Dementia looms,
intimate acquaintances
now eerie strangers.
The fog encroaches,
dissolving the terrain,
and turning distant landmarks
into vague, shadowy blobs.
The air is chilled,
and my exhalations mingle
with the enclosing mist.
"I remember now!"
I whisper hoarsely,
then moments later
forgetting my recollection.
I rub my bare forearms
and pace along
an ever-shrinking circle.
My teeth chatter,
and here I kneel,
then crumple,
hugging the ground
as it vanishes.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Poems and Prose #9: The Ruse
What am I to do,
in lieu of feeling blue,
and much too studious
to eschew the news
and rue the things
that I consume?
"What am I to do?"
I muse,
refusing to disabuse
a fuse-less loon
of mental ruses,
claiming certain doom.
in lieu of feeling blue,
and much too studious
to eschew the news
and rue the things
that I consume?
"What am I to do?"
I muse,
refusing to disabuse
a fuse-less loon
of mental ruses,
claiming certain doom.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Poems and Prose #8: Lucidity
Contiguous curls billow,
like far-off wisps
of divine hair strands,
filling the sky,
shifting its hue
from light blue
to cerulean
to dark blue
and darker-still blue.
I pat my head to find the pillow,
for this must surely
be a dreamscape,
and surely some
brisk escape...
like far-off wisps
of divine hair strands,
filling the sky,
shifting its hue
from light blue
to cerulean
to dark blue
and darker-still blue.
I pat my head to find the pillow,
for this must surely
be a dreamscape,
and surely some
brisk escape...
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Poems and Prose #7: Bloodshot
The muted trumpets
back an undiluted song,
suited for a balmy night,
rooted in a sorry sight.
The sun's asleep,
but it'll be back.
I sigh, acknowleding
the cyclical summertime malaise.
Alone in the dark,
daylight's tendrils tantalize.
But experience has taught me
not to trust dull, tired eyes.
Rest is welcome,
but dreams now are
more repetition than respite.
Maybe tomorrow will be brighter.
back an undiluted song,
suited for a balmy night,
rooted in a sorry sight.
The sun's asleep,
but it'll be back.
I sigh, acknowleding
the cyclical summertime malaise.
Alone in the dark,
daylight's tendrils tantalize.
But experience has taught me
not to trust dull, tired eyes.
Rest is welcome,
but dreams now are
more repetition than respite.
Maybe tomorrow will be brighter.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Poems and Prose #6: Dutiful
Duty, you say?
To whom?
To what?
And on which day?
I'd scoff,
but my grimace
is too stiff
to be changed,
And I won't
let my
walking-in-place
be delayed.
To whom?
To what?
And on which day?
I'd scoff,
but my grimace
is too stiff
to be changed,
And I won't
let my
walking-in-place
be delayed.
Friday, September 7, 2012
2012 Presidential Bumper Stickers
I put together a couple of logos for each of the major party 2012 presidential tickets. They're not in the standard 4:1 ratio for bumper stickers, but I guess they could be used in such a manner. Disclaimer: this is neither an endorsement nor a rebuke of either party or their candidates.
 |
| Forward, to that low hum in the distance... |
 |
| Remain perfectly still... |
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Poems and Prose #5: Spun
Amphetamized,
I surmise,
a wrinkled face
is a fine disguise.
While randomized,
my snideness shines,
lobotomized,
but hey, it rhymes.
Standardized,
my eyes un-line,
a hint that time
might need more time.
Aggrandized,
these words climb,
depravity
now seeming fine.
I surmise,
a wrinkled face
is a fine disguise.
While randomized,
my snideness shines,
lobotomized,
but hey, it rhymes.
Standardized,
my eyes un-line,
a hint that time
might need more time.
Aggrandized,
these words climb,
depravity
now seeming fine.
Poems and Prose #4: Off
The starter's pistol
shot,
I roll myself
off the cot,
Quickly melting dreams
reminding me
of the time
I haven't got.
I spy a lonely,
unkempt spot
on the rug,
and there I trot.
A concluding string
of actions
given to me,
that I'd not bought.
shot,
I roll myself
off the cot,
Quickly melting dreams
reminding me
of the time
I haven't got.
I spy a lonely,
unkempt spot
on the rug,
and there I trot.
A concluding string
of actions
given to me,
that I'd not bought.
Poems and Prose #3: The Guillotine
The guillotine creaks,
Its sides splintered, damp, and knotted.
No business this morning,
The basket beneath is clean and kempt.
The street is bare.
No angry shouts or darkened revelry.
A hollow monolith,
The structure sways, barely, as breezes pass.
Dark red speckles
Form a grim ellipse, there, on the pavement.
