Widgets and gadgets
gizmos and apps.
Whatever happened
to cause the collapse
of my simple world?
What happened to the
simple pleasures?
The joy of simply living;
the joy of simply loving?
All consigned to the limbo
of a thousand electronic
gizmos.

I used to love a lass.
I gave her all I had
in time and space
and multiple delights.
But it is not enough
to satisfy her nights.
Without apps
she snaps.
That *****
needs her gizmo.
Without widgets
she fidgets.
She must have
her gadgets.

I’d like to bury hatchets
in her gadgets.

Sa paglipas ng panahon
Mundo ay tuluyan nang nabago,
Kabataa’y apektado
Sa bagong lipunang minulatan.

Kabataan noon ay respetado
Hindi matitigas ang mga ulo,
Laging magalang sa ama’t ina
At sa mga nakakatanda sa kanila.

Kabataan ngayon ay babad sa social media
Naaapektuhan na ng teknolohiya,
Sa gawaing bahay ay tamad na
Kung utusan mo ay sisigawan ka pa.

Kabataan noon ay naglalaro pa
Ng patentiro, tumbang preso at iba pa,
Kabataan ngayon ay puro gadgets na
Nilalaro at kanilang libangan.

Nalulungkot akong isipin
Pero ‘yan ay ating yayakapin,
Nakikita ko rin na hindi lahat
Pero karamiha’y nailamon na ng makamundong gawa.

Kahit sa paglipas ng panahon
Mundo ay nabago,
Malaki man ang agwat ng pagbabago
Natutuwa akong may ibang kabataan pa rin na may mithiin sa bayan.

Like a psychotic docent in the wilderness,
I will not speak in perfect Ciceronian cadences.
I draw my voice from a much deeper cistern,
Preferring the jittery synaptic archive,
So sublimely unfiltered, random and profane.
And though I am sequestered now,
Confined within the walls of a gated, golf-coursed,
Over-55 lunatic asylum (for Active Seniors I am told),
I remain oddly puerile,
Remarkably refreshed and unfettered.  
My institutionalization self-imposed,
Purposed for my own serenity, and also the safety of others.
Yet I abide, surprisingly emancipated and frisky.
I may not have found the peace I seek,
But the quiet has mercifully come at last.

The nexus of inner and outer space is context for my story.
I was born either in Brooklyn, New York or Shungopavi, Arizona,
More of intervention divine than census data.
Shungopavi: a designated place for tribal statistical purposes.
Shungopavi: an ovine abbatoir and shaman’s cloister.
The Hopi: my mother’s people, a state of mind and grace,
Deftly landlocked, so cunningly circumscribed,
By both interior and outer Navajo boundaries.
The Navajo: a coyote trickster people; a nation of sheep thieves,
Hornswoggled and landlocked themselves,
Subsumed within three of the so-called Four Corners:
A 3/4ths compromise and covenant,
Pickled in firewater, swaddled in fine print,
A veritable swindle concocted back when the USA
Had Manifest Destiny & mayhem on its mind.

The United States: once a pubescent synthesis of blood and thunder,
A bold caboodle of trooper spit and polish, unwashed brawlers, Scouts and      
Pathfinders, mountain men, numb-nut ne'er-do-wells,
Buffalo Bills & big-balled individualists, infected, insane with greed.
According to the Gospel of His Holiness Saint Zinn,
A People’s’ History of the United States: essentially state-sponsored terrorism,
A LAND RUSH grabocracy, orchestrated, blessed and anointed,
By a succession of Potomac sharks, Great White Fascist Fathers,
Far-Away-on-the Bay, the Bay we call The Chesapeake.
All demented national patriarchs craving lebensraum for God and country.
The USA: a 50-state Leviathan today, a nation jury-rigged,
Out of railroad ties, steel rails and baling wire,
Forged by a litany of lies, rapaciousness and ******,
And jaw-torn chunks of terra firma,
Bites both large and small out of our well-****** Native American ***.

Or culo, as in va’a fare in culo (literally "go do it in the ***")
Which Italian Americans pronounce as fongool.
The language center of my brain,
My sub-cortical Broca’s region,
So fraught with such semantic misfires,
And autonomic linguistic seizures,
Compel acknowledgement of a father’s contribution,
To both the gene pool and the genocide.
Columbus Day:  a conspicuously absent holiday out here in Indian Country.
No festivals or Fifth Avenue parades.
No excuse for ethnic hoopla. No guinea feast. No cannoli. No tarantella.
No excuse to not get drunk and not **** your sister-in-law.
Emphatically a day for prayer and contemplation,
A day of infamy like Pearl Harbor and 9/11,
October 12, 1492: not a discovery; an invasion.

Growing up in Brooklyn, things were always different for me,
Different in some sort of redskin/****/****--
Choose Your Favorite Ethnic Slur-sort of way.
The American Way: dehumanization for fun and profit.
Melting *** anonymity and denial of complicity with evil.
But this is no time to bring up America’s sordid past,
Or, a personal pet peeve: Indian Sovereignty.
For Uncle Sam and his minions, an ever-widening, conveniently flexible concept,
Not a commandment or law,
Not really a treaty or a compact,
Or even a business deal.  Let’s get real:
It was not even much in the way of a guideline.
Just some kind of an advisory, a bulletin or newsletter,
Could it merely have been a free-floating suggestion?
Yes, that’s it exactly: a suggestion.

Over and under halcyon American skies,
Over and around those majestic purple mountain peaks,
Those trapped in poetic amber waves of wheat and oats,
Corn and barley, wheat shredded and puffed,
Corn flaked and milled, Wheat Chex and Wheaties, oats that are little Os;
Kix and Trix, Fiber One, and Kashi-Go-Lean, Lucky Charms and matso *****,
Kreplach and kishka,
Polenta and risotto.
Our cantaloupe and squash patch,
Our fruited prairie plain, our delicate ecological Eden,
In balance and harmony with nature, as Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce instructs:
“These white devils are not going to,
Stop ****** and killing, cheating and eating us,
Until they have the whole ******* enchilada.
I’m talking about ‘from sea to shining sea.’”

“I fight no more forever,” Babaloo.
So I must steer this clunky keelboat of discovery,
Back to the main channel of my sad and starry demented river.
My warpath is personal but not historical.
It is my brain’s own convoluted cognitive process I cannot saavy.
Whatever biochemical or—as I suspect more each day—
Whatever bio-mechanical protocols govern my identity,
My weltanschauung: my world-view, as sprechen by proto-Nazis;
Putz philosophers of the 17th, 18th & 19th century.
The German intelligentsia: what a cavalcade of maniacal *******!
Why is this Jew unsurprised these Zarathustra-fueled Übermenschen . . .
Be it the Kaiser--Caesar in Deutsch--Bismarck, ******, or,
Even that Euro-*****,  Angela Merkel . . . Why am I not surprised these Huns,
Get global grab-*** on the sauerbraten cabeza every few generations?
To be, or not to be the ***** bullgoose loony: GOTT.

Biomechanical protocols govern my identity and are implanted while I sleep.
My brain--my weak and weary CPU--is replenished, my discs defragmented.
A suite of magnetic and optical white rooms, cleansed free of contaminants,
Gun mounts & lifeboat stations manned and ready,
Standing at attention and saluting British snap-style,
Snap-to and heel click, ramrod straight and cheerful: “Ready for duty, Sir.”
My mind is ravenous, lusting for something, anything to process.
Any memory or image, lyric or construct,
Be they short-term dailies or deeply imprinted.
Fixations archived one and all in deep storage time and space.
Memories, some subconscious, most vaporous;
Others--the scary ones—eidetic: frighteningly detailed and extraordinarily vivid.
Precise cognitive transcripts; recollected so richly rife and fresh.
Visual, auditory, tactile, gustatory, and olfactory reloads:
Queued up and increasingly re-experienced.

The bio-data of six decades: it’s all there.
People, countless, places and things cataloged.
Every event, joy and trauma enveloped from within or,
Accessed externally from biomechanical storage devices.
The random access memory of a lifetime,
Read and recollected from cerebral repositories and vaults,
All the while the entire greedy process overseen,
Over-driven by that all-subservient British bat-man,
Rummaging through the data in batches small and large,
Internal and external drives working in seamless syncopation,
Self-referential, at times paradoxical or infinitely looped.
“Cogito ergo sum."
Descartes stripped it down to the basics but there’s more to the story:
Thinking about thinking.
A curse and minefield for the cerebral:  metacognition.

No, it is not the fact that thought exists,
Or even the thoughts themselves.
But the information technology of thought that baffles me,
As adaptive and profound as any evolution posited by Darwin,
Beyond the wetware in my skull, an entirely new operating system.
My mental and cultural landscape are becoming one.
Machines are connecting the two.
It’s what I am and what I am becoming.
Once more for emphasis:
It is the information technology of who I am.
It is the operating system of my mental and cultural landscape.
It is the machinery connecting the two.
This is the central point of this narrative:
Metacognition--your superego’s yenta Cassandra,
Screaming, screaming in your psychic ear, your good ear:

“LISTEN:  The machines are taking over, taking you over.
Your identity and train of thought are repeatedly hijacked,
Switched off the main line onto spurs and tangents,
Only marginally connected or not at all.
(Incoming TEXT from my editor: “Lighten Up, Giuseppi!”)
Reminding me again that most in my audience,
Rarely get past the comic page. All righty then: think Calvin & Hobbes.
John Calvin, a precocious and adventurous six-year old boy,
Subject to flights of 16th Century French theological fancy.
Thomas Hobbes, a sardonic anthropomorphic tiger from 17th Century England,
Mumbling about life being “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.”
Taken together--their antics and shenanigans--their relationship to each other,
Remind us of our dual nature; explore for us broad issues like public education;
The economy, environmentalism & the Global ****** Thermometer;
Not to mention the numerous flaws of opinion polls.



