Month: November 2004

7 posts

Upon Being Invited to Study the Great Books Online

Thanks for the invitation. I must say, having looked into facilitating my own Great Books curriculum at several times in the past, that the concept is neither unfamiliar to me, nor uninviting. However, my reason for declining at present has little to do with the scope of the program, but more with the medium. I…

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The Ride Home

Scattered like jewels tossed out across a black crushed velvet plush electric fueled stars winking against an endless backdrop of night their pulsing engines cycling with an urgent rasp their transmissions settled into high ratio sedation controls set to automatic pilot as the guidelines flash by like homing beacons on an endless runway glow from…

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Thankfull

There are so many little things that make up life’s stretched years; and pausing now, to list them, I find my payments in arrears for moments that have come and gone, each adding to my store of seeming insignificance that whole, is so much more than pieces, parts and bits of dust drawn from the…

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The Reins

The hand that grips so tightly at the reins, its fingers numb with effort after time, will endure bruises, callouses and sprains so long as it still feels the tugging line that links it to life’s pulsing, straining steeds as they careen along the path ahead. In time, firm hands grown weak may start to…

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Random Thought

There is only one thought that is scarier to the industrialist than “Workers of the World Unite”. It is “Want What You Have”. © 2004, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Neo Politics

Neoconservatism is not a threat to the free-living, free-wheeling, bleeding heart liberal philosophy of us drug-crazed, sex-minded hippie freaks. No, despite its definition as “an approach to politics or theology that represents a return to a traditional point of view (in contrast to more liberal or radical schools of thought of the 1960s)”, it is…

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Disenfranchised

I subscribe to several poetry journals. I do not find kindred spirits there, only other wandering souls who seek no connection with the poetry I find pulsing under the surface of the world that has a natural rhythm, that breathes its own cadence, that does not merely wish to impress with some artistic notion of…

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