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Radio Waves

From the transmitter, to the receiver.
Across the ether, out of your speaker.
Chorus:
Radio waves have life! radio waves have life!
Machines are living too, theyre working for me and you!
From the transmitter, to the receiver.
Across the ether, out of your speaker.
To the baltic fleet and atlantic fleet.
Faster than the breeze over stormy seas.
Repeat chorus (2)
Through america to albania.
Over reagans head, under moscows bed.
To the warsaw pact and the nato pact.
Down this cul de sac, never turning back.
Repeat chorus

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Live... From The Funeral Of God

Live from the funeral of God
Live from the funeral of God
This is the day you've awaited
Sponsored and celebrated
He has answered your prayers
Corpses have piled up with your riches
They have spilled over onto the Earth
We spit and wear our fear like masks
Everything is locked into form
(Interrupt the feed)
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
Are men no worse than demons?
Are armies not thirsty for bleed?
The desire of their hearts has been met
Eons and eons
Decades of liars
Drink with power atop the mountains of corpses
Their arms and legs fail and they crawl like serpents
To address those who are mourning
Live from the funeral of God
Of God
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control

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From The Moment (Strambotto Toscano)

From the moment when time, this world did begin,
together the two of us must then have been,
in my heart, spirit and soul you jumped in
from the moment when this world had first light seen
together we were in a world full of sin
and for each other we must have been quite keen
from that far distant first awakening spring
God had to us an unbreakable love bring.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

My Secret. (From The French Of Felix Arvers)

My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery,
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history,
And she who was the cause nor knew it nor believed.
Alas! I shall have passed close by her unperceived,
For ever at her side and yet for ever lonely,
I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only
Daring to ask for nought, and having nought received.

For her, though God hath made her gentle and endearing,
She will go on her way distraught and without hearing
These murmurings of love that round her steps ascend,
Piously faithful still unto her austere duty,
Will say, when she shall read these lines full of her beauty,
Who can this woman be? and will not comprehend.

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Why Keep On Living? ....[LONG; Personal; End-of-Life Choices]

This may not my typical poem be... because
I don't plan to use much rhyming.... you wait and see!


As my wife is away in Japan
and I hold down the fort....
watering plants, doing outdoor chores, paying bills....
I ask myself.....again...why keep living?


It's kind of a depressing question as it implies
that I don't enjoy life enough to want to keep living
or I feel there is a good reason to die.
Neither position is exactly what's in my mind.


It's not that I feel any god-commanded mandate,
or even, exactly, a human mandate to keep living....
though I have been coerced by both my daughter
and my wife to stay alive for now.
(Shannon wants her as-yet-unborn children to 'know' me;
my wife wants to die before I do; I'm not sure why.)

I'm 61 and relatively healthy. My wife encourages good health. I don't WANT to die, exactly, though there are times
when I think death would be 'nice'.
Death could be 'easier' than living.
I sometimes say I feel I use too many resources, etc..
(my wife says I eat too much.)

Call me 'lazy' if you will. …..I sometimes (rarely)
lie in bed on my back, feel exceptionally relaxed,
and think…..
‘if death were like this I would welcome it.'
[And maybe it is.]

Don't get my wrong. I have a good life as lives go.
I feel 'blessed' to be: male, white, a 'good' height
and weight (I think) , modestly attractive, healthy,
raised Christian (though no longer) , heterosexual,
financially secure, Anglo-Saxon, 'middle (lower) class',
relatively intelligent, living in America, and having
(I think) good common sense. I had a safe,
educated upbringing. I have a lovely and loving daughter.
And, most of all, I have a lovely and loving wife.

Not that I feel being 'male, white' etc. makes
me 'better' than other people. I DON'T! Really.
But, given my surroundings, I believe the above
conditions have been advantageous for my life …..
for my comfort, well-being....whatever one calls it.