Tomorrow will be better:
More work to do,
Sentences to punctuate.
For today, just rest.
There will always be more days to see.
Its sides splintered, damp, and knotted.
No business this morning,
The basket beneath is clean and kempt.
The street is bare.
No angry shouts or darkened revelry.
A hollow monolith,
The structure sways, barely, as breezes pass.
Dark red speckles
Form a grim ellipse, there, on the pavement.
Tomorrow will be better:
More work to do,
Sentences to punctuate.
For today, just rest.
There will always be more days to see.
Poems and Prose #2: Heads Talking
With sanctimony,
those with flapping lips
tersely hiss,
Abbreviating their
commentaries with crumpled,
deadened wit.
Though disdain
is my reaction to these
malefactors' tics,
I'd be lying if
I said we differed, altogether,
more than bits,
And I'd laugh,
same as them,
if they fell to bruising licks.
those with flapping lips
tersely hiss,
Abbreviating their
commentaries with crumpled,
deadened wit.
Though disdain
is my reaction to these
malefactors' tics,
I'd be lying if
I said we differed, altogether,
more than bits,
And I'd laugh,
same as them,
if they fell to bruising licks.
Poems and Prose #1: End Times
Rapture prophecies
fill the street corners,
leather-faced men crowing,
smoke-chiseled voices
full of false age
and dubious wisdom.
If they disappear,
we'll all be fools.
But when they don't,
we'll be idiots.
I'd say it's a lose-lose,
but that's a given.
Pass the popcorn.
fill the street corners,
leather-faced men crowing,
smoke-chiseled voices
full of false age
and dubious wisdom.
If they disappear,
we'll all be fools.
But when they don't,
we'll be idiots.
I'd say it's a lose-lose,
but that's a given.
Pass the popcorn.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Hijacking America
Yeah, I suppose the title is a little incendiary. Oh well. It has a nice ring to it, anyway.
I'm not normally one to get engaged with politics. Being an extremely detached person, I never really paid it much mind for most of my life. Yeah, I vaguely remember President Ronald Reagan, and seeing something about the Berlin Wall coming down on the nightly news, then later having my social-studies teacher tell us about the fall of the Soviet Union. I have hazy recollections about a shrill Texan named Ross Perot and the three-way presidential campaign. In high school, I laughed with everyone else about Bill Clinton's wandering hands. I lived my childhood about three levels deep inside of my own head, and all these reality-based stories didn't particularly pique my interest too much.
As far as my own opinions about political matters as an adult, I've basically always just shrugged my shoulders and said, "Fuck it. Whatever, man," possibly while under the influence of some illicit substance or other.
President Bush's tenure obviously had a significant impact on me, of course. I'm not someone who believes Bush is an Evil Man or that he's a blithering imbecile. My main criticism of President Bush would be of how utterly fucking horribly he fumbled the ball when it came to his response to the September 11th attacks in 2001. I distinctly recall the attacks occurring while I was a sophomore in college. (I also remember my roommate from Belize telling me repeatedly that there were people in Palestine cheering in the streets, trying to goad an angry reaction out of me, I presume. He seemed to have trouble believing my reaction of basically shrugging and laughing it off.)
Remember that three to four-month period right after the attacks when people all across the country were purchasing miniature American flags and proudly attaching them to their cars? The hum of national unity was in the air, and this occurred less than a year after the polarizing 2000 election fiasco.
President Bush had an opportunity to provide a positive vision for this country's future and help drive the nation toward it. His approval rating was around 85%. 85 fucking percent! Americans were ready to hear some big ideas. We needed leadership. Unfortunately for us, George W. Bush was our leader when we most needed capable leadership.
To put it metaphorically, imagine a scene where the entire population of America is standing in a huge, grassy field, and in the distance you can see the billowing clouds of smoke from some tragic catastrophe. It's just before dawn, and the scent of dewy grass fills the air. In the center of this huge throng is George W. Bush, holding a megaphone. Everyone is looking at this man. People are craning their necks over the rows of people in front of them to catch a glimpse of him and hear what he has to say about what we should do.
Bush clicks the megaphone on and says, in a gruff, serious voice, "My fellow Americans, follow me," and begins walking.
Everyone can see the sun beginning to peek over the hill in the distance, yet this man is walking toward the sunken entrance to a cave. As we approach the cave, screams and cries can be heard. Explosions and gunfire and the sound of blades tearing flesh echo through the cave as we get closer. There is a standing pool of blood that's slowly oozing beyond the cave's opening.
"Let's go," Bush declares, his eyes never losing their stern stare.
He steps to the side and begins leading people inside the cave. There are some murmurs at the back of the crowd, some looking over at the sunrise over the hill and shaking their heads, as the mass of people gets siphoned into the dark cavern.