And again my editor TEXTS me, reminds me again: “LIGHTEN UP!”
Consoling me:  “Even Shakespeare had to play to the groundlings.”
The groundlings, AKA: The Rabble.
Yes. Even the ******* Bard, even Willie the Shake,
Had to contend with a decidedly lowbrow copse of carrion.
Oh yes, the groundlings, a carrion herd, a flying flock of carrion seagulls,
Carrion crow, carrion-feeders one and all,
And let’s throw Sheryl Crow into the mix while we’re at it:
“Hit it! This ain't no disco. And it ain't no country club either, this is L.A.”  

                  Send "All I Wanna Do" Ringtone to your Cell              

Once more, I digress.
The Rabble:  an amorphous, gelatinous Jabba the Hutt of commonality.
The Rabble: drunk, debauched & lawless.
Too *****-delicious to stop Bill & Hilary from thinking about tomorrow;
Too Paul McCartney My Love Does it Good to think twice.

The Roman Saturnalia: a weeklong **** fest.
The Saturnalia: originally a pagan kink-fest in honor of the deity Saturn.
Dovetailing nicely with the advent of the Christian era,
With a project started by Il Capo di Tutti Capi,
One of the early popes, co-opting the Roman calendar between 17 and 25 December,
Putting the finishing touches on the Jesus myth.
For Brooklyn Hopi-***-Jew baby boomers like me,
Saturnalia manifested itself as Disco Fever,
Unpleasant years of electrolysis, scrunched ***** in tight polyester
For Roman plebeians, for the great unwashed citizenry of Rome,
Saturnalia was just a great big Italian wedding:
A true family blowout and once-in-a-lifetime ego-trip for Dad,
The father of the bride, Vito Corleone, Don for A Day:
“Some think the world is made for fun and frolic,
And so do I! Funicula, Funiculi!”

America: love it or leave it; my country right or wrong.
Sure, we were citizens of Rome,
But any Joe Josephus spending the night under a Tiber bridge,
Or sleeping off a three day drunk some afternoon,
Up in the Coliseum bleachers, the cheap seats, out beyond the monuments,
The original three monuments in the old stadium,
Standing out in fair territory out in center field,
Those three stone slabs honoring Gehrig, Huggins, and Babe.
Yes, in the house that Ruth built--Home of the Bronx Bombers--***?
Any Joe Josephus knows:  Roman citizenship doesn’t do too much for you,
Except get you paxed, taxed & drafted into the Legion.
For us the Roman lifestyle was HIND-*** humble.
We plebeians drew our grandeur by association with Empire.
Very few Romans and certainly only those of the patrician class lived high,
High on the hog, enjoying a worldly extravaganza, like—whom do we both know?

Okay, let’s say Laurence Olivier as Crassus in Spartacus.
Come on, you saw Spartacus fifteen ******* times.
Remember Crassus?
Crassus: that ***** twisted **** trying to get his freak on with,
Tony Curtis in a sunken marble tub?
We plebes led lives of quiet *****-scratching desperation,
A bunch of would-be legionnaires, diseased half the time,
Paid in salt tablets or baccala, salted codfish soaked yellow in olive oil.
Stiffs we used to call them on New Year’s Eve in Brooklyn.
Let’s face it: we were hyenas eating someone else’s ****,
Stage-door jackals, Juvenal-come-late-lies, a mob of moronic mook boneheads
Bought off with bread & circuses and Reality TV.
Each night, dished up a wide variety of lowbrow Elizabethan-era entertainments.  
We contemplate an evening on the town, downtown—
(cue Petula Clark/Send "Downtown" Ringtone to your Cell)

On any given London night, to wit:  mummers, jugglers, bear & bull baiters.
How about dog & **** fighters, quoits & skittles, alehouses & brothels?
In short, somewhere, anywhere else,
Anywhere other than down along the Thames,
At Bankside in Southwark, down in the Globe Theater mosh pit,
Slugging it out with the groundlings whose only interest,
In the performance is the choreography of swordplay and stale ****** puns.
Meanwhile, Hugh Fennyman--probably a fellow Jew,
An English Renaissance Bugsy Siegel or Mickey Cohen—
Meanwhile Fennyman, the local mob boss is getting his ya-yas,
Roasting the feet of my text-messaging editor, Philip Henslowe.
Poor and pathetic Henslowe, works on commission, always scrounging,
But a true patron of my craft, a gentleman of infinite jest and patience,
Spiritual subsistence, and every now and then a good meal at some,
Sawdust joint with oyster shells, and a Prufrockian silk purse of T.S. Eliot gold.

Poor, pathetic Henslowe, trussed up by Fennyman,
His editorial feet in what looks like a Japanese hibachi.
Henslowe’s feet to the fire--feet to the fire—get it?
A catchy phrase whose derivation conjures up,
A grotesque yet vivid image of torture,
An exquisite insight into how such phrases ingress the idiom,
Not to mention a scene once witnessed at a secret Romanian CIA prison,
I’d been ordered to Bucharest not long after 9/11,
Handling the rendition and torture of Habib Ghazzawy,

An entirely innocent falafel maker from Steinway Street, Astoria, Queens.
Shock the Monkey: it’s what we do. GOTO:
Peter Gabriel - Shock the Monkey/
(HQ music video) - YouTube//
www.youtube.com/
Poor, pathetic, ******-on Henslowe.


Fennyman :  (his avarice is whet by something Philly screams out about a new script)  "A play takes time. Find actors; Rehearsals. Let's say open in three weeks. That's--what--five hundred groundlings at tuppence each, in addition four hundred groundlings tuppence each, in addition four hundred backsides at three pence--a penny extra for a cushion, call it two hundred cushions, say two performances for safety how much is that Mr. Frees?"
Jacobean Tweet, John (1580-1684) Webster:  “I saw him kissing her bubbies.”

It’s Geoffrey Rush, channeling Henslowe again,
My editor, a singed smoking madman now,
Feet in an ice bucket, instructing me once more:
“Lighten things up, you know . . .
Comedy, love and a bit with a dog.”
I digress again and return to Hopi Land, back to my shaman-monastic abattoir,
That Zen Center in downtown Shungopavi.
At the Tribal Enrolment Office I make my case for a Certificate of Indian Blood,
Called a CIB by the Natives and the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs.
The BIA:  representing gold & uranium miners, cattle and sheep ranchers,
Sodbusters & homesteaders; railroaders and dam builders since 1824.
Just in time for Andrew Jackson, another false friend of Native America,
Just before Old Hickory, one of many Democratic Party hypocrites and scoundrels,
Gives the FONGOOL, up the CULO go ahead.
Hey Andy, I’ve got your Jacksonian democracy: Hanging!
The Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) mission is to:   "… enhance the quality of life, to promote economic opportunity, and to carry out the responsibility to protect and improve the trust assets of American Indians, Indian tribes, and Alaska Natives. What’s that in the fine print?  Uncle Sammy holds “the trust assets of American Indians.”

Here’s a ******* tip, Geronimo: if he trusted you,
It would ALL belong to you.
To you and The People.
But it’s all fork-tongued white *******.
If true, Indian sovereignty would cease to be a sick one-liner,
Cease to be a blunt force punch line, more of,
King Leopold’s 19th Century stand-up comedy schtick,
Leo Presents: The **** of the Congo.
La Belgique mission civilisatrice—
That’s what French speakers called Uncle Leo’s imperial public policy,
Bringing the gift of civilization to central Africa.
Like Manifest Destiny in America, it had a nice colonial ring to it.
“Our manifest destiny [is] to overspread the continent,
Allotted by Providence for the free development,
Of our yearly multiplying millions.”  John L. O'Sullivan, 1845

Our civilizing mission or manifest destiny:
Either/or, a catchy turn of phrase;
Not unlike another ironic euphemism and semantic subterfuge:
The Pacification of the West; Pacification?
Hardly: decidedly not too peaceful for Cochise & Tonto.
Meanwhile, Madonna is cash rich but disrespected Evita poor,
To wit: A ****** on the Rocks (throwing in a byte or 2 of Da Vinci Code).
Meanwhile, Miss Ciccone denied her golden totem *****.
They snubbed that little guinea ****, didn’t they?
Snubbed her, robbed her rotten.
Evita, her magnum opus, right up there with . . .
Her SNL Wayne’s World skit:
“Get a load of the unit on that guy.”
Or, that infamous MTV Music Video Awards stunt,
That classic ***** Lip-Lock with Britney Spears.

How could I not see that Oscar snubola as prime evidence?
It was just another stunning case of American anti-Italian racial animus.
Anyone familiar with Noam Chomsky would see it,
Must view it in the same context as the Sacco & Vanzetti case,
Or, that arbitrary lynching of 9 Italian-Americans in New Orleans in 1891,
To cite just two instances of anti-Italian judicial reach & mob violence,
Much like what happened to my cousin Dominic,
Gang-***** by the Harlem Globetrotters, in their locker room during halftime,
While he working for Abe Saperstein back in 1952.
Dom was doing advance for Abe, supporting creation of The Washington Generals:
A permanent stable of hoop dream patsies and foils,
Named for the ever freewheeling, glad-handing, backslapping,
Supreme Commander Allied Expeditionary Force (SCAEF), himself,
Namely General Dwight D. Eisenhower, the man they liked,
And called IKE: quite possibly a crypto Jew from Abilene.

