Now

 Well this is the beginning of the 'dying time'. Already we have heard of one death and await the notice of the other two, since they usually occur in threes. The mood is sombre. It is also a good thing that it is the time of celebration. Guess the founding fathers, tsk tsk, thought of everything. Keep people celebrating so they can weather the storm. In the darkness of winter, find a good excuse to celebrate. If it rains celebrate, if it does not rain celebrate.

  Someone suggested a special thank you for care givers. Thank you to all of you who care for someone. You make their lives less lonely and give them reason to smile. Since they are unable to make it on their own, they feel that they are burdens, the less you make them feel as though they are the weight of the world the more they will be able to feel good about themselves. Yes, we know it is a tireless endeavor but it gives the community a sense of oneness. It connects us all by the care we share.

  Death may not be really a finality, it may just be that they no longer are able to speak to us. They may be here watching and have no voice. That would be a kicker. That would be total helplessness, being here with us unable to effect any change.  Maybe that is why they call it hell.

  We all think about death, our own. It is the end of the body, we have not idea what happens to the mind. Religions make up their own ideas as to what will happen, like the virgins who will service the warriors of Islam. That is a really good sales pitch for young men at puberity. It gives their mind something to distract them while they blow up somebody else. Like the crusades of old, there are promises of rewards. And sex is a good control mechanism.

  And now that we have introduced the idea of the end of the life of the body, lets get on to the reality of living. Quality control,you might call it. Even if you are just blowing your nose, do it the best you can. Living life to the fullest is merely doing your best, being your best. It does not have to break sales records, or world records, only the few get that honor. It is just being able to live with yourself. Even at your laziest, do it the best. Don't do it half hearted. Then there will be no regrets. The if only tyranny of life. if only I made the bed, I'd be able to go to sleep now instead of having to sleep on the mattress or stay up longer and have to throw the sheets on the bed.

  Now is the only chance you get to make yourself happy, there is only right now. this very instant, there is no past there is no future. There is only right now, so don't waste it on pettiness, make it bestness.

Dear Diary, 11.25.12

Dear Diary,

    The year is almost over, another month and it will be twentythirteen. I wonder how difficult it will be for all those people who are supersticious about the number thirteen.

Well, we have the man who will be president for the next four years. Will the congress work with him to make some positive changes to put people to work. If history repeats itself, the government will order some public works projects to repair some infrastructure. The Super Sandy storm created some jobs. The east will be busy repairing the damage. The trees, if we are lucky, will be replanted. They are so important to add some beauty to the crowded streets.

When there was the ice storm in Springfield Missouri and many of the trees froze and broke and uprooted, they removed them. The view became sky and houses and streets, and cars, that was it.

We had a very nice thanksgiving, even though I made a mistake and let the turkey defrost too early. I had to cook the turkey on monday and had to make do with sliced turkey on thursday. The apple pie came out great.

Celebrations are so important, especially before the winter doldrums. We can look back on the fun we had, while we wait for the sun to return.

Thanksgiving is my most important holiday. It gives us the opportunity to truly look at our lives and acknowledge all of our successes. It is the time when we reflect upon our choices. Choices are the things we have to live with. If we make a mistake and choose the wrong thing how do we correct or accept the consequences.

I am one of those persons who learns from my mistakes. Most of the time I choose the wrong thing and then have to make the most or best of it. It is like choosing to go left or right. Left is filled with dilemas and right is the smoothe road. I always choose left, it looks right to me. Funny how I always do that, maybe it is because I am left hand dominant. Left to me, is always right.

We celebrated that we are all safe. No longer do we take that for granted. The danger that is ever present has us on guard.

Things will become more difficult. There are too many people in the world , unemployed or underemployed.

The problem is the boom bust economy. There are only so many cars a person can buy, or homes, or toys, or things. Charity does not really work. People would prefer to earn their own. Some persons think it is owed to them, those are the ones who are what one might call lazy. They expect everything to be handed to them. Those are some of the residents of the many prisons. Jail is a better word to use. It is the place where society puts all those individuals they neither have the time the resources or interest in adapting or converting to society's rules.

But many of those in jail are the product of the war on drugs. Drugs is money in somebody elses hands. If drugs like pot were legal there would be other accepted wealthy individuals in society. Now those drug lords are persona non grata and they live below the edges of 'the right' people.

