ABOUT NEW-MOWN LAWNS AND PARKING LOTS

I want to count each blade of grass and clover growing on this lawn because it will soon be gone, covered with concrete, not to be a street, but just another parking lot where cars deposit overflowing oil and axle grease and trucks fart fumes into the air and boozers who just don't care with no respect toss empty beer cans everywhere.

Swarthy men with jet black skin have breakfast before they begin. Coffee cups, half filled or spilled, beer cans, unwashed, squashed, bent, discarded out of shape, morning papers, left unread, crusts of bread, pools of piss, some of that and more of this.

Trucks of fresh cement will pour their contents on Kentucky Blue and lucky four leaf clovers, just a few, mixed with bugs and worms and other squirmy things, gasping for air, buried there without a prayer.

Where once was grass where children played, having fun, running, falling down, there'll be discarded butts and ashes, crashes, scattered shards of broken glass, rusting Chevies, Fords and foreign cars and hordes of drivers and connivers with angry faces declaring war over parking spaces.

LET BLOGS BE MY LEGACY

I wake up in the dead of night thinking of something I must write, tired but inspired and fired by my imagination, anxious to have a conversation with with my mind no matter how weary I may be. If If I delay what I have to say the whole idea might fade way.

Inspiration is a visitation from angels floating in the air. If I wait, hesitate to state what's inside of you it may be too late. It no longer will be there. When I as young and learned to read and write I knew this would be my plight in life. I'm a writing man and plan to write as long as I can.

Even if my creative juice runs dry I trust what I've done will provide some fun and introspection, Democratic elections and more affection for rhyme is what I'm fondest of. It's what I love! To me, the most important thing of all is to bring pleasure, joy and fun to everyone. This is all within my wherewithall.
Even if I live to double zero, I don't want to be a hero. I just want to share my rhyme with all who care and want to share with me SO please bear with me whether you agree or disagree with me.

What I write is sometimes fact, is often fiction. My convictions and predictions, sometimes lucid, more often stupid, are all designed to strain the brain and entertain, If they make you laugh or smile, all the nonsense is worthwhile,

My verse, for better or for worse, will be my legacy.

DOES ANYBODY UNDERSTAND?

Do the leaders of this land, with all their schooling understand, they're fooling with a fate greater than man could possibly fear in all the millennia since life has been here? What is happening to our limited days, in a hundred diabolic ways, is not the result of nature's determination. We, the created. are fated to meet our demise by the sick of politic.

The signs of impending end are everywhere---in the climate, in the air, in abnormal rains and hurricanes, tornadoes and melting ice floes, of unexplained and unrestrained disease, in the deprivation facing populations of undeveloped, unchanged nations where starvation is a way of life, where war and brutal confrontation are the ultimate contamination of a once sane civilization.

The Bible says the "end of times" is near. Fatalists bemoan it is already here. Pessimists insist it is too late to alter fate. Optimists cry "No! We have a way to go, time to slow and even reverse the destruction of the universe if those who determine what to do with our tax revenue will open up their purse and do what must be done for everyone before things get worse.

No matter what the preachers say and pray, this is all the act of man. To blame God is to perpetrate a holy fraud.

WARNING!

If you get aches and pains from winter rains
That bedevil the bones in your body.
If your fluttery heart with a stop and a start
Sends messages slow down or God, he
Will do what gods do with damn fools like you
Who shun signs and seek partytime pleasures.
That guy in the sky will flip the big switch
Which lets you enjoy earthly treasures.
Slow down, you fool, or it's damn sure you'll
Join those without everyday bothers.
Once life was a toy for you to enjoy.
Soon you'll rot in the field of your fathers.

