun
nothing to laugh about
just something light
a mirror reflection of us
the same stuff we see every day

the life that laughs
the honey of the pot
the laugh to gether
the laugh alone

was once upon a time funny stuff
the things kids laugh at
the silly giddy stuff
that the giggles spread about
the giggles with finger in front of the face
holding in the giggles that laugh through the fingers

the youthful happiness of the young
giggle giggle
right left left right
satin curtains
velvet chairs

the colors of the past
the memories of yesterday
that is what makes us as we are today
the giggle of frogs
the jokes of worms
the laughs of toads

striped shirts
polo before polo

dungarees before jeans
saddle shoes and poodles on skirts
bobbie socks and heavy sweaters

the era of the past
the oppression of the future
the giggle of the present

what do we laugh at
the art of the thinker
the words of the mind
painted a splendid picture

dim lights and boogie music
jazz on the piano
disco on the floor
boogie nights
and jazzy midnights

streams and seaside
the foam of the oceans surf
sand and seashells
washing ashore
remnants of the past
memories of the future
home away from home
away from home at home

sand, sea, seagulls
jonathan livingston
a dream
drifting forward into today
a sweet swift of sentiment
gathering dust in the eye
a teardrop
laughing to tears
tears to laughter
just a joke for today
a giggle a sigh
a laugh in the eye
a twinkle of laughter
a smile
a giggle
another giggle
a laugh
a smile
a twinkle in the eye
a giggle
a smile
let me out
let me laugh
let me smile
let me sit here a while
with a feeling of satisfaction
a smile on the face
a twinkle in the eye
a glad tiding of good bye
only nonsense
just a joke
a poke in the rib
a laugh and a sigh
a giggle and goodbye.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

I am sitting here
   in a chair
waiting for winter

I am sitting in the chair
  that I sat in while
waiting for summer

The days are longer
the nights are shorter
than they were when I was waiting for summer

Like 'waiting for my ship to come in'
i am waiting
for the alignment of the stars
to make it my time

to get out of the chair
that I am sitting in

waiting for winter

Friday, July 20, 2012




   We are all creatures of habit. We like the status quo. We want things to remain the same, if we are successful. If, we are having bad luck,we wish instantly for change, for things to no longer be as they are. If we are having a run of good luck then we are very happy and credit our success to our knowledge and wisdom. If though, things are not going our way, we blame the forces of nature and everything else except ourselves.

  As children, we wish for adulthood to approach rapidly, we want the power of independence to wave it's wand and grant us the wonders of doing it ourselves, making our own way and achieving overnight all the things it takes years to reach. Youth has its advantage, we see adults as static beings, never changing, always as they were, and will be. We do not realize that adults take years to reach maturity. Days to us are lifetimes, night is the longest days the shortest.

  Change happens with or without our permission. We grow taller, then we fill out, then we begin to see some wrinkles appear, the hair thins or turns grey. We long to keep our youth, we want our bodies to stay in peak performance. We enjoy the use of all our faculties at their very best, one hundred percent. It is wonderful, we are healthy, full of vitality and celebrate life. We run we play we live life to the fullest. All is well, we are happy. There is nothing we cannot do.
  There is no limit to our happiness, the sky is blue, the sun shines, we work, we play, we enjoy learning, and growing, and working. We extend ourselves and meet new people. Our world includes strangers, it is no longer simply the family unit, we are branching out. We travel past the corner of our street. We venture into new neighborhoods, we learn about other cultures, we see new things. Our minds expand to include new countries, we travel beyond the boundries of our countries. We explore.

  And then suddenly, as if overnight, our brains are full, or our bodies overworked, and we can not take it all in. We can not add one more thing to our already full lives. We trip over the experience of discord. Everything is no longer going our way, we trip, we fall, we meet disagreement, and disharmony. And we can no longer cope. It is not all going our way. It is not smooth sailing, it is the perfect storm on the sea of change. We begin to cease to win. Our brains no longer grasp things as swiftly, we drop the ball, we hit the brick wall. And we can not cope. We can not function in disharmony. It begins to take it's toll, the price, the body begins to break down, the muscles sag, the eyes dim.