But that is another industry which would see layoffs. Prison guards abound. And what would those persons in prison for drug offenses do when they got out. There are no jobs for about twenty million, that would add about another million with out jobs.

But we all know what will happen. There will be a war, somewhere, where all those unemployed persons can go to get shot, and either get buried or move on to veterans hospitals, another industry which will employ.

The population growth must be delt with, all those mouths to feed. And the greedy don't give a dam. They only know that they want it all. So in the new millenium we are still the same. It will take generations to adapt to a better way of living. Johann Guttenberg made things better, so did the computer, and Bill Gates with Microsofts software. Now all we have to do is bring the poorest of us, up to the standards of being alive, instead of trying to survive.

I am grateful that I have the opportunity to think, about these things and others, I wish I had some answers to make things better. I hope I am not one of the individuals that make things worse.

Yours truly.
miceLLe

ciao!

It is summer in autumn or is it spring
there is a second blooming for the flowers
they think it is spring, they have finally had a long drink

The leaves that have not fallen from the drought
are red orange brown yellow and green with patches of red

It is autumn at the top of the garden
the trees are acting as they should
pumpkins have appeared at the stores
with the mums they bring cheer

Ladybugs(beetles) hug the windows
waiting for a chance to come in
to rest to go dormant
to wait for the next spring

The flutter of their wings make them easy to spot
as they approach their landing
close to the warmth

Chimes hum with the breeze that rustles the leaves
an echo of ommmmmmmm
singing praise to the puffy white clouds
the tufts of cotton sitting in the sea of blue
the palest of blue
a soft fabric of sky
giving smile to the eye

All is peaceful and calm
save for the rustling of the leaves
and again behind is the tic of the clock
the reminder of time
the time that was not there
before the sound touched the ear
only the chime, the leaves rustling
and a single bird chirping near

The branches of the trees are waving
farewell adieu
hugging the sun
which will soon disappear

A sunday in autumn
peaceful and calm
a sun day with the leaves
to soon disappear

happy sun day
happy cheer
a peaceful calm day
over here
I hope it is the same
over there.

Autumn from the porch

A ride in the country

   Sprinkles of rain greened the fields, showing signs of spring in September. Along with the sprouting hay seen from the road, were cows, new herds to graze the land. Just as the green popped so too was cattle of every color. Further along the road where the fields faded into brush and trees the road forks over a stone bridge that traverses a still dry creekbed. Here the road has been gravelled. With each passing vehicle the white dust brushes up and kisses the trees. Almost the snow scene of winter except for the leaves on decideous trees, and the patches of goldenrod glistening in the sun. It feels as though it is the beginning of spring, rather than the entry into autumn.

The dry summer slowly fades from memory until the sight of a dry pond that is being excavated to a larger size in the hopes  of hitting an underground spring or a large enough size  that will sustain a small herd through tougher times and not go dry.

There is little to no industry here, mostly small scale farming and a few of the chicken barn operations, Tyson signs warn of the scent of excrement, large metal buildings usually four but as many as twelve in one confined area, where the lights can be seen on through the night and the stench waifs the air for miles.

Further into the road is less rural, somewhat primative, dust covered mailboxes mark the site where cars turn off to a pathway to a homesite, buried deep within the woods. Even here though are the familiar signs of civilization, beer cans and the paper debris from a meal provided by the golden arches.

There is a stone and wood log home with blue barrel halves filled with earth and plants blooming, herbs spices vegetables and flowers, an oasis of activity all neatly tended.  A place someone calls home hidden with the trees kissed by nature and hugged by homeowners who are happy to be here.

  
   Pulled a dead deer out of the pond, today. It probably died last night. There were hundreds of flies on its back, its eyes were bulging, mouth open with tongue sticking out. Had to walk knee deep into the pond to tie a rope around its neck. It looked at me with one eye. It was floating. Attached the rope behind the truck and slowly pulled the dead carcass up the ledge that surrounds the pond on one side. When the deer was near the wood side I cut the rope. It was now turned over. The part of the animal that was in the water was pinkish, not the light brown of the deers coat. It was a bit swollen, didn't look swollen when it was in the pond but now it looked chubby. There was a white foam around the lips. it must be expelling gas because although there were no visible wounds the odor was that of decay. It is now on the edge of the woods waiting for all the carrion and critters to come to feast. At least it is out of the pond and the fish have a moment of ease.