MEDICARE JUST DOESN'T CARE

My doc's not a schlock, but he's a crook. He cooks his books and the schnooks are unaware of how he adds and pads his bills to rake in more revenue than he's due,

Why does he lie? Because the bucks are there and Medicare doesn't shive a git where they're coming from or who they're going to. The clerks shirk responsibility, aware of the futility and inability to fix a system broke, a billion dollar joke,

Old folks get ill and know it will kill them if they smoke, but they puff away anyway, When they cough and wheeze they say to doc, "Help me, please." The lawyer butts in with a grin and says, "This is where I come in. I can't keep you alive, but I'll help you die with lots of dough."

Without shame they file a lame claim. Both sides know it's just a game. The patient's not satisfied what Medicare decides to decide. The shyster-mister files a suit. His client gets the loot. The lawyer does just what he said. The loser pays. The winner's dead.

WHAT IFS OF LIFE

What if you were me and I were you would we still do what we do? Would we still be mutually attracted sexually? If neither one of Us was Us and you married Gus and I wed Shirl would you have had a different girl and I a different son? If they had met and wed and had birthed none would life go on with no new name to add to either family tree?
If we had never met, I'd not be grieving you who I never knew. I would not anticipate the fate that awaited my mate instead of me. I would never have known the pain of life alone without you to comfort me.

What if the Navy ship on which I took a trip to fight a war had sunk with me to eternity, would I still be asleep at the bottom of the Pacific sea and there would be no more of me? Would you sometimes miss me and remember me lovingly?

DOES ANYBODY UNDERSTAND?

Do the leaders of this land, with all their schooling understand, they're fooling with a fate greater than man could possibly fear in all the millennia since life has been here? What is happening to our limited days, in a hundred diabolic ways, is not the result of nature's determination. We, the created. are fated to meet our demise by the sick of politic.

The signs of impending end are everywhere---in the climate, in the air, in abnormal rains and hurricanes, tornadoes and melting ice floes, of unexplained and unrestrained disease, in the deprivation facing populations of undeveloped, unchanged nations where starvation is a way of life, where war and brutal confrontation are the ultimate contamination of a once sane civilization.

The Bible says the "end of times" is near. Fatalists bemoan it is already here. Pessimists insist it is too late to alter fate. Optimists cry "No! We have a way to go, time to slow, even reverse the destruction of the universe if those who determine what to do with our tax revenue will open up their purse and do what must be done for everyone before things get worse.

No matter what the preachers say and pray, this is all the act of man. To blame God is to perpetrate a holy fraud.

DEATH OF LIFE?

It happened in the early spring
That all the birds refused to sing
And all the squirrels left the trees
And there were no buzzing bees
To wile away the daylight hours
Polluting all the fruits and flowers.
The cloudless sky dried up and so
There was no rain for plants to grow
And beneath a blazing sun
Bugs and weeds died one by one.
Fear gripped the helpless population.
Had Nature taken a vacation?
Even worse, the people cried,
Had Life committed suicide?

DAMN THE DIETS!

If there were no sugar plums and cokie crumbs, salad bars and candy bars, ice cream cones and griddle scones, pizza pies and crisp, French fries, egg yolks and Cokes, burgers on the grille and foods high in cholesterol, sweets and pastry treats, pickles to make the tummy ache, pork-chops sopped in globs of gravy, how would physicians make big fees telling fatties what and what not to eat?

I praise gourmets who rave about foods, food-lovers crave, so spare me diets if you please. I'm hooked on calories when in an eating mood. Don't give me low cal, low fat foods. I want to salivate in my plate. Let no taste go to waste.

I know it may seem absurd, but I check my watch for the earlybird. I know it's bad for me to eat deserts until it hurts, that I'll have to pay eventually for my excess, my compulsion ingest foods that make me pop the buttons on my vest, my molars will not let me rest so I chew the whole day through, drooling like an utter fool.

Please pass the peanut-butter and strawberry jam, another slice of ham, a candied yam, some yum-yum-yums and a couple Tums.

Damn the diets! Full FEED Ahead!

THE COST OF WINNING WARS

In war what is won is at the expense of hostile events that cause pain, strain, GIs slain and dollars down the drain. When it's over Over There both sides share sorrows of endless tomorrows, of men killing men once again, oF children dying, loved-ones crying, all asking "Why oh why?"