Of course, Harry Truman was my first Great White Fascist Father,
Back in 1946, when I first opened my eyes, hung up there,
High above, looking down from the adobe wall.
Surveying the entire circular kiva,
I had the best seat in the house.
Don’t let it be said my Spider Grandmother or Hopi Corn Mother,
Did not want me looking around at things,
Discovering what made me special.
Didn’t divine intervention play a significant part of my creation?
Knowing Mamma Mia and Nonna were Deities,
Gave me an edge later on the streets of Brooklyn.
The Cradleboard: was there ever a more divinely inspired gift to human curiosity? The Cradleboard: a perfect vantage point, an infant’s early grasp,
Of life harmonious, suspended between Mother Earth and Father Sky.
Simply put: the Hopi should be running our ******* public schools.

But it was IKE with whom I first associated,
Associated with the concept 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
I liked IKE. Who didn’t?
What was not to like?
He won the ******* war, didn’t he?
And he wasn’t one of those crazy **** John Birchers,
Way out there, on the far right lunatic Republican fringe,
Was he? (It seems odd and nearly impossible to believe in 2013,
That there was once a time in our Boomer lives,
When the extreme right wing of the Republican Party
Was viewed by the FBI as an actual threat to American democracy.)
Understand: it was at a time when The FBI,
Had little ideological baggage,
But a great appetite for secrets,
The insuppressible Jay Edgar doing his thang.

IKE: of whom we grew so, oh-so Fifties fond.
Good old reliable, Nathan Shaking IKE:
He’d been fixed, hadn’t he? Had had the psychic snip.
Snipped as a West Point cadet & parade ground martinet.
Which made IKE a good man to have in a pinch,
Especially when crucial policy direction was way above his pay grade.
Cousin Dom was Saperstein’s bagman, bribing out the opposition,
Which came mainly from religious and patriotic organizations,
Viewing the bogus white sports franchise as obscene.
The Washington Generals, Saperstein’s new team would have but one opponent,
And one sole mission: to serve as the **** of endless jokes and sight gags for—
Negroes.  To play the chronic fools of--
Negroes.  To be chronically humiliated and insulted by—
Negroes.  To run up and down the boards all night, being outran by—
Negroes.  Not to mention having to wear baggy silk shorts.



Meadowlark Lemon:  “Yeah, Charlie, we ***** that grease-ball Dominic; we shagged his guinea mouth and culo rotten.”  

(interviewed in his Scottsdale, AZ winter residence in 2003 by former ESPN commentator Charlie Steiner, Malverne High School, Class of ’67.)
                                                        
  ­                                                                 ­                 
IKE, briefed on the issue by higher-ups, quickly got behind the idea.
The Harlem Globetrotters were to exist, and continue to exist,
Are sustained financially by Illuminati sponsors,
For one reason and one reason only:
To serve elite interests that the ***** be kept down and subservient,
That the minstrel show be perpetuated,
A policy surviving the elaborate window dressing of the civil rights movement, Affirmative action, and our first Uncle Tom president.
Case in point:  Charles Barkley, Dennis Rodman & Metta World Peace Artest.
Cha-cha-cha changing again:  I am Robert Allen Zimmermann,
A whiny, skinny Jew, ****** and rolling in from Minnesota,
Arrested, obviously a vagrant, caught strolling around his tony Jersey enclave,
Having moved on up the list, the A-list, a special invitation-only,
Yom Kippur Passover Seder:  Next Year in Jerusalem, Babaloo!

I take ownership of all my autonomic and conditioned reflexes;
Each personal neural arc and pathway,
All shenanigans & shellackings,
Or blunt force cognitive traumas.
It’s all percolating nicely now, thank you,
In kitchen counter earthen crockery:
Random access memory: a slow-cook crockpot,
Bubbling through my psychic sieve.
My memories seem only remotely familiar,
Distant and vague, at times unreal:
An alien hybrid databank accessed accidently on purpose;
Flaky science sustains and monitors my nervous system.
And leads us to an overwhelming question:
Is it true that John Dillinger’s ******* is in the Smithsonian Museum?
Enquiring minds want to know, Kemosabe!

“Any last words, *******?” TWEETS Adam Smith.
Postmortem cyber-graffiti, an epitaph carved in space;
Last words, so singular and simple,
Across the universal great divide,
Frisbee-d, like a Pleistocene Kubrick bone,
Tossed randomly into space,
Morphing into a gyroscopic space station.
Mr. Smith, a calypso capitalist, and me,
Me, the Poet Laureate of the United States and Adam;
Who, I didn’t know from Adam.
But we tripped the light fantastic,
We boogied the Protestant Work Ethic,
To the tune of that old Scotch-Presbyterian favorite,
Variations of a 5-point Calvinist theme: Total Depravity; Election; Particular Redemption; Irresistible Grace; & Perseverance of the Saints.

Mr. Smith, the author of An Inquiry into the Nature
& Causes of the Wealth of Nations (1776),
One of the best-known, intellectual rationales for:
Free trade, capitalism, and libertarianism,
The latter term a euphemism for Social Darwinism.
Prior to 1764, Calvinists in France were called Huguenots,
A persecuted religious majority . . . is that possible?
A persecuted majority of Edict of Nantes repute.
Adam Smith, likely of French Huguenot Jewish ancestry himself,
Reminds me that it is my principal plus interest giving me my daily gluten.
And don’t think the irony escapes me now,
A realization that it has taken me nearly all my life to see again,
What I once saw so vividly as a child, way back when.
Before I put away childish things, including the following sentiment:
“All I need is the air that I breathe.”

  Send "The Air That I Breathe" Ringtone to your Cell  

The Hippies were right, of course.
The Hollies had it all figured out.
With the answer, as usual, right there in the lyrics.
But you were lucky if you were listening.
There was a time before I embraced,
The other “legendary” economists:
The inexorable Marx,
The savage society of Veblen,
The heresies we know so well of Keynes.
I was a child.
And when I was a child, I spake as a child—
Grazie mille, King James—
I understood as a child; I thought as a child.
But when I became a man I jumped on the bus with the band,
Hopped on the irresistible bandwagon of Adam Smith.

Smith:  “Any last words, *******?”
Okay, you were right: man is rationally self-interested.
Grazie tanto, Scotch Enlightenment,
An intellectual movement driven by,
An alliance of Calvinists and Illuminati,
Freemasons and Johnny Walker Black.
Talk about an irresistible bandwagon:
Smith, the gloomy Malthus, and David Ricardo,
Another Jew boy born in London, England,
Third of 17 children of a Sephardic family of Portuguese origin,
Who had recently relocated from the Dutch Republic.
******* Jews!
Like everything shrewd, sane and practical in this world,
WE also invented the concept:  FOLLOW THE MONEY.

The lyrics: if you were really listening, you’d get it:
Respiration keeps one sufficiently busy,
Just breathing free can be a full-time job,
Especially when--borrowing a phrase from British cricketers—,
One contemplates the sorry state of the wicket.
Now that I am gainfully superannuated,
Pensioned off the employment radar screen.
Oft I go there into the wild ebon yonder,
Wandering the brain cloud at will.
My journey indulges curiosity, creativity and deceit.
I free range the sticky wicket,
I have no particular place to go.
Snagging some random fact or factoid,
A stop & go rural postal route,
Jumping on and off the brain cloud.

Just sampling really,
But every now and then, gorging myself,
At some information super smorgasbord,
At a Good Samaritan Rest Stop,
I ponder my own frazzled neurology,
When I was a child—
Before I learned the grim economic facts of life and Judaism,
Before I learned Hebrew,
Before my laissez-faire Bar Mitzvah lessons,
Under the rabbinical tutelage of Rebbe Kahane--
I knew what every clever child knows about life:
The surfing itself is the destination.
Accessing RAM--random access memory—
On a strictly need to know basis.
RAM:  a pretty good name for consciousness these days.

If I were an Asimov or Sir Arthur (Sri Lankabhimanya) Clarke,
I’d get freaky now, riffing on Terminators, Time Travel and Cyborgs.
But this is truth not science fiction.
Nevertheless, someone had better,
Come up with another name for cyborg.
Some other name for a critter,
Composed of both biological and artificial parts?
Parts-is-parts--be they electronic, mechanical or robotic.
But after a lifetime of science fiction media,
After a steady media diet, rife with dystopian technology nightmares,
Is anyone likely to admit to being a cyborg?
Since I always give credit where credit is due,
I acknowledge that cyborg was a term coined in 1960,
By Manfred Clynes & Nathan S. Kline and,
Used to identify a self-regulating human-machine system in outer space.

Five years later D. S. Halacy's: Cyborg: Evolution of the Superman,
Featured an introduction, which spoke of:  “… a new frontier, that was not,
Merely space, but more profoundly, the relationship between inner space,
And outer space; a bridge, i.e., between mind and matter.”
So, by definition, a cyborg defined is an organism with,
Technology-enhanced abilities: an antenna array,
Replacing what was once sentient and human.
My glands, once in control of metabolism and emotions,
Have been replaced by several servomechanisms.
I am biomechanical and gluttonous.
Soaking up and breathing out the atmosphere,
My Baby Boom experience of six decades,
Homogenized and homespun, feedback looped,
Endlessly networked through predigested mass media,
Culture as demographically targeted content.

This must have something to do with my own metamorphosis.
I think of Gregor Samsa, a Kafkaesque character if there ever was one.
And though we share common traits,
My evolutionary progress surpasses and transcends his.
Samsa--Phylum and Class--was, after all, an insect.
Nonetheless, I remain a changeling.
Have I not seen many stages of growth?
Each a painful metamorphic cycle,
From exquisite first egg,
Through caterpillar’s appetite & squirm.
To phlegmatic bliss and pupa quietude,
I unfold my wings in a rush of Van Gogh palette,
Color, texture, movement and grace, lift off, flapping in flight.
My eyes have witnessed wondrous transformations,
My experience, nouveau riche and distinctly self-referential;
For the most part unspecific & longitudinally pedestrian.