GoOGLe

common man becomes uncommon
the world at his feet
the knowledge of generations
generations of knowledge
every where
every thing
and life has been forever changed

little bits of yesterday
lots of tomorrow
dreams
wishes
wonders

gOOgle
 the all seeing eye
gave us the tool
GOogle gave us the opportunity
go where we choose
to use our minds
to expand our horizons

to give ourselves a glimpse
of greatness
of struggle
of weakness
of glory
of all the challenges

and our hearts are bigger
our minds richer
and our spirits enlightened

one algorithm
changed the planet
the rapier
to eradicate ignorance
to wipe out fear

and the fearful
with the ignorant
fight the knowledge of change
or the change of knowledge
and try forever to bury us
in the desert of despair
the emptiness
of control through
suppression

Without the song of the spirit

the land of gOOgle

is no mans land

and noMAN is lost in the desert
if ignorance and want
living with fear and greed

without the algorithm of
GOOGLE
we are adrift in a sea
aboard a ship
with no rudder
with no oars
with no direction
with no where to call home
merci.


i


 

Dry

Leaves clap with the breeze
A chime resonates
percussion
ears vibrate
message to brain

birds hop through leaves
travel to parched dry lawn

Stillness
hot summer day
a hushed melody
heat sings into night

Distant pond shrinks
cowering from heat
shoreline reaching,stretching
fish hurry to cooling depths.

ticks slow

I did not die today
I don't know why

maybe tomorrow
when then I will
I shall
but
until then

Live I will
and go on
with life
as does one
awaiting to die

There is much to be done
in the meanwhile
papers to sort
to put ones life in order
not to leave the mess for others

In doing so
it is difficult
as the proccess begins
there is courage and purpose
get the job done
sort through
put things in order
discard the irrelevant

And then
one old magazine discarded
old bills discarded
old note reminder to buy milk discard
birthday card from him, ah, a sweet memory
put it on the side, to discard after

papers to keeo, medical bills paid
medical records of tests results
bank statements keep
another card, ah, she is such a good friend
we have been through much hardship together
it is feels good to know we have a friendship
that has lasted the years, her children are
grown with children of their own
odd to think she, a granny

The time it does fly
her card is like a hug
felt from all the miles by

Names addresses and phone numbers
those we knew, before they died
why keep those
I often wonder why
and then I remember
so i won't forget
when i want to remember their names
and i can't recall
I have a place to check
because I want to remember
who they are
that were in my life
all the years that so quickly went by

When living
at times
the clock ticks slow
and we wait for the time to go
till the time we want for the clock
to stay still, a moment longer
stop, stop
let this moment last longer

The time that passes
we judge and vote
to let it go
to keep it close
the time of our life
Oh, where did it go.

Moving

   When it is time to move on the past moves to the present
Packing one box of memories brings forth yesterday
The gift you got when you got engaged, one of which got broken
The gift from a parent
The gift you inherited
The thing you bought when you went on vacation that time
The time you really enjoyed yourself with the person no longer alive

You are still in the room with the box and wrapping paper, only one shelf's worth of memories are safely packed in the box
And already there is a melancholy of fatigue

All the time travel to all those places with all those people whom you knew who are no longer here

And the things that have collected dust, that you haven't looked at in months that you never use, that you will have no room for in the new place,
And yet, it is difficult to part with those links to the memories of who you were
Before you are who you are
And you should part with them
But maybe you don't want to
You are not ready to let them go
Those ghosts of yesterday that make you feel the feelings you felt then
That you do not feel now

The feelings of youth
The feelings of newness
The feelings of discovery
The feelings of playing

And the box is half full and the fatigue has slowed you down
You look at the cabinet and the shelves yet un packed
And the mind flashes to the closets waiting with their things to go

And it is time to sit and rest
The rest of life is still going on
And it is time to close  the past
To prepare a meal of the present.

