Urban's Blog, Current Writing and Occasional Rant

Silent thoughts in flight

2011-06-11T13:18:00.000-07:00

Somehow
Find it in your heart
To forgive
someone in late seasons,
enchanted by flowing hair gleam beauty,
And laughing smile
Stepped as sweet ginger, a foolish youth.

My heart sang when morning woke
With texts buzzing of Hola.
You are innocent.

I stumbled to a sirens song
sung in my dreams
Paid out in dim hotels,
played out in dim rooms
until I crashed on rock
Of my own design.

A friend is wonder and joy infinite
Who lasts longer than love's song.
I am spiced with joy,
Knowing a friend, who brings
Such a smile to my mind;s eye.

If my utters shamed,
Accept my bowed head
And please let me beg
Your friendship.

Sitting in Shreveport

2011-01-30T10:13:00.001-08:00

Sitting in Shreveport
outnumbered, pretending to be Southern
wondering what happened to my world.
Listening to Lightfoot and wanting to be French
I realized that is what drove me away.
My past keep moving while I sat in my future
Everybody moved and I was gone.

Sitting in Shreveport,

watching women drink and spend death money
crying and raping me until I could not move.
(I painted the walls terracotta, adding brass wherever)
Until I burst and ran.
and my past kept moving on past me.

When I saw Rocky on the Wheel,
it started to trickle back,
Don't worry she whispered, It's my husband, he's a cop
and again I pulled away.
and another dozen trips around the Sun and a billion time miles
passed.
It is late and I still can't remember why I was sitting in SHreveport.
But digital miracles, tiny byte vines are weaving,
and it clears
and with the infinite in sight
my past again paints my future
it is warm inside

I wished I knew John Lennon

2010-12-08T17:39:00.000-08:00

I wished I knew John Lennon
seeing the universe through his eyes

I wished that I had gotten close enough
to touch his coat and hear the words from his breath.

I wished I knew John Lennon, smoking tea 'round a warming fire
losing my selfishness and finding my self.

I wished we all knew John Lennon
and the World would live as One

I must be a bad American

2010-11-03T09:15:00.000-07:00

I must be a bad American

I must be a bad American. Really bad. And I must not be very bright either. How was it so easy to delude me into thinking that We the People could have hope and change in America by just voting for a man that gave the impression of intelligence with well-chosen words and whose promises of a better America provided me with comfort.

I must be a bad American.

When Glenn Beck and Shaun Hannity and Bill O’Reilly spewed division and fear, when they warned us of this Socialist Muslim extremist who wanted to be our Leader, I didn’t listen. I just thought they were doing a job, like Rush to earn their bloated salaries. I never saw the connection between Karl Marx and the Health Care program, Reverend Wright and the terrorists, and the damnation of our great-grandchildren’s savings and the Stimulus.

I saw a President that promised protections from corporations that were more concerned with profits and could no longer drop us from health insurance if we actually got sick. I saw an American nation that was regaining respect on the world stage after eight years of embarrassment and the re-building of our Constitution and Bill of Rights. I held out hope that we could actually move forward on reducing dependence on foreign oil by implementing massive changes to infra-structure and promoting the development of new forms of energy.

I must be an idiot.

Rush and Bill and Glenn and Shawn and Mr. Boehner and Mr. Canter and Mr. McConnell warned us that it was wrong to bill an oil company for destroying our Gulf shores, warned us that it was wrong to protect us from the excessive rates of Health Insurers and the costs of prescription drugs. It was wrong to follow a known terrorist, a mocking effete scholar of laws and the Constitution, it was wrong to be guided to an American future by a black man who surrounded himself with the best and the brightest minds of the Country with a common set of goals: Rebuild America and plot a course filled with hope and prosperity for all.

Boy, was I an idiot.

I must be a bad American.

I thought I was seeing through the Corporately financed “Grass Roots” movements that presented political candidates that I thought would be laughed off the stage when they proposed ending Health Care, stopping Social Security, revoking the Civil Rights bills of 1964, called masturbation a sin, rejected evolution, insisted that abortions even resulting from rape or incest should be banned. Yet these people received votes, millions of votes and in some cases even won their elections.

I was so wrong.

I must be a bad American.

I didn’t listen when Michele Bachman warned us that our president was building re-education camps to brainwash the right into becoming progressives. I didn’t listen when Sara Palin and Chuck Grassly warned us of Death panels. I was shocked the Mr. Boehner passed out payments from Tobacco lobbyists on the floor of the House of Representatives to Congressional members loyal to the fight for Tobacco company’s rights. How could I have challenged the vision of Sara and Michelle and Christine and all the others that warned me that the graduate of Columbia and Harvard wasn’t even born in America and did not have the best interests of a better time, a post-war 1950’s America in mind when he laid out his schemes while living in Islamic Madrassas for Extremists and committing to memory the teachings of Global Left Wing Extremists.

I was so wrong and today I realize that I must be a bad American.

When Sharron Angle ran against the demon of Nevada, she recommended “Second Amendment remedies” or the taking up of weapons when the “people” did not get their way in the election. I must be a bad American, because the thought of correcting the wrongs that happened last night with “Second Amendment remedies” by settling these problems once and for all with guns and head crushing Rand Paul style violence has not even crossed my mind this morning.

How could I have been so wrong?

When did I forget and lose my way? I am obviously way out of touch with America. I must turn off the TV or at least change the channels from that damn PBS, MSNBC, CNN, History Channel to sitcoms, Reality shows, Bowling, Fox News and dance competitions.

I have been brainwashed and I must regain my America so that everything thing that happened last night will seem OK. I know I will feel so much better. I didn’t even smoke pot anyway and never was a big fan of soul music or cous cous or intellectuals or European clown cars anyway.

I will really try hard at becoming a better American. If you can help me on my way, please let me know.

Communiqués from the Front

2010-11-01T19:18:00.000-07:00

Communiqués from the Front

by Stuart Welch on Thursday, November 4, 2010 at 7:08pm

Communiqués from the Front

Dear Facebook Family,

I am getting some weird info or intel from some friends outside of the US. It appears that there has been some sort of takeover of the radio and TV stations in Nevada and Florida. There has been some gunshots heard, some automatic weapons fire but there has been no interruption of the broadcasts on either media. There are confirmed dead, mostly staff. No one has rushed the broadcast floor as of yet.
My contacts have friends that are doing a project in Nevada and they are hidden in a storage area just outside the broadcast center. They are able to hear some sort of radio transmissions between these groups.
They are saying that the people who have taken over the station are dressed in military uniforms and appear to be Americans but they are not sure. After the first groups took over the broadcast centers, other troops appear to be going through Station files. They are wearing SAR patches on their uniforms.
This is a situation occurring right now. I will send more when I get my next contact.
11:57 Wednesday 2nd message
OK, the weird just turned weirder. Some people under guard have just been ushered into the Channel 13 Station in Nevada on N. Central. There appear to be 2 groups: the first group looks to be family members of the on air broadcasters. The people stowed away can see that the soldiers are standing just behind the cameras and pointing guns at the family members in sight of the people on camera. This is horrible.
There seems to be a news story on Cowgirls running at the station. No news of this has been released as of yet. I don’t see anything on the news here yet.
There is another person that has been brought in under guard but she seems to be in charge. Their contact recognizes the woman but don’t know her name.
More information as I get it
12:45 PM Wednesday 3rd Message.
Bad News, some of the people in hiding have been discovered and shot immediately. The remaining 2 contractors have managed to get into a crawlspace in the ceiling and made their way through the rafters. They saw into a conference room where it appears people are being questioned about their politics and if they are gay…If they are gay? Everyone is being held in the cafeteria except for a few people who have been taken into a facilty below the station.
I really doubt this is about Gays! This is just too big and organized. Does anybody else have any information. I tried to call the station but I got a recording.
Although they have not been able to escape (they almost got caught when they cell phone alarm rang), they can see that several people have been loaded into a semi truck just outside on the receiving dock.
We can only assume that the same actions are taking place at the other locations. One consultant heard a soldier say “Sharon said to take this group to Camp T as soon as we are done here.” About 60 people have been loaded into the truck. It must be horrible inside.
The 2 consultants are unable to get past the people posted at all of the exits. Some people on the streets, mostly Hispanics are being brought in and added to the people being held in the large meeting rooms. Whites and non-whites are being separated. These guys are definitely scared because they are from a group of IBM Pakistan consultants. They are definitely panicy.
Broadcasts are continuing as normal. The Noon News just wrapped up.

