rendition and rape
June 29, 2008
The United States
ought to be about
dialogue and diplomacy
solutions and life –
not attack and torture,
rendition and rape.
artist:Gwyneth Leech
WWFND
June 26, 2008
What Would FOX Network Do?
Add tits and slow motion.
Bush Burger Recipe
June 19, 2008
Take fellow countrymen –
form into soldiers.
Make a weaker nation
flaming briquettes.
Add some prisoners.
Grill and eat’em.
Call yourself a REAL man.
Dad Wore Hats
June 15, 2008
Not when he should have.
On a cold bright day
he would call out
where is your hat?
while the wind played
in his hair.
Nor the way he should have.
It was always
crunched atop his head
by a nephew or daughter
running around our backyard
at a picnic.
Nor what he should have.
Into the dewy night
the adults would sing
heads touching in harmony
dad smoking a Chesterfield
wearing a bonnet.
It is all hockey violence…
June 10, 2008
Cheer at the altar of his fist.
A beer to celebrate blood on ice.
The enforcer whom you worship
would split your head and not think twice.
These are the heroes we offer –
often naughty, rarely nice.
you will know the truth by its actions
June 8, 2008
let the gods throw chairs
at each other
claiming truth
as property
shattering bones
in their name
while buddha sits quietly
under a table
Velcro – Unzipped
June 7, 2008
why a following
and not faith?
why signs
and no horizons?
why flesh
but no sight?
why not faith
and no following?
why not horizons
with no signs?
why not sight
but no flesh?
About – uncool adventure!
June 5, 2008
As a young boy, I did not know what was going on in the classroom. There was no such thing as ADHD or LD back then. It was dismissed as laziness or stupidity. Participles, logarithms, declension, reading, speed, memorization, and athletic coordination – I was always on shaky ground.
My handwriting was neanderthal and my study habits avoidant. I spent my school days furtively staring out big windows. Birds were my envy as they flew across the ever changing sky. On dreary wet days I turned to my pencil (missile) and pen (rocket ship).
I was the oldest of two, then three, then four, then five, then six, and later seven. It became progressively easier to underachieve in this burgeoning post war blue collar Catholic family.
My dad worked three jobs. Mom cooked, sewed, scrubbed, ironed, washed, mopped, and all the while monitored an ever expanding gaggle of robust strong willed children . We eventually overwhelmed her resources. We were like big fleshy ants.
Play and television were my refuge. The tube allowed me to escape instantly. Far away places, adventure, and fame were my fantasies. I would spend hours in bed before sleep concocting gallant stories in my mind with me as the intrepid hero.
My favorite thing of all was Boy Scouts. It allowed me to go camping and play with fire – to go away and have adventure – to take on whatever nature could dish out. It taught me I could do things well. I learned stuff like Morse code and survival skills. I became Order of the Arrow and attended National Leadership Camp. Too bad I let my buddies talk me into quitting. They thought boy scouts was uncool.
I traded confidence and growth for “cool”. It was like trading hiking boots for hair gel.
qazse 