Poetry: 'A Holiday Observation'

The aisles are crammed with Wanted and Wants

The folks are all mesmerized; drifting and sifting,

oblivious to the ground beneath their feet shifting.

Some are adorned with bobbles & bangles

Some solely devoted to working their angles

Some work in pairs; like parsnips & pears,

with their mouths all agape, as they dawdle & stare.

Their shoulders brush, as they bustle along;

right passed one-another, humming that song,

absorbed in their task and spending their cash

Reaping what one day will find refuge as refuse,

amassed in their trash.

There go two more! That's the fifth time they've passed.

What of this season gives reason to pursue...

the unnecessary excessive little things that we do?

One hundred or more people in store,

yet we better acquaint with the shelves so adorned,

So when asked why I find what's become so abhorrent

It is without so much as connecting that we exit...

the door of the storefront

Which then lends to a perplexing question of intent:

Where has this "spirit" we speak of disappeared to or went?

(Originally written on the evening of 24 Dec 2011)

Poetry: 'The Complex'

So many buildings, windows, doors

From whom do they all hide?

Their blinds are drawn; such shuttered minds

What treasures do they hoard inside?

So many here, who stew in fear,

usher in their brand new year,

without befriending all those near;

their world within their walls;

As small as it is tall...

this livelihood for all.

Poetry: 'My Mental Ticks, on Napkins & Chits'

Change: 
What remains of your slavery to patterns
is a strain of havoc strained from madness.
A change of pace may reap some gladness
if gratitude is what is practiced.
 
"...they say...":
Who are "they" who say so much?
You're quite convinced it's true.
While I may not know what "they say,"
a few claim that they do.

Always:
A dishonest term;
to speak it is to lie.
I'm certain that it's use
is never accurately applied.

Heirdom:
There once was told a tale or two;
was told a tale by mom & dad;
a tale by mom & dad, they knew;
this tale through stories they'd been told;
stories they'd been told were true;
by moms & dads of old.
 
Ego:
Where all that is false...
within you is assailed,
anxiety and suffering prevail.

The Accomplished:

Perhaps then,

they are more enthralled

with who you are

not what you are called?

Soap Box:

Be the audience you wish near.

What need is there for an ear to bend,

with ego stayed and two adhered?

Identity:

Perhaps we are not human

       Perhaps I am not sane

     Perhaps all that we are,

  is one vain and insane brain.

What's the Difference?:

simple is best, just as complex 

Words:

Words;

Symbols I love.

They capture my soul.

So many I've learned.

So  few do I know.

Envy:

There are those of us who read and write 

because we do not do;

but damned if I do not read and write,

thinking I should be doing things too

The Fall:

Thought is a travesty of the mind

Action, a preoccupation with time

Both insist they are author to bliss

But instead of a bliss, I find an abyss,

at the height of this climb they both offer

Late:

By whose standard do we measure late?

Yours or mine?

And, if not either, whose and why?

What standard, if neither nor any exist,

that hasn't been made by those who insist?

Late again...:

I am never late.

I am always on time.

Wherever life steers me.

However divined.

Higher Learning:

Life is a lesson,

for an endless semester,

that is always in session.

Photo: Via 100 layer cake: An invitation by Bryn (Paperfinger)

On Dissatisfaction

(From an assignment from Timothy Ferris' book 'The 4-Hour Workweek''. The following is a question, and the response that it evoked. It is what it is. A.O.)

What are you waiting for? If you can not answer this without resorting to the previously rejected concept of good timing, the answer is simple: you’re afraid, just like the rest of the world. Measure the cost of inaction. Realize the unlikelihood and repairability of most missed steps, and develop the most important habit of those who excel, and enjoy doing so, action.

I am waiting for my wife. Or am I? I often wonder if I am using my family as an excuse to not pursue what I know will eventually have to be done. A lot of what I feel is anchored to an emotion named selfishness, and the transhistorical negative connotation affixed to it. But how does one leave their family without feeling guilt? Do I forgo the guilt, and leave? And so, instead, I selfishly attempt to convince my wife to come with me. So, if I am selfish in wanting my family to join me on an adventure and selfish should I decide to go on my own, is the only available instance of unselfishness to stay where I am at and to seek happiness where there is seemingly none to be found?

Poetry: 'Doldrums'

(Inspired by Lily Allen's 'Smile' )

Greener is the grass that proceeds next door.

I breathe in disdain and exhale abhor.

I adore mis amores, but I tire of love.

In a heart that's now snoring,

life is so boring.

I'm tired of fawning and mal de amores.

I find myself yawning;

thought-vomit spawning.

on-and   on-and 

on-and   on-and

on-and   on-and

on-and   on-and

Can't see the forest for the trees.

Everyday these bees, they're all dressed to a tea;

whores on their knees;

people praying in steeples,

and aiming to please;

uninspired and feeble.

I do not find myself very pleased by these people.

My interaction is all an act that

assists in distracting my-dissatisfaction.

Extraction of laughter, is all I am after.

Impacting my life-state,

at this rate of movement,

my loose grip will lose it.

Am I making myself the least bit of lucid?

Here are my musings, for your amusement:

A male in a maelstrom;

assailed by the silent connivance of sirens'.

libido gyrates...

and vibrates the pylons of life with such violence.

Sensi kill irate.

Mind in a sky state.

Synaptic filings,

and senseless aspiring;

a rabid rancor; asylum,

an anchor of stylings for my imbibing.

A law for abiding: Thou Shalt Clip...

and snip all the wings off the hip chipper chicks,

who soar on the winds of their cheap parlor tricks.

Get your money, your whips, and your certificates,

your American dream, your salvation, and status!

Insanity: vanity's impregnable palace.

It’s madness—afflicted, addicted to gladness...

...for 'things' that they sell you.

Is truth so uncouth that it's barren of value?

Truth is the harbor their ships fail to sail to.

Impossible to steer them; it's painfully clear then...

Here then, Barabbas remains near and dear them;

Oh

so

close-to-the-heart;

Lo-and-behold, things fall apart.

Pastors & pontiffs, philanthropic topics.

Philosophers, pundits, priests and their coffers;

ceaseless in speech, seizing more than they offer.

I'll hibernate then, patiently anticipating;

awaiting the day when the truth does not escape them...

And so, for an eternity

You will not return to me.

Never to return to me; though always a concern to me.

Poetry: 'Arbor Vitae'

~. . .

Where action, word, and thought have failed

Nowhere the Nothingness shall be

From nothing where all Life prevailed

No winds exist to bow its Tree         

. . . . .~

Poetry: 'Cantankerous Curmudgeons'

The other day 8 hours passed, I manned my post, upright as mast.

I tasked the till, no questions asked.

Their manners crass.

The apes. The ass.

"Hold fast! Avast...shell out some cash, to whip your sticks at balls on grass."

My coffers profit at a loss; hubris, the stipend offered me.

Tumid, impatient albatross. Equipped with quip spoke haughtily...

(They spoke) "The rich keep getting richer, and the poor keep making babies,"

They laugh and jeer among their peer; A q-tip stabbing in my ear.

It bites and tears rapaciously; these irksome jerks, they stay me.

Too late, my thoughts will not abate:

A drop of urine in their beer, squeezed from the bladder of a deer, beyond the twilight of its year...

and keying their Mercedes...

...those thoughts a'fraught, shot through my mind

Alas, my manners more refined, my smile a distant daisy

...of true disdain their eyes made blind. A fatted calf & serpentine; they are 'Courtesy made lazy'.

Go swing your sticks, and chase your balls, purse your lips, and gnash your teeth

But when you heed the beckoned call from reaper's drawl, toward deep beneath

Atop the dirt, that you've become; afore the dusk, beyond the dawn

My next-of-kin will whisk thereto, when nature calls, and piss upon.

No tips will you have offered me, so tip I offer you...

You men so brash, so steeped in self, so rich, so deep; a vacant Well

Beware such emptiness of heart, for more piss shall it fill.

Jim Henson's Statler and Waldorf

Albert's Fortuitous Thoughts

Every act of violence is a form of child abuse.

Pain and suffering are characteristic of change or growth, thus deriving their significance from them. It is only when we lack gratitude and exhibit reluctance that they become unbearable. Only when we attribute to them a power they do not inherently possess. All is opportunity.

We'd rather be accepted for who we aren't than risk the rejection of who we genuinely are.

Communication is the art of cooperation - a labor of love. When effective, it is where one's will to be understood is matched by another's will to understand.

As individuals, you might say that we are cells within a unified self. One healthy cell contributes to a healthier whole. Each of us is a brushstroke on the canvas of Life's masterpiece. Although seemingly insignificant, we are infinitely important! 

There is never a need to explain what's made a person who they are (meaning what they've done), unless the need has been another's or their own, in which case it is not really a need, but a self-centered desire to either know or make known. Live conscionably and unapologetically. That is my understanding. 

I can not have a world view without having experienced the world. I am a blind man in a box.

The best advice seems never my own.

'Human Being' noun - definition: A dynamo of self-rationalization. "I am a dynamo of self-rationalization."

5 Reasons Why People Devalue the Elderly

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

5 Reasons Why People Devalue the Elderly

This is a guest column by Kitty Holman, who writes on the topics of Nursing Schools.

All around us in modern Western society is evidence that elderly adults who cannot care for themselves on their own are being abused and neglected. I believe that much of this is a result of a general social disregard for this vulnerable population group. This broad disregard is such that many of them—especially those with disabilities and those living with chronic pain—would rather have their lives ended for them than go on living in a world where they perceive they are not valued. Yes, we can certainly see the evidence. But have we ever stopped to consider why it is that so many in our society think treating the elderly this way is acceptable? Here I will attempt to answer the great "why" question.

Poetry: 'A Suggestion'

The Time Has Come

To derive a sense of purpose

and meaning

From the lives that we’ve been given

Prior to breeding,

and breathing

life into seeds that need feeding

When we’re incapable of leading

this life that’s better tailored to the seasons.

The Season Is Now

To realize a common goal

and put some purpose to vision

To embrace Life’s creation,

incarcerated in prison

Seek not the reason behind the intention

and revel in the mystery & beauty of the invention…

That Is Us

Challenged to trust – A product of love;

Yet we propagate hate,

bask in the spoils of greed,

as we anticipate the fate

of a people

too feeble

to pray

Subject to sins of a skin that soon deteriorates

We Need To Feed

Nourish our mind-state

and proceed to address

the flourishing crime rate…

by means other than raising the cost of living

and manufacturing prisons;

diminishing the rations existing on Life's plate.

We've Got To Believe

in one-another and ourselves

take heed of the health

within the cells of this One unified self

For we are great vessels of immaterial wealth

Prone to failure

Yet unified, a source of Life can prevail

The Time Is Right

To unite and incite

The enlightenment of the world

And to enlist the assistance of each boy and each girl

With their futures in mind

And our past indiscretions behind

We pave the way

for their brilliant

young minds to shine

And, In Due Time...

all will be fine;

Where all that's required is proper presence of mind,

You will find Truth in unity

Where all intention aligns.

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