Is it possible some sort of uprising or military takeover is starting? I have heard rumors of camps being set up out in the desert not far from here but those people are usually written off as quackers.

I haven't heard anything for about an hour. I hope these people hiding out are OK.

1:10 PM

Short Message: There are definately people being taken away. More uniforms and automatic weapons are congregating. Some other people were warned by the consultants and went into hiding near the government buildings in Carson (Nev?) where they are definately rounding up people. The Neveda State website seems to be crippled. http://www.nv.gov/2003StateBldgs_Snow.htm And I have actually lost my web connection through my server. I am piggy-backing off of my neighbors server (he should know security better as he is/was Military Intelligence and leads a group of paranoids who are always writing about protecting us from the Invasion. Nice guy, but a little intense.

He has the same SAR logo on his server. Anyway, until I figure out what is wrong with my internet, I will continue to update this story.

I am finding each blackberry message harder and hard to believe. We have not heard anything about rounding up people off the street and semi's full of detainees being taken somewhere into the desert.

These people near the capital in Carson said these soldiers are tearing the place up looking for somebody or something.
All I can say is that this is weird. How come I can't find it on the news, even on the internet?? Anybody??

OMG, someone just ran accross North Carson and was shot by a sniper. What the hell is going on. Is this some robbery of something. The only thing I heard from Florida was about the TV station takeover and then no one has heard any other news.

I am going to try another contact I have in Neveda near Searchlight. He is a dealer (card not pot!) and usuall works nights so he is home during the day.
I will let you know as soon as I know.

Is anybody getting any messages on Facebook. It seems really slow...

1:22 Wen
Somebody just sent this note on an IM

Raggio NV Senate leadership under fire

and this attachment

http://www.ktvn.com/Global/story.asp?S=13442734
<span> </span>
Nothing in over an hour. I am not getting any responses from anyone. Is anybody out there. I am going to leave for awhile and log in at Starbucks. My postings are not even appearing on Susan's Droid.
I wonder what I am doing wrong.

I did hear from my friend in Searchlight. He said he woke up to the sound of helicopters overhead and some sirens but that is not unusual. The end of his street is blocked off but probably because of some domestic tiff out of hand!

I was surprized to find out that Harry Reid was a Searchlight resident too.

I am getting a lot of "Content not available messages on Facebook" They must be having a problem.

Like this
This content is currently unavailable

The page you requested cannot be displayed right now. It may be temporarily unavailable, the link you clicked on may have expired, or you may not have permission to view this page.

Return home

7:34 PM Wednesday

I have not heard any additional information except that internment camp are being set up according to information provoded by a member of Congree. It is possible that the SAR Military who have taken charge in parts of Nevada, Florida, Kentucky and Arizona has received the infomation from the Census Bureau and the FBI and are using the information to round up certain groups of people.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APnfPnqwv9c

I am amazed this is possible. It is amazing that the President with 40 Warships presumable for protection is heading towards Asia, specifically India. Supposedly, he is setting up some sort of remote Command Center at a location in India (this can be confirmed on the Internet!)

Folks, I don't know what is happening or what happened but it is obvious that given the millions of votes received by recent midterm candidates who informed the public that Sharia Law was being practiced in certain locations in the US, the abortions are to be refused even in the case of incest or rape, that the Civil Rights ACt of 1964 should be overturned, that we have the right and duty to use violence to overturn democratic elections if we do not get the results we want (Second Amendment Remedies! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tynfy7j7zSA )

There were millions of votes across the Nation from people that support the above and other extreme actions. You can accept this and watch their numbers grow at the next election and the next and the next or you can turn on the lights,and watch them scurry when they are exposed to the Truth, intelligence and chellenge them at every corner. The future of your COuntry is exclusively in your hands, You must take an active part or expect to wake up some day to find Extremists and the blazing barrel of a second amendment remedy.

Sometimes u just want to sit next to a camp fire forever

2010-09-05T19:54:00.000-07:00

Evening in a quiet wood

Moon wrapped round kindred souls

send our thoughts back to early day

of simple family and dreams of warmer time

Chill of winter, fur snugs shoulders

and light dances playful on walls of tree

ringing, walling us from the dark, the unknown of night.

and all is good for now.

Fear crawls back and sits weak on the edge

just out of out sight.

and all is good for now,

Sometimes u just want to sit next to a camp fire forever

On Knocking on the Wrong Door, 3 A.M.

2010-07-03T02:19:00.000-07:00

Were I to have told this tale with anything but a casual sense of woe, I would be accused by the reader of the most flagrant of lies. An overwhelming sense of dread, peppers my thoughts, causing my words to tremble with every breath. I sit on the precipice, no the iron railing of an ancient crossing, staring lost into the swirling black waters below and look for my answer to boil up, framed neatly in a white triangle from the base of a giant 8-ball.

"No", it says silently, "you must proceed."

And I search through my muddied past for thoughts, to jell and form cohesive into something blessed with logic that I can grasp. But it escapes and the pounding grows louder. I fear the thought will be vanquished and another white triangle appears in ghostly silence to offer some guidance down a foggy path.

"Pierce your vanity with desire" and it is gone again as quickly, as softly as it rose. What hand, what devilish scribe offers these signs to guide me. What am I to learn? Why won't someone just tell me: This is the way, this is the answer.

Where is the knock on the door at 3 AM, that startles you, raises fears only to find the visitor has chosen the wrong door. You are standing in night's chill, fear drains from inside and you realize, it has just been a mistake, a horrible and sad mistaken choice made by an unknown hand looking for somewhere you will never know. It was not suppose to happen. Somewhere, in some other empty room waiting, there sits another whose face turns towards the window sharply at every flash from the path below, who feels every creak in the walls and the disturbing brush of dry branches on the roof above. We have all been there. Alone in the dark, shrouded in late hour and later thoughts and have never felt so alone realizing we are alone always, whether in the brightest field or on darkest night. No one is there.

And if they are, they have approached the wrong door at 3 AM and they offer no solace.

And again, just before it settles back into the black from view, the words form then fade. "Save your fears, the Past returns" and inside the unsettling words churn deep. You feel the dull acid against your night emptied soul, or what you believe to be a soul. The Past returns. Was there something so wrong in the past that it returns to revisit? Did the past not accomplish fully what it set out do? Was there a window left unbroken, a wall left unscarred? You will be forced to live the past again, bound to a chair, watching the scene play out in the shadows on the ragged wall you face. You cannot close your eyes. The shadows still move and you are forced to stare blankly as it plays again and again and each time you have no more than you did before but part of you is gone.

What happened? Where did it go? Why are there only more questions and the darkness offers answers to question not asked? And yet again another surfaces " Reach out. There is only Time" and yet again "Fall back. Know it always ends this way" and finally as your thoughts bloat and refuse to see any further "Only listen to the song outside your window. Do not approach or it will leave you"

And as it leaves for the last time and you feel the ages close upon you and the Past scuttles away. It is quickly gone and for a moment all is quiet. You are puzzled that it seems you are continuously being bumped on the street. They mumble as they walk away. Waiting at your light, a car pulls alongside and you turn you head, They are all watching you. The car windows are stuffed with dead eyes, black and glistening and your light turns. In crowds, someone calls your name. You pause to look at empty faces. Your name fades into a thinning vapor and is gone. You move on and for just a moment, just a little longer than you should, you wonder.

The railing is cold now, its edge digs deep into your legs painfully dulling them. They are no longer legs able to storm off. They hang over the side like heavy anchors. Your hands feel the rough rust hard and crusted like tiny barnacles on ancient hull. Your body senses a swaying on the bridge as if the waters rushing below have become angry and impatient.