 We begin to be less happy, we are winning less, we are achieving less, it is taking us longer to do the job, it is less fun, it is more work, it becomes difficult.
And we grow more unhappy, we do not relish failure as we do success. Winning is everything.

  And as the time passes, the mind accumulates more and more memories, more data, more information, more memories, and the body becomes weary. And we remember the yesterdays of youth and we are dissatisfied with the present state of affairs, we want the yesterday to be the present. We want the power of the youthful stature to be with us a little longer, so we can play a little longer, we can succeed a little longer. But, alas, it is tomorrow, and we have to live with the memory of yesterday in the body of today knowing that tomorrow will be the less and less of the yesterday. The person whom we were will drift away and all we shall have is the dream of yesterday.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Dear Diary, 7.19.12

   Today is a glum kind of day. One that has little physical or mental activity. The heat is cooking everything inside and out. The little left that is green has turned under to reach the ground from whence it came. The little wildlife left is scrounging the dirt coming closer to the house. The bugs and mice are beginning to come inside in search of food. The cats stand a vigilant watch. The birds have moved north in search of seed. The hum of the a/c is now a drone the buzzes continually singing the song, "wait til the bill comes in baby", then the diet will be for the birds. Right now, the whirr of the forced air seems to be the gerbel running the wheel going no where. The thermostadt is low enough to produce a sweat if there is any exertion. The dust is being pulled through the walls placing a light silt on the furniture, changing the brown to white. I'll let is stay awhile, looks like new. The air is filled with the fine mist of earth that has nothing to cling to. Pictures of the dust bowl come to mind. The house was painted on the outside last year, hope it will stop a bit of the land from moving within.

   It is a listless yoke possessing the town, little but essential traffic, not even a visit to the old watering hole can get us out. The heat sways the air. Somewhere there is activity, somewhere it is cooler than here, somewhere, someone, some ones are busy with the activity of life. The nonsense of everyday chores, not here.

   Much to do, so much to do. Just sitting here thinking about the air. The inside of my nose is so dry it feels like it is outside. Yesterday a bug tried to get to the last of the moisture in my nostril. Then  the giant claw swatted the critter into oblivion.

  It is not Friday. If it were Friday it would seem like there was an end in sight. Three minutes of rain this morning is all we got to the storm prediction. Must carry on with life. They say that every person needs, or uses, thiry gallons of water a day, for grooming and consumption. 'Must think about a way to reduce that amount, must conserve, must watch the water, must be careful, must watch the levels.' Sponge bathe, sink soak the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, no dishwasher prewashing, soak it. vacuum the dust instead of washing it. Another drone to listen to, the vacuum injesting the dust of outside, that has been sucked inside. The outside moving inside.

  We had brown outs the day before yesterday, five blinks in a row, then five more. If the power goes, the water goes, the well pump won't work and we will have to rely on the bottled water we have for emergencies. Water to keep the toiet clear, and water to drink.

  It has been months, the heat, oppressive, intensive, scalding, beating down, day after day, the brilliant sunshine bleaching the horizon, leeching the green to a pale yellow. The cows are in trouble, less for them to eat, winter wheat. The farmers horde saved for the snow, rolling out to lay before the beasts of beef, months before their time.

  Solar panels would suck in some of the sun, wish I had some. Now all there is to do, is to think safety, and carry on with the day. Do something useful. Do something to distract. Do something.

  I will wash my face, and save the water in a bucket to throw on the floor in the basement to help keep down the dust, until the rains come.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Things and Stuff

All the things I put in the way
All the Things I have to do
All the Things

Things and stuff
             is what we're all made of
The Things with which
             we don't know  what to do
The Stuff we have to put away.

Two abstract terms
To explain, what fills my life.

Stuff the Thing in there.

Where did you put my Stuff.

How much was that Stuff.

I bought a great Thing today.

The bag was filled with Stuff.