Why? It's logical, psychological, diabolical. War's what human animals do.

Nations plagued with mushrooming populations can't discourage fornication, also known as sexual relations, so named because it ends in more relations, more babies to be fed, more family budgets in the red, increased cost of Medicare, more dough for diapers, wipers, infant wash n' wear and costly eventualities, crowded schools and overloaded swimming pools, exploding tuitions for families with ambitions their kids will become physicians. With luck they'll earn more warbucks to pay the cost of living high and give to those who chose to live until they die.

A perfect way to support the sport of shoot and die is buy salvation at the house of God, rate a healthy tax rebate, then take an inexpensive vacation to the graveyards of the defeated nation.

WHATA WORLD WE GOTTA GONNA GiTTA!

Once upon a long, long, long LONG---LONG,---LONG ago way back when a When we'll hardly never ever know again, somehow became a now, now, now world of WOW! WOW! WOW! WOW! An earth once made of milk and honey and bumper crops of four-leaf clover was taken over by funny money, Centa Claws and the Feaster bunny.

Once a place of good and grace where everybody had just one face, the world's become mired in tired, waiting to be expired gab and grab, got what you can git shany it for sale at a nice bargain price. Here's the key---$$$$$$---stick it in the hole and a whole treasure, pleasure chest of moldy gold is yours to spend when you get old and are told you've got just one more whatever year to drown yourself in booze and beer before you disappear and are outa here!

The only ones what's gotta gonna stay and shoot the loot on hoot and Godforbidden, hidden fruit are the gotters, gitters, don't shive a gitters who'll sell their soul and self control for a bowl of the stuff that glitters, corn flakes and yesteryears rotten moneyanna bananas.

Welcome to the new world of here today, GUN tomorrow. Borrow somebody else's sorrow. Save your fears for future tears. Plug up your ears and shut your eyes so you can't see or hear your neighbor's sighs and cries as they say their last goodbyes to everything that lives and dies,

Have a nice day. Then get outta my way!

END OF THE WORLD

All your billions and bombs and blood won't be worth a bucket of mud when the killing's over and all that's left are cockroaches and clover, scorched trees and dead honey bees, a fridge full of rotten cheese and dried up seas and a "No thank you, please."

There'll be no disease and nobody to catch it, no chicken or egg or a hen to hatch it and who'd hit a fly ball when there's nobody to catch it? The immense expense for uncivil defense won't cover the expense or cover the cost of reconstruction of unwanted wanton destruction.

There'll be no love, no hate, no too early, too late, no caring, no sharing, no civilization, no today, no tomorrow, no sadness or sorrow, no splashes and clashes, only burned out fields of dry bones and ashes.

All your billions and bombs and blood won't be worth a bucket of mud when the killing's over and all that's left are cockroaches and clover, scorched trees and dead honey bees, a fridge full of rotten cheese and dried up seas and a "No thank you, please."

There'll be no disease and nobody to catch it, no chicken or egg or a hen to hatch it and who'd hit a fly ball when there's nobody to catch it? The immense expense for uncivil defense won't cover the expense or cover the cost of reconstruction of unwanted wanton destruction.

There'll be no love, no hate, no too early, too late, no caring, no sharing, no civilization, no today, no tomorrow, no sadness or sorrow, no splashes and clashes, only burned out fields of dry bones and ashes.

SECONDS BEFORE A GI DIES

We cannot know a soldier's last thought after the fatal shot is fired. To what heights he aspired? What mattered moments before his dreams were shattered, his blood splattered haphazardly, his body washed into the sea.

He felt the bullet in his head, knew he would soon be dead, in the night of his demise he looked up to the star-filled sky and saw God waiting patiently.

So much will die with this GI who didn't even ask God why.

HOW? HOW? HOW? HOW? HOW? HOW?