You know if you drop, each sensation will be sharp and distinct. For a flash, until you reach the water below, all will be empty, all of the weight of all of the questions will empty and fade for just a flash. And then the black and for a moment, you will snap cold and sense wet on your lips and brow. From beyond the black, as the chill turns to cold then to ice then to nothing, there may be a light. There may be a knocking on a door that startles you alone in your room at 3 AM.

Just taken from the News in May

2010-07-02T12:47:00.000-07:00

With some of the events that have taken place in Lahore in the last few days, I wanted to bring this piece up to the top.

I took a Daewoo bus
back to Lahore
feeling Tears and Joys for going
back to Lahore.
To the warmth of a home
and an empty field
there were few cheers going
back to Lahore.
There is Peace there now
said young Ibrahim
the eldest of six boys going
Back to Lahore.
A tourist unknown, from an oft traveled path,
dreams of the foods and the spirits leading
Back to Lahore.
Long life and prospers going
Back to Lahore.

May 4, 2009 8:28 AM

Youtube reading

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkBDleINsgM

Eskimo Vision

2010-06-30T16:29:00.000-07:00

I recently entered a little Haiku contest for King King Hollywod tickets to see Eskmo.
I won tickets earlier but can not use them and asked that they be giving to another needy person.
I want to win to do that again. My first Haiku

Eskimo Vision

.............

Like chill dream through night

sadness flees Eskimo rain bow

leaves carved child smile wide

My Muse asks: An Artist or Writer be?

2010-06-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

On reading this in early morn
of baby's face in muslim wrapped
and of question answered
and more question asked,
Squinty-eye, I read the tiny 'zine.
As my butterfly, my muse
danced joy outside my view,
my question came up.
Floated up slow a triangle formed
white on black
on 8 ball upturned.
Do I paint a story for all to see
or cloud and veil my words
so they treasures be?

One spirit sits begging Artist be!
One spirit begs for words that all can see.

Tell a story simple, say words true
or reach to the soul
looking in corners dark
for hidden scenes inside the goldmine
sometimes feeling snakes and vines other times.

Hidden scenes come quick and flee as fast
captured fleeting glimpse lit by lightning flash

but stories told emerge from the past
of melted toys and cowboy boots,
and Summer days to examine close
wandering through our images
captured in time, like mining memories
in a safer place, where coffee and time
define the pace.

And maybe the mine holds both treasures dear,
a flash of light with rush of wings unseen
then pausing to watch reflections in dreams

Painting Flashes deep, selling stories with a smile
is a question posed by my muse today.

And I will sit here waiting for both to appear wondering when I am writing which words do I hear? Am I thinking in lines measured with rhyme or sitting back to tell a story not worried by time.

I know nothing of Butterfly life

2010-06-16T14:35:00.000-07:00

Do Butterflies dream?
Where do they sleep?
Are they happy?

Do you see a butterfly?
If you see two butterflies together
are they happier than if they were alone?

Papa's

2010-06-08T13:49:00.000-07:00

...and when they came into Papa's on an Sunday morning, they knew what to expect: endless good coffee and cups of hot tea, fresh croissant and fresh jams and jellies from the local farms, eggs that just rolled out this morning. The waitress has a country smile and a neighbor says a good morning to anyone that can hear.

Somewhere there is music. The music that awaits them drifts back and forth from gentle guitars and morning classical music. The twang of electric guitars has faded away from the small stage of Saturday night.

The walls are alive with the colors from artists dreams. An announcement board, orderly and filled with local information and a calendar of upcoming performances, poetry open mikes and "quiet nights."

As you enter Papa's you can probably hear the rush of breezes in the pines and redwoods up the road and if the wind is just right, the gently clanging of the warning buoy out on the bay, just out the back. When you are on the balcony, enjoying a rich coffee, you can watch the seagulls hover in the breeze over the bay, byt he cliffs and get lost in an eternity of whitecaps that have help paint the landscape since before the beginning of time.

But what you really are aware of are the hearty smells of the soups, Can you smell the beefy vegetable, the fresh hand cut chicken noodle soup with just a touch of allspice to make it a little different.

In the afternoons, the menu is simple: sandwiches and freshly made soups, maybe a special or two in the evening, But what appeals to the locals that have come to love Papa's is that all the food, all the baked goods come from locally owned farms and homey bakeries, bee keepers and vegetables that grew in soil just a few miles down the road. The challenge for Papa is to keep the simple menu fresh with what juicy fruits and crisp vegetables are in season.

This place is a community and reflects the community it lives in. It is bright and fresh with ideas, warm with music art and poetry and filled with love and the people can feel it. It is alive because it lives in the hearts and minds of the owners. People come down from up north, out of the hills and pull off the highway, not only for the flaky croissants but for the people. It is the people that make Papa's

Papa lives.

Song outside your window

2010-06-08T12:37:00.000-07:00

(to a sad friend. I am sorry I could not make your heart smile)

To be sad in Paradise
To cry in Paradise
To listen to songs outside your window
running outside, to find the melodies gone,
Flown away is beyond me.

You are there in silence. With only an empty self.

Everyday is giggle and candied jells
Sweet fruit and blue sky
Clearblue to heaven
And below water laughs
And the romance of desert breeze holds you gentle,

Pushed away as if foul.

Yet you sit in darkness, embracing the darkness
Waiting for mutants
Attracting darkness and the mutants find you
You do not love yourself and the mutants find you
Cloaked in shawls of darkness, they paw you.

And your heart goes dark
And cold
And empty
And can not feed the soul

Are you deaf to air whispers of love floating ‘round you?

You run to the window and the melody flies away.

You hold sad like crystal, delicate and savory
Pushing away the blue for the blues,
Feeling scorching heat from the sun
And not warmth.

You run to Fantasy Land

You are there in silence.

Finding a spiteful dragon’s dank cavern

And you will still be there

******************************

You will never see the love, you will never feel the blue of the sky

and hear the undaunted warble song of a bird outside your window

until you learn to love yourself. You are a Goddess, blessed by the

Muse with the eye and the hand that captures soul but without the love,

you will remain wrapped in a shawl that offers no comfort but weights

heavy on your shoulders

The Early Hours of Desert Festival (WIP or Unfinished)

2010-05-21T15:38:00.000-07:00

Thursdays drive up to the high desert is filled with anticipation and speed along the I-10. The first climb to the Morongo is met with little resistance from my old bus. On the trails second and final climb to the high desert, a truck heavy laden with cement slows our climb and prepares us for the desert. You move slower in the desert. You conserve your energies because you know who is in control and you want to survive. After reaching the second crest, the challenge to reach the High Desert is nearly complete.

I arrive, carefully position my home with respect for the masters I will respect for the next four days: the wind, the heat and the sun. The encampment is assembled quickly and simple decorations of whimsy set out to adorn the shade structure we have built.

We meet Becky, then X-Ray David, new transplants to the High Desert from the lower cities round L.A. They smile broadly and wander the campground waiting.

As evening cool approaches, we explore and find the Astronomers, an unlikely crew of Star gazers, primed with beer, butchered vans and a trailer of equipment and telescopes that looked serious, seriously more than the price of my Saab.

They have been working to bring the universe in full color glory to an outdoor widescreen. Promises of “you are going to see the Crab Nebula like never before.” I never seen the Crab Nebula and maybe have never seen any Nebula. If something or someone was coming, they want to know.

They make me nervous because I am not sure they will warn me if they see blood thirsty aliens heading to the Earth off ramp, looking for a snack and bio break on the way to the Crab Nebula. I wander to leave.

Outside the fence that sequesters the merry band of desert skygazers from the festival goers, the sand path wanders past little gypsy galleries. Artists moved through their spaces silently, trying to catch some last whisper from their Muse on the right choice of color or flourish swirl or sparkle that somehow captures their soul spirit on every form of canvas laid out that evening in the desert.

Gaia sits tranquil by the banks of the tiny reed lake, awaiting just like everyone, for the arrival of the spirits, still sitting in LA traffic or behind desks in offices scattered throughout the lower lands.

We wander through the gates where the music magic will happen. The Hydration Station is primed and ready to relieve parched dancers. As it has at a hundred festivals before, the Java A Go Go is ready to deliver a boxers upper cut caffeine punch just as a festival fan wilts under the demands to wiggle or to clear a head fogged by unknown pharmaceuticals.

The Bowl stirs with antlike activity, long-haired carpenters nervously swinging hammers, laying cables, focusing flashing lights and lasers that will soon astound a thousand bouncing heads, a thousand bouncing fists raised high over the desert floor. A bassy thrill of Boom Wow blasts as they tweak the sound system. We leave ants to their finish work and soon discover that all the gates in and out of the festival have been given gate names : Floodgate, Watergate, Tailgate, Instigate and Tollgate. Ah organized festival humor. Past the gate, we head to an area loosely cordoned off with orange plastic roll fence. A man approaches, waving us back as we have found the only grounds where the festival goers will be forbidden to tread. As the young but gray haired man approaches he tells us that people, people actually live here in this conglomeration of tumbled buildings, left over brainstorms from fairs past.

As it was said, this is a place where things are brought whose sole purpose is to deteriorate under the desert sun and to be enjoyed as they do so, slowly but unforgiving under the desert sun. We visit exchange pleasantries, learn something of the past of Matt and move on. Later he is told, when comes to our camp, that it is likely he is being featured on America’s Most Wanted as it this a a corner of the planet they would never look. He laughed and moved on.

Friday morning begins as lavender mountains melt to gold. The last of the darks cool breezes return to hiding and the first tiny beadlets of sweat begin to appear. Coffee done, press washed, we wait in the narrowing shade for the tribe to show. All day, passerbys rumor of 3000 then 3500 people on setting their sights on this desert village. It will be beyond tight.

And then Charly walks by with pretty rocks and acid and I am struck with the simplicity of her youth and skin and Bowersox dreads. She pulls out a small black box and like a travelling nomad, carefully describes each colored stone, patient with an old man who has no intention to buy her other wares. Although I blush with feigned embarrassment in the heat of the mid morning sun, Diana tells her of her beauty and she accepts it as a child innocent. Her tiny breasts are round and unhampered and she acknowledge in graceful youth the approval of the elder women from a different age. She nods approvingly never intended to strap her body with bonds and corded girds. In a flash, she is gone, filled with free market, refreshed by a quick moment to cool with us in the shade.

Two butterflies flit dance unaware of the coming flame of the Sun. Tents stir and campers stand to escape the heat only to see the sun overhead already in control of the day.

Pop of a drum in the distance and rainbow flag flap in a narrow breeze.

As the day and heat expands, the tribe grows. Greetings are brief and all scramble to erect their homes, hoarding was shade the desert offers. In this distance, the music begins and the tribe and the other tribes begin to walk slowly towards the bowl. It is a special time when all who pass greet and share and and exchange gifts of smoke and advise of what is to come.

And with the slow parade to the bowl, the festival begins, dust rises, fragrant scents fill the desert area. The scene is primal, if you can see past the RV’s and electronic. The wind as it did in ancient times, moves the flags and carries the sounds of of the festival.

Sometime the next morning, the sun and the wind and the desert reminds us of where we are and who holds court. The tribe slowly gathers, eyes bleary to the smell of bacon and cold beer. They are ready to repeat what they have prepared for, they prepare for the night and the cool and the Boom Wow of the desert Festival

A request post mortem (To Susan)

2010-05-07T10:39:00.001-07:00

Little Bunny
When I die, my hands fall limp and still,
My skin to touch damp chill
Look to your warm heart
To fill these few post mortem requests.
On a chest that pressed against you
On arms that held you long
Have me tattooed with the grandest heart
And story of a lucky man,
Whispering your name so there is no doubt
Who you kissed in Dallas town so long ago
So many journeys round the Sun,
with two as one.
Paint my body with the story of Love.
Spray my body with your favorite scent,
Arrange my thinning hair as you like
Then just cut off a little piece
Maybe a finger that wore the gold
Maybe the ear, you kissed and stirred me.
Take me, everywhere
To scenes new and old
To the Pont Dauphine on the Seine
At night, when Paris lights twinkle
Or the base of the castle at Neuschwanstein
And pause for a moment while I look up
To share magic moments again
With you alone like no one else.
Take me to that snowy hillside in Vermont,
outside Woodstock where a single farmhouse
watches over white fields and the grey branches of trees
waiting for the love of warm Spring.
Take me to the sulfur color pools of Yosemite
Where you always wanted to go
Let me feel the magic inside they made you feel.
When I die, let it be known
Play music loud, swing round
With swirling colors dressed
Dancing like we mean it
Who loves you
and as long as the Sun warms
lives in you

Street Fair in Spring

2010-05-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

(We drove down to the World's LARGEST Street Fair in Carlsbad this weekend. Met friends and walked and ate and left with tired feet and a quiet ride home back over the mountain to the desert)

Street Fair in Spring

Cool morning start and comfortable shoes
Going to the Street fair.
Early morning Vendors cool buzz chat
Making rounds at the Street Fair.

Excited pockets, nervously empty ready
For ever, come to the Street Fair.

Sunglasses glisten Hollywood signs
Potters Pots thrown out back in a 1000 barns
Rainbow buckets of tie-dye hang on chrome metal racks
Sticky-buns, baked ready shiny sweet
Ready wait for the Street Fair.

Early morning Strollers pick at
Handpainted notepad, carved wooden duck rolling and
Sunglasses sunglasses sunglasses shield a million eyes
and rocks and stones and jewels shine hung on silver chains
Carved by unknown hand

Its handy, its magnetic
Makes it easy
Keeps on shining washable, You like?
Eyes question waiting for flash of green

And a bit of a chew
Of caramels from France and a dream of a place
Sets the People pace
to the Street Fair.

                       **************

Air warms and rolling padding feet as slap pace quickens, chat shortens
Repeat Incantations of can I help you can I help you
I only have one, this one, this is the best

Smiles migrate from behind boothtable where Vendors sat, stoic
waiting all morning behind grande’ lattes and ready wares

To the chitter chatter, baby holding, pick up put down, pick up put down
Point and point and point and
ANGELA, OVER HERE. They got it here Angela.

And the smiles migrate to people that
came to the Street Fair.

Until a point when the sun is too high
until a pang of hunger not satisfied
By street taco, thai stick lava cone lemonade pizza slice corn dog
teriyaki and a side of curly fries.

And now those that came late aren’t smiling
For baby child fidgets for cool place to put tiny cool head to sleep.
Sun high overhead, no cool shadows, gone for now
At the Street Fair.

                        ********************

Those that smile become those that wander back to
Hot sun cars and crowd trolleys, cool buses or
walk     walk    walk ,hot foot achers burn
tied to the end of aching muscle legs.


             ****************

From behind now cool 3rd latte, a vendor smiles,
rolling gently left over picked over in cool crinkly brown wrappers,
put away for another late comer

Or the next Street Fair.

Some curse, pulling down floating resin bulgy eye angels, sparkly things shiny
little dog, cat everything

Bright color brochure announced INVISIBLE SCREEN sprinkler solar insurance
Vote for Me Good for you
Taken from dark forest,
wasted now flutter rain down on grey hot asphalt.

Thinning now no talk money counted,
It all ends at 5

moving slow, heading home.

It ends at the Street Fair.

Hate invades the last civil vestige of chat: Facebook Oh Dear, What shall I do?

2010-05-02T08:42:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Hate invades the last civil vestige of chat: Facebook

Oh Dear, What shall I do?

Today, I am debating whether or not, I should surrender, abandon, shut down and never again log into my Facebook page and eliminate from my busy schedule all of the time spent on writing, chatting, witting and just having good old fashioned digital conversations with a world full of people, both personally known and known just through the acquaintance formed on the Internet. Not that my staying on-line or logging out would have even the slightest impact on Facebook or would diminish the perpetual traffic in and out of this hugely popular world-sized chat room. My leaving Facebook would be for personal reasons and not in protest over privacy invasions. My leaving Facebook would not be because of the myriad of mind-numbing and inane requests for a missing sheep, to join a gang to rub out some imaginary Mafioso ne-er do well or announcements that some marginally known relative has found this gem or that stone. My leaving Facebook would not be to escape the 2500 or so colleagues and fellow class members from my 1960’s era High School Graduating class who haveyet to uncover where I am hiding on-line.

By eliminating the amount of time I spend on Facebook, if I choose to shut down and padlock my electronic doors, would certainly benefit other projects that sometimes sputter and stall due to the lack of available time during an ever shortening day.

No, the reason I would leave Facebook is Hate. Not hate for me in particular, but hate and hate expressions and hate groups and hate pages and hate speech in general. Hate directed at anyone that disagrees with them, hate directed at people that agree with me, hate for anyone that does not back the mob in the plethora of battles, demonstrations, pronouncements and intended disruptions that are waged on Facebook every day with ever increasing frequency.

Let's begin with a little history.

For a over a decade, I was an active seller on anauction website. On occasion, I would come across an item, a vase, and an unusual toy or plate pattern that I was unable to locate and identify with my own resources. The Website offers a series of Category-Specific Boards within the auction “Community” where people with items that need some additional identification can go for help. The auction website states “discussion boards are a great place to meet other members, get advice, and share and find information on everything from art to travel. Browse the discussion boards below to find an area that interests you.”
Sounds friendly right? A nice community of Collectors, with common interests, to help each other identify previously unidentifiable collectibles!

This is an excellent resource to make sure you are correctly identifying the item you have for sale.
After a few years of simply logging on with a brief description, a simple picture and a friendly request for some assistance, things began to change. Leaders were born and anointed, each with little quasi gangs of minions that would digitally kiss the leader’s digital butt on the Auction board publicly as well as through various back channels. You could eventually tell that someone making an inquiry was not among the “Chosen People” of the Board, and that little chats had taken place through the back channels before any newcomer or occasional drop-in could be addressed directly. We occasional peasants, outside the walls of the Palace of Collectibles Definition, would then get increasingly bombarded with an ever expanding set of “rules”. These were arbitrary rules that had not been established by the auction site, but by THE BOARD, presumably to save their valuable time they had graciously donated to identify our unworthy goods. Occasionally, THE BOARD, which was a loosely knit group of ego’s masked as experts, would convince the auction site that THE BOARD’s suggested rules, should be the auction sites Board rules to which, on occasion, the auction site adopted.

From, how big is your picture to the structure of the words in your title of your query, the rules were shared with everyone and under no uncertain terms, everyone at that time knew those rules must be followed if you wished to be graced with an identification. There were actually people on the board whose sole purpose in life was to warn all, newcomers included, that their time was extremely valuable and the poster must follow the rules if they were going to call upon the knowledge of the Almighty and Knowledgeable Board Leader’s. These people, some known as “trolls” never identified a queried item; their purpose was to remind us of the rules.

Many of these Anointed Ones had actually been to the factory where their particular collectible specialties had been produced!

This eventually got even more bizarre. Little sects developed. Fostoria Glass people, Staffordshire fanatics and the most critical and vitriolic of the all: The Blenko Gang. At one point, Pottery & Glass gang members tracked down private property ownership, liens, criminal charges, financial information of anyone who would dare challenge their expertmanship. A popular comment, frequently made in response to some inquiry about the origin of a piece of art glass, was that it merely cheap Mexican glass. The minions took particular glee at dashing the hopes of some would-be seller with the “Mexican Glass” response. These smirking comments were frequently wrong. Some “trolls” even offered incorrect identifications so the unwary seller would describe their treasure using the information received on the Board, only to have the items purchased at an extremely low price when it attracted no buyers during the actual auction.

Posting to these auction boards for information, became such a maze of unknown rules and demanded expectations, got so nerve-wracking wondering whose wrath you were about to incur, would your background be checked or would you get a mysterious package of white powders, fecal materials etc in the mail from these giggling Internet bullies, that I stopped using the BOARD and sought my information elsewhere. I was always surprised that this largest of auction sites would allow these little fiefdoms to be established and these people to continue to wreak havoc to what could have been helpful boards. Society eventually identified these types of Board attendants as the Internet Bully.

The auction site eventually came up with rules for identifying Pottery and Glass items that included discussions of

• “Vulgarity" includes references to bodily elimination
• "Hate Speech"
• "Disruptive or Hostile Comments"
• “Interpersonal Disputes"
• "Threats of violence"

Threats of violence from a group of little old ladies, identifying porcelain tea cup patterns or the age of a glass vase. What happened? These back channel chats included visits to courthouse records of the offender to research all of their crimes against Humanity, paying People Search fees to gather any internet available information. Plots were hatched, retribution plans drawn up.

Even today if you peruse these auction boards, new Leaders have emerged, polite but snide comments still pepper the discussion. Things have really not changed. They have just gone further underground.

A group of outcasts were wholesale removed from future access to the auction boards The actual auction site administrators were flooded with well orchestrated sets of nasty complaints directed at a certain group. Coordinated by the Board leaders and their minions, the auction site responded by removing the disruptive rule breakers. This group of Board outcasts responded secretly by forming a refuge from the web bullying and put strict limitations on their membership. The outcasts set up another board site, where Identifications could be made without fear, retribution, condensation, or verbal abuse. The outcast were soon chatting and sharing, posting music and speaking of the old days. It was real fun. Information about collectible pottery and glass flowed freely. Bonds were created, friendships began.

It was only a matter of time before the group of outcasts, began to plot their vengeance on those nasty BOARD trolls that had them exiled in the first place. These collectable refugees, by employing equally invasive tactics of seeking out personal information through Court filings about their enemies, even engaged innocent Board bystanders to supply the newly exiled with fodder for their anger. Eventually these hateful and spiteful conversations about retribution changed the mood of the new home. Chat degenerated into racist commentary on political candidates, inappropriate humor on the direction of the Nation and even personal attacks on members of their own group.

They began to eat their own refugees. Peace was intermittent and the barbs and flaming began to occur with greater frequently. I then realized I was spending too much energy and focus on what this new Board had become. People, digitally beaten and bruised from challenging the new rules of the new Leaders, began to limp away and leave the Board.

I didn’t need that and again I packed up my goodies and in the dark of night, unceremoniously left.

In a few weeks, yet another group was formed and I was asked to join. Its purpose was described as:
“This group has been created as a place for owners of shops at (Site Name) to come together and discuss ideas, problems and anything else related to our business.

So grab yourself a cup of coffee, tea or wine from the bar. Sample some of the finest chocolates and cookies to the right. Pull up a chair and let’s get to know each other :)”

Doesn’t that sound nice? Well after a year or so, some voices that had been so virulently vocal in the previous group, began to migrate to this new group and it wasn’t long before I found myself dodging the barbs and flames and nastiness that I had found in previous groups. Again I left and this time…for good. No more little groups, no more time spent in these negative dens of Internet iniquity.

And then I found Facebook.

Wow, Facebook is chat and sharing friendly pictures and what did you have for dinner. There were those bothersome sheep and occasionally bloodied victims of Mafia hits staggering through, but they were only mild annoyances.

Things started out nicely. Grandchild this and that, nice summer vacation pictures and an occasional blushing joke picture or video filled the pages of my Facebook.

But slowly, we, the Facebook Family were asked to back this position or that, profess our love of God, Mother and Country by inserting a few words into our “Status Update” Box.

Actually, preceding the invasion of our “Staus Box”, was the “join my farm” or “join my Mafia gang” or various requests from this or that group of gamers. I turned them all down and would occasionally send out a guilty note that I don’t join for this reason or that reason, because I didn’t want to offend someone asking me to play with them that I refused. But the guilt of not playing was growing and the concept of “join this group” emerged.

When the requests for Support the Troops or Profess your undying love for the Lord Jesus started to hit the board, I, at first, acquiesced and would temporarily post this or that phrase in support. And then the numbers grew, sometimes getting three or four requests a day and I knew there was some Facebook troll sitting out in some basement somewhere, giggling to see how viral his or her “Post this on your wall” request had grown.
I stopped. My wall, My space, My words! Sure I was raised Catholic. I had guilt for not posting that I accepted Jesus as my one true savior or that if I accept one, I had to accept all. It got to “If you don’t support the mutilation of babies and puppies for the purposes of developing hair care products in Indonesia, then show you have the nerve to post this on your wall” and I really struggled with posting about my bra Color!. Some things should just not be discussed. This is a family board and I didn’t want some stranger asking my Mother about her Bra color…Where would it end?

How could I support mutilating babies by not posting for God’s sake? To not do so would support the mutilation of babies AND PUPPIES!!

And then came the Political Groups. As the temperature outside Facebook and on the streets of America got hotter and hotter and the Cable News channels turned the anger volume up to a scream with Tea Parties and Panels that would kill your grandparents and Socialist and Communist and Nazi’s and Socialist Nazi Communists that wanted to kill Grandma, some Facebook members brought the battle to the Status Update postings of Facebook. Pitting poodles against cable news commentators, frantically trying to reverse democratically determined Congressional decisions and invoking the name of every God to intervene everywhere, Facebook pages and hate groups were formed faster than an Internet Virus Scares. People were being forced to take sides. Failure to take a side meant certain ostracizing from Facebook and maybe the Web as a whole.

And now, we are being asked to pray for the death of our President and anyone associated with him.
And then that was it!

What had been a wholesome share kid vacation pictures with Mom & Dad, had become a screaming angry bomb throwing vitriolic over-blown mob chat room where friend was pitted against friend, where you checked the groups that someone belonged to BEFORE you accepted them as a friend.
The outside, the growing hate in America, the racism from the street and the TV, the total lack of Civility and even the understanding of basic American Civics invaded Facebook. And now everywhere you turn, you cannot escape the anger.

America has its problems. Some people say we are stupid and poorly educated. Maybe some are, but not all of us. Some say we are sheeple and victims or Patriots. Whatever. I have a hard enough time being me.
Well I can escape the anger. I can be an ostrich. I can turn off my TV. I can stop reading the news. I can be an uneducated idiot, like so many, that are running, streaking, screaming madly like some Ritalin-riddled Anarchist through our lives.

I can leave Facebook. But I shouldn’t have too!

Is that what I have to do? Where did I go wrong? Do I eliminate friends on Facebook and if I do that, I eliminate the pleasant exchanges as well. Do I contribute to the Hate Mud? I found myself looking back at all my posts the other day, making sure I wasn’t the one that caught up in the moment, that wished Death to my opponents and every one in their miserable lives. That is when I realized there was a problem. I was even getting caught up in it.

I realize that the Hate Groups and the Hate speech didn’t start after I joined Facebook. Facebook started general access usage for anybody with an e-mail address in 2006. Banned in several countries, it is the largest social-networking site in the world with over 400 million users and amazingly 50% of those 400 million log in and check their updates everyday! These users have on the average of 130 friends and spent over 500 BILLION minutes on line each month.

Mike Godwin wrote in 1990, Godwin's law (also known as Godwin's Rule of Nazi Analogies or Godwin's law of Nazi Analogies”. Goodwin’s Law is simple "As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches 1.” Facebook had reached “1” and Goodwin’s Law had been proved out once again…

So I go back to my dilemma: Facebook or No Facebook. Is there any way to enjoy this digital escape without being caught up in America’s anger?

When queried on Facebook, those lucky few who I identify as my “friends”, came back with helpful suggestions that involved choosing future friends more careful, stay and fight the Hate Goods, delete, hide, de-friend anyone of my little group that “crosses the line.” One says that she “admit(s) to often posting things that have political overtones, but I would hope that I never encourage intolerance nor discourage civil discourse. If you think any of my posting comes across otherwise, I want to know”.

Another states “I ignore many things on Facebook, and choose my "friends" carefully. And I'll "de-friend" those that get carried away with their hateful messages. Everyone that knows me or takes a minute to look at my choices on FB knows my political stance.”

And yet another “I agree, there is way too much hate in the world. What I do is hide any applications etc that I don't want to see posts about. I have enough serious issues in my personal/family life to let posts on Facebook worry me. I come here to relax, look at people’s pics, see how/what they are doing and even play those dreaded games you wrote about. :) This is what I do for relief from real life and I don't want drama

Yet another adds “If you leave Facebook, can I have all of your Friends?”

I can leave Facebook. The Hate will still be there until we as a society recognize it, condemn it and send it back underground in the dark dank caves it deserves to be condemned to. Maybe Facebook is the face of the world and maybe this is where the World is right now.

Another writer on the emergence of and growing popularity of Hate groups of Facebook put it nicely:

“In the end, all we can do is step back, breathe and walk away when life, and the people who populate it, are caught up in dramas that threaten our own karma. Karma has nothing to do with payback, positive or negative. It is an entirely individual thing that one must mind and guard for one’s own sake.”

(TO BE READ IN A MAGIC DANCE BEAT VOICE. Read it and set your own beat, the beat you feel)

2010-05-01T14:25:00.000-07:00

(TO BE READ IN A MAGIC DANCE BEAT VOICE.)
Read it and set your own beat, the beat you feel)

We were just aging hopheads
Bouncing L.A. streets
Looking for the Boom Wow
Listening for the Boom Wow
Waiting for the beat

Listening to the boom wow
Bouncing to the bass wow
Moving to a beat
Going to a Dub Wow

Dowsed in jumpy sweat
moving with the mob
Boom wow made a funk
Boom wow boom wow
Dancing to the boom beat
Dancing to the boom wow
Listening to the beast
Dancing to the doom wow

The D J’s wicked wow beat
The D J’s jerky boom beat
Shattered us with boom wow
Shattered bumped our chest
Shattered all our best
Dancing to the boom wow

DJ had a beat
DJ in a trance

Dubbing to a beat
Dancing to the boom Wow
1000 waving palms
Moving like a snakes head
Jabbing at the boom wow
Pointed at the boom wow
The D J’s magic beat nest
Hot on the boom wow
making with the boom wow
Moving us along
Saving us with Boom Wow
Saving us with beat
To dance another Day
To dance another Night
Dancing with the smoky dub
Dancing with the Boom Wow.
>>>>>>>

Last Saturday night we attended Lucent L’Amours Valentine Day Experience.
We invited a friend to expose him to the wonderful weirdness we expected that night.
I regret now, I did not open the invitation to my other friends in the area that I did not include them as it
Is rare to experience such magic in L.A.

The Boom Wow is now, is love, is magical, is 21st century God and meant to be shared
with those you love.

We wandered the experience with eyes wide and sparkling, feeling the flash warm of fire and the boom wow of the bass beat. In our minds eye we felt the mystic desert beats amazingly entranced, hypnotized by the seduction of the ancient dance and cheered childlike at a circus of travelers, brought together with a sole common purpose to amaze and confound.

And it wasn’t just the Music that held you in, for the walls moved with swirling lights and glowing dream creatures. Other walls covered some with Art Complete, some with artists waiting for the Muses to enter so they could begin, finally others entranced by the Muses, painting everything they saw and felt within

…and the only disappointment of the night was they had no scotch, they had only gin

Telegram from Dubai

2010-04-30T14:32:00.000-07:00

Received a telegram from Dubai
A dreamer in Dubai
With brown eyes round and
Skin the color of a dune in early morn,
And drifts like shrouds in a warm breeze
Heartbroken and scarred
In terse words,
Dubai called out as if I could help
Urgent tense
I took command once,
Peeked and fell through the veils,
By circumstance, no, drawn in,
(they couldn’t see I wasn’t there)
Only to reel to the spice and strains of incense
And now Dubai thinks I can leave
My middle world of visas and uncut grass,
I am not in Tibet or Bucarest
I am late night TV and
Targets on the way and there is no way
(arm pounds table)
I can rescue a Dubai heart
I imagine Dubai is staring out a chilled window
At Dubai and waiting for me to show up.
Sitting tensely on the edge,
Of a couch fuzzed and plaid faded,
Waiting to age.
Old strains nuisance, emerge like an inpatient baby,
While holding, tightly crumpled in my hand
A telegram from Dubai.

Rockport Revisited

2010-04-30T14:31:00.000-07:00

Ancient landscapes, punctuated by warm
Moments of two pasts,
Lived fully, separately.
Two times distance,
Both coasts in motion, neverending waves.
Each past-pained, confused,
But fused still by soft flame,
(and Dreams of growing up).

Fueled by Jamison and your Marnier,
Our laughter allowed no silence.
(We are separate & stuck to our guns)

My Christmas complete,
Shared gifts of
Scurry criss-crossed parks & pounds
Of Eddie’s catch slickbutterwhite
Dreamgrams and champagne star bubbles.
Rising to the night’s top.
Witness to the city sky’s
Softgentle birth of snowflakes.

We were gentle reborn
In warm moments touched.

Cheeks chilled bitter by Rockport breezes,
Stirred rhythms long-stilled,
By Time spent in Long Beaches and isolations
(Is our History complete? The Book’s last chapter written?)
I left you in Fantasy,
And returned to a city with no reason to exist,
No frozen-skating river children.
Searching, stabbing upward glass scrapers
Splintering skies
Crushing adobe shacks of the long Past.

I felt I have left you in a History
And passed
In tact.

4 Shorts

2010-04-30T14:30:00.000-07:00

4 Shorts
Somewhere in Paris alone
Watching rain change empty streets
To glistening black veins,
He stumbled.
From the hour and the Pernod.
No finally, he thought,
I am a poet.

Sacramento
Hitched from hell with an old farmer.
Slow truck, cold beer.
“Where yah goin’”
I paused. “Home”
“where’s that?”
I paused again and thought.
I don’t remember where I said.
I lied for some reason quickly.

The sunset that night
Changed hot valley clouds into
Into old buildings and alleys I think
I cried.

In Narvick
The snow pressed a white face
To the window and Hot white wine and
Cinnamon sticks stirred and let me forget.
A while anyway.
I am walking fire. I burn
Inside waiting with smoke hot.
I am never dark. The smoke of my breath
Is frankincense
And I am transparent

The Death of the Cameo
Or
I am frightened by Transition

Woman,
No more commas.
Commas are pauses
For a breathless moment
Suspended
A slight eddy of Time
And then you move on. No more commas please (I can’t take it)
I will seek and find you something new.
An exclamation point!
And for me a question mark.
And in the middle of the night we will switch
No more commas

At 3:am

2010-04-30T14:28:00.000-07:00

At 3:am
In silence
And with fear
Of stubbing my toe
I drain,
Head to the table.
AT 3:AM
Must know
Who wrote
What happened
I will hear a creak
In the door or a wall
And for a moment wonder is this it
Is this the one
At 3:am
promises are made
About the morning
And if I don’t get up
I will face my pillow and
Mentally etch the words
That will drift away
As my eyes shut

The Adventure

2010-04-30T14:25:00.001-07:00

The Adventure

An old man
grayed with age
timid,
patiently waits.
Time
He is slowly
Shrinking.
Furrows deepen
In an expression
Less face.
He waits
Still waiting
And clocks rhythm ticking
No longer in his brain.

A child’s sharp cry in the distance
Does not turn his head.
A
bird
floats by

And wind caresses the old man
While he waits.
He is covered with dust,
Like a souvenir
From the World’s Fair
Mostly useless (except faint memories)
Covered with dust.

He stirs,
Painfully comes to life.
Stands
Andthebusdoorswingsopen,athousand childrenracepast
Cheering race wreckless
Past the waiting old man.
No dry curse passes his lips
Sweatless hands finger dull dry coins
And the steps are mountains
And on a stiff bench,
Sitting at the top, he knows.

February 9, 2010 1:49 PM

Today a little better than yesterday: Son leaves for War

2010-04-30T14:24:00.000-07:00

Today a little better than yesterday
the tear in my eye for you
bitter sweet
bitter sweat
and though my heart is not cluttered with
lords and mystical gods
be safe, let the spirits guard
and your gut be filled with the need
to hold close
those who watched your eyes first open.
Even now my eyes swell and fill with fear
and... pride and love and your youth.
Eventhough I have fewer years ahead than behind
take them from me so your return is swift
and we can raise a glass again and laugh heartily
at the spirits of the white moon
at the desert's starfilled sky.

November 11, 2009 8:23 PM

Leaving London

2010-04-30T14:23:00.001-07:00

London Heathrow 5 AM
At home they dance on Saturday Flight
Into Sunday.
Dull Pounding in head
from the hour
and tourists dream of seeking jewels
future ancient visions
Ah, here we are
Standing stiffly by some place,
any place, hoping to catch a view.
And future memories
catch up to the past.

A plane roars in London.
London Heathrow 5:10 AM

March 28, 2009 9:49 PM

Arab Woman on a Swedish Train

2010-04-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

Her eyes drift open and close
as a silk veil in a desert breeze.

Outside, she sits with chilled cheek
pressed against icy glass,
bundled blonde blue eyes fill her world now

She is tired and her eyelids are slowing the cold
Her hair is black and skin olive
from generations of sun
and sand that reach to warm blue seas.

Inside she is warm, inside the desert
the sand is warm,
the breeze caresses her skin
and her veils drift

An ancient whispers into her ear
of the ways of the past,
the ways of the desert.

and she is warm

The train lurches to a stop
She awakes and can not
pull the cotton frilled scarf tight enough
to keep out the cold
of the concrete, of the blue eyes

A man weary from his toil
thinks of faraway,
watches the last burning red of the sun

March 28, 2009 3:59 PM

and now it is time for a change

2010-04-30T14:21:00.000-07:00

Together, we move forward, our shoulders lightened of the burden of fear.
The bitter taste of bile, raised by our anger
at the sound of their names and
the unearthly glow of their signature blocks,
has left our mouths and once again
the sweet taste of the anticipation and warm of Spring,
of selling those things that have brought us so tightly together,
fills our spirits and fuels us.

Let us move together forward, as Rummies, as Sellers, as seekers of Spirit & Knowledge
and lift each up as one stumbles and cheers success.

Leave them be. Leave them behind as the Jews left Egypt, the Pilgrims left England,
as all who flee in terror seek out a better place.

They may not be gone. They may be lurking in the swampy bushes of malevolence.
But they have been beaten. Bring others who seek knowledge of what they possess to
the new RummyLand, build our new home with positive bricks, and the warmth of friendship as the
mortar that binds those bricks and that home will never fall. It will strengthen as others who seek solace from the torment of digital abuse, friendship and series of
brackets placed like this ((((((())))))), join us and experience some of the true warmth we have felt together during this cold winter.

It is January 26! A day that should be remembered in our Rummy history!
RISE & SHINE RUMMYFRIENDS, RISE & SHINE!!

Another day ends quietly

2010-04-30T14:19:00.000-07:00

Another day ends quietly, everyone with their family snuggled in bed, Rummys are put at ease hearing the gentle breathing of kin or toss of a family member long since seen.

Some will think forward to the morning as they drift, some will toss and fret some, but the clenched hand will relax and the worry lines will fade and even those RummyHeads will take some solace in the peace of sleep.

This is a time of coming together, families circle a table, smiling at a new baby or sitting blue faced and laughing in the flickering TV light. Some Rummys look out their window tonight at the silent hush of falling snow that smooths the landscape to a collage of graceful curves and arcs and wait for the lights of a loved one returning late.

We all have good wishes and thoughts in our minds for the Rummys around us that have had something good happen today and know our turn will come. A day will come when an old newspaper will be lifted in a dark garage and a sparkle will catch our eye as we say "how much is this?...A quarter!... I'll take it. and then we rush to our home and cautiously chose the words that will best describe our new found treasure to the throngs of waiting bidders that will fight like King Midas pirahnas over our proud listing...Shoes ahh new shoes.

Keep in your mind those we have come to know and whose words we love to see on our screens, that for one reason or another are not with us these days. Pray in the way you know best to cure the failing health, to turn sadness into childish glee, to overflow their sagging coffers and reunite families separated by conflict or economy of those Rummys who can't be with us now but on the strength of your good thoughts will return soon to our safe and warm harbour, beneath the palm, on a white sand beach never wanting for Rum.

Good Night every little RummyHead. Sleep tight................

I made it to another Sunday night.

2010-04-30T14:17:00.000-07:00

Another flight, another Airport, another hotel room, another Sunday night.
But I think it ends there.

This is different already. I opened the window in my room, to the night and San Francisco rushed in and filled my room: Herb Caen over coffee & Chinamen scurrying up Grant Ave to an unknown doorway and an unknown meal.

Three Hippies tossed a frisbee on an endless Sunday afternoon while Grace Slick sings "Lather was thirty years old today,
They took away all of his toys."

Two old men steady their way by holding old hands together, not in love but with fear concern until they reach the edge of the pier.

And the rich full air of San Francisco tossles thinning white hair and fills their lungs with memories of youth and girls, and glasses of wine. They had each felt that air one morning while she made eggs and toast while they listened to San Francisco through the open window.

It is different now. But the air is still full of chill and good cheer and brightens your cheek and lets you think about that one night and that one day.

Just some thoughts, just some things I wanted to say. I can't talk to my rummy friends about so many things so I just leave these little crumbs, strings of words that might cause a smile or stir an old memory in a good way.

Kittrick Goes to Boot Camp

2010-04-20T10:32:00.000-07:00

Our youngest left in November to join the Army. We are Parents, we were sad and I felt like I had lost a friend that I enjoyed traveling with, and making the rounds at the nearby Music Festivals.

He is a Scout now in the Army, awaiting for the call to head to Afghanistan, but I still wanted to add these words to the blog,

Kittrick Goes to Boot Camp.

Today a little better than yesterday
the tear in my eye for you
bitter sweet
bitter sweat

and though my heart is not cluttered with
lords and mystical gods
be safe, let the spirits guard
and your gut be filled with the need
to hold close
those who watched your eyes first open.

Even now my eyes swell and fill with fear
and... pride and love and your youth.

Eventhough I have fewer years ahead than behind
take them from me so your return is swift
and we can raise a glass again and laugh heartily
at the spirits of the white moon
at the desert's starfilled sky.

Some various Thanksgiving postings by various thankful people.

2009-11-25T11:36:00.000-08:00

Some various Thanksgiving postings by various thankful people.

Koalaver SeaOtter Gratitude! We are perfect, amazing, bright, phenomenal reflections of cosmic potential. It is truly a joy and a blessing to be alive on the planet at this time of transition. I am thankful for the opportunities we are presented with everyday whether we should live in the low vibration of fear, or the highest vibratory rate of pure unconditional love =)

Sherry Miller-Lo
I am thankful today to FB for allowing me to connect with so many long lost friends. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Alleigh Woody
The Everlasting Gobstopper: “In
everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then
burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all
be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”

Rosena Mazzola
In case you missed yesterday's post: HAVE A WONDERFUL THANKSGIVING!!! ABUNDANT BLESSINGS TO YOU ALL!!! WE LOVE YOU and this family is grateful for your presence and friendship in our lives!!!

Teresa M Hildebrandt
MY THANKSGIVING PRAYER 2010
Great and Eternal Mystery of Life, Creator of All Things, I give thanks for the beauty you put in every single one of your creations. I am grateful that you did not fail in making every stone, plant, creature, and human being a perfect and whole part of the Sacred Hoop....
DC Fallout
Happy Thanksgiving! Let's comemorate how manifest destiny and colonial expansion lead to the slaughter of thousands of native americans and forced them out of their homeland! This truly IS an American holiday! PASS THE CRANBERRY SAUCE MOTHER FUCKERS.

Lady Gaga
I'm so thankful for the blessing of my fans. My family+I are thankful for u. For those lonely today, we set an extra place at our table. ♥

Kim Lenz
Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for so much in my life, Bruce who loves me no matter what and makes me laugh constantly, all my animals who are my therapists, my parents who brought me up to be who I am, my friends who put up with me, and I'm also thankful for the bad stuff as it has made me a stronger person. You all have helped me become who I am and I love you all for it!

Stuart Welch
I am thankful to be able to afford my Thankgiving dinner.
I am thankful for my friends.
I am thankful for the life I have chosen.
I am thankful for Music,
I am thankful for Susan.
...I am thankful for warm, blue skies.
I am thankful for my Muse.
I am thankful I am not dead.

I would be more thankful if 7/11/22/33/44/17 would come up.
I would be more thankful if my car would stop overheating.
Joshua Tree Music Festival
We are thankful for the funk And the groove and the family who make the party happen.
Diana Carrasco
Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for my life and those I share it with, for also being an American with a heart and an open-mind to love all! xoxo Peace, Love and Celebrate the differences!

Urban's Blog, Current Writing and Occasional Rant

Silent thoughts in flight

Sitting in Shreveport

I wished I knew John Lennon

I must be a bad American

Communiqués from the Front

Communiqués from the Front

Sometimes u just want to sit next to a camp fire forever

On Knocking on the Wrong Door, 3 A.M.

Just taken from the News in May

Eskimo Vision

My Muse asks: An Artist or Writer be?

I know nothing of Butterfly life

Papa's

Song outside your window

The Early Hours of Desert Festival (WIP or Unfinished)

A request post mortem (To Susan)

Street Fair in Spring

Hate invades the last civil vestige of chat: Facebook Oh Dear, What shall I do?

(TO BE READ IN A MAGIC DANCE BEAT VOICE. Read it and set your own beat, the beat you feel)

Telegram from Dubai

Rockport Revisited

4 Shorts

At 3:am

The Adventure

Today a little better than yesterday: Son leaves for War

Leaving London

Arab Woman on a Swedish Train

and now it is time for a change

Another day ends quietly

I made it to another Sunday night.

Kittrick Goes to Boot Camp

Some various Thanksgiving postings by various thankful people.

Sherry Miller-Lo

I am thankful today to FB for allowing me to connect with so many long lost friends. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Alleigh WoodyThe Everlasting Gobstopper: “Ineveryone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should allbe thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”

Rosena Mazzola

In case you missed yesterday's post: HAVE A WONDERFUL THANKSGIVING!!! ABUNDANT BLESSINGS TO YOU ALL!!! WE LOVE YOU and this family is grateful for your presence and friendship in our lives!!!

Teresa M Hildebrandt

DC Fallout

Happy Thanksgiving! Let's comemorate how manifest destiny and colonial expansion lead to the slaughter of thousands of native americans and forced them out of their homeland! This truly IS an American holiday! PASS THE CRANBERRY SAUCE MOTHER FUCKERS.

Lady GagaI'm so thankful for the blessing of my fans. My family+I are thankful for u. For those lonely today, we set an extra place at our table. ♥

Kim Lenz

Joshua Tree Music Festival

We are thankful for the funk And the groove and the family who make the party happen.

Diana CarrascoHappy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for my life and those I share it with, for also being an American with a heart and an open-mind to love all! xoxo Peace, Love and Celebrate the differences!

Diana CarrascoHappy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for my life and those I share it with, for also being an American with a heart and an open-mind to love all! xoxo Peace, Love and Celebrate the differences!

Alleigh Woody
The Everlasting Gobstopper: “In
everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then
burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all
be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”

Lady Gaga
I'm so thankful for the blessing of my fans. My family+I are thankful for u. For those lonely today, we set an extra place at our table. ♥

Diana Carrasco
Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for my life and those I share it with, for also being an American with a heart and an open-mind to love all! xoxo Peace, Love and Celebrate the differences!

Diana Carrasco
Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for my life and those I share it with, for also being an American with a heart and an open-mind to love all! xoxo Peace, Love and Celebrate the differences!