Recent Reviews for Michael S. True
Diabolical Seas (Book) - 11/10/2013 6:53:40 AM|
Congratulations, Michael. Best wishes for a wide audience!
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 3 (Short Story) - 11/17/2013 8:53:25 AM
A very interesting and timely article. I would tend to disagree about early man. I think that time is always been on the minds of early man because he and she knew that there was a certain time before lack of water or food would take a deadly toll. Therefore, every day became a race against that time when there was no water to drink and death would come.
That is why the concept of gods, not God became prevalent in hunting and gathering cultures. Whenever good fortune befell a tribe, a good omen was attached to the surroundings and they were sought again. Whenever there was bad fortune, the surroundings were labeled (the devil) and shunned.
Also, early civilizations seemed obsessed with time. The two most notable examples of very many is Stonehenge and the Mayan calendar, both very sophisticated timekeeping instruments that helped define time and survival for primitive people.
I thoroughly enjoyed your romp through time.
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 2 (Short Story) - 11/15/2013 7:31:47 AM
Well explored and suggestive of so much we'll never have a full empirical answer to. Thank you.
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 2 (Short Story) - 11/15/2013 3:23:40 AM
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 2 (Short Story) - 11/14/2013 7:58:18 AM
Before I read, I thought that this article (not a story) was about how the church of cellular phones as changed our perspective on life… ;-)
Actually, as I read it, I see that you are presenting a view of religious thought as a naturist. I think that's quite all right, because this view is far less dangerous than much of theology based on proof less mythology.
Where I differ is that I don't see anything godlike in the life force that creates cells that survive only to survive, in an endless cycle that eventually creates higher forms of life and eventually creates awareness, this stage we are at now. Our awareness is not necessarily based on time, although we know from experience how long (how many suns rising) we will live, as a rule. Hence, we invented time to help us keep track of events going on around us, not to define our belief in God.
Interesting food for thought.
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 1 (Short Story) - 11/13/2013 3:37:06 AM
a fine write
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 1 (Short Story) - 11/9/2013 9:56:29 AM
A well written position on one of our most renowned conundrums.
The Church of the Cellular Transformation - 1 (Short Story) - 11/9/2013 7:48:19 AM
Interesting and well stated. These questions have been of vital interest to humanity even before Cronus and Uranus devoured their children with such terrible a weapons as time and space. As a child I wondered how a soul could exist as an 'eternal' thing, yet somehow be lost - as those using the religion rice bowl would have us accept as gospel ... Thanks for summarizing your thoughts for us. The ideas still, perhaps always, have the power to engage us.
Who’s Afraid of the Dark? (Short Story) - 9/14/2013 3:23:48 PM
A wonderfully paced story that unlike Hollywierd versions of similar situations, real emotions, real survival skills and real kids prevailed. Loved it.
Who’s Afraid of the Dark? (Short Story) - 9/14/2013 11:01:57 AM
A mean, alcoholic father, doesn't sound like fun. But to have grandparents with caves is every child's dream. Since you were familiar with the cave, I can't believe you took such a chance. I, do remember, that I was fearless when it came to things like that––always exploring my limits––mild, compared to what people do today for a thrill.
My Kentucky girlfriend and I had the occasion to take a self-guided tour through one of the routes in Mammoth Cave. I still remember, Fat Man's Agony, because, as skinny as I was, with a 30 inch waist, I still had trouble making my way through that area of narrow passage. The cave was well lit. If the lights had gone out, it would've been total panic, because no one else was on that track with us. I was just worried about getting stuck and not being able to go forward or backward.
Who’s Afraid of the Dark? (Short Story) - 9/13/2013 3:44:42 PM
i have been there and you have told this very well
Who’s Afraid of the Dark? (Short Story) - 9/13/2013 3:22:11 PM
I loved this story of a childhood adventure back in the good ol' days when we could get hurt, but never gave any consideration to child predators and trespassing. I wonder what it would take these days to find a cave to explore, and not on someone else's private property. More, please.
She Called Herself Cindy (Short Story) - 8/10/2013 5:23:35 PM
Well, I don't know what made me pick this out, of all the things you wrote, but I did, and it brought back so many memories of California nights in the early 70s. I was married to a musician, and met many Cindys and the male equivalent. And as you said, we were often a gig away from being there ourselves. I think you were lucky that your Cindy left, and you did not have to deal with it; it could only be a sad ending either way. It happened to you because you have a heart. I think this story is brilliant, and I hope I soon find time to read more.
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 8/8/2013 12:51:54 AM
I loved this story. It's a wonderful tale, with a strong moral, which will serve it readers well.
She Called Herself Cindy (Short Story) - 8/8/2013 12:27:18 AM
Reality hits you right between the eyes with this potent and compelling narrative. When I got to the end, I found that I had been holding my breath for some time.
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 8/5/2013 9:34:06 AM
Very nice -- could it be an analogy to our friend Shock and Awe's reign in Washington?
The Legend of Chief Shock’n’Awe - A parable for the masses… (Short Story) - 6/20/2013 9:08:26 AM
There seems to be a noticeable paucity of women and children in this 'warfare' ... the 'peaceful' tribes of the Algonquian Confederation could never go to war without the council of women elders' approval. Whenever more than half of any population is ignored, the future is bleak. We let 'educators' teach us that individualism is 'survival of the fittest' but cooperation reigns. Democracy (small d) being the way of nature, all war is war against children. Of course, your version is the way of historical warfare. Legend often speaks to a lost, more advanced and idyllic time.
The Legend of Chief Shock’n’Awe - A parable for the masses… (Short Story) - 4/14/2013 5:23:22 PM
Ron... thanks for the feedback, edits made per your observations.
The Legend of Chief Shock’n’Awe - A parable for the masses… (Short Story) - 4/12/2013 6:38:05 AM
Yes, some interesting moral dilemmas presented here. There also is the parallel to our time and our commander-in-chief's propensity to go to war and use the naïve young to do the fighting. We are also “killing” some of our best elders by forcing them into early retirement.
Two things were out of place. To “tithe" means to give 10%. Red Feather would be very unlikely to hunt in the night, except perhaps, during a full moon. However, if he was a warrior seeking to kill his enemy, he would strike at night when they were sleeping.
The Legend of Chief Shock’n’Awe - A parable for the masses… (Short Story) - 4/12/2013 2:44:15 AM
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 9/28/2003 7:34:09 PM
Not bad at all :)
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 9/28/2003 12:24:34 PM
Good expression, lgl
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 9/28/2003 11:28:14 AM
Michael a very enjoyable story. You are a very talented writer, keep up the good work! ~Z~
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 9/28/2003 10:59:33 AM
A truely wonderful tale Michael! I enjoyed it so very much! Please continue to write tales like this! I have nine grandchildren who will love reading this!
You have a great talent!
Prince Frederick and the Selfish Spell (C)2003 (Short Story) - 9/28/2003 10:33:21 AM
I thought this was very well written.....Very!
Some divine images within!
A true fairy tale…in a truly old fashion vein…Like Hans Christian Anderson (sp?)
My Daughter...*who is fast asleep now* would love this to bits…I’ll read it to her in the morning
It has just the right amount of intrigue...and drama....fun and dialogue.
A really enjoyable tale..Glad the spell was broken...;)
Choosing Sides – The Times, They Are A’Changin! (Article) - 6/22/2013 11:02:19 AM
There's another one that you didn't mention, Citizens United. Many corporations have passed laws specifically to restrain free trade and to stop all competition.
I agree with everything that you wrote, and it is very telling situation we place ourselves in. As some have written, those in the country that are wishing to move forward and not back to the 1950s, the vast majority, will eventually become fed up and make extensive change or we will be quagmired in old ideology.
The other side of the coin is that Marshall McLuhan's Global Village is occurring at a very rapid rate almost undetected by those communicating with family and friends on the social networks. A “one world” way of thinking will rapidly overtake this century and I doubt that a lot of the draconian security measures protecting us from “them” will make any sense when they are us.