Yes, something has happened to me along the way.
I am no longer certain of my identity as a human being.
Time and technology has altered my basic wiring diagram.
I suspect the sophisticated gadgets and tools,
I’ve been using to shape & make sense of my environment,
Have reared up and turned around on me.
My tools have reshaped my brain & central nervous system.
Remaking me as something simultaneously more and less human.
The electronic toys and tools I once so lovingly embraced,
Have turned unpredictable and rabid,
Their bite penetrating my skin and septic now, a cluster of implanted sensors,
Content: currency made increasingly more valuable as time passes,
Served up by and serving the interests of a pervasively predatory 1%.
And the rest of us: the so-called 99%?
No longer human; simply put by both Howards--Beale & Zinn--

Humanoid.

Gadgets you buy
Tomorrow die,
Pity
So fast
Lose novelty.

What does quality time together mean
When everybody's glued to their smartphones
Mom and dad buy new gadgets
and forget each other... again.

Meals are left cold on the dining table
Nobody pays attention
to homecooked meals anymore
Food is rather thrown in the bin
or reheat again and again...
What is the value of mom's kitchen
when Domino's Pizza can be ordered via online?

The magicof smartphones...
Homes aren't cozy place for us anymore
Everybody enjoys secrecy... privacy...
Living far  apart
but breathing under the same roof....

Dear daughter comes home in tears
Dinner date a sheer disaster, she said...
He checks his Whatsapp notifications
every now and then...and smiling
reading his messages..,
A total shame...

Technology is meant for convinience sake
Same time rapidly ruins our everyday life
What has happenened to real conversations?
Hiding behind the sophisticated gadgets
What good is that?
Get rid of of your latest Samsung
and show your true face...

Tagu-taguan,
Maliwanag ang buwan
Munti kong tula,
Inyong pakinggan

Ito'y patungkol
Sa kabataan
Na inaakalang
Pag-asa ng bayan

Wala sa likod,
Wala sa harap
Ano ang kabataan
Sa hinaharap?

Handa na ba kayong
Malaman ang totoo?
Pagbilang ng sampu,
Malalaman na ninyo

Isa, dalawa, tatlo
"Tara, pre! Dota tayo!"
Isa, dalawa, tatlo
"Kyah, pa-like ng DP ko"

Isa, dalawa, tatlo
"Naka-hithit na ako"
Isa, dalawa, tatlo
"Tara, shot na tayo"

Mga kabataang nakikiuso
Mga kabataang lulong sa bisyo
Kabataang imbis na ang dala'y libro
Ang palaging hawak ay sigarilyo

Apat, lima, anim
Wala nang ibang alam gawin
Apat, lima, anim
Kung hindi gadgets ay pindutin

Apat, lima, anim
"Babe, walang tao sa'min"
Apat, lima, anim
"Babe, pwede na nating gawin"

Mga kabataang napapariwara
Mga kabataang sa tukso'y nadadala
Kabataang tinuturing na Maria Clara
Na ngayo'y mas kilala na sa Maria Ozawa

Pito, walo, siyam
Nasirang kinabukasan
Pito, walo, siyam
"Aking pinagsisisihan"

Pito, walo, siyam
"Ako'y nanghihinayang"
Pito, walo, siyam
"Ibalik niyo 'ko sa nakaraan"

Totoo nga ang kasabihan
Ang pag-sisisi'y nasa hulihan
Ang ating nakaraan
Ang siyang madidikta ng kinabukasan

Ngunit hindi ko naman nilalahat
Ang nais ko lang, kabataa'y mamulat
Ang buhay natin ay parang aklat
Tayo ang gumagawa ng sarili nating kwento at pamagat

Hindi ko tatapusin ang bilang sa sampu
Dahil hindi ako ang magdidikta ng kinabukasan niyo
Ngunit sa pagtatapos ng munting tula ko
Sana'y makapagsimula kayo ng panibagong kwento

Kwento na kung saan kayo ang bida
Kwento na kung saan kayo ang pag-asa
Salamat sa pakikinig mula umpisa
Ngayon ang tulang ito'y tinatapos ko na

I downloaded
the new love app.
It just doesn't work
without you

1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…

It wouldn't hurt,
you know; if you fell
in love with a person
much younger than you

and if it doesn't get that far
to hell with it, you did
your best behind prison bars

You could at least
try to kiss the lips
of the same ***, or get
lost in the ambiguity
of a polygamous marriage

Maybe take a day off from
work and tell all your
family and friends
that you were born
an asexual, furry fan
looking for honest companionship

That'll hit 'em
right in the kisser;
leave their egos
bruised, burned,
and running back
to the arms of tradition

Perhaps you'll
never learn to love
and accept yourself;

Perhaps you'll
stay in a bad relationship
with no way out;

It wouldn't hurt
to cheat, lie, and steal
from your spouse;

It's not like you started
the fire in the first place.

Be the change you want to see
Try not to judge, let others be
The rain will stop, the storm shall pass
Pleasure is pleasing and love can last

Set up for sorrow, it's hard to see
Open your eyes, switch off your tv
Put down the remote and venture outside
Get out in to nature where healing resides

Turn off your phone, log off the net
You'll be surprised with the solace you get
Write a poem, cook a nice meal
Declare your love, see how it feels

Put away the plastic, stop doing your hair
Go back to basics, even though it's rare
Laugh at your troubles, hug it out
Why are you frowning, what's that all about
A sign of the times, the information age
Escape from the trap, break out of your cage

Tell me now, how do you feel
Please keep it up, do we have a deal
Memories last but gadgets do not
Live your life fully, run from the rot

Kabataa’y minsan lamang kung dumalaw,
Kaligayaha’t halakhaka’y umaalingawngaw
Oras ay tumatakbo
singbilis ng tibok ng puso

Oras ang kumakain sa tanan
Pagbabago’y siyang tahanan
Paglayo’y di man dama
Agwat ay di kayang hilai’t isama

Noon at ngayong panahon
Kayo’y narito, ako’y naroon
Aking nasilaya’y di niyo maikukumpara
Sa inyong mundong bumubungad sa tuwina

Pangaral ay mano po at opo
Pagluhod sa butyl ng monggo
Pag uwi bago ang ala-sais
Mga tamis anghang na pulang dilis!

Pag-akyat ng matarik na bundok
Tuhod na kung lakas sumuntok
Kalarong di makatiis
Sa pagtakbo’y humahagibis

Langit, lupa, mahuli ang taya,
Sing saya tuwing gunita.
Paglalaro ng apir-apiran at teks,
Ice tubig, sili…. Ngeks!

Ganyan ang aming buhay noon
Nakasakay sa ulap nang mga hamon
Kayo ngayo’s nasaan,
Mga batang sa ami’y nakipaghalinhinan?


Kompyuter, telebisyon, at Nintendo Wii,
Cellphone at iPad para sa sarili
Sining ng pagtula’t musika,
Nakaliligtaan na!

Sa mga mata ng panahon,
Makikita ang salamin ng kahapon
Di man naabot ng inyong kamalayan
Sapat nang silipin ang nakaraan

Inyong panaho’y ‘wag sayangin
Darating din ang araw ng mabilis na hangin
Magdadala sa inyo sa malayong himpapawirin
At nakaraa’y inyong lubos na nanaisin.

Sng oras ay oras,
Sa kanya, tayo’y patas
Sa buhay, tayo’y maglalaro
Sa kanyang mga hintuturo.

Lahat ng nawala sa dagat ng panahon,
Kailanma’y din a ibabalik pa ng mga alon
Mga isda nga’y nagpapailalim
Kaya’t marahas na kinabukasa’y wag suungin

Magngyari’t lasapin ang halakhakan,
Takbuhan sa piling ng mga kaibigan
Wag sayangin sa pagkukulong
sa mundo ng pag-ibig, gadgets at pagsulong!

In our world technological,
Here's how to talk to gadgets digital,
"Now, listen up, keyboard and router,
Not to mention dysfunctional mouser...
Are you listening to me carefully?
(I am talking to them, but silently),
I do have replacements for each of thee,
I see a future ahead of you three,
Tossed into the gaping jaws of a bin,
off to the council tip, repository of sin,
Did you hear that? Listening in,
Stop trying to do my head in!"
Now they're behaving dutifully,
Technology responding beautifully,
"I'm warning each one of thee,
No more messing around with me!"
Yes, how to talk to technology!
(But make sure you do it silently!)