How the hell can HE, the master of insanity, to satisfy his venal vanity, order thousands of GIs to die like flies?

How can this monstrous, preposterous speck of dust, this drop of slime, sate his lust for floods of blood, commit the same damn crime time after time? How can this creep sleep at night?

We, the critical political and military agree HE is vile, is in denial and must be put on trial, and stand accused as a con who abused his fellow man and dumped his nation into a garbage can.

Every expert in the military aristocracy, except the few who say and do anything HE tells them to, agree this dog is barking up the wrong tree. HE created a war---what for? For more! More power for the presidency. More illegal loot for industry. More misery for his constituency. More dead and gone as HE goes on his merry way putting GI lives on lay away until the day he's convinced the world will say HE kept us free by destroying our democracy.

Forget what HE did to the economy. That will repair eventually. The stock market will turn around when HE is six feet underground. More jobs wlll return to the USA. The fear of terror will disappear as peace grows near and trillions cheer.

Who's the "HE" we referred to repeatedly? His famous name? He has two: MUD and DUBYA. .

DEAD-ICATION TO THIS DAY

When the sky is blue and clouds are few and the sun is bright but not too hot I meditate on what I've got, not what I'd give, to live a life of luxury I know is not for me.

I marvel at my years on earth which started with my infant bitrth and stayed by me unto this day. I meditate about the fate that awaits me down the way. I revere towering trees, the ocean breeze, the mighty seas, the endless hours and friendly flowers, the gentle rain and sudden showers that wash clean air that's always there. I worship, too, the morning dew that only does what dew is due to do, add fragrance to the waking lawn at dawn.

I listen to songs of birds that fly, to lonely owls who hoo the whole night through, to buzzards, bees and varieties of insect families, each unique in how it speaks in voices weak or voices strong as those of like mind survive in nests or hives their short lived lives maneuvering with flapping wings, stinging beings repeatedly day by day until they're felled by man-made spray.

Everything---from lion kings to elephants, giant ants to jungle plants, snakes who sliver pass in grass, turtles hiding in their shell, and who can tell what other creatures creep the earth or hang from trees who, from fleas to flies and otherwise to varying degrees are worth the space they take to make this place a temporary hell or sanctuary.

Life is one big dirty trick that, all too quick, denies the prize of supersize longevity and, instead, turns you and me and all the dead and gone into fertilizer for Forest Lawn or one of those other places of repose six feet down in the heart of or on the edge of town.

So, eat and drink and be very, very, very merry. Your last stop is the cemetery or crematory.

END OF STORY!

MONKEYS AND ME

All humans and our dozens of cousins, apes and chimpanzees and members of their families, variations of the species known generically as Man, were created in line with God's design.

They all are born with two of these and one of those, ten toes and fingers that open and close, a nose with multiple abilities, ears that hear and eyes that see and a mouth that eats and savors sweets, lips that kiss. smile, frown, reveal when we are up or down, jaws that harbor teeth that chew and a tongue that licks and sticks out and, no doubt, does what tongues are supposed to do.

Our extremities do not require listing here for they are familiar to most mammal animals on this sphere. So the point I'm trying to make is this: If we're so much the same inside and out, and of this there's little doubt, where and why do the differences lie between ape and Man and members of this fascinating clan?

We can talk with words defined, stored in a complex mind, a memory bank. Simians can talk, too, with grunts and groans and moans in different tones, but they can't talk on telephones. They must have other ways of expressing and revealing feelings and we can only guess at what they're concealing.

Are there professors, preachers, teachers, searchers, researchers and creatures in the zoo and jungles, too, who are much like me and you, making a fuss over them and us? Frankly, I would rather take the bus and leave the driving to---the monkeys in Peru or Timbuktu.

THE TWILIGHT OF THEIR LIVES

On a recent weekend I visited a group of seniors in various stages of forgetfulness, some with severe memory loss, others with progressive or advanced Alzheimer's disease.