HAPPY REVOLUTION! (Article) - 4/25/2013 7:20:42 AM
Michael, you are so true! I do believe that relocation and revolution is the answer. And cutting off our media for six weeks would certainly turn our minds from mush to lush. There is one fly in the ointment though. Bringing back Tupper parties would probably be the end of the world. Viva la Revolution!
Early Learning Ideas for a Visually Impaired Child (Article) - 6/20/2005 4:05:22 PM
interesting and informative article; thanks for sharing! very well done! :)
Separation Anxiety in Children (Article) - 9/28/2003 11:07:11 AM
Michael, these words of wisdom will help many! What you need to do is join in the Roundtable, and let us know when you've posted things. I'm tracking you, but if it weren't for your post, I wouldn't have known about you.
I raised my children to be independent adults, allowing them to explore within reason, and allowing them to take responsibility for their own actions.
I have a daughter who is now 28, who was my clinger and my last child. It hurt to have her go to school, but I hid it well from her by telling all the exciting things to do and all the new friends she would have. I took her to school and introduced her to her teacher, and when she was occupied meeting other children, I slipped out the door. I waited impatiently for the bus bringing her home but reveled in her joy of doing this on her own...
New Life (Poetry) - 12/8/2013 12:13:32 PM
Congrats!! Beautiful poem to welcome a your grandchild, and your fifth. Grandchildren are great.
New Life (Poetry) - 12/7/2013 12:50:26 PM
One lovely awakening!
New Life (Poetry) - 12/7/2013 8:37:38 AM
New Life (Poetry) - 12/7/2013 7:50:55 AM
a fine write to your grandchild
New Life (Poetry) - 12/7/2013 6:13:00 AM
Beautiful. Congratulations, Michael.
Death’s Sting (Poetry) - 12/6/2013 11:49:49 PM
This for me was a brief foray into the world of "other" thinking associated with death. I hear the grief yet struggle to understand its purpose. I too am one with the cosmos, having already been consumed in its making. M.True
Death’s Sting (Poetry) - 12/6/2013 3:38:43 PM
I often wonder why more exploration of death's meaning is not pursued. Instead, most death-ideas expressed in words work with a lexicon of worn out cliches, coupled with soppy this and that about some supernatural marshmallow float, et al. This work reads like an explorer who believes there's still frontiers undiscovered, who may still have some doubts about "fear" but at least is open to the alternative thinking, the possibilities. For this reader, I've long prepared for the cross over into what I accept as my dust merely catching some wind and finding new existence... for me, never lost, just a reformation. At least such a thought keeps a smile on my face.
Living Hopelessly (Poetry) - 12/5/2013 5:58:38 PM
Wow! Just a little bit of hope can be all one needs. Just that one spark in the dark can lead to a very different path, for the good. A new day, a new start, a new perspective.
The Ice Disc (Poetry) - 12/3/2013 10:05:23 AM
Wonderful short excursion into the awe of imagination.
Living Hopelessly (Poetry) - 12/1/2013 7:44:30 PM
And thus... a rather complete explanation of Zen.
Living Hopelessly (Poetry) - 12/1/2013 3:38:30 PM
Indeed, love is a biological trickster. We can miss being alive, by the distractions and the peer pressure, not of our own making, of living the mundane, when there is so much within to live every second of life to the full.
Living Hopelessly (Poetry) - 12/1/2013 4:19:09 AM
So very well written!
Living Hopelessly (Poetry) - 12/1/2013 12:08:35 AM
Well written Michael! Living life hopelessly is not sharing life with another and not helping your fellow sisters and brothers. Experiencing life outside the computer and TV is the start of living a life that has meaning and hope.
Living Hopelessly (Poetry) - 11/30/2013 8:43:36 PM
You drug me along to the depths of despair, and then
the slightest glimmer of hope restored everything.
The Ice Disc (Poetry) - 11/28/2013 6:38:41 AM
One of the many 'rebirth' wonders surrounding year's end and the yearning for Spring ... the cosmic journey ... every time it is amazing, as are your insights.
Thanksgiving (Poetry) - 11/24/2013 10:58:25 AM
A contemporary truism largely embraced and smothered with smiles and occasional bandages and bloody noses when the doors open. Very close to my "bugle" blast for charge...(just posted).
Thanksgiving (Poetry) - 11/24/2013 9:12:06 AM
If we look on the good side, all that conspicuous consumption will supposedly jumpstart the economy and we'll all have a better 2014 to be thankful for.
As though we could buy happiness. A good one reminding us of how misguided we have become.
Thanksgiving (Poetry) - 11/24/2013 7:14:44 AM
Thanksgiving (Poetry) - 11/23/2013 7:55:02 PM
THANKSGIVING is suppose to be - A Time To Focus on Family and To Be Thankful - that's a real Thanksgiving but U R right sadly it does not always turn out that way.
Have a "HAPPY THANKSGIVING" anyway!!
Thanksgiving (Poetry) - 11/23/2013 7:44:37 PM
Pilgrims whims, shimmy shims pass the musket gobble gobble good, nothing says Thanksgiving like a vernal wood filled with wild Turkey, yippee ki yay! Then again, there's always Wal-Mart.
This Time (Poetry) - 11/22/2013 5:29:20 PM
...pithy and plosive, robust and reverberative, angular and august in its austerity, an altogether assiduous artful almost avuncular audacity articulates itself through these lines... entangling and releasing at once and again and again and again and again...
This Time (Poetry) - 11/21/2013 10:01:31 AM
A very profound tale that left me numb
with wonder and contemplation. The poet as
storyteller and philosopher is rare indeed.
This Time (Poetry) - 11/20/2013 10:13:17 AM
An detailed look into rhyme and reason, the chance and failure of our species' willingness to allow existence to not only be what it is, but to propagate its own destiny. Well penned.
This Time (Poetry) - 11/20/2013 3:29:52 AM
so much is written here to contemplate
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/16/2013 10:56:22 AM
If we are all part of a larger whole, and if we are all here to experience joy and sorrow, hunger and plenty, then of course your observations are without fault. But if there is some expectation that each of us improves on what we hear, see, or think, and thus add to our personal evolvement toward enlightenment, then we can at least expect different outcomes even though we do not control the flight.
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/15/2013 4:57:24 PM
true in so many ways, but also a little specious in some... after all are we not subject to, liable for, and expectant of self-improvement that by gradations sets us upon a path towards excellence of one degree or another... ought we not by virtue of our humility take some pride in our attainments, our accomplishments, our embellishments... scant though they may be, some are worth their weight in wood, while others plumb the depths of passions ploy to winnow weighty gold... as altruistic and benevolent, as egalitarian and impartial as your fine words sound, I cannot help but hear a hollow ring... the really absurd thing would be to fail to differentiate between those less or more worth of honour and accolades... yet somehow, I cannot help but feel you think I miss the meaning... it is not that you are saying no distinctions ought be made, as much as pointing out that each link in the great chain of being has its own special part to play, and all links should be cherished equally regardless of the fact that some have clearly established themselves as being of significantly greater value. That is what you are saying, is it not?
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/15/2013 11:32:12 AM
I enjoyed reading your poem today and each verse is a gateway to
each of our souls. We must all learn to realize that no one is greater than the other, we are all from one source, God. All power
belongs to him and if he don't give us the strength to sustain our
dailey lives then what happens, we perish, I love the thought of this poem. Great write.
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/15/2013 8:05:01 AM
I see that it's been nine years since you wrote this gem. The hierarchy, or matrix as some people call it, starts in the family with the strongest using that to control the others. From the family it moves out into the village, from the village to the region, from the region to the country until it is imposed on the entire world.