There's more Stuff, if you want.

That Stuff is beautiful.

Where did you get that Thing.

I'll trade my Thing for that Stuff.

I found that Thing in my drawer.

I got some Stuff in my eye.

Stuff it in your ear.

I'll watch your Stuff.

Where did you get that Thing.

Some Things are more important than others.

What kind of Stuff do you do.

Where does that Stuff come from.

I'm sick of this Thing.

What are you gonna do with this Stuff.

Did you bring the Thing.

What did you do with the rest of the Stuff.

You know a lot of Stuff.

Get rid of that Thing.

Stuff and Thing
Two great words having many meanings for many people.
They join the club of meaningless Things.
A great coverup for the words we don't know, or the
truth we don't want to say.

Stuff and Things are the places I hide, locking inside;
         what I really want to say.
So people can think whatever they may.

Stuff this Thing in the circular file.

Friday, July 6, 2012

The Big Melon is Gone

Dawn, the darkness is drifting west, before the sun rises to scorch the land. Water whatever is left in the garden. Whatever the deer and the racoon have not feasted upon. The sweet peas, the green beans, the tomatoes, the flowers. The oppressive heat persists. One hundred five and counting.

There is one tomato plant that the deer haven't been able to reach, it is alone with its flowers, sitting in the pot with the bird house. Too much in the way for the face of the deer, perhaps, one tomato will grow, perhaps we will get to eat one tomato grown from the garden and not bought from the farm stand. Everything was planted early. The mild winter made it easy to work the land. We were pleased. Then the rain, gentle, yet enough to cut the hay early. All the farms were busy cutting hay, the view of the rolled bales of hay, dotting the landscape, the sign of productivity, activity and diligence. Then the sun began to warm the ground, and the rain ceased. And the heat continued into the nineties for days and days. And still no rain. The gardens were still flourishing. Flowers were crowding budding and blooming. Bright colors, reds and purples mixed with yellow and orange. And the heat continued. At dawn, out to water, before the scorch of the sun, before the bake of the day.

And then, the deer and the racoon came closer and closer, eating everything to the length of a crew cut. The gardens trimmed to the height of nine inches, enough for the plants to continue to grow. Nothing for us to pick, they beat us to it. The berries too, the birds got there first, on the morning we went to pick.

And yet, the little there is we continue to water, the few flowers that have not been eaten. One hundred five, soon we will no longer water, soon we will conserve water, soon if we are lucky it will rain. The pond is two maybe three feet lower, the fish may get too warm, they too are staying still, can't even catch a one, maybe it is too hot even to swim.

At dawn again today, out to water the little bit of flowers, the little bit of food. They even like cucumber. And oh no, the pretty big melon that we were watching grow, we thought it was hidden, out of sight. They found it, and now the big melon is gone. Maybe it was the racoon.

Thursday, July 5, 2012


Giggle is the word that makes one smile
it is  cute
better than chuckle
chuckle is the jelly candies that are red yellow green and orange
covered with coarse sugar, it is the sweet that sticks to the teeth but yet we eat.

giggle, little children, at innocence, love to giggle
it is a belly erruption that has a satisfaction without indulgence
it does not overtax
nor does it assume more than a momentary attention
we giggle with pleasure
we giggle with a smile
we giggle without reserve

it is a special condition
to giggle

it has an impish tone to it
a relief that surprises
it is like a hug throughout and within
giggle wiggle.

A giggle may be better than a laugh. Oftentimes we laugh at ones demise, but a giggle has no bitter end to it. It is a personal pleasure that costs no one anything. It is a freebee.

Giggle, can you remember the last time you giggled, that silly little erruption you enjoyed, and it lightened your spirits and perhaps lightened your weight. It reduced the heaviness that accompanies age. It makes one feel young again, and is at no ones expense.

So, giggle a little for me, and giggle a little for you, and enjoy a giggle on the house, to giggle, to smile, to giggle.

And then giggle again.
giggle a good giggle, it will let you feel young again.  

Tuesday, July 3, 2012