Daily Archives: May 12, 2004


Picked up
set up
called up
stood up
held up
fucked up
hoping for a let up

Made over
looked over
passed over like a four-leaf clover
glanced over
once over
start again
start over

Poked at
joked at
chew the cud or chew the fat
looked at
looked past
wonder how long this will last

Looked up
hooked up
will you ever shut up
booked up
cracked up
endless lies still cooked up

Stepped on
spit on
without a leg to stand on
passed on
long gone
in the game of kings and pawns

We are fighting opposition
Victims of a preposition
Eternal question for absolution
Nothing more than noise pollution
Preposition: prostitution
to the ultimate solution.


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One from General Eisenhower…

In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist. We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals, so that security and liberty may prosper together.

Dwight D. Eisenhower, Farewell Address to the Nation, January 17, 1961

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History Lessons

Well, my mom is visiting for a few days, having driven 2,500 miles on a cross-country jaunt to see not only me, but my sister in Tennessee, uncles and cousins in Cincinnati, the farm in Forest and then friends in Madison, WI and back across the country to San Diego.

She brought with her a number of interesting things, as she is in the process of sorting through everything in her house and distributing items to myself and my siblings. One of those things was a box of my writings dating back as far as 30 years, including but not limited to, song Lyrics, short stories, school essays, drawings, etc. Much of this I gave to my parents for safe-keeping when I moved to Boston in 1991 – but other parts of it were part of a much earlier trove of collected stuff. High school journals, elementary school skits, and so on. After plowing through this compendium of teen angst, I find myself more and more in agreement with Wallace Stevens on the matter of a poet’s subject being bestowed congenitally. Were this not the case, I don’t know how I could have touched upon certain themes, expressed in certain ways, as I find in even some of my earliest efforts. Of course, there is a great deal of schlock to be unearthed in these, and equal parts precocity and absorption with and of the culture of the times (mostly the mid to late 70s and early 80s). But there are some gems there. Some that barely require the shaping of the jeweler’s tools. As I rediscover them, I’ll be adding them to this site, which ultimately serves as the touchstone for all things artistic throughout my life.

I also revise my earlier comparison with W.B. Yeats. One thing that we both share is a somewhat conceited relatively unshakable belief in our own genius (LOL). One thing that I lack that certainly assisted Yeats in proving that greatness to others is the propensity and capacity for self-advertisement, for putting my name out there in whatever form possible. Or maybe these found writings of mine illustrate otherwise – because certainly there is much that I have written throughout my life for the purpose of including others in my version of reality. Hmm…

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