Like you have written, we are all born the same, but somewhere along the line we are either given or we take power from others and assume the hierarchy is required and everyone is now unequal. We believe this in spite of the fact that we have no control over our life or even our death. These things will come to pass regardless of our so-called position in the world.
I think your form is meant to tell us that we are not so self-important and that everyone needs a fair shake in life, regardless of their age or circumstance.
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/15/2013 7:18:20 AM
For me, the take aways from this piece is the word "obvious" is foreign to far too many people.
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/15/2013 3:19:02 AM
i enjoyed this very much
Reflections of Life and Our Place In It (Poetry) - 11/15/2013 2:58:59 AM
Great poem about spiritual pride. Thanks for posting!
Veteran’s Day (Poetry) - 11/11/2013 2:11:08 PM
I'm with Ronald on this one... When one considers "war toys...," the only semantic context worth contemplating is the one that employs "toys" as a verb not a noun, because "war" is the most hateful, loathsome, vile and abhorrent noun known to humanity, and in the semantic context I employ "war toys with us all inhumanely until we're broken, beaten, and relegated to the trash heaps of humanity... and to call a pacifist a coward is like trying to force a genius not to use her God-given intellect. Compromising integrity and mitigating mercy are among the first casualties of war, other principles soon pile up on the front-lines, fodder for military fury bent upon reducing everything to an arms race. The old adage about military intelligence being an oxymoron is at least half right, and the other half fits at the back end of a Bill to make for a great American travel destination where as good old Jimmy Buffet sings, "Pretty girls are dancing in the sun." Life is meant to be enjoyed. Veteran's Day ought to be renamed what we call it here in Canada, "Remembrance Day" and then people ought to use it as a day to remember the glorious accomplishments of people who bring peace to the world, the wonderful achievements people have made while at peace, and the remarkable ways that peace has been solidified and strengthened over the years. Then I might get involved in celebrating, not some ceremony that enshrines soldiers and soldiering in perpetuity. It is easy to throw around words like 'honour' and 'patriotism' but these concepts pale considerably when juxtaposed with the weasel words like 'collateral damages' and 'civilian casualties'. If life is to be enjoyed, it will be... on the day that war becomes obsolete. The only war worth anything is the war we all must wage on war itself. Then, when the villain war no longer enshrines its 'heroes' we can all really enjoy life.
Veteran’s Day (Poetry) - 11/11/2013 9:50:05 AM
It's a two edge sword: patriotism and honor. War fought at arms length with drones and cruise missiles is not the same as hand-to-hand when you see the whites of their eyes and you are out of ammunition. In the end it's like a box of cracker jacks who gets to be a hero and who gets to be dead before one's time.
I will never honor war for its purposelessness, but I will honor those who have been coerced, one way or the other, to serve our country whither their service was just or not.
Veteran’s Day (Poetry) - 11/11/2013 7:50:06 AM
Your ironic ending pulls the historical facts and modern day misanthropic attitudes to a a new level of discernment and contemplation. Would that there were more words, such as these, filling the dedication columns of news papers and the headline notes of 6 o'clock news programs. But, as you say, that is not who we have made ourselves to be.
100 Trillion Cells (Poetry) - 11/10/2013 10:06:04 AM
And after the body, the next existence. Beautiful piece.
100 Trillion Cells (Poetry) - 11/10/2013 9:02:26 AM
An interesting perspective that most don't think about. Some of the questions you raised have led me to believe that when we stopped being hunters and gatherers our genetic development became arrested and we no longer grew intelligently and physically by natural selection of the fittest.
As much as our science and technology tries to make us better and live longer, our deteriorating genetic makeup makes each generation more vulnerable than the last. That's why we are hearing so much about autism, diabetes, and asthma in our children today, along with a growing list of causes for cancer. Modern medicine is a two edged sword, allowing the unfit to live to reproduce and thereby weaken the gene pool more and more.
Half Day (Poetry) - 11/8/2013 8:57:21 AM
Your poem makes me feel your mournful presence at times like this. I resonate with foreboding feelings of coming winter, myself. That's why I fled here from the north so long ago to escape the cold. But now winter still comes and all of my effort seems in vain.
As usual, superb and moving.
Half Day (Poetry) - 11/8/2013 5:38:10 AM
Is the contrast between your Half Day and Odin Roark's view of winter only a matter of latitude? Of elevation? Surely not coincidental that you've posted on the same day. Neither of you have any poverty of concept and word play. But I'll trade either/both of you for some rain (or snow) - it has been a long time since we've had anything out of the sky but lightning fires and noisy drones.
Half Day (Poetry) - 11/8/2013 3:10:21 AM
i enjoyed this very much, well done
Half Day (Poetry) - 11/7/2013 4:13:52 PM
Count your blessings, Bro... least you're not in the path of Haiyan. For me up here in a sunken valley of Oregon, the fall and winter represents but a few degrees change from spring weather. On occasion, we get a dusting of snow, but for the most part, mid 60s high, low 40s low. So why am I so happy, non of that pesky stuff you speak of, that's why. Damn, you're supposed to be in a moderate climate down there. You messin' with Aeolus and Zeus again? What am I gonna do with you?
The Cost of Misleading Innocence Is Hell to Come! (Poetry) - 10/31/2013 12:18:05 PM
As looked through a window pane darkly. Some well used clichés and many lines of the cost of misleading the innocent.
The Cost of Misleading Innocence Is Hell to Come! (Poetry) - 10/30/2013 3:12:07 PM
How I wish that everyone would read this, but most of the people who should, won't.
Speaking of Theology (Poetry) - 10/28/2013 5:39:08 AM
What a romp through the sacrosanct world of make-believe guised as privileged supernatural blessings. Yes, for doG sake, your keep it.
Speaking of Theology (Poetry) - 10/27/2013 4:21:21 PM
...bent towards just the right edge of normalcy-decked-out-with-larger-than-life-abs... I could take a bath in all that bathos at the close... with all that exercise, the cents of 'spare change' at the end leaves you thinking of all that came before in this dense reversal of fortune you gifted with that philosophical monicker... but I have a feeling your doctors are wont to throw up their hands in as much amazement as they have amusement... as will all who wonder at this missive... rollicking, roiling, robust wit!
Speaking of Theology (Poetry) - 10/27/2013 11:57:58 AM
Epic and masterful, you wrap it up nicely with a roadmap to Nirvana.
Speaking of Theology (Poetry) - 10/27/2013 9:15:17 AM
Yes, a little bit of Carlin and Thomas, and a whole lot of Mark Twain. You had me with the line "limousines are for someone else who needs the ride." Brilliant glimpses of life woven together with a master's touch.
Speaking of Theology (Poetry) - 10/27/2013 7:21:31 AM
Great sermon - a little Carlin re-incarnate or with a bit of Wales, Dylan Thomas?
Speaking of Theology (Poetry) - 10/27/2013 5:12:23 AM
Surprise ending to another brilliant writing.
We Need a New Party (Poetry) - 10/26/2013 12:11:38 PM
Like a return to The Saturday Evening Post and its simple, but poignant folk lore wisdom. Well spoken here.
We Need a New Party (Poetry) - 10/25/2013 2:39:19 PM
Michael, having just read Ed Phillips excellent article, this is the perfect follow up. I would vote you and him to run the country for 2-4 years, without hesitation. Great one, YOU!
Jean Lafitte Lane, Bayou Barataria (Poetry) - 10/24/2013 5:25:58 AM
When I read work such as this, I'm reminded of how interrelated the imagination and our sentient powers of observation. The feelings and sensitive awareness inherent in this piece speak volumes of sub-textual wisdom you obviously possess. Wonderful tapestry of liquid threads connecting and connecting.
Jean Lafitte Lane, Bayou Barataria (Poetry) - 10/24/2013 3:49:22 AM
As the planet's forests and sand bars disappear it is only fitting that we'll have to pay up next time/this time. Bayous and egrets are our canaries. You are our observer and chronicler.