What was rewarding to me was meeting these wonderful people, all up in years, who are living in the twilight of their lives with little or no memory of their past, no understanding of their present, no concept of a future.

I looked into their eyes. I moved among them, touching, shaking hands, trying to converse with them, listening to the few words or brief sentences they offered in an attempt to communicate with me.

Many live with inner pain and sorrow as they struggle to retain the memories of lost years, their minds being destroyed by a disease that still is not fully understood. A few were aware and alert of the life around them, but the tremble and hesitancy in their voices revealed a diminishing ability to remember their past and to cope with current reality.

As I became briefly acquainted with them, I wanted to know more about their lives, to experience their pain, to share with them past joys and sorrows, their loving moments, their victories and defeats. The laughter and the tears that make up the fabric of their lives. Who among us will someday be among them, living in the lost world of Alzheimers Disease?

HEROES OF THE BLOODSTAINED PAST

I salute the unsung heroes of the bloodstained past, of men who tried, who fought and died for peace that could not last. They bought the book. They took the hook of patriotic glory. Now let me tell about their hell. This is their story.

There was Jim. Remember him? He had guts aplenty. The enemy shot him. A bullet got him. He was only twenty.

There was John. Gentle John. He killed but hated killing. He cried each time a soldier died. The deed was not fulfilling. John survived. He's still alive. Spared of death around him. He fought up to the very end. This is how they found him. No legs. No arms. One eye to see. One heart that's strong, still beating. Prayed to the gods. He beat the odds. He's living, breathing, eating. He sits and stares. Nobody cares to hear his tale of glory that left him a shred above the dead. No one hears his story.


There was Bill, strong-willed Bill. The enemy enslaved him. They pried, they tried to break him down. He lied, but that's what saved him.

How many men! Some lived, Some died. Most served their country gladly. Those who left, not to return. are grieved, remembered sadly. World War One and World War Two, Korea, Viet Nam, Desert Storm, Terrorism, Middle East, Iraq. Will next be all Islam? Will good men cry. "No! Not again!" Will killings ever cease? Will ever there be sanity? Will ever there be peace?

WORLDS WITHIN WORLDS WITHIN WORLDS

There are worlds within the world we share. Clean worlds. Soiled worlds. Spoiled worlds. Fair worlds. I don't care worlds. Worlds funny, sunny, made of milk and honey. Worlds ruled by money. Worlds mired in blood and crud. Sad, mad, glad, wish I had worlds, Mom and dad worlds.

We live in our own worlds, alone and unknown to others worlds, cloned worlds, unexplored and can't afford worlds, ghetto and just let go worlds, show and tell and go to hell worlds, undemocratic, fanatic, out of control worlds.

But what drives all worlds is that when all is said and done they're all a part of one world that we must share because we're here and since we're not astronauts we're not going anywhere.

It's too soon to predict we'll someday live on the moon, and short of wars we'll never reside on the stars or Mars and nothing could be stupider than retiring on Jupiter.

But we'll just have to wait and see. What will be will be. I may go to Heaven, you might go to Hell. Who can tell? But if there is somewhere up there for us to share you and I will meet again in the by and by. Goodbye.

WHEN WILL THE SIGHTLESS SEE?

Do people born without sight live in a world of perpetual night? Can they see light in dreams? Can they create images in their mind? Can they, who have never viewed a pale blue sky, have never seen a bird fly by, watched a fluttering butterfly, gazed at the moon and stars, spent hours watching flowers in bloom, share changing colors of leaves from green to gold, watch children grow up and then grow old, believe all they've been told about the magnificence and priceless worth of life on earth?

In a world without a face, to see a smile replace a frown, to share the joy of a bride in her wedding gown, watch the antics of a circus clown, thrill to a Christmas tree with glowing lights, share the world with a honey bee, a tiny flea, how can the sightless know these things are so?

Is anything more precious than the ability to share the nobility, the drama and panorama of ever changing scenes that mean so much?