So why would I even consider ending my life voluntarily?
Good question! !
Well....from time to time since I was in my twenties
I have had moments of mild depression....[nothing to seek medical help for you understand....
Thank God! ....even though I don't believe in God;
I don't really not believe in God either. Growing up
going to church and Sunday school was pleasant
enough usually....especially the candy for kids at X-mas eve church services! ]
The 'mild depression' would come at times when I
had no female partner with whom I could share...share life, share meals, share bedtime, etc..
At other times I've gotten depressed when a relationship
I'm in seems to be crumbling. Oh no!
'I'm not accepted for what I am (an imperfect man...is that redundant?) .;
Where do I go from here? ; I could be lonely again.;
I really want a woman to love me and be loved, albeit 'imperfectly', by me.'

SO, at times depression brought on by 'insufficient' love has
made me doubt the worth of continued living.

Also, within the last 10 to15 years, I have had
environmental doubts about the worth of continuing to live.
There are too many people on earth for the available
resources to sustain them in a comfortable fashion.
OR...the resources are not divided in such a way to
provide a comfortable life for all.



People are living too long! ! (read on)



'Doom and gloom' in the news, casts doubt on the future of mankind.
'Global warming', war, disease, hunger, crime,
bankruptcy, foreclosures, pollution, joblessness, terrorism,
lack of healthcare, unwed mothers (and fathers) ,
adult-children and grandchildren moving
in with parents and grandparents, religious + ethnic strife ….
NEED I say more? Not that these events are ALL new to mankind.

I have led a pretty good and complete life.
Now my main reasons for living are to share life with my wife
and to try to help others in small ways.....
as a financial supporter of 'worthy causes',
as a friend to some people as lucky as I am, and
as a friend to some others who are less-advantaged.

I like to think when my body dies I die completely
except as a memory in some peoples' minds,
and perhaps as part of someone else's body through organ/tissue donation..



I do feel, or like to think that, some people will miss me ….
some might even be saddened for more than a day if I were to die.
But I believe those people would be few and far between.
And I feel they should be able to do fine without me in time.

(and my insurance beneficiaries would prosper)

(9-2-2009)

3

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World of oxigen

People talk, why should we care for that?
People cry, why should we spend our time in regret?
Because people talk every day,
And people will cry any way,
And we are people,
we shouldn't care or regret,
and we shouldn't criticize who we don't know.
We shouldn't talk behind their back,
Why can't we let go?
Why can't we do that?
People multiply,
People cry,
People fall,
People try..
People breathe the same air,
we can't we be one? for that let's care.
In a world of hate, envy, lust and love.
All in the world of oxigen.
In a world of greed where we can't get enough.
In a world of mistakes as we are humanbeings.
In a world of heartbreaks.
In a world of a lot of things to think of.
In a world we are not forgiven,
we hate the life we are living.
So, people let people be
And people let people see
That eventually,
we can share a dream,
As people in a world of oxigen....

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From The Other

This act,
This style,
This work;
But, you can't set her free during the heat of the sun!
Because this problem at hand is from the other,
And you need to follow the rules to keep her safe under your care.

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God Forgive Me From The Sin

as i stand under the rain
asking god to forgive me from the sin
asking god with an eye full of tears
please god forgive today
i felt that i wasnt crying alone
but they sky was crying with me today
asking god to forgive us today
as i bury my self under the pain
but today am crying so loud
please god forgive me from the sin

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A Gift From The Mermaids

Washing ashore
I see a pendant

Picking it up
I can tell it's a valuable sea treasure

On the pendant
There's a message engraved
The message is from the mermaids
Who thank me for everything
As well as the memories
And the dreams

I smile to the sea
Even though they they're far out there
And can't see me
As they're either under the sea or playing with the
sea creatures
They know I'm grateful

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Flying From The Sky

when I see your eyes i fall from the sky,
trying to learn how to fly,
to find your eyes so low and far,
from the sky i fly so far,
to catch your eyes, so far and down under the sky,
only God can find your eyes in such a time,
when i fly i fly for your eyes and thats all,
and if i die form the flight,
please go over me and stare,
with your beautiful eyes over my body,
your eyes so beautiful i fly from the sky,
to find you and only you from the sky......

