Archive for March, 2009

r.i.p. uncle slim

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

My uncle Slim died on Monday.
He  lived a life of laughter and sarcastic wit
that often offended and always entertained.

He was bold and brash but loving,
independent and seemed a bit selfish at times
but always parted with an assuring nudge.

His later days were agony and disability virtually
abandoned by his children, deeply loved by his wife,
laughing and joking through the pain.

His calm passing was a blessing he deserved
for all that laughter and joy his acerbic humor
brought to this thirsty world.

Carry on Slim, you and uncle Ern, [comedian Ernie Kovacs]
we’re all waiting to join you in a poke in the ribs
a wink, and that banter that relieves the stress of any day.

Your spirit lives on to reverberate in
every rye and twisted bit of sarcastic exchange
that brings on swells of laughter and…

thank you for all that fun.


Saturday, March 28th, 2009

The Shaz of Portency is blowing green leaves and airplanes
attack golden vibrator hawks into final positions to dream
the only way for haze on the loaf of queen’s bread to fold.

Pluck, pluck, zeee, zeee, poe, poe, poe, phoo-oo.

Calm now and silent flowing thoughts of pianistic revery
climb carelessly placed ephemeral lattice while phosphenes glow
for guidance into secure warmth. Wait. A burst of cacophonous joy
sounding like a trout wangling its kin for some hash and eggs.

A young girl with her mind focused within permanently
holding a delicate flower senses more than we will ever see
or she will ever comprehend when the green fuses with the roughness
of the ground and the smells of carnations and molds blend
for her scattering and knowing only her mother’s and father’s love
extinguishes grief and laughs, curling her fingers
into the circle that resounds with harmonic pleasure
she alone can feel.

Oh, “O”. Love and pain and wondering.

Autism, within its  city limits, must be a lonely place. Forgive me
for kissing the atmospheric condensate reflections of azure and cotton
as the fissures of longing for making deeper connections
in the wonderfully inhabited space of minds that have no concept
of intercommunication beyond shape and color and texture running
ripples over the tips of fingers and eardrums while order and structure
are flying up and down to the tune of footsteps randomly echoed.
When the applause dies down the nasturtiums  are dancing quietly.

Pi-tal, pi-tal, pi-tal, pi-tal, pi-tal, phoom. Phoom. Phoom-plume.

The grid of softly rooting drapes the blinded eye as feathers
caress palms and mesquites for daily bread and forgiven destinies
behind altars and podia where a lack of empathy shines forth as
a light in its blackness and dullard degrees for cellular dreams of
too many friends or not enough time at the block of real learning
or caring beyond fusillades and the currency of acquisitions
renders useless applications of hackneyed structure or blandness
in the face of true light. Shine on girl, keep fanning the flames of
inner visions into a life of joy, love and peace.

culture medium

Friday, March 27th, 2009

This morning I decided to not get up right away
I chose instead to let the ideas sit,
to let the seeds germinate or ferment just a bit more
until either their sprouting leaves or gasses
forced upon my consciousness thoughts that compel
my getting up from the succulent repose.

I know there were gems lost, bubbling down into the muck
of my fertile mind’s deepest folds perhaps to resurface
unexpectedly while in the midst of some unrelated activity
that would cause me to run for a pen and paper or
curse my lack thereof and carry on relying on
its coming out again when its really needed.

If faith truly moves mountains it surely can handle
a small pile of mental excrement, even though it be
weighted with its core of glistening gold. And, like
a fast breaking wind it suddenly rears its head and
bellows for release against the restraints of serious
activities like eating, sleeping and balancing my feet.

I am an artist, a painter of shapes and colors that
make images of things as yet unseen. I create
and others wonder at the existence of such beauty
exposed on surfaces attached to their walls. I mess with
things that most consider ephemeral anyway, random
fluid edges defining amorphous entities and virtual environs.

But now I am moving into more serious messing with
the forces of our cohesive existence as social beings, as
I begin to create using not colorful ephemera but a medium
that is at the very center of our civility — words. They have
more meaning and power being the essence of our
thoughts that govern our conscious and subconscious.