All is not lost. Scientists are finding ways to correct where nature erred. One day their expertise will be shared. One day those who cannot see will be sighted. And on the day that happens the world will be delighted.

PATRIOTISM IS THE ONLY 'ISM'

The fact is, we all must pay taxes to keep the country solvent, especially in event of sudden crisis. As nice as it is to live in this land of the free, we have to pay our fare to share the benefits of security and democracy. No matter what was or what will be, no enemy from abroad or within will rob us of what we fought and died to win. And what we stand to lose if our enemies within rob us of our power.

Patriotism is the only "ism" fit for the populace, and that means all of us. Honest elections are our best protection against those who oppose what our Constitution's all about. It's time all of us---right or left or on the fence---let common sense dictate events. No matter what party you adhere to, which side you decide is right, all should react to one clarion call---not "what's best for me," but what's best for democracy.

In the past few years our greatest fears have been proven true. Those in control obviously stole the presidency, not once but twice and we let them do it. At the time we had little choice short of insurrection. They won not by the vote, but by the way the fools rewrote the rules. The timid, inhibited voting population bit the bullet, let them pull it off. Look what a mess we're in. To right all the wrong they created will take longer than anticipated. The unpatriotic Patriot Act will exact heated debate as the now minority party tries to negate the harm that's been done to the integrity of the laws that protect democracy.

There's no need to rehash every illegal act they enacted, all the lies pawned off as truth, all the false fears fed to waiting ears, all the manipulating further complicating civil rights. Learn what's been done, what they still can do before they're through.

OK, voters. it's up to you. Get involved until the problem's solved. It won't be easy. It won't happen fast. But at least, at last, changes are in the air.

A LONG SENTENCE FOR G. DUMBUA BUSH

As a president who with intense intent sent this nation into a no win war and bears the scars of his incompetent administration ends his month-long Texass vacation, he ignores the dead GIs he caused and, instead, looks ahead to all the money he will earn from dumb clucks willing to pay to hear what he has to say about how he, the Fool, got fooled by the late Sidamn Hoosay who hid his WMDs which Dumbua insists still exist except that brainless Cheney was too inept to intercept as they got schlepped into Iran and Gaphtannisstan and left no lies behind as the rats jumped ship and left him in sheep dit and Big Lie Dick, Goon Gonedadallas, Londakeesa Riceleasta and the whole kaboodleodle and kit are a bitty-bit of the cause of it.

I admit that sentence was long time coming to an end, but let's hope George spends as long a time in a cell in hell even though I know damn well he'll tell the warden he got a pardon from---Guess Who!

I CRY BUT NOT FOR ME OR YOU

It is said most men seldom cry. I do. But not for me or you or for loved I once knew or were related to. Of course, I share grief, briefly, of those directly affected, for grief can mellow into peace and release from chains of everlasting sorrow so a bright tomorrow can dawn anew with gifts of joy greater than they never knew.

The tears I shed each night when I go to bed, when I awake or take a break, are for the untold trillions dead or dying, crying for release from pain and memories of times gone by when hope was real and life held forth a wealth of worth for each blessed with the gift of birth.

But although life goes on, all hopes and dreams will be gone as nations war on enemies who find foes of like kind and brothers wind up killing brothers and are drawn into the fray, motivated by educated hate debasing other races, nationalities or ethnicities. The same ingrained animosities exist on both sides, one for the other, both out to smother the opposition and convert them to the religion and political position which drove their forces to civil war or nation against nation confrontation.

I grieve for both sides, right or wrong, for only thousands dead can convince the living to decide wars decimate the human race and will leave a stain of disgrace that never can be erased from the face of history. And so they have a choice: Be wise and compromise or defy and both sides die.

Insanity and humanity can never forever abide side by side. The final struggle's yet to come. Some insist the End is Near. I say life will always be here. But who will set the goal? Who will end up in control? Will every soul abandon man? That can't happen? Perhaps it can.