Jean Lafitte Lane, Bayou Barataria (Poetry) - 10/24/2013 3:18:10 AM
I can visualize every word of this, and sure makes me want to be in the unique state of Louisiana, and to see its beauty and other reality the way you do. Just so excellent.
Jean Lafitte Lane, Bayou Barataria (Poetry) - 10/24/2013 2:15:52 AM
very discritive of the bayou
When Death Felt Right (Poetry) - 10/22/2013 5:25:56 PM
Ah, but to consider what waste you might have made of the life before all of this. You are a poet, seeing things clear and precise because of the very obstacles you had to overcome. Rejoice!!!!!!!!
When Death Felt Right (Poetry) - 10/22/2013 6:46:27 AM
I know big chunks of your trek
I've been racked by different demons different obstacles
leaving similar scars
learned the same lesson.
When Death Felt Right (Poetry) - 10/22/2013 4:06:14 AM
Brutal, Michael. So personal and triumphantly sad. What can one expect from a square world. To live is to die. Well done!
When Death Felt Right (Poetry) - 10/21/2013 7:51:45 PM
... picaresque, petulant, poignant and imperiously impressive at its utmost emergent triage-til-you-feint-left-to-parry-right on through to the moralistic conclusion! This is an excellent poem from you, my friend... one to read and reread... I'll be back to butt my head up against this stonewall-sizzle of a spectacle. Terrific work, Michael.
I Never Learned to Touch (Poetry) - 10/20/2013 3:36:30 PM
A soul-grasping account and sharing, Michael. Your words stir emotions and provoke thoughts. Love and peace,
I Never Learned to Touch (Poetry) - 10/20/2013 6:37:01 AM
Some people have the Midas touch, and anything they put their hand to turns to gold, but in this sensitive deft poem, not so much... a poignant parable is herein told... you've assembled an advocacy against abuse, an adroitness, an adeptness, an aptness at best... and this slim and slender vessel of verse puts a catch in the throat, a lump that emotional baggage augments and enhances... expertly penned, my friend.
I Never Learned to Touch (Poetry) - 10/18/2013 8:06:41 AM
True to your name, without a disclaimer, this horrific account appears to be true. From it comes one of the most insightful people I know. Why anyone has to be subjected to this, I don't know.
I Never Learned to Touch (Poetry) - 10/18/2013 5:23:35 AM
Stunning descriptions of brutality.
The human potential for well being too often lies beyond the grasp of too many- and tragic when it is parents with such mental depravity.
We must always seek that part of us that is able to learn, and take it by the hand allowing the way to clear.
I Never Learned to Touch (Poetry) - 10/17/2013 5:17:12 PM
Such are the clasped hands of safety, of survival, of peace. Yes, when all is said and done, the person you choose to present in first person is many more people than the person. So goes the narcissism of our society.
I Never Learned to Touch (Poetry) - 10/17/2013 3:02:56 PM
Because rejection on top of rejection is just not worth the risk. Sad for us with this reality. I just cannot say more about this reality known to some of us.
Fifteen Steps (Poetry) - 10/17/2013 7:44:24 AM
a well written write for sure
Fifteen Steps (Poetry) - 10/16/2013 9:01:14 AM
But perhaps the "fall" could be analogous to the idea of falling in love with you, and you, and you etc., i.e., to be in the state of love with another entity, sans attachment, clinging or ownership, utilizing the cracks as mere reminders that change, allowance, embracing of the unknown is inevitable for the conscious, especially those willing to love (pardon the cliche) unconditionally for its own sake. Don't we often wonder why just a "trip" rather than a fall?
Fifteen Steps (Poetry) - 10/16/2013 8:54:59 AM
So many poems fall under those superlatives. And they all fall. I failed to see an expansion joint [crack] once, and fell flat on my face. But that was easily fixable with a few stitches. Spending life looking for flaws is not that easy to fix except by looking up.
Another good one... thought-provoking.
The Ego and Mr. Id (Poetry) - 10/16/2013 3:17:33 AM
the last stanza is so wonderful! A real eye-opener!
Miscommunication (Poetry) - 10/14/2013 2:23:28 PM
The creation process, the "who done it" light bulb that never turns on to illuminate some empirical answer, like a woven ikat thread, coalescing its rainbow color into a pastel complacency of color and texture, satisfied with the status quo. So goes the frustration of questioning poetic arrows that seem forever to hit their mark with questionable effect. Let's hear it for the pulp readers of the world, the ones in most need of your "Miscommunication."
Miscommunication (Poetry) - 10/14/2013 9:16:45 AM
As a child I heard that thunder was, “God rearranging the furniture in heaven.” Maybe so, but lightning is still one of those unsolved things that if we could, harness all that power, we wouldn't have to worry about providing enough electric power for mankind.
On the other hand, you could be referring to those brilliant flashes of thought that change everything.
Miscommunication (Poetry) - 10/14/2013 5:02:52 AM
Well, I don't understand what Roger is saying, but I do know that to me, this describes the confusion I feel in life about which way to go. And about the occasional spurts of hope thrown in.
Miscommunication (Poetry) - 10/13/2013 6:16:46 PM
A more probative, penetratingly provocative metaphysical than this one could not wish to find, and in the stillness out of the light comes an inquiry of innocence and experience not unlike some nexus of naturalism and neo-gnostic nexus between Thomas Hardy and William Blake. Iconoclastic imagery and supernal nouthetics pulls the reader inexorably towards the horrifics of an implausibility of explosive implortunistim fused with original syntax and other fatal Flaubert-laden laws of attraction... You've got a keeper here, my friend.
High Moral Grounds (Poetry) - 10/12/2013 7:50:52 AM
There's a lot of conviction packed into these stanzas, giving the reader much choice for identity. Sadly, few ever think through, let alone take the time to write down possible definitions for those inevitable realities you speak.
High Moral Grounds (Poetry) - 10/11/2013 11:11:34 AM
You have raised many questions for which there is no real answers and brought us to a certainty we all know, that we will die, sooner or later.
From my experience last year when I was close to death. It really did not bother me. I kept my mind focused every day on an expected surgery… for seven days… that would put me on a course from sliding into death to a gradual recovery after the drastic action by surgeon's knife. I don't remember spending a lot of time worrying about what I didn't do or did prior to my death. I just accepted it and was drugged sufficiently so that I didn't feel anything except every day getting worse... Asking my pulmonary doctor when the surgeon would cut.
But other people's experience may be different, especially if they go through painful experiences like chemotherapy. Since I don't believe in God or having to repent for anything, my mind was clear of all that baggage. My partner worried a whole lot more than I did.
As usual brilliant thinking and expression.
High Moral Grounds (Poetry) - 10/11/2013 7:34:56 AM
Wow...you have covered a variety of beliefs and philosophies. Never read anything like that. It's awesome.
High Moral Grounds (Poetry) - 10/11/2013 4:50:50 AM
Michael, you manage to put into words so brilliant what most of us think of, though not so eloquently. You are a great thinker and writer, and I hope I, or you, live long enough for us both to read it.
High Moral Grounds (Poetry) - 10/11/2013 4:38:36 AM
you've managed to take all these mysterious musings, stirred them all together then spread them out before us as a banquet of ponderings to feast upon.
this one is definitely going to have me walking around all day hmmmmm?-ing to myself.
High Moral Grounds (Poetry) - 10/10/2013 11:52:30 PM
This is a very eloquent statement of the mystery of life. But we all seem to have a moral compass, a guiding light, that suggests there is something more beyond the horizon. If true, all the disbeliefs won't matter. If not, we can still imagine.
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/10/2013 1:01:33 PM
A most apt, timely, and meaningful metaphorical write, Michael. Thank you for sharing it. Love and peace to you,
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/10/2013 12:47:56 PM
A wonderful use of pet behavior to describe the sheeple (lapdogs) most have become. Spending their lives endlessly chasing tail and bowing down to the big dogs in hopes of getting scraps or a bone and sure as hell trying to find a warm place to lie down in as soon as possible (early retirement).