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From The Moment

from the moment
you open your eyes
until the moment
you close your eyes

your children
are constantly
under your feet

always next to you
seeking you out
your presence touch

when they sleep
they want to be
always next to you

during a nap by day
long hours sleep by night
from the womb time

these are your babies
your little children
little minds personalities

like brood chicks
to mother hen
under your wing

they seek comfort
warmth security
love protection food

this love this bond
this motherhood
this is a gift divine
this blessing children

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A Voice From The Wilderness

There are times when we wander;
we are filled with anger, hate and despair.
Then we hear a voice from the wilderness,
beckoning us to come there.
A warming voice,
filled with love and compassion.
We follow on that way
and listen to the voice,
as it guides us on our way.
The voice then tells us,
there is a truth in everything we seek.
That if we follow the right path,
we will find it there.
All we have to do
is open our heart to everyone,
for the purest heart
cannot ever be put under.
Therefore, we carry on
to our destined future,
wherever that may be.


27 October 2007

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Driven From The Seat

His life is a lie.
Smothered under alibis.
Tied he is to connected delusions!
Only his breathing...
Is not worth debate or denied!
Everything else should be of concern.
As he is driven from the seat,
Of every illusion he yearns!

Kept nourished he is,
To feed an ego burning...
That has marred a scarred reality.
And nothing of this he has learned...
For him to expect a respect not earned!

His life is a lie.
Smothered under alibis.
Tied he is to connected delusions!
And a dangerous mind like his,
Continues to leave behind misery!
And tears to those believing...
Anything he says he is!

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From The Cherry Blossoms

Not asking, was most difficult, from
the magma, to send a hot spring. It was
a classical translation of the pain in winter
of human spell, in a temple festival.

The space widens between us, between
our thighs and absences, while studing
the red roof of the landscape, where blood
had dripped from the cherry blossoms.

I say to mother earth, where the border
begins between your breasts and foeticide.
Warriors were becoming monks or priests
were learning the art to kill.

This road is not going anywhere.
The interval between matter and time
links to movement of grief. The ahead
is tomorrow under siege. Sun is refusing
to melt the snow on mountains.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In The Harbour: The Wine Of Jurançon. (From The French Of Charles Coran)

Little sweet wine of Jurançon,
You are dear to my memory still!
With mine host and his merry song,
Under the rose-tree I drank my fill.

Twenty years after, passing that way,
Under the trellis I found again
Mine host, still sitting there au frais,
And singing still the same refrain.

The Jurançon, so fresh and bold,
Treats me as one it used to know;
Souvenirs of the days of old
Already from the bottle flow,

With glass in hand our glances met;
We pledge, we drink. How sour it is
Never Argenteuil piquette
Was to my palate sour as this!

And yet the vintage was good, in sooth;
The self-same juice, the self-same cask!
It was you, O gayety of my youth,
That failed in the autumnal flask!

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The unseen from the seen

Dear, O my dear forever,
I have seen you a portion,
The rest under clouds.
Your face, hair, nape
And limbs from elbows,
And no more, were visible.
The rest beneath the saree
Is safely kept unseen.
It is enough to my faculty.
From the parts I have seen,
I perceive the parts unseen.
I could visualize,
I could surmise,
I could X-ray.
I could fantasize
And I could imagine
What were there in store,
And what shape they were:
The lean breast, the thin arms,
The slender legs and the narrow groin.
I felt about it as if I was drunk.
Yours unseen are frenzy
To me rather than to him
Who is your custodian.
Your contour is just like curves
In a cartoon, speaking volumes.
I owe much to your company.
It keeps me in harmony.
There is no harm to any.
17.12.2000, Pmdi

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Siege Of Kazan. (Tartar Song, From The Prose Version Of Chodzko)

Black are the moors before Kazan,
And their stagnant waters smell of blood:
I said in my heart, with horse and man,
I will swim across this shallow flood.