This is some heavy shit man. I mean I could actually expose the
brilliant demon that lurks just below this thin skin of sanity I’ve felt
forced to retain. My thoughts painted as purple blobs flowing into
sharp-edged red polygons, punctuated by brilliant green shards
are seen as merely an artist’s play, hung safely on the wall behind
the couch. But words expressed in a similar fashion — that’s

something else. These creations could really do something more
serious, good or bad. That excites me and makes me wonder why
I have avoided this medium all these years. It matters not in fact
since there is only the present and I choose to make it filled with light
and let others interpret as they choose, my words and images
to enlighten or frighten, to love or to leave. My world, love it or heave it.

Immediately I see the other side, mine as creator, writer;
my responsibilities and the burdens I must carry to just get into
that frame of mind where simile and meaning mix and blend as layers of
color and light, where names and places are eluded to and defined
but the readers mind is the stage, the wall on which they hang
until their own winds blow them off to shatter into seeds for their own gestation.

So I’m glad I didn’t grope around for that paper and pen this
morning at first light, when the cat was scratching the chairs and bed,
mocking birds and doves sang their springtime songs and my thoughts
were just beginning to lay themselves out in the red glow of dawn
on my eyelids closed with the loving weight of pre-waking bliss. Glad
I let them settle into that fertile soil and fester, rot and burst on their own.

clichés – like totally

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

My friend Doug Payson sent me a list of contemporary clichés that he is particularly tired of hearing and challenged1 me to use at least 80% of them in a composition. Well, here they are, all 100% plus a few linking2 words:

Sweet! Back atcha drama queen.

Your toxic mocking is, oh my god, too much wall st.-vs-main st. information sucking up all the oxygen. I don’t have the bandwidth above my pay grade but in the fullness of time the past is prologue.

The transformative tipping point was thrown under the bus dating back to the litmus test proving beyond a doubt that having issues with annoying pack ice is spot on. It’s a perfect storm to be into somebody, being vetted at the end of the day and going viral but, I’ve got your back as you’re jumping the shark.

Giveback heads up my iconic friend, I’m on it, all over it and the over-arching payback is — well, duh… 9/11 and the surge. What are you thinking at the end of the day? Without being disingenuous, it is what it is — best thing since sliced bread and dialing back the pressure ridge.

I’m having issues with going viral — I’m so NOT going to enjoy the totally annoying heavy lifting, creep factor growers. 24/7 its GO GO GO — getting a rib on it. Priceless, kicked to the curb to bloviate on brash ice. Having said that, 40 is the new 30, priceless but its my bad. That being said — fast ice leads.

1 – “It’s crackers to slip the rozzer the dropsy in snide.”
2 – “I had one grunch but, the eggplant over there.”

family boat

Sunday, March 22nd, 2009

my mother is a thin veil
that keeps me from being the prow
of our family boat.

on her passing I will be the one
to cut the waves and feel
the rushing of the future.

she is like a well seasoned wood
waxed and strong against the waters
of life that time draws us through.

I feel well prepared by her example
to carry myself but question my ability
when it comes to siblings and progeny.

I feel ill prepared to be patriarch or arch partier.
Our family may be more of a fleet of prows
rather than a singular boat.

my mother is maintaining
our sense of family and unity of purpose.
bless her with immortality.


Sunday, March 22nd, 2009



4 police officers and a suspect shot
5 people dead or dying, doing what they felt necessary
responding to a moment in their life.

2 police stopped a car for a traffic violation
found the driver to be a man wanted
for jumping bail on assault charges.

The suspect feeling cornered
and visualizing his future re-imprisonment
flees on foot after shooting the 2 officers.

Some mother’s son gone
wrong somewhere along the line
to end up in this situation of mortal fear and anxiety.

Some other mother’s sons lie dead and dying
their blood soaking the blue of their uniforms
doing the what they do, enforcing laws.

Holed up in a house surrounded by cops
the suspect follows a script in his head
and shoots his way out, killing 2 more officers.

In that final act he too succumbs to a rain of lead.
Another 3 mother’s sons now lie dead or dying
in the pursuit of justice and survival.

Most heinous and inexplicable
the mayor and governor proclaim.
Why would anything like this happen?

Watched any television or seen an action film lately?
Why is it so easy to visualize this event?
Have we not seen it played out many times?

Look at the track of those five lives.
First as children learning through play
and their matching of family and peers.

What motivations moved these men
to where they were that fateful day?
Survival and doing what’s “right”?

Is the world too populace
for us to care about or for
one of us on a deviant path?

Too many criminals breaking too many laws
and too many police enforcing with too much force
leaving their mother’s sons dead or dying.

4 police officers and a suspect shot
5 people dead or dying, doing what they came to do,
resting in peace.

do something

Thursday, March 19th, 2009

Turn off that TV set and that computer.
Our youth are crying out for something
real to get their minds into.

Wrest them from the clutches of media
and promoters of gluttony and excess.
Give them something real to do.

Yank those earbuds out and put down the cell,
you are aiding and abetting a hand-basket
that is taking you to hell.

Look around and realize you must
accept what you see and
its not going well.

Our “healthy competition” is about
to turn into a struggle for survival
and you know who wins, not you.

Stop bickering, whining and begging.
Get off your ass and do something, anything
above all, don’t be careful or hesitant.

Our youth feel entitled to luxuries
without the need to earn or contribute,
stop giving in to these rants.

Let the pain of want sink deeply
into their little spoiled souls until
the realities of the world are evident.

Evident enough to inspire
shame in crying for handouts
and, instill a sharing ethic.

Deep enough to elevate above the ooze
of material excess to the joyful pain
of critical thinking and community awareness.

Unplug, unhook, disconnect from the virtual
and plugin, hookup and connect
with the seeds of the future – our youth.

is this true

Thursday, March 19th, 2009

Are we being done in by our expanding ineptness?
I would think this is true.
We have some of the most inept handling things
that could effect life and death.

Are the sirens of conspiratorial excess sounding a valid alarm?
I could think this is true.
Those that are referred to as alarmists are called
visionaries when their predictions come true.

Are our media fixations and constant entertainment blinding us?
I do think this is true.
By constantly being engaged elsewhere
we ignore the present at our peril.

When the positive are relegated to the minority
they must shout louder to lift the sinking
above the din of disaster and its loud cover.
This I know is true.


Enter the door to the mind
through the ear and the eye
bringing images and words
of avenues to real success
and happy rewards and rest?


But –

Would this not be the same as
leaving the masses glued to their devices
looking for deliverance via media
rather than their own volition and interaction?

Remove the earbuds, the cell phones, the PDAs.
Put down the books, papers and games.
Get off the tube, off the web and off your ass.
Get out of your cars, trucks and SUVs.

Go out into your world and move about
unencumbered by wasteful and distracting devices.
Be acutely aware of surrounding environs and events.
Regain attunement and alignment with reality.


fallen angels

Thursday, March 19th, 2009

I saw a man fall
off the curb and into the street
no one stopped in
the rapids of traffic to help.

I took his arm and begged
to others to assist to no avail.
Together the fallen and I got him
onto the walk and against a wall.

Incoherently babbling and drooling
from one corner of his mouth,
the weathering of time evident
in the furrows of his face.

His eyes were frenched
with rims of red, his shirt rumpled
and stained with the street’s patina,
his shoes un-sewn and damp.

On his frail wrist was a plastic
band from a hospital’s ward
and his breath was like a visit
to the doctor’s office.

All around us the rush
of midday traffic in the middle
of the city sped on to
oblivion’s core.

Open your eyes,
listen up. One of us
has fallen, whatever the cause
lift them up and offer a hand.

exCITED eyes

Thursday, March 5th, 2009

I could be depressed about the condition of the world
if I weren’t so excited about the color of the sky.

As all the money I’ve earned and saved is disappearing
the voices of friends are adding warmth to my growing excitement.

With the security of my way of life increasingly threatened
my ease at enjoying myself with abandon moves me.

My disconnectedness, from decades of social ineptitude
has brought me to pursuit of renewing nearly extinct contacts.

The black of death looms over the horizon in so many guises
as the promise of opportunity blooms with joy and light.


Am I totally worthless? Have I slipped into inescapable mediocrity?
Am I about to receive a great reward? Is my best work about to be born?

Will the North Koreans, the Iranians, the islamic fundamentalists nuke us?
Will the human race wake up to realize our highest potential?


I could be depressed about the condition of the world
if I weren’t so excited about the color of your eyes.