You've hit the nail on the head again. I hope you sing it in the New Orleans dives.
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/10/2013 5:37:13 AM
Who would have guessed that we would become slaves to a band of low IQ'd nitwit lapdogs with scarcely enough brain power to wipe their asses, and each bought for 30 pieces of silver by the Koch brothers.
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/10/2013 4:39:29 AM
We've let the mantra 'smaller' government cow and neuter us, for
WE, after all, ARE the government. Let somebody else fix it, take care of our rights, run for office, vote, thrive. Like Roman and Aztec 'citizens' we dutifully attend various arenas and cheer our blood sports, but increasingly we are too lazy and fearful to do even that. We stay at home and watch, living double vicarious fantasies. Michael, you are so often right on and create a viewpoint we would not see but for you. My dog, at least once in a while, barks at bears and chases coyotes. But more and more he adopts the neurosis of his masters and sleeps in his cushy bed. Thanks.
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/10/2013 2:39:27 AM
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/9/2013 2:33:47 PM
And some of us are just tired of the fight, since it has never seemed to yield results. But mostly you are right, laziness and apathy. Your usual excellent writing.
Lapdogs (Poetry) - 10/9/2013 1:42:54 PM
Sounds like the sheeple of the United States of America.
Unique (Poetry) - 10/8/2013 6:10:29 PM
I know a "unique" such as this and life's circumstances are keeping her distant. I can relate, Michael. Thank you for sharing. Love and peace to you,
Unique (Poetry) - 10/7/2013 8:27:49 AM
this well stuctured, bitter-sweet character study is one of the most romantic pieces i've read in some time...so very nice michael have read 3 times
Unique (Poetry) - 10/7/2013 2:17:40 AM
Unique (Poetry) - 10/5/2013 10:06:45 PM
A wonderful poetic tribute to a loved one.
Peace, Love and Blessings,
Unique (Poetry) - 10/5/2013 11:37:09 AM
Lady writes the blues… Conjured up all kinds of free spirits I've heard about or known. A worthy tribute were she here to read it.
Unique (Poetry) - 10/5/2013 10:13:54 AM
Like an enigmatic obsession, we often find that which is gone is all there is to focus on, given today abuse of focus, that human attribute so often maligned as not keeping pace with the abbreviated life style most choose to immerse themselves into. As your poem alludes, there are details of the lost that can never be abbreviated, will never make a good tweet, will never know how far too many lives are turning into "drive by" filler for boredom.
Unique (Poetry) - 10/5/2013 5:00:03 AM
sir, your every poem is UNIQUE!
Unique (Poetry) - 10/5/2013 4:53:06 AM
Why is it that unique so often ends in sadness. Beautiful and original.
Unique (Poetry) - 10/5/2013 3:46:39 AM
Such is life to a free spirit, and the images you project are fantastic ones. The delightful woman. Smiling through life.
Below the Water Line (Poetry) - 10/1/2013 3:45:30 PM
Wonderful array of images in a tapestry of what was, what can be, and, unfortunately what is for so many. Beautifully rhythmic in its relaxed wisdom.
We Are All Vulnerable (Poetry) - 9/30/2013 7:40:40 AM
All I have to do is transport myself back, say, 5000 years, and suddenly things get a whole lot more dangerous. Hell, a 100 years will do.
For all the times that I've come close to danger because I ventured out, the ultimate (my demise, or even serious injury) never happened. I may be like “deer in the headlights” sometimes, but never a butterfly splattered on a windshield.
We Are All Vulnerable (Poetry) - 9/30/2013 5:09:30 AM
Aren't we privileged to have such options, even though we'll all end up on this or that windscreen. Think of all the eggs and sperm and stars and such that never germinate at all. Even our nastiest existence is a 'gift' ... or so some would have us believe. So often we squabble over whether it is better to end up splattered on a Dodge Ram or Rolls Silver Shadow. I think it is better to have penned verses such as yours to give us a raw chuckle as we dart here and there, our lips stiff against the storm. Thanks.
We Are All Vulnerable (Poetry) - 9/29/2013 12:37:21 PM
I could not believe the ending, because that is exactly what I would have done. Butterflies of a feather...
We Are All Vulnerable (Poetry) - 9/29/2013 12:14:54 PM
Heh.Heh Sometimes it is better to stay where you are, but the butterfly, like humans, have to venture into unknown dangers. Therein lies the unknown and the sudden realization of impending . . .
We Are All Vulnerable (Poetry) - 9/29/2013 11:39:27 AM
As my last posting suggests, dreaming may be our go-to reality of the future, given the chaos surrounding this so-called superior species' every move. BTW, butterflies seldom end up on windshields due to the draft pushed forward by a car, lifting them (usually) up and over. But, hell who am I to sound empirical. Been awhile since I flew. Enjoyed this slice of irony you penned.
Below the Water Line (Poetry) - 9/27/2013 9:35:56 AM
For all my travels, I've never been there. But you seem to have captured the Big Easy with ease and finesse. I know it's all true, because of what I've heard and I guess.
To live under the water line seems like a crime. For the big one will hit, in due time. The Gulf, she will rise, and the Mississippi, too. like mythical Atlantis and Alexandria, a time will come when old New Orleans is due. And nothing will stop the rising tide, no politician's pumps or high floodwalls to hide. She's decayed and dying in front of blind eyes. I'd get out of Dodge before the waters rise.
Below the Water Line (Poetry) - 9/27/2013 6:01:58 AM
'Your place or mine?" Born in a Florida swamp, I say mine, Michael. I now live on a mountain top in shake-and-bakeland. Touching tribute to a resourceful people. Well done.
Below the Water Line (Poetry) - 9/27/2013 4:51:54 AM
another gem of a poem!
Below the Water Line (Poetry) - 9/27/2013 4:18:59 AM
Another great one. Brings the state and the river back to life for those of us who have temporarily forgotten. Makes me wish I could visit
Below the Water Line (Poetry) - 9/26/2013 9:42:58 PM
C'est magnifique. With your permission I'd like to cut and paste this insightful tale and send it to a friend, age 83, who was born and raised in Louisiana. He has dual PhDs in music and literature. He now directs a band that plays his updated arrangements from the 30s and 40s. He speaks this language and knows this culture well.
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/24/2013 10:47:27 AM
Michael is once again, “True” to himself. Delving into the layers of the putrid past few discover amid the rot the pearls of wisdom so often displayed in his poems.
I guess some things were better not dug up.
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/23/2013 6:37:47 PM
...for Odin: or falling completely apart
...for Michael: there is a stagnant pool where 'cess' is as much of a prefix as it is a summation... your sumptuous imagery pulls its repast from the odorific nether regions of that cesspool and imparts to dole dolour with an aura of vitriolic acid few can stomach, still fewer digest and disburse with quite so avid an alacrity... I applaud your intestinal fortitude... cast iron, I think...
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/23/2013 1:33:54 PM
Deep poetic thoughts that are truly lessons of life and living.
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/23/2013 5:54:11 AM
This work more than encapsulates one of the most abused and neglected aspects of "keeping it togetha" Yeah, closure, if that's what's necessary, or accepting one's opinions and memories of same maybe not being in fact perfect, i.e., the embracing of it all, the allowance of yin and yang to coalesce might just be an answer...to something? Whether I'm right or wrong, this was one exciting piece of imaging and in depth consideration of those deepest layers of memories. Excellent.
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/23/2013 4:51:47 AM
Ouch! Too much perspective ... too prescient ... but so well said.
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/23/2013 3:19:57 AM
I love the way you get to depths of your soul and speak these truths. I would like to compost some memories.