One thing I won't do here is make Bush into some buck-toothed, gun-waving caricature who simultaneously can't tie his own shoes and is masterminding some 12-dimensional conspiracy involving oil companies and war-machine manufacturers and Middle East investors. He was a man -- a man who made extremely shortsighted mistakes that could possibly have been the straw that broke the camel's back as far as America's superpower status goes. He was put in a historic spot where he could have shaped the future of America in profound and positive ways. Instead, he chose the "You're either with me or against me" and "Yeah, two simultaneous land wars is in the United States' interest" route.
What a wasted opportunity.
In the United States, the executive branch doesn't have a tremendous amount of power, other than the bully pulpit. Bush had a bully pulpit the size of an aircraft carrier, and he chose to use it unwisely, possibly even disastrously.
As a born not-leader (and a coward and so on), I appreciate and respect good leadership, even if I don't always follow it. If only that leadership had been available during that critical time, perhaps my country's future wouldn't be looking more and more like a perilous place.
I'm not normally one to get engaged with politics. Being an extremely detached person, I never really paid it much mind for most of my life. Yeah, I vaguely remember President Ronald Reagan, and seeing something about the Berlin Wall coming down on the nightly news, then later having my social-studies teacher tell us about the fall of the Soviet Union. I have hazy recollections about a shrill Texan named Ross Perot and the three-way presidential campaign. In high school, I laughed with everyone else about Bill Clinton's wandering hands. I lived my childhood about three levels deep inside of my own head, and all these reality-based stories didn't particularly pique my interest too much.
As far as my own opinions about political matters as an adult, I've basically always just shrugged my shoulders and said, "Fuck it. Whatever, man," possibly while under the influence of some illicit substance or other.
President Bush's tenure obviously had a significant impact on me, of course. I'm not someone who believes Bush is an Evil Man or that he's a blithering imbecile. My main criticism of President Bush would be of how utterly fucking horribly he fumbled the ball when it came to his response to the September 11th attacks in 2001. I distinctly recall the attacks occurring while I was a sophomore in college. (I also remember my roommate from Belize telling me repeatedly that there were people in Palestine cheering in the streets, trying to goad an angry reaction out of me, I presume. He seemed to have trouble believing my reaction of basically shrugging and laughing it off.)
Remember that three to four-month period right after the attacks when people all across the country were purchasing miniature American flags and proudly attaching them to their cars? The hum of national unity was in the air, and this occurred less than a year after the polarizing 2000 election fiasco.
 |
| We're all in this together, for better or worse |
To put it metaphorically, imagine a scene where the entire population of America is standing in a huge, grassy field, and in the distance you can see the billowing clouds of smoke from some tragic catastrophe. It's just before dawn, and the scent of dewy grass fills the air. In the center of this huge throng is George W. Bush, holding a megaphone. Everyone is looking at this man. People are craning their necks over the rows of people in front of them to catch a glimpse of him and hear what he has to say about what we should do.
Bush clicks the megaphone on and says, in a gruff, serious voice, "My fellow Americans, follow me," and begins walking.
Everyone can see the sun beginning to peek over the hill in the distance, yet this man is walking toward the sunken entrance to a cave. As we approach the cave, screams and cries can be heard. Explosions and gunfire and the sound of blades tearing flesh echo through the cave as we get closer. There is a standing pool of blood that's slowly oozing beyond the cave's opening.
"Let's go," Bush declares, his eyes never losing their stern stare.
He steps to the side and begins leading people inside the cave. There are some murmurs at the back of the crowd, some looking over at the sunrise over the hill and shaking their heads, as the mass of people gets siphoned into the dark cavern.
One thing I won't do here is make Bush into some buck-toothed, gun-waving caricature who simultaneously can't tie his own shoes and is masterminding some 12-dimensional conspiracy involving oil companies and war-machine manufacturers and Middle East investors. He was a man -- a man who made extremely shortsighted mistakes that could possibly have been the straw that broke the camel's back as far as America's superpower status goes. He was put in a historic spot where he could have shaped the future of America in profound and positive ways. Instead, he chose the "You're either with me or against me" and "Yeah, two simultaneous land wars is in the United States' interest" route.
What a wasted opportunity.
In the United States, the executive branch doesn't have a tremendous amount of power, other than the bully pulpit. Bush had a bully pulpit the size of an aircraft carrier, and he chose to use it unwisely, possibly even disastrously.
As a born not-leader (and a coward and so on), I appreciate and respect good leadership, even if I don't always follow it. If only that leadership had been available during that critical time, perhaps my country's future wouldn't be looking more and more like a perilous place.
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