2012 Olympics

  It has been a few days since the close of the London Olympics. An we are  still disappointed by the performance NBC did not do. Once every four years hundreds of nations join together to give their young people the opportunity for an international competition. This is a chance for all the peoples who are represented at the games, to share pride, anticipation, and joy. That they all contribute their time and dollars to 'play' the games.

  England and all her people, as China four years ago, made the effort to show the world a good time, and that they did. What of it we saw.

  NBC could have shown us the people, they could have shown us the other medal winners from the countries who only sent a few athletes, and the countries that won their first ever Olympic medals, but instead they opted to show us Mary, Bob and other NBC staff, as if we have not seen enough of them.

   Then, there was the lack of information, like with the Equestrian competition. They once in a while told us that a horse was gelded but not where it came from, Arabia, England and so forth. How high they jumped, is that the way it always was, how about some history?

   NBC really went on the cheap, instead of showing us an international event they chose to stay with the home time, the English and the Chinese, DUH! there were more countries competing. And the opening ceremony was washed over, and the closing ceremony was shown from the blimp with the lights in the stadium the star attraction. What a waste of energy. England should especially be annoyed with NBC, all the volunteers who dedicated themselves to putting on a good show, that we never saw. Even the diving stunk.

  Even their writers are tired, with dumb dialog stating nothing to give perspective or history or charm or interest to the games. We saw lots of parents of the American athletes, who cares. We came to see the Olympics, when will they show us the Olympics. If this was the ancient games at Greece or Rome, they, NBC would have been fed to the lions, instead, they will get to do the winter Olympics and Rio.

olympics 2012

Oh NBC, there is a whole world out there
and yet you choose not to show us
There are other stars
other winners
other people
yet you care not for geography
your writers are tired
they keep telling the same story
and we hear and see no more
tis a pity
such a waste
thousands of people
and all you show us is nbc.

tolerance

     The 2012 London Olympic match of Serena Williams and Maria Sharapova. Another reminder of the inequality.

      A technician who excels is a pleasure to watch, to dream we are the star. We are in the competition using all our wits to win the day. We make believe we are in the thick of it, that we have prepared, invested the time it takes to be the best. We make believe we had the resources, the team to back us up, the strength of will to persist through the physical test, that our commitment is equal and surpassing the opponent.

     We dream about being the star, internationally renowned, recognized instantly. The thoughts of the days, shining brightly, working towards a goal that is achievable, being the best.

      And once every four years we imagine that it is us with the camera following. And we enter the arena, ready to battle. The past four years we have prepared, spent the time to hone our skill to meet the challenge.

      We are on foreign soil, representing our nation, one of the few,' the chosen, the proud '. We are anxious. The years spent fine tuning the focus, devotion, poise, strength, skill, polish. All of it, we have everything to be the greatest in the world. And we enter the arena.

      And when we win, they bow to us, they salute us, they honor us, rewards, recognition, accolades, every gift imaginable has been laid at our feet. We have earned our place at the top of the ladder, the head of the table, first in line. And no one can take that away from us, 'we are the champions', at fifteen at sixteen at thiry one, we won, and representing the country, all the people, everyone. We have made it a success for every person in our nation, big and small short and tall, mothers fathers, sisters brothers, good guy bad guy, each and every one of them. We did it for them, and we did it for ourselves. We were driven, we were pushes, we were there, and we won.

     And everybody is happy, everybody on our team, everybody that rooted for us feels sooo good, and we did that, we worked so hard for so long to make so many feel so good.

     And our manners don't matter, they did not and do not care, that we are out of control in our social skills. They make excuses for how we act. They overlook that we are rude crude selfish and ill mannered. They let us get away with everything because we are their only chance at winning and they want to feel to know what it feels like to win. The 'common man' wants to know what it is like to be a star and if they root for us, and we win, they get a little glimpse at what it is like to reach the top, and it makes the rest of their day tolerable.

It is the middle of the night
a time of quiet
when all are asleep
the place of repose
the place of replenish
the body working to repair and rebuild.

The moon light the sky
The air still, filled with the remnants of the heat of the day
All is quiet

Stillness echoes the tick
 the sound of the  clock marking the passage of time, it bounces off the walls singing the chorus, time, time, timmme
 the clack of the keyboard the base backup softening the echo  to a hum.