Picking Through Memories (Poetry) - 9/23/2013 2:34:37 AM
very interesting to read
I Live at Death’s Doorstep (Poetry) - 9/22/2013 3:56:11 PM
There's a universal reach this piece achieves, speaking volumes of what can, might be, quite assuredly there now for those of willing to allow one's inherent Nirvana to expose itself. Paradoxically, the double doors, for me, are the necessary closures allowing my inner self to focus. This one I'll be rereading quite often.
We Talk in Whispers (Poetry) - 9/21/2013 9:37:28 AM
All that noise, indeed. Yet, without it, we might never come to grips with the power of the whisper, the intimacy of knowledge and understanding when shared without said noise.
We Talk in Whispers (Poetry) - 9/18/2013 1:11:58 PM
There are a lot of revolutions under way and the gossip mill is churning out the wheat and the chaff.
Damn good writing!
We Talk in Whispers (Poetry) - 9/18/2013 6:29:23 AM
I agree with Lark. I also see elements of Syria and the Arab Spring in your words and your world. A powerful ode.
We Talk in Whispers (Poetry) - 9/18/2013 3:26:24 AM
A brilliant commentary on the world and on us as individuals. Egos and money rule.
We Talk in Whispers (Poetry) - 9/18/2013 2:33:04 AM
too sad its that way
I Live at Death’s Doorstep (Poetry) - 9/17/2013 10:01:50 AM
Is a dark place that you are at: death's door. But while waiting there, you contemplate an ideal earth; the place we were destined to be… Not the universe, but a very small corner of it… The blue marble we call home.
I was not conscience before I was born… In fact, not until I was about four years old and started to have memories. It suits me well to go through death's door into that same loss of consciousness. For I have lived my life as it has been given to me well and have no desire to continue in some make-believe existence that doesn't exist. I won't exist after passing through that door we all do.
I Live at Death’s Doorstep (Poetry) - 9/17/2013 7:49:01 AM
you show us a world of possibilities in this super-fine write michael and leave us with questions of our own making
I Live at Death’s Doorstep (Poetry) - 9/17/2013 7:18:37 AM
One small suggestion, Michael: The title could easily be "I live at life's doorstep." What do you think?
A magnificent poem filled with thoughts and wonderments and dreams and aspirations and joy and peace and comfort.
I Live at Death’s Doorstep (Poetry) - 9/17/2013 2:23:52 AM
you are awaited and welcome there
Fear (Poetry) - 9/9/2013 3:16:07 AM
The Church (Poetry) - 9/6/2013 3:54:12 PM
Love and peace,
Lost at Sea (Poetry) - 9/6/2013 3:51:39 PM
Wow! That's quite a twist, Michael. Love and peace,
Fear (Poetry) - 9/5/2013 10:22:36 PM
another great poem by Mr. Michael S. True!
Fear (Poetry) - 9/5/2013 7:38:13 AM
But in spite of it all, we plan for a better day, and we trudge onward while trying to make sense of who we are, why we are here, and what it all means. In rare moments when our spirits are unexpectedly high, we seem to understand that somewhere down the road there awaits a better day, a more enlightened day, when we will be able to see farther and with greater clarity. Maybe not.
Fear (Poetry) - 9/5/2013 7:17:28 AM
For a musician and poet, you write like a great psychiatrist! All those here that write poetry of fear should take heed your wisdom… at least give it their ear. “What, me worry?”
The Church (Poetry) - 9/5/2013 4:38:47 AM
Halleluiah and Amen! This probably flowed from that brain of yours quickly, and yet you covered almost everything (per Ron's addition). You said, Brother Michael.
Fear (Poetry) - 9/4/2013 9:02:54 PM
Your poetic poem is very sensational and filled with somber emotion
F-E-A-R - is False Evidence Appearing Real
The opposite of fear is FAITH
In my life I have seen many miracles.
The fact that I am still alive today is a miracle.
Praise God - for He is the creator of miracles and life itself. Amen...
The Church (Poetry) - 9/4/2013 8:04:45 AM
In this epic poem you have said it all… well, almost all. You left out the Parthenon and Egyptian temples, all the ancient ruins of Southeast Asia from Cambodia through India, and the Mayan and Aztec temples of Central and South America. But you said it all when you said that marble was taken for granite. We have taken it all into the home and now we must have marble showers and granite countertops!
You nicely pull it all together in part 3. I have often used, like you, the fear of lightning and its gift, fire, as the origin of religious thought. You've treated that beautifully here. So glad you have brought it back to share with us.
The Church (Poetry) - 9/3/2013 10:43:03 PM
Great work Michael.The decription is just amazing.Seems you have been brooding ove the subject for some time. I have been wondering like you too, at times detached and sometimes closer, but unable yet to find any answer I give up not knowing what to do! And get busy with life !!! as I feel that is what we are all in this world for!!
The Church (Poetry) - 9/3/2013 9:36:34 PM
Wow! If I had a church like you described I would not walk fum it, I would RUN! However, in my Christian upbringing I hated the church. Then in my twenties it was barely tolerable. Thirty and I was born again but still did not buy off on all the religious crap. Years later I started helping in prison ministry and youth ministry and my life changed. I find if you spend your time giving to others you don't have time to complain about anything because your too busy caring about others. Amen
Deviations II (Poetry) - 9/3/2013 2:25:20 AM
Deviations II (Poetry) - 9/2/2013 8:09:23 AM
There is more truth in this writing, especially that last paragraph, than I can wrap my mind around.
The Doctor of Psychopoemetrics Is In (Poetry) - 9/2/2013 7:49:59 AM
I think many are both insane and brilliant. Sometimes the interpretations of others surprise me, and I think, "Is that what this poem was about?"
Deviations II (Poetry) - 9/2/2013 7:23:16 AM
It is though I am sensing a captain Ahab, although I put down Moby Dick because I couldn't get through that first psychological chapter.
Knowing a bit of your history, I would say it was a battle with your health that is still raging to this day.
I've grown to appreciate psychological writing more. You have done an incredible job here.
Deviations II (Poetry) - 9/2/2013 4:28:22 AM
You betcha. People were warned. I, in my inept way tried to warn. All warnings were dismissed as claptrap.
The Doctor of Psychopoemetrics Is In (Poetry) - 9/1/2013 7:51:55 PM
Nice thoughts Michael...
I am un-clinically insane...
On Succumbing to Another Bout of Depression (Poetry) - 9/1/2013 4:48:00 PM
Perhaps the essence of this piece--for those of us who've traveled similar experiences--is "allowance," a gift of acceptance most resist. To welcome that which seems foreign and unwanted is to feel and think on that which would not have been possible without such a happening. And, because it is arguable that there are no happenings without the input of the experiencer's consciousness, victimization becomes a very moot element of such an argument. Nothing happens to us. We create all our own reality, in so much as an experience is nothing (does not exist) if not an ingestion of sensorial response by someone who then either intelligently embraces it as part of a learning process, or ignorantly rejects it as something that invaded their space. For some of us, the choice of interpretation is obviously apparent. For others, well, as I stated above, ignorance and resistance are psyche-buddies.
On Succumbing to Another Bout of Depression (Poetry) - 8/29/2013 3:41:56 AM
What else can we do but shuffle on. So relevant.
On Finding Love Again (Poetry) - 8/28/2013 9:53:04 AM
This is soul wrenching and causes one to review life past, present, and future. That might just be what good writing is meant to do.
On Finding Love Again (Poetry) - 8/28/2013 6:44:35 AM
Ah, the missed opportunities of youth. Your poem was déjà vu for me. Everyone can relate to being young and naïve and therefore missing opportunities for love. We can only hope that if and when they return we will not make the same mistake twice.
The last line is precious. How can a conversation began without first someone simply saying, “Hello.”
On Finding Love Again (Poetry) - 8/28/2013 6:27:20 AM
So much eloquence in this piece, one is hesitant to cite for fear of leaving one out. "Today heartache has loosened its talon grip,
Cynicism falls like clouds stripped of rain." An emblazoned banner ad for the intrinsic malady that cripples so many at some time in their life: fear. Some are fortunate in finding the quintessential antidote embodied in the following: "This love of innocence." Hello, indeed.
On Finding Love Again (Poetry) - 8/28/2013 4:12:37 AM
A masterpiece of reminiscences, of young love, and of a road not taken all woven into a journey of the mind, of what might have been, and of what can still be. A tale well told.
On Finding Love Again (Poetry) - 8/27/2013 8:32:07 PM
Wonderful romantic poetic journey..
Peace, love and blessings,
John Michael Domino
On Finding Love Again (Poetry) - 8/27/2013 7:12:28 PM
ah, yes... tis all there in the journey, the end, the beginning, the other end, a new beginning, the muddle in the middle, epiphany after reawakening, after philosophy metamorphoses into physicality with a spiritual edge... you take us on a fine trip, and to think, I never even had to leave the farm! Enjoyed immensely, Michael.
I’ll See You Tomorrow (Poetry) - 8/27/2013 6:20:39 PM
Oh, this is so great and intense! I am unable to hold back my tears.
Ripples on a Writer’s Pond (Poetry) - 8/25/2013 7:10:11 AM
Love that so true last line.
Periplaneta Americana (Poetry) - 8/24/2013 4:23:07 PM
What a romp. And to think the little buggers are actually part of a scientific study and experimentation to implant some bots in them and actually use them as a war weapon. Yeah. Just what we need. The common cock roach leading the charge. Informative, entertaining and a continued foreshadow of what's inevitable.
Periplaneta Americana (Poetry) - 8/24/2013 2:59:37 PM
Ha! . John: every cat is an heir to Schroediger's cat... so it is with the roach, more dead than alive, yet somehow managing, as your pithy poem suggests, to thrive not just survive... I like how you begin with your pantheon of veritable legends lending ubiquity to this species from the most unlikely bedfellows... history makes them strange, yet all pales in comparison to the eccentricities enumerated herein...
Periplaneta Americana (Poetry) - 8/24/2013 8:37:36 AM
I'm so glad you're reposting these gems. Somehow you've managed to cram information and humor into one of humankind's worst dilemmas… What to do with, “La Cucaracha.”
I fed my little Pomeranian, Jazz, nothing but a geriatric dog food and a daily milk bone for his teeth. Do you know what Jazz thought roaches were? “A snack.”
Periplaneta Americana (Poetry) - 8/23/2013 8:51:01 PM
The only things I can think of right now are a few experiences with these perfect little ugly products of natures ingenuity. I once worked on a boat that was infested with them. A huge nest resided in the bulkheads in the galley. The only thing that finally got rid of them? The boat sank. When they raised it and rehabbed it, the roaches were finally gone. With all their accomplishments, they just haven't gained the secret of swimming. I definitely know how nasty these things can get Michael. Bob
Periplaneta Americana (Poetry) - 8/23/2013 4:04:12 PM
My cat sometimes eats the roaches. So where does the cat fit in?
Periplaneta Americana (Poetry) - 8/23/2013 12:32:11 PM
I am now completely terrified of roaches. That was ingenious! And funny.
The Deed So Neatly Done (Poetry) - 8/21/2013 10:33:43 AM
I saw my bipolar son throughout this, sad, sad write. What it is, it is. I agree with Odin-this is brilliant.
The Deed So Neatly Done (Poetry) - 8/21/2013 6:21:19 AM
I don't throw this word around frivolously, but this piece is a brilliant treatise on consciousness and for many, the inevitable denouement of turning off the blinding light of awareness. One of my favorites.
Not Too Close! (Poetry) - 8/20/2013 4:25:42 PM
Lovely, gentle parade of man's most vulnerable possession--love that knows not too close or too far away, only that it needs to be respected.
Not Too Close! (Poetry) - 8/19/2013 4:59:39 AM
Oh, wow. I wonder how many of us can relate to this beautiful love poem, and wish we were a part of it.
Rhyming (As It Stands in the General Scheme of Things) (Poetry) - 8/19/2013 4:56:30 AM
A great one, and I especially love that last verse. For me, it is a perfect period in time.
Hope (Poetry) - 8/11/2013 1:36:04 PM
Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
That is what this beautiful, sad verse brought to my mind. So insightful.
Fire – And Its Propensity to Burn (or Could It Be Love?) (Poetry) - 8/11/2013 10:26:48 AM
I'm for the other interpretation. Apparently, she's tempting, but too hot to touch. A great little devious poem leading to a climactic ending… I hope a fulfilling one.
Fire – And Its Propensity to Burn (or Could It Be Love?) (Poetry) - 8/11/2013 8:39:11 AM
I love George's comment. This one definitely makes me feel like I'm relaxing in front of a fireplace, regardless of its other meaning.
Fire – And Its Propensity to Burn (or Could It Be Love?) (Poetry) - 8/11/2013 7:02:34 AM
Once consumed it wouldn't matter.
One Fat Cat (Poetry) - 8/11/2013 4:29:52 AM
Unusual and excellent in originality. Of course it has made me think of the rich and wicked who take advantage of desperation--the fat cats.
Is Real My Life (Poetry) - 8/8/2013 3:40:28 AM
'until sweaty fingers slip'...what a perfect core line for this well laid out piece...liked the words the wording and the to-the-point-ness of this most interesting write.
A Visit at Midnight (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 11:58:54 PM
Now that is some dream - or was it... I love the ethereal quality of this tale - the way it carries the reader along its brightly surreal planes and leaves them too, to wonder how much of it was real.
The Lessons (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 11:56:43 AM
I would like to "believe" there's hope, but I also like to "think," and that pretty well nulifies such fantasies as belief in hope. I do believe there are options to said hope, like being more "selective" with who and what one spends any of their valuable time with. After all, for many of us who have little respect for stuff, save that stuff that provides shelter, body cover and nourishment in our bellies, there is only the caring and nurturing of heart/mind treasures. Everything else is what your eloquent overview reminds many they passed over and reverted back to worse than non-sentient behavior. Let's call it one-cell-petre-dish-retreat syndrome.
Is Real My Life (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 9:07:39 AM
Very dramatic and eventful. A lifetime
in a few lines… interesting.
Is Real My Life (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 8:21:01 AM
Synergistic with my today poem in progress, "No One Way" where no matter how we try to analyze or circumvent anticipations, energy ultimately is its own boss. I particularly liked the sting effect of your word structure, creating for the reader a sense unavoidable descent.
Is Real My Life (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 7:52:05 AM
Sometimes less is more. And with a dramatic finish!
Is Real My Life (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 5:28:13 AM
Is Real My Life (Poetry) - 8/7/2013 3:41:54 AM
Probably it ends with dying. It seems unfair when you put it so well. On the other hand, your poetry will not die.
Lorali ©2010 (Poetry) - 8/3/2013 4:32:12 PM
Only a fool would say "I've had that experience" but like all fools, I must say, there's a similarity between your words of loss and that of mine. So, lest we get maudlin, suffice to say, I'm of firm belief that until one figures out the "agenda" of the other party, there is only insecurity in the relationship. Some, like me, needed to find such a person, no agenda, a truly free spirit--with 10 years of proof. Ah...I've escaped. However, my dreams, sometimes nightmares, dramatize those others that kept me fooled for a fool's time in paradise. I empathize. You are fortunate to be of independent mind and focus to suffer through it with dignity and perseverance to pursue your creative bent...obviously contributed to by the heart-breaking experience.
Lorali ©2010 (Poetry) - 8/2/2013 12:51:35 AM
Mkchael , so natural and sweet and so true, may you be blessed with all that you need
Lorali ©2010 (Poetry) - 8/1/2013 6:17:41 PM
Ah the rhythms of nostalgia and yearning entwine in a song like hot breath in the wind on the nape of a neck that cranes towards cravings untold but in whispers of love on a moving emotional state of affairs... sweet melodies unheard wrap themselves in this lovely song and ensnare the reader in chords of sentiment strummed in a minor key to elicit a major shift in mood and feeling... well done, sir True...
Words to the Wind (Poetry) - 8/1/2013 11:28:03 AM
i'm struggling with much of what you're saying hear....i enjoyed your choice of words and timing ..and hey! there's ole Odin again :)
To Kill or Be Killed (Poetry) - 8/1/2013 11:19:18 AM
i love odin's remark...from my observations and his works, that some i mamage to understand, i consider it a compliment and shared admiration of your talents. this is not my favorite so far, however really enjoyed the reading.... not one that grabbed me and kept me straining to read faster and jump back to read again and maybe again. :)
New Orleans Coffeehouse Contemplations (Poetry) - 7/29/2013 3:24:54 PM
Interesting how a poet's coffee house experience can be so universal. I was immediately taken back to my own Cafe Figaro in the Village, vintage 1957. Many an hour I spent there absorbing the multifaceted troubles of mixed race, ethnic leanings and plain old fashioned artist depression. Thanks for a metaphoric connection for any and all of us with similar attachments to the 5-sense luxury a truly dedicated coffee house can deliver.
New Orleans Coffeehouse Contemplations (Poetry) - 7/28/2013 9:13:51 AM
You have shared a moment of insight into the human soul when, amidst tragedy and carnage, we manage to come together for a brief moment to share in the things we value most. Well told.
New Orleans Coffeehouse Contemplations (Poetry) - 7/27/2013 9:26:14 AM
I felt the ambience in your description of what it must've been like to be able to communicate in these sanctuaries of face-to-face conversation. And, I could smell the coffee.
The Lessons (Poetry) - 7/27/2013 5:05:43 AM
Intriguing questions, Michael. Just yesterday a study was released claiming that mice have been implanted with 'false memory' ... you've framed our dilema beautifully and I look forward to some answers to your pandemic infection.
New Orleans Coffeehouse Contemplations (Poetry) - 7/27/2013 4:57:54 AM
So glad you could find such a haven, and that you have shared it with me. Vivid!
The Perils of Love and Sex (Poetry) - 7/22/2013 7:15:51 AM
long but every line is true. yes, it is like walking on the razor's edge. Romantic dreams are made of glass and their broken pieces wound the heart permanently. I won't say any more lest it become personal lament.
The Poet, the Jester, and the King (Poetry) - 7/19/2013 4:45:54 PM
Yes, we have much in the US to bitch about, but one thing we can still depend on(to a certain extent) is free expression. I'm reminded of what I consider the tube's elite jester of late: Louis C.K. Can you imagine a society, other than our own, and may Canada's) that would put up with his "jesterish" epiphonous pronouncments each week, causing a conservative mind to become enraged, and an open mind to say: Yeah, you've got that right. And...no king or monarch to cut you down. Wonderful read.
To Kill or Be Killed (Poetry) - 7/19/2013 4:30:04 PM
How true and relevant, even though the slow death of self-abuse and self-mutilation-of-mind is rampant in society today. If you can't get killed by another's hand, as your poem chillingly elucidates, give it time, we're getting good at finding quiet, silent, even invisible ways to take ourselves out. As I said somewhere recently, what we should fear most is ignorance. doG how our society loves to perpetuate than malady. Back to your poem. What strikes a strong chord with me is the way you move from "clubs and axes" to "Calling on God" for ???? Yeah, I've got some bones to pick with the zealots and the proselytizers running slipshod over humanity right now.
The Writer (Ode to the Written Word) (Poetry) - 7/19/2013 4:20:07 PM
The traverse of this work spans mountain sides, scree laden dangers, and finally into the valley where all sorts await: the spectators, the fellow climbers, the thinkers analyzing the journey into that which might reach the masses. Yes...write it down down down.
The Song of Life (Poetry) - 7/18/2013 5:07:20 AM
The Writer (Ode to the Written Word) (Poetry) - 7/16/2013 8:18:53 AM
With e-mail, Facebook, blogs, and Twitter proliferating exponentially more words are being recorded than ever before. Let us hope that some Google-like device will come along to help us sort through all the rough to find the diamonds.
Things Change or Profits for Prophets (Poetry) - 7/14/2013 8:10:32 AM
A wonderfully philosophical exploration of the human condition. At first I thought of my poem, Entropy, and then later I thought about how minute genetic mutations create who we are in great variety of both physical nature and thought process.
Hopefully, the most intelligent and physically strongest will survive in a world full of crutches and flavored ice cream.
PS. Dress to suit, and soot to ashes
Things Change or Profits for Prophets (Poetry) - 7/14/2013 6:18:07 AM
Superb metaphoric choices, especially the last stanza, where the common sweetness of taste is given a universal presence along with the more requisite realities so often ignored. You've penned another cyclic treatise we need to pay more attention to. I, for one, appreciate your continued sharing of a belief system that perpetuates existence as what eternity is truly about.
Things Change or Profits for Prophets (Poetry) - 7/14/2013 5:23:08 AM
Whatever measure of fear breeds courage, I hope you find fortune in your future. Penetrating piece!
Things Change or Profits for Prophets (Poetry) - 7/13/2013 1:57:22 PM
The last verse sums up the poem nicely. Savor life as it is today and drink from its fountain.
Words to the Wind (Poetry) - 7/6/2013 4:55:29 PM
Or, as I tried to portray in "Wonder's Darkness" this enigmatic circus is available to all of us if we will but allow. How frightened our species has become of remaining with with even a modicum of our child-like imagination. Little do so many know of the tranquility such indulgence can give. For this man, it is the daily 15 mile bike ride I take along a pristine bike path through a reserved park area that for road bikers like myself, is only a daily reminder of the Schwinn dreams of my youth, when saddled atop the two wheels, the dreams and imaginings remained a constant...just as they do now atop my 15 speed. Loved this piece.
Tree Glory (Poetry) - 7/6/2013 4:47:31 PM
This piece evokes a sadness all too familiar to those who are surrounded by nature...watching its disappearance, ever so subtly. Having lived so many years in NY's concrete entrapment, then many years in LA's smog choked suicide, now in clean air, greenery as far as the eye can see in Oregon, I can truly appreciate the slow demise of your tree glory as is experienced in so many parts of the world. Your capper of "No willow to weep" is an eloquent choice.
Tree Glory (Poetry) - 7/4/2013 4:04:57 AM
Nice write. Your 'clear cutter's scab' is so visual and seems unable to heal no matter what our lament.
Them Who Hangs On (Poetry) - 7/3/2013 4:55:08 PM
And, my friend, unknown to most, is the "hand ons" of poetry's bent, knowing that that which keeps the average person going was never meant to be just food, roof, clothing and family. There's that much less addresses part: the thinking and contemplating capacity everyone is hardwired to exercise, though few got there. Must easier to to get drunk or shoot up, eh?
Air Babies (Poetry) - 7/3/2013 4:51:02 PM
Oh, if only more of our proliferate consummate-baby-makers for God's sake could read this and comprehend the subtext of spawning life in the 21st century. That "abiding in the light of innocence" remains so precarious. Succinct and without sentimentality. Priceless in today's saccharin sweet allegiance to procreation.
In the Garage (Poetry) - 7/3/2013 3:10:44 PM
I tell people that I've got the Used Car Syndrome. Ya gotta take it As Is - No warranty. M.True
Air Babies (Poetry) - 7/3/2013 11:59:10 AM
I can imagine… a spaceship nursery filled with babies at zero gravity. Since everyone is floating, there are no saggy bottoms in the room.
Or, it could be us, awakening after a long sleep. As usual, very creative writing.