1. 1 year ago 
   

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

   • Tagged:
   • poetry
   • photograph
    
2. 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.  

3. 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 

4. 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.

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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