The cats are returned from the prowl, they have finished eating their fill for the fuel they need to keep them too in a place called sleep. They are resting, grooming each other, purring the pleasures of comfort, the security of indoors, each other, and the leather love seat where they found their favorite groove of repose.

The kitten  we call boots, still uncontrollable with his aggression, still learning his feline ways has just disturbed the peace.
He begins to jump and play at the game of attack, he rises straight up in the air like a Mexican jumping bean or a kid on a trampoline.
Gus, the elder of the two, wants no part of of the game, strolls away from the center of the stage and finds another resting spot, away from the bouncing baby kitten.

The August moon sits high, it lights the landscape, with soft shadows of dusk, the eyes can see afar and the night seems like day, letting the eyes view the hidden time, the hour of night when the creatures of the hour share the horizon as their domain, and no one interrupts. It is their arena, and they are free to roam to travel their territory to do whatever it is that they do. And there are no eyes on them, it is their tennis court, their hour on the field, their place and hour, and the moon lights the path and maybe changes their manner, on this moonlit night.

The stillness marks the surroundings, the fireplace more noticeable, it appears larger, more massive, closer. The fan overhead rolls with a silent whirr as the reflection of light spins with the shadows. The reflection of paddles softly wave images rolling in a circle on the ceiling.  The dancers are twice the measure they are reflecting the maidens tip toe with the sheer fabric anchored in their fingers, the ballet of the maidens of the fan waltzing in the night, they fill the roof of the room bringing the ceiling closer, beckoning, inviting the mind, to join with its steps in time.

Now the walls are calling.  Each painting animates, awake in the stillness, yawn, stretch, alive.

Can you hear the sound of the river by the cabin in the woods as it rushes to its destination down into the valley.  It is flowing at its pace with its partner, gravity, travelling, a journey. They have little notice of the scenery their interest only in the going, they, always together, must keep going.

Heard by the trees, those, the constant spectators, is the ripple and splash, ripple and splash, as they look to the snow capped mountain away in the distant memory of the rivers past its star of the start .  It could be day or night, there are clouds masking the time, anytime, day or night . If there is smoke coming from the cabin's chimney it is hidden by the rooms dim light, and I can not recall if there is a  fire or not. I shall wait for daylight.  There is too much magic to turn on the overhead lamp.

The queen, an African, reigning on leather with a background in earth tones holds court at another wall.  She is her alert usual self. She  reigns with no opinion, neither happy nor sad, regal in posture, elegant and noble.

Sitting below the queen, two small landscapes, with fir tree focal points, stars,  separate from the group, alone in their sphere. It is  always winter in these scenes, cold, even though there is no snow, always a chill.

Near the cabin in the woods is a chrysanthemum. A painting larger than the others, with the center of the mum filling the painting. A brownish beige with white reflections of petals.Look again at the shadows from the fan.  It is the only painting in the house that the housekeeper remarks about. She  crooks her neck and looks at it. First standing in one spot, then another. She comments about her eyes always seeing it in a different way. It seems to be growing on her.  She is not sure why.

An abstract pony rides alone on another wall. The neck stretches upward  raising the head with strong muscle, a stance that evokes ancient memories of wild mustangs free to roam, standing at the mountaintop, silhouettes  against the sky and the air and the ground.

There is a chalk of fruit in burnt oranges on a table that is anyones. It is near the larger still life, a classic of flowers in vase with splash of pink that brighten the panelling. Nestled between them  two abstracts of sombre colors, pictures that you stare at, not knowing why and what one is thinking, the out of mind experiences, the trips to other galaxies, comfortable besides the  bowl that has holes in it. Little craters of netting or a netting of craters, it would not be good to hold food, definitely a no to liquid, it would be lost forever. Would we have to use the brass door nob besides it. It was a gift, years ago, presented by a scant acquaintance. It is an official bank door knob from Wall Street. A large triangle with the door knob at the center. It is on the wall now to remind us to keep opening doors instead of closing them. It did not work rather well as a paperweight.

The two Japanese prints have villages, walkways and rooftops nestled on a mountainside. A dense population rendition of life in Japan. It is done with fine lines, and soft hints at color. A genteel view of a community of friends and neighbors. A tranquil scene,  of a peaceful place.

RELIGION

   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!

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.
    

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.

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
nirvana
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