Under the feet of Argamack,
Like new moons were the shoes he bare,
Silken trappings hung on his back,
In a talisman on his neck, a prayer.

My warriors, thought I, are following me;
But when I looked behind, alas!
Not one of all the band could I see,
All had sunk in the black morass!

Where are our shallow fords? and where
The power of Kazan with its fourfold gates?
From the prison windows our maidens fair
Talk of us still through the iron grates.

We cannot hear them; for horse and man
Lie buried deep in the dark abyss!
Ah! the black day hath come down on Kazan!
Ah! was ever a grief like this?

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A Letter from the Sand 'Be Proud

Today I received a letter from the sand. It read Dear Sir, we regret to inform you that your brother Sgt. Andre Smith was killed two days ago in Iraq, but be proud he died a hero. Now I must read that letters a hundred times but pride never came over me but anger did. Anger that got me asking questions like is proud of what, that my big brother is no longer here? Or should I be proud that they turned my caring brother into murder all under the false flag of freedom? Be proud, I am proud and I was always proud not because Andre died as hero but I am proud because he was my brother.

Note:
This poem is not a true story. Now although my brother Andre did past away he did not die that way, but I wanted to honor him so I used his name in a poem the relates to current affairs

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Away from the thunder

Son of the wicked. Or so you wonder.By the willow tree, and away from the thunder.Have you ever dared to hold out your hand to me? I doubt you think i might judge thee. I cannot say, though I am not pure. Their cruel world is tainted, there is no cure.We are not of this world. As we both see it. We were sent to undersatnd, not to fit. But you Gabriel, are far more worth than I. Rose, a name so simple never amounts to anything. Gabriel, so strong willed. While I, so fragile am nothing. Our paths cross in a holocaust. we are safe, but others lost. Gabriel, one day you'll tell me the things most private. You don't say much. For you are completely silent We lie face to face. to comprehend, to wonder. Hiding away, finding our peace. Under our willow tree and away from the thunder.

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Theme From The Bottom

I feed from the bottom, you feed from the top
I live upon morsels you happen to drop
And coffee that somehow leaks out of your cup
If nothing comes down then Im forced to swim up
On the way upwards, the colors come back
But all along the bottom is blue, grey, and black
The darkness is cold and perception goes wrong
And the night seems to go on incredibly long
So I ask you why if Im swimming by,
Dont you see anything youd like to try?
Pantomime mixtures of heaven and earth
Jumbled events that have less than no worth
Time in the forest to dig under rocks
Or float in the ocean asleep in a box
Or sink just below all the churning and froth
And swim to the light source or fly like a moth
So toss away stuff you dont need in the end
But keep whats important and know whos your friend
So I ask you why if Im swimming by,
Dont you see anything that youd like to try?
If Im swimming by
From the bottom, from the top ( x 8 )

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Seeping From the Last of Merit

Can a mess long unaddressed be corrected?
How creative will the undertaking of that task become?
In a place in which reality has been nonexisting...
Who's vision will produce a concrete foundation?
What will it be based upon?
Every institution now has cracks,
Providing versions of inactivity to combat
What currently attacks.
How can anyone defend beliefs,
Seeping from the last of merit.
And pretentions kept have ceased paying any bill.
We live in days when having bad credit...
Is better to accept than having no credit at all!
Those who have played ball at their best,
All their lives AND patriotic...
Have become rejected and placed under investigation!
They have become suspects.
Standing out to bloom...
In a sea of choking weeds.
To become smoked away,
From positions once held in high esteem.
Can a mess long unaddressed be corrected?
How creative will the undertaking of that task become?
No one seems to know.
Too many are far too slow in awakening.
And those with virtue...
Have begun to sever themselves from the waste!

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