1. 4 months ago 

    In honor of teaching poetry again…

    I will share one of my recent ones. Started in 2007, I revisited and revised this one over the summer.

    We are beige

    We are the earthtone generation in a

    Sea of vibrant color and the

    Toys of our youth are a reflection of our desires

    We have no wars to cling to for definition

    We have no cause to bring our feet in step with those around us

    We have no mission the importance of which exceeds all else

    We are nondescript

    We blend in

    We are camouflaged in the sea of time

    We are indistinguishable from each other

    We do not cry with one voice 

    And there is not one voice that stands out

    We are the general murmur in the background

    The easily chastened class

    The museum goers

  2. Notes: 1 / 6 months ago 
    Couldn’t find this to buy, so I had to make it. Off to Kinko’s!

    Couldn’t find this to buy, so I had to make it. Off to Kinko’s!

     
  3. 1 year ago 
    Gift Poem, with the photo I used to make the Gift for the Gift Recipient. 

    Gift Poem, with the photo I used to make the Gift for the Gift Recipient. 

     
  4. 1 year ago 

    Microphone

    The microphone matters.

    The Microphone covered in caustic contradictions from spastic politicians, matters. The microphone drenched in diatribes from diabolic debaters, matters. The microphone covered in beer and spit and anger, pain, joy, and fear, matters. The microphone, matters. 

    Check, check, check-o-slo-vak-ia. Yu-go-sla-via. Mother Russia, soviet time bomb. The microphone matters. 

    One, two, one, two. America! America! Patriotism! Family and God! The microphone matters. 

    Levels, levels, levels. I have a dream! We will not rest! Liberty! Freedom! Education! The microphone matters. 

    The  most important invention of the last century was the radio. The most important invention of this century was the internet. The most important invention of all time was the printing press. But the most moving invention remains, the microphone. 

    Sound carries. 

    Sound moves.

    The microphone, matters.  

  5. 1 year ago 

    Gift Poem

    We are music makers

    We are dreamers of dreams

    We are somewhere in between 

    We are genius 

    We are madman

    We tinker in the garages of our fathers with worn out screwdrivers

    We build machines that will explode 

    We blot out the sun

    We bring peace

    We are borderline insomniacs

    We are writing the next great novel

    We are perceptive and bold

    We cower at our own shadows

    We see manifestations of our demons 

    We brought them to life

    We can live the lives of others

    We cannot live our own

    We pretend the world is alive

    We rip out its throat

    We can save a child for three cents a day

    We buy a gumball for twenty-five

    We sometimes give it to our offspring

    We stand and fall over with our knees locked

    We stand

    We do things

    We watch and wait for the world to be reborn in the morning

    We dance at its demise

    We call out our existence to the stars 

    We expect an answer

    We get one

    We jump up and down for delight

    We cannot cry

    We fight and scream for things 

    We never wanted in the first place

    We are never as good as those who came before us

    We keep trying

    We will not stop

    We sing

    We dream 

  6. 1 year ago 

    Found An Old Poetry Notebook…

    A few short ones from it. 

    11/9/06

    I tied the rain into a knot
    And Hung it around my neck.
    With a restraining weight
    Light and real,
    Stopping my body from flight
    While my soul soared
    Above the ground
    Carried by the wind 
    From the mouth of a goddess.
    Breathing into life
    The world of her
    Heart’s sadness.
    The material of hurt
    Personified in the bones
    Of the earth
    Catching joy in the crevices.

    12/5/06

    The days of
    Superman underpants
    Are over.
    And the transition
    Has been hard.
    From X-Men afternoons
    To
    A re-evaluation of life.
    And questions that outpace
    Any answers.
    And there is
    No way
    We can go back
    Through that
    Airlock of time.
    And
    We are already
    Floundering in
    The suffocation of
    Responsibility.

    1/29/07

    Words fall from her
    Mouth
    Like clay pots
    Shaped by the movement
    Of her tongue and teeth
    To roll around the
    Floor
    Sloshing
    Ambrosia on the
    Settled dust.

  7. Notes: 9 / 1 year ago 
    [Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

    This always makes me smile.

  8. 1 year ago 
    Sweet Basil in my herb garden.

    Sweet Basil in my herb garden.

     
  9. 1 year ago 
    "Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."
    - Oscar Wilde
  10. 1 year ago 
    [Flash 10 is required to watch video]

    Fireworks show after the All Star game at Parkview Field this week.

avatar_128
 
 
You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don't ever count on having both at once.

- Robert A. Heinlein
 
 

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