Typical Breeds of Sleeping Bags Air bed Taking a nap Backpack Should you be considering an outdoor camping, trekking or some other distinct jaunt which may move you out and about straight into the wilderness, that's provide plenty of absolutely serious also directly concern to earning when buying a blow up mattress lying down bag. Generally there are can be a handful of wonderful benefits that is associated with an air mattress lying down laptop bag. The truth is these people tend to have worked with a blow up mattress sleep purse tend to avoid the use of all other various sleeping peacefully sack. Involved Resources Strategies Paying for Sleeping Bags Ideal Children's Going to sleep Rucksack Slumber Box in support of Outdoor Policies The initial Regenerating Ballewick Coleman Bedtime Ballewick If you are a particular or possibly a part a family that enjoys hanging out in great outdoors, you already know your the key fact that investing in and ultizing the greatest technology, the best option gadgets for your very own woodland gems. Ought to, with regards to searching for supplies also machinery to gain outdoor as well as a few other activities that is designed to help you find slacking on the outside of, we would like to make sure you increasingly becoming the items from the local business or just firm along with a stable or superb position while in the line of work. The exceptionally holds true with regards to slumbering products but sleeping bags. Which is, Coleman lying down serving units had been in a epitome. Double leg Relaxing Plastic bag If you are hoping an outdoor camping holiday getaway bring back special someone you have ever had, you're going to be allowing numerous considered to and also being purchasing a improve sleep backpack on your excursion. Prior to go away into your local community shoe online store to discover and get each increased falling asleep tote, take a little time to decide upon the advantages and disadvantages within a hitting the hay bedroom. Make time to uncover the fact that two going to bed cup of joe should be able to the best enroll in your total resources and so systems plan. Romance Ones own Getting Tote also Itll Love You Your own personal Rest Laptop bag is reasonably ordinarily base. For most what person real-time a lifestyle this remains them all outside for days on end durations, it has most of the primarily truck's bed in addition the most crucial caming outdoor space outfits. Your travelling bag is just not prefer a daily bed. It value maintain it to remain by visiting it's soft top rated throughout the years. SierraTradingPost holds a significant having *** rucksack hints and tips consisting of all the info you had call for when or perhaps even dealing with your plastic bag. Weve offered their precious service pointers here, and ours to help you more daily life within the ladies handbag. From the tender it is always Proven methods to As well as Looking after one's own Lying down Ballewick Dried ones own handbag once just about every benefit from replica hermes 35cm birkin handbags. Generally adhere to the health book of instructions for your very own cup of joe in case that cleansing which. Because you misplace the entire group, laundry your favorite luggage yourself by way of a weak laundry soap plus slide dried along a lower raise the temperature of, alternatively bath using a frontloading hotpoint washing machine around a light-weight pattern. Stash you're case inside of popular, dull locate and never leave it stuffed in any pack sack, also known as it is going to melt away n apartment and they will absolutely decrease proficient. Buy a reminiscence fire try to. Never before pack away a nice drench taking a nap sack more than it's going to take to operate a vehicle place with the setting. Hang it all out which can dry or perhaps a drop rose this method in the incredibly low hot temperatures with regards to get home. Much more Asleep Designer handbag Want Pointers If your main container is definitely downfilled also, you perform your personal medical care guidelines, even though choose to cleanse it, there is picks. Think about relaxing in a container accompanied by detergent in addition to trouble in addition to dropping each cloth inside. Wipe you're back pack up with your magazine. Antiacterial baby wipes also are tremendous way to take a quickie duty within your serving until you business the application off. Filing all of your purses and handbags in a very big Rubbermaid flair gift basket is a strategy maintain your these rodents available. Millions of people put away much of our outfit throughout garage areas and / or cellars . also, you never know when the varmit shall be looking at to see if they are able to acquire an item for you to chew on concerned with. For everybody who is commuting merely by aeroplanes and provide to exit the backpack cuddly rolling around in its things bag for very long periods occasions you could try unpacking the item you're getting to your personal holiday along with and can loft space all the way up. Have a tendency to when you are traveling you will find a 24-hour period or so within property or sometimes at your family members place prior to now we touch the main way. This should give your serving a break through acquiring stuffed back and might keeping it lofty to all your quest and furthermore video game life-style. Keeping an individual's serving you will possibly tear an outstanding Many from the. You can probably find other sorts of techniques to store serving located in top shape. How can one Retain Sunny in the Slumbering Travelling bag Although that sleeping peacefully golf bag lessens so that you 25 degress fahrenheit doesnt mean you can just wear during at midnight and become warm at all times. Follow these suggestions to choosing the best the heat special. Get a superior quality accommodations station Isn't it time in the grass. Also locating a One inch top part about discuss between anyone with a flooring which can include which is available from the perfect Thermarest makes a big difference. Will not surrender ones sweaters Whilst its definitely down the page freezing, the only actual details you should take from a little bit of for the having a good sleep hand bag are your boots and also an case parka. Make sure that your polarfleece not to mention endless underewear of your corpus. Really like to amendment our stockings before going to your bed other than early in the day while they give your nails the right dry feeling, welcoming your house for a evening. Always wear an important baseball hat Itll create a field of improvement. Cuddle huge Sustain your palms also chief within tote, together with towel the idea all across your main. Sit consistently Boundary all your workout almost you could possibly. The specific good half of this situation explanation does not try any time you are winter season going camping. Modern Potential consumers Anyway harvesting competing firms, clients ever-changing habits are encouraging back yard but visit products boutiques to blow on modern-day leading retailers, expertise and moreover pieces. The high quantity quite a few stockists in the marketplace is but one believe patron faithfulness could be very poor, weight loss in comparison with twothirds related to Czechs swap around most sport activity vendors. Users purchase his or her's sporting activity markets largely reported by establishment, broad variety then talents around the dealer helpers, laptop computer presents. Figuring out each altering prospects developments Hudysport gives, in addition to expanding, expended millions of caps within the past two yrs onto revamping the country's 29 Czech and seven Slovak franchised markets. I am putting an emphasis on in order to a lot of our electrical sockets, that would plus resume 2011, Sedlisk discussed, such as which unfortunately Hudysport has been managing innovative fashions and supplies things made out of innovative stuff. He still generated the video store locomotives the associates to enable them to specialist guide valued clients. Customers have cultivated ideal and show are more important. These companies at this point think twice everything that offerings to purchase to acquire the continues to be multiplying sum reliably replica hermes mini shoulder kelly handbags, he was quoted saying. As well as 5 years in, potential clients are happy about one in particular kind of violet as well as the grey cosy sweater which experts state simply had sell outs, this is look for contemporary features, amazing goods and various other colorings. Around natural to football products or services, affordable prices aren't going to be the main factor thing or consumers focus on the high quality he or she reach a specific pricing. The emblem is now defined often as a form of display that most assurances excellent quality, visual appeal . make or model is not at all to effective recognize, dependant upon the record. The fad is obvious. But not getting a discounted pressure vial or perhaps a going to sleep bedroom in a very hypermarket each goes that will professional locations also utilize higherquality design products and solutions replica hermes kelly bags.

A Christmas Thought (short story)
by
rgpage

This time of the year,  when once giving from the heart has since melted like the snow in Spring to the meaningless demand for expensive toys and gadgets;  and Santa has waned to no more than the all-giving sugar daddy to each and every child,  and a tireless crutch to the mindless parent during the year; “Santa’s watching so you’d better be good.”

And alas,  there I stood in this huge department store amid a vast forest of toys, colors, and noises, fallen prey to this modern day hypocrisy known as Christmas.  Being of a lower middle economical standard,  and having with such stealth blindness juggled expenses and bills to afford myself the opportunity to plunge even deeper into dept.  I pondered these playful wonders of modern day technology.  All about countless numbers of people were doing as I in efforts to reward their children for their year of good service.

This was when I saw her. As fast as this seasonal frenzy had overtaken me just days earlier,  it vanished for a time as I watched her. It must have been that she seemed so out of place in this hurry-scurry festive scene of Christmas shopping that she caught my eye.  She was very old and her tattered,  worn out clothing all too obviously reflected the fact that she couldn’t afford much.  While others struggled about her almost comically laden with brightly colored  packages, this old woman had nothing more than an old purse dangling from her arm.  Slowly she moved, seemingly pained with the infirmities which accompany old age.  She appeared overweight for her stature which I’m sure added to her discomfort.  When she stopped in front of the doll section  her old, pudgy face glowed with joy.  Undoubtedly a doll for a little granddaughter,  I was  sure no more as she couldn’t possibly afford more.  I watched as she studied each doll
and its price tag,  going from one to the next.  Finally she stopped to give particular attention to one little doll adorned with colorful ribbons and big bright blue eyes.  Then putting the doll back,  she opened her purse and I watched as she counted the small amount of money that she had.  

By this time I had become so unexplainably absorbed with watching the old woman,  who with a smile closed her purse, retrieved the doll and walked slowly and painfully to the checkout counter to wait in line.  Around her the noise of parents and children alike waiting their turn to check out didn’t seem to bother her as she patiently waited, holding the precious little doll for an equally precious granddaughter.  Finally when her turn came, an all to cruel yet human trait appeared in not only the people waiting behind her but the checkout clerk as well. Their impatience to maintain a steady flow of human traffic through the turnstiles came to the forefront almost obliterating this seasonal spirit.  This didn’t seem to deter the old woman from slowly and surely counting out the correct change,  leaving her very little to return to her purse.

With this done and the doll tucked away in a shopping sack,  she proceeded through the large glass doors and out into the cold December night.  A passing thought, “one special gift for one special person,” went through my mind as I continued my own, now more selective tour of annual duty.  Looking over my shoulder for one last glimpse of the old woman, I suddenly felt as if struck by a jolt of electricity as I saw her on her back in the slushy snow, struggling like an over-turned turtle.

Bolting out the door hoping to be the first to reach her,  I almost found myself lying next to her on the slick sidewalk.  Nothing was said as I struggled to lift her up.  Once this was accomplished I asked her if she was alright.  Instead of answering  she started looking around for her package.  I spotted the torn, soaked paper sack some ten feet away in a slushy puddle and went to retrieve it.  The doll had come half way out of the sack and her little blonde curls were now filled with water and slush; and as I handed it back I searched the old woman’s face for even a trace of sadness, there was none. Instead she looked at me smiled and said, “thank you young man, it’ll dry out, it’ll be alright, Merry Christmas.”  Then holding the doll in both hands, she turned and went on her way, much slower and much more cautiously.  I just stood there and watched her until she finally disappeared in the crowd and darkness and thought to myself, “maybe Santa Claus isn’t a man after all.”

It's June, 1967.
Nature, still lying through
Parsley green teeth,
Breathes the last of spring,
Hints early summer warmth,
Pre-July's cicada whine,
August's heat and wind.

Crops, still tender green
Quiver beneath a humid sky,
Under a glowing sun.

Bicycles amuse our early lust
To soar untraveled ground,
Entering lazy summer's ennui,
We scan a hawk riding drafts
On the edge of our hill.

Dust, drifting up the graveled road,
Five miles below us,
Piques our interest,
Causes the dog to raise his head.
He ***** an ear
Toward a sound we cannot hear.

We hear gravel slapping rocker panels
Before the traveler's roof rises into view,
Catch our breath as the engine slows,
Start running for the house.

A stranger's arrived,
A traveling salesman,
Better than an aunt
Only stopping in for tea
And woman talk.

Dad keeps his welding helmet down,
Repairing broken things.
The hired man inhales his cigarette,
Acts disinterested.

My memories linger on the past....

Salesmen brought the latest farming gadgets:
Additives for fuel and oil,
Battery life extenders,
Grain elevators and fencing tools,
Produce and livestock products,
Lightning rods and roofing,
Chrome-edged cultivator shovels,
Insurance for everything:
Fire, water, wind, hail.

Pitches came without exception:

"Top o' the morning! Looks like you're busy.
Don't want to take your time."

"Looks like you could use some welding rod,
And I have something new for you to try."

"Have you used chromium additive in you livestock salt?
Guaranteed to put on weight and protect from bovine
Tuberculosis!"

"Say, have you heard about the effectiveness of a new
Insecticide called DDT? I've got a sample gallon here
For you to try. Works better than Malathion!"

Dad, eventually intrigued, began the slow dance
Of dickering, haggling over this thing or that.
Most salesmen, closing in for a ****,
Hadn't grappled with my father.

At noon, deals still in the air,
My mother called the men,
And we all trudged in to wash,
Waiting in line at the tub,
Scrubbing with powdered Tide
To remove the grime and grease,
Drying on the darkening towel,
Finding a seat at the table.

The salesmen expected the meal
As though it were their right,
A standing invitation:
Stop in at noon,
Make your pitch,
Sit at table,
Close the deal after.

We boys sat and listened
To man talk.
Eyes wide, we marveled
At gadgets,
Wondered at Dad's parleying,
Winced at the deals he drove,
Commiserated with squirming salesmen
Surely made destitute by Dad's hard bargaining.

In retrospect,
I know the game was played
On two sides,
That the battery additives
Bought for five dollars a packet,
Even with the two Dad finagled free,
Cost about five dollars for everything,
Returned forty-five and change
To the smirking, full-bellied salesman
Who left a cloud of dust on his way
To supper a few miles down the road.

You both sit
entranced
by gadgets,
a paternal gift
and flaw,
Making new sounds,
playing old games
on laptop computers,
winning and losing
on Christmas morning.


No more dolls
that cry
"Mama,"
no more worrying about
primary colors
or classical music
or Goodnight Moon--
gadgets and games and Nerf guns
rule the day.


Wishing it was
a younger time
Only brings sorrow;
enjoy the day, the year
my heart tells me,
for these will be gone,
too,
soon.

Sometimes I watch “superheroes”
And think just how lucky they are
They can spin a web for the one they love
and become New York’s superstar
When I think about these characters
And the powers they can use
I can’t help but wonder
Which powers I would choose

If I had superpowers
I’d speed up time
We’d have a place of our own
And you’d be all mine
We could stay up all night
We could watch the sunrise
I’d tell you you’re beautiful
And get lost in your eyes
I’m no superhero
But baby you make me fly

Some heroes don’t have powers
Rather a pocket full of money
They buy all their gadgets
To defeat jokers that aren’t so funny
Only their true loves know
Who they are behind the amour
But I don’t have the cash it takes
To be that dark knight charmer

If I had superpowers
I’d speed up time
We’d have a place of our own
And you’d be all mine
We could stay up all night
We could watch the sunrise
I’d tell you you’re beautiful
And get lost in your eyes
I’m no superhero
But baby you make me fly

I would fly around the world a million times
Just to keep you by my side
I would hold you in my arms and fly up high
Just to take you for a ride
I will always be there
I will fight your fight
I will never let go
Because losing you is my kryptonite
I’m no superhero
But baby you make me fly

dear technology, you are starting to ruin our lives
we're just a little too invested in these laptops and hard drives
something has been lost and we need to get it back
we have lost the ability to truly feel and interact
social media has held us captive and kept us down
immersed in a cyber sea, we are starting to drown
but when I'm far away and i need my loved ones near
just a few clicks will show them I care
but its hard to wrap emails in ribbons and bows
what we would do without Facebook and twitter, no one knows
Dear technology sincerity has become a thing of the past
people start looking for love on computer screens so nothing lasts
nothing is private, all data is open to the universe
chords attach us to the world and that's how we converse
to these gadgets we've fallen prey
we need a social media free vacation to get away
on this journey of life I cant derail from its tracks
so hey technology, I'm gonna unplug and relax

Struck somewhere
In middle of this
technology Web
Gadgets,
They became
Necessary
When I am 10 years
Food,
Clothing,
Shelter
Those are necessary things
And now
Gadgets too got a
Special place
The more I depend
The more I lose
My ability to use
My brain
Everything easy
Everything comfort
what all we need
We are going deep
into something
That's harmful
to us

I hated Dawkins a little less when his words came from your mouth.

Your unabashed sincerity endeared me to you from the moment you showed me your vintage Atari. I don't recall if that was before or after you bragged about your Star Trek DVDs. Not that it matters, but I hope you've found a place to store all of those wires protruding out of your gadgets like Medusa's head of snakes.

My family liked you, especially my mother. It was probably your staunch advocacy of 4th amendment rights.

Remember those nights we sat in bed and traded secrets on small scraps of paper? We were lovers  for... five weeks by then? It struck me by the third slip that it didn't matter what it would say--I knew I'd still love you anyway. But I knew that from the moment you removed my knee-high boots and kissed my feet when I rode up on my Harley. You unstrapped my helmet and poured me wine. Though we promised to never tell anyone, I just wanted to say: I still smile when I think of your 15-year-old self trying to pick up a ******* on a desolate dusty road. Do you still have those hastily-written pieces of paper? They're yours to keep; I hope they're safe.

Nothing of my new world reminds me of you. There's no Jeopardy to watch, no NPR to hear in your white Saturn, and no desert mountains to hike. Not in India. Maybe it's because nothing is similar that my memories of us stay so firmly imprinted in my mind. Similarities would only erode my recollections. Maybe that's why I almost forgot about the chai tea I'd serve you in bed, coupled with almonds and apricots on the saucer.

But you, you're a walking encyclopedia of my home town. You knew every cactus-lined freeway, the name of the state attorney general, and the best place to grab a Four Peaks beer. Because of this, I could never extricate my love of home and my love for you. To me, you'll always be home.

For better or for worse, I remember it all. Including the soft piano rift of the chess game we'd play on your XBox. I'm guessing you'd beat me, should we play again today. I still have the wooden chess set I got you for your birthday... but we both know I can't give it to you. I'm sorry.

I never believed in saving people before I met you. Before, damaged was a weakness; now I think you just needed a polish. I never told you, but I read your psych evaluation--I found it when I was cleaning your room (with your permission, I add). The therapist was right: you're not aloof, just too smart for the room. I thank God that you never bought that container of nitric oxide.

I know we said we'd marry if I ever came back home. A no-frills city hall marriage suited us just fine. I have no doubt we would have had a simple, sweet life. You would've relented to letting me get a dog to keep your arrogant cat company. Our biggest fight would be over which castle door the RPG character should open, and you would've helped me improve my golf swing on the inexpensive dilapidated course near my old junior high school.

But likewise... our biggest adventure would've been only a roadtrip to the neighboring county. And I wanted to explore. I needed to explore. You, who never wanted to stray outside of a 100-mile radius could never satiate that curiosity. But I know we could have made it work. I know we would've been happy.

Sometimes I wish we could be the best of friends. I know we can't; not when I started dating my now-husband so close after we ended things in tear-stained emails when I went overseas. He swore off her; I swore off you. That's the way things go, I guess, when you get older.

I know it might seem like I've moved on and forgotten you.

Moved on, yes. Forgotten? Never.

It probably wouldn't be the same if we met again. I have too much love for you that could never be conveyed. My love for you has changed; it's not romantic. But it's still this throbbing appreciation for everything you are. I couldn't bear guarded chit chat. Not with you.

And I hope you are happy. Have you realized your worth yet, or are you still wasting your time with broken high school grads who listen to Ke$ha? I can't tell you who to love... but I hope she's an astrophysicist, someone who loves Carl Sagan even half as much as you. I want her to read Noam Chomsky to you late at night, and wake you in the mornings with a glass of milk and cookies. She'll prefer simple mashed potatoes to dim sum, and have a weakness for microbreweries. She'd be gorgeous in that bookish sort of way. Yes. That's the girl for you.

....I'm sorry it's not me, my dear atheist.

Oh! Smart Bro. How convenient of you
Cool, fast, smooth, everything is in you
So much that even gadgets love you
And the reason for us choosing you.

The reason why my assignments made it through
The reason why I can watch movies and new
The reason for my techie life's blue
Is because of me relying to you.

Too bad, it didn't last a year or two
Being quick and smooth stopped too
Now, I had enough of you
Shall we buy another and discard you?

'Look at Me', so self absorbed in outward looks and latest fashion.
With disregard for inner peace, selfless thought, and kind compassion.
Piercing ears, with holes so big they look like they're starting to melt.
Trousers about the knees; showing off pants, clearly in need of a belt.

Cheap plastic toys bought without thought, of which so quickly we tire,
Relationship failing to last without love and once all consuming desire.
Throw away gadgets and electronic connections, with all  life's worth we trust.
But when they are broken, will never be fixed; just casually tossed to the dust.

Mealtime no longer a social or family affair, at a table with fork and knife,
Check-in's a must so 'friends' will know that you're having a really great life.
No album prints of family snaps and childhood memories that last,
It's all about selfies, and sharing on line with 'friends' that human connections bypass.

Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.

My space
   Filled with all I should ever need. A bed, blankets; clothes and shoes everywhere, a window to see the world outside. For Gods sake I even have my own bathroom!

But I don't have you.

My gadgets
   Smartphone, computers, TV, Blue Ray, cable, gaming system, ..... Got plenty of gadgets. Mechanical, impersonal, cold. Jeeze, I spend a lot of time with them.

But I don't have you.

My time
   I'm free to do most anything I want. No job, yet I have money. No car, yet I can still get around. Responsibilities few. Why am I wasting so much time? Oh the potential!

But I don't have you

My friends
   One good friend. We can talk, listen, understand, support, trust one another. Others are around, not close though. Not the same. What do I do for them? Sadly, not much really.

But I don't have you

My family
   I've got parents. They support me, annoy me. They care and love me. Pets too. All around. It's..... good. Am I grateful?

I have all of this around me, and more
But I don't have you

Daddy! Daddy! Can I be a superhero when I grow up? Like superman. Or batman!*

of course you can. You cqn be anything you want

We no longer dream
I always wanted to be flash
Or the green lantern
I went through I spiderman phase but that passed

Then I grew up a little bit
And I wanted to be batman
I mean he is the only feasible superhero
His gadgets are possible
His martial arts are possible
As a whole he can actually happen
That's why I loved him
I still wanted to be a superhero

I no longer think it's possible
It would be fun to have laser eyes
Or sick fighting moves
But it's just a dream.....
So knowing its not possible
So we stop dreaming
We might want to save everybody
But we know its not possible

Shane Page made a quick call to his daughter, LeAnn, as he waited in the hospital lounge. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? You sound kind of upset.”

“LeAnn, Grandpa had a heart attack…”

LeAnn’s dark brown eyes grew large. “Is Grandpa dead?”, she asked. She was fourteen years old, and a wise, sensitive girl who cared a lot about her grandpa.

“No, not that, hon. The doctor says he will recover, but he had some blockages and he needs some fixing up.  He’s resting right now, pretty comfortably. I just wanted you to know where I was and that I’m okay—so don’t you worry. Look out after your brother…” He sighed in exhaustion and ran his fingers through the top of his dark hair. “It’s going to be a while before I’m home.”

“Well, wait a minute!” she protested.  “Why can’t Trevor and I go with you? Maybe Mom can drive us up there.”

Shane started to raise his voice, “Leave your mom out of this!” Then he realized his tone was a bit harsh and said more calmly, “You two got school tomorrow and there’s no need for you to be here now. Anyway, I don’t want to involve Mom.”

Shane and his wife, Megan, have been separated for four months now. It would be more than likely that they would be getting divorced. LeAnn, and her brother, Trevor—who was eleven-years-old—were staying with their father. It worked out that they remain in their home.  

“Dad”, LeAnn insisted. “She’s still our mom…”

“Just look out for Trevor. Ok?”

Shane got off the phone, and just sat there staring at the television but having no real desire to even pay any attention. That was the farthest thing from his mind. Around him were a few other tired people, looking about as frustrated, tired or worried as he was.

It has been a trying year for him. Still struggling with his marriage issues and now he was dealing with his father’s health problems. At age thirty-six, Shane was a young father when he married Megan. He felt it was the right thing to do considering she was pregnant at the time. The odds were against them remaining married, but they made if farther than anyone would have expected.  He certainly remained married longer than his parents—who were married for seven years—but he blamed his parent’s divorce on his womanizing, cheating father, a man he did not want to follow in his footsteps.

Dr. Bakkal had spoken to Shane, earlier. “Your father’s fortunate he made it in when he did. He was in requirement of two stents, and he was resistant to having them put in. I told him if he wants to continue to live, he’d be wise to get them. Otherwise, he’ll be in the same boat, but now we can prolong his life.”

“So he’s refusing?” Shane asked. That was his father, alright, stubbornly pigheaded to the bitter end.

“Thankfully, he signed for consent and he’s allowing you to be included in conversation over his medical issues. But really it is a good idea for him to have a power of attorney. You are his only son? ”

“Right.—I’m it”, Shane responded. “Well, that’s my dad for you. He thinks he’s got it all under control. Anyway, I’d be okay with being power of attorney, but who knows if he’d even have me. I don’t need to tell you he’s a stubborn man. He’s a proud man—too proud.”

“That he is”, Dr Bakkal agreed. “He doesn’t have a wife who can step up to the plate?”

Shane laughed a little. “He’s had four wives. My mom was the first. The lady he has been seeing now I’m sure saved his life. She was the one who demanded he go to the hospital and she drove him here. But she called me up and says she’s done with him.” The strain was obvious, as it was written all over Shane’s face. “He’s a headache, Doctor. He drinks too much. He smokes. He has yet to meet a vegetable…”

The doctor stated, “But things don’t sink in until we are forced to face them, sometimes. And he thinks because he looks alright on the outside, he’s okay on the inside—a fairly handsome man—a ladies man—who is, one used to being his own boss.”  

Shane agreed, but his face was grimaced. “That he is, Doctor. That he is. Yeah, but when the ladies get wind that he ends up treating them pretty shabbily—well, I’m not going to fill in the details. Four wives should tell you the answer.”

Dr. Bakkal put his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Ah, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. I’ve no doubt you have some sense.”

Shane nodded.

Nodding his head—drifting in and out of sleep—Shane continued to wait in the lounge. Soon, Shane’s dad, Carl, had been able to get into his own room. Shane was able to go in and see him. Like Carl had told one of the nurses, he was “all wires, tubes and coils” and he had “enough numbers lighting up on fancy gadgets to keep the place busy” as his vitals were constantly monitored. Soundly sleeping, he seemed much smaller in his hospital bed with his face half shielded by an oxygen mask. What a strange sight it was. He hadn’t seen his dad in the hospital since his gall bladder surgery several years ago.  It was a bit unsettling for Shane to see him this way.

He didn’t want to wake his dad, so Shane just grabbed up a chair and sat by the foot of the bed. Before long, he had fallen asleep, too. When his phone range, he was entirely confused as to the time, even to what day it was.

“Hey, Dad, how’s grandpa doing?”

Looking at his watch and then peering out into the darkness out the window, he answered, “What’s that I hear…in the background? LeAnn, is that your mother there?”

“Yeah, Dad, I told her. She felt like we needed her and she’s making dinner for us.” Megan could be heard in the background talking with Trevor.

Shane frowned. “Oh, great! Didn’t I tell you not to involve Mom? You are perfectly capable of cooking, LeAnn. You do a good job, and—“

LeAnn abruptly handed her mother the phone. “Shane”, Megan said. “You can shut me out from helping you, but you can’t shut me out from helping my kids. Don’t act like you couldn’t use a hand.”

“I’ll be home soon”, he insisted. “It’s really not necessary. I’m not trying to be a **** about it…”

“You stay there as long as you need to. I can call Uncle Sal and tell him you might not be into work tomorrow.”

Shane worked as a manager and mechanic in his maternal uncle’s car repair shop. “Megan, I am quite capable of doing this kind of stuff, you know!” He hesitated and gave in to what he saw as interference.  Perhaps, guilt compelled her to come over. After all, she was the one who walked away. She was the one who was unfaithful, the one who strayed.  He added, “You want to look after the kids—then fine. I’ll worry about me”.  

“Well, you got it! I won’t interfere too much in your life, Shane. You’re just a chip off the old block,” she remarked, referring to his stubborn father. “The kids and I are doing just fine. I got it covered! Okay?”

“Hi, Dad! Love you!” Trevor boomed out from the background.

Megan laughed. “You caught that, didn’t you? I think the whole neighborhood did”.

There was no use trying to resist Megan’s help. “Tell the kids that their grandpa is comfortable, sleeping like a log. They can see him soon enough.” He stopped as a nurse came into the room to check in on his father. They briefly smiled at each other.

“Give them each a kiss and a hug for me”, he said, lastly, almost choking up. He wished it was like it was before—the four of them under one roof. But that was not going to happen.    

Shane met Megan at a party. She was a college student learning to be a teacher. He was working for his uncle in his auto repair shop. The plans were set for Shane to take over that shop one day. Uncle Sal had three daughters, none of them the least bit interested in taking over the business. When he met Megan, he was doing well for himself.

It was love at first sight for him. He was attracted to her fun loving personality, as well as her beauty. Her blue-green eyes would light up the room. At first, Megan wasn’t feeling the same way. Shane did slowly grow on her, this “grease monkey” with his serious nature and beyond his years. They would talk about their future together, for they really did enjoy each other’s company. But then reality hit them in the face when Megan became pregnant with LeAnn, and they married very soon. He wanted to marry her anyway, but now it was a matter of integrity. Shane wanted his child to have parents who were married and for his kid to know him better than he knew his dad.  

Megan gave up on her schooling, not becoming the teacher that she dreamed of. Shane often wondered if she resented him for this—like it was entirely his fault—though Megan never expressed that to him. A few years later and Trevor came. Plans to go back to school were put on hold. That light in those eyes seemed to grow dim, but he didn’t really notice that she was unhappy. He seemed to lose focus.

Such thoughts were punishing at this time, and he tried to bury them deep down. It was amazing that he was able to have a sound sleep in the hospital, resting in the chair in his father’s room. Next time he opened his eyes, the sun was shining. He looked up, disoriented a bit, as he noticed his dad looking at him, a small smile on his face and no more oxygen masks.

“Hell, Son”, Carl said in a gruff voice.. “You look worse than I do”. Carl’s thick head of grey hair was disheveled, and his usually, neatly trimmed mustache was invaded by surrounding ****** stubble.  

Shane got up and stretched and said back, “Thanks, Dad. Good morning to you, too.”   He looked at his watch and added, “Glad you’re alive. You scared the hell out me. You got your grandkids worried.”

“Well…get me out of this ****** hospital and I’ll show you I can get around just fine”.

“Whoa! Whoa! Superman—you are not! Just lay back, relax a while, and do what the doctors tell you.”

“Like what?” Carl asked with a furrowed brow.

Shane was careful not to lose his temper. “Well, for one, you can quit smoking. Two, you can give up the *****. Three—take your cholesterol medicine…”

“Ok….ok….you sound like your mother now”.

Shane knew it would go in one ear and out the other. He stood by the window looking down in the parking lot. “Yeah, Dad, Maybe I do sound like Mom, but someone’s got to tell it to you straight. Put some sense into you. Stop just for once and think of someone else besides you. If no one else, think of LeAnn and Trevor.” He paused and added, “Think about me for once.”

Carl laughed and mocked him, “Poor, little Shane’s got it so bad. I’m not against you, Son, okay? You’re a big boy, so man up! I’m sixty-nine years old! My old man was gone by fifty.” He started having one of his coughing spells, his cough like an old smoker’s cough.

Shane shot him a sharp look. “I guess I’m a fool to expect any better. Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—as mom always says. Obviously, just wasting my time here!” He went to grab his jacket to leave.

Carl boomed, cheerfully, “Well speak of the devil!”

“What?” Shane asked, unaware of what was going on. He turned around and there was his mother standing in the doorway. He smirked and said, “Mom, I’m surprised to see you! LeAnn, right? ”

Rosina smiled and nodded as she entered the room. With salt and pepper hair, and an olive complexion, she commanded the room with her presence. Carl always referred to her as “Queen Bee”, for she had that quality—regal like a Roman statue when he first laid eyes on her—though she was down-to-earth in reality.

Carl groaned at the thought of her coming. “Is it safe for a person to be in here?” she asked, in her grand entrance.   She whipped Carl a stern glance. I’m not here for you!” Then she gave a look of concern her son, and told him, “I’m here because I’m supporting you, my dear. And yes, LeAnn called me.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and a quick hug, and he returned the loving gesture.


“Mom, you didn’t need to drive over an hour to come up here. But since you are—have a seat.”

“You sure as hell didn’t, Rosie”, Carl echoed.

“Oh be quiet!” she ordered Carl, putting him in his place. She dismissed the offer of the seat, and told her ex- husband. “I’m worried about my only son, but I also am interested in how you’re doing…if my grandchildren will still have a grandfather. Take better care of yourself and maybe they will.”

Shane comments were sardonic. “Maybe miracles still happen…like quitting smoking, boozing, and maybe doing some walking and healthier eating…but since when has Dad ever listened to you or me?”

Carl attempted to sit up and get out of bed, but the effort was ridiculous. He groaned in pain. “Give a poor guy some rest, already! You two are just a couple of nags!”

Rosina sneered. “Old nag—old hag—*******—say what you want about me, but you know I’m right! Anyway, you are outnumbered. Or am I, Shane, and the nurses and doctors all talking out their rear ends?”

Carl made a face. If only he could just get out of here.

“Honey”, she said to Shane. I’ll be downstairs in the cafeteria. I’d like some coffee. You can join me down there if you’d like and we can talk.”

“In a little while, Mom, thanks”, he replied.

Rosina walked up closer to Carl and put her hand lovingly upon his chest. “I really do want you to get well, old man. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

“I know you do”, Carl admitted. “That is one of your faults. You don’t stay ****** forever.”

Carl was more scared than he would let on. He hated hospitals. He would do anything to just be back home in his recliner, watching a football game and having a few beers. What he wouldn’t do for just one puff on a smoke, too. Anxious, he tried to hide his fear, but it was just a smoke screen. He didn’t want anyone to know how he truly felt, nor did he want anyone to feel sorry for him.

There was silence for several minutes. Shane had said all that he should say. After all, he knew his dad probably wouldn’t listen. “Hey, Dad”, he finally said. “LeAnn’s going to her school dance. There’s a boy that likes her, but I’m really not ready for that.”

Carl grinned. “She’s a pretty girl, alright. Takes after her grandma when she was something else—way back, you know. The girl looks more like your ma than you do, though always felt you took after her look instead of me”. Carl’s background was English, Scottish and Welsh, and Rosina was full Italian. To Carl’s side of the family, he looked like his dad. To his mother’s side, he resembled her. Trevor took very much after Megan, with light brown hair and those blue-green eyes.

“Yeah, she is growing into quite a beautiful young lady”, Shane agreed “I got to still go dress shopping with her…and, oh, let the fun begin!  Can’t think of anything more enjoyable than a day of running her all around the malls.”

“Well, let Megan take her, for God’s sake! Or let your mother do it.”

“Dad”, “It’s fine. It may not be my thing, but all the stuff I do with Trevor—going to his baseball games, soccer, to karate. Well LeAnn was more into that stuff but she’s getting more into girly things.”

Soon, a young woman came in with Carl’s lunch, and placed the tray in front of him on his table. “Cute, huh?” Carl remarked about her after she left. Shane did not say a word.

“You need to get back out there. Get out and meet a nice girl”, Carl said, picking over his food. Jell-O, apple sauce, broth, a roll and juice—he wanted a hamburger. But how could he get a good one here? There were too many “spies” as he called them watching over him.

At the moment, Shane seemed miles away from his dad. Whatever he was saying made no impact. He made it a point not to speak of his problems with Megan to his father, and he liked it that way.  By Shane’s expression, he felt his son was holding back on something. But the truth was, so was he hiding something.

“I got myself into this mess, I know”, Carl declared about his heart attack. “I came close to saying, ‘Sayonara—that’s all, folks!’” His remarks were typical—just blow everything off. He joked as if he wasn’t fazed by it all.

Shane had now closed his eyes, and kicked back a little, “Uh huh”, he agreed, though he was simply responding without thinking about what Carl really said.

Carl didn’t want to be tuned out. He had something to get off his chest. He said, “ Well, all that’s done and said, maybe this is the right time to tell you. Got plenty of time here with my own thoughts.” He hesitated, for it wasn’t easy for him to say it. “ It’s bout time you know”, he said. “I think with me almost bitin

killimportantmodernlikemrwarbombgotdirtylovecaredirtbeautifullife­secondgodreallightknowtimenakedtearjustworlddieheartdeaddevilhuma­noidvladmomentwanteyesmusiclonelyrespectnewssaygoodwordsburnheave­nbighateairdeathwhiteyearsfreecaught machine guess right blood human night lost town bad burning hair born wild black car eat ate likes democracy planet pope newton make hands forever way live look alive thinking end oh work old living sick sun drive song bed tears cold clean police blind fat spit men pop law tells boring moral religion religious child's it'll soul thoughts intelligent tell cause flesh lips feel dying kiss ****** trying self history course justice pure deep **** try leave broken mountain brain owns child dog universe bleeding going lights insane build makes runs imagine stupidity bright stupid rich children quiet worry bite nothingness monster hell image exist crash millions **** holy terror satan hungry thousands ******* behave sentences tv nation ****** christians believers banality quack leprosy psychopath collider bono let's hard-on million turn shot silly face stone away maybe little **** breath taste tongue dance left pieces single charging red impossible fear fears america money wrong truth sea calm ***** fact cut meaning evil flaw hole laugh matter wasted hope talk new think feast stay questions wearing able head true stars swallow clowns queen art hard getting order floor flame missing felt door simple strong laws politicians tongues faith freedom tree flows gold lot space great happy **** streets sad mention poor species fake watching emptiness falling shame drugs lines rivers idiot late rise goodbye waste faces answers committed atmospheric birth games flood biting creature constant organic street witness stinking press large dressed glowing mass floating crimes morals dinner screaming nonsense deadly velvet laughs guts lord cries compare pressure fame superior oil spiders poetry views starving desires avoid genius web coded rights ape principles ideas possibilities priests creeps american sensitive jews humans reset americans **** genetic dna diapers ******* muslims idiots optional companies ******* ******* christening jihad imbeciles reincarnation ***** who's what's teeth's self-righteous inside jeans gone **** hello goes smile seconds walls does minutes fun lies lick wet things score dreams thirst hold cheeks taking pull forgot secret dust soldier skin finger son pocket long star shine moon fast earth day stand year sleep peace house need spend comes mind help lie reading count fall hips close disappeared thing rude rust stir sky power family crave surely grow angels truly helpless smell hand driving nail thought created suppose believe personal tune feelings sharpened building messages paper worship word lunch force souls future kind times trail path days record open means perfect distant thousand youth write attention figured famous dj fly offering promise gently high excited enter ecstasy endless faded laughing dreaming short boy sure rain ice bond lip loves man humanity genocide wars food water families corrupted fool gun sorrow ghost buildings wonder step suffering roam bones stained knows delicate suicide catastrophe lab completely marry kitchen read secrets circle grave hunger waters inner filled suffocated ending veins crying deeper stopped insignificant slip non throat explodes gloom stare burger drown mirror endangered cup ears bear shirt voices sins saviour birds sorrows treat selling young crack necessary ego historic symbols travel volcano game scratch ******* confuse spill scream melts following *** known mama speed dress smelly highway speeding washed coat drop absolute intelligence mountains speech wheels father wants rip stains ground save pale surrounded swimming final miles motion sing confused sons sprayed wall swallowed road poets nightmare ***** brains commit possible language golden key useless bombs sake raw john changed takes animal replied stories content track locked drives pit soaked honest everybody horrible gates hall worked understand control meat miracles sheer fed message goodnight split commitment claim knife fur folk madness monks tricks holes creatures terminal idea cracks books diamonds smashing stripped pleasures flowers utmost openly grim bare monstrous weaker everlasting drank banks weather raven hang birthday scar gravity ******* ******* sunny snake yeah square serve sewer odd stiff stem shiny knocked noses duck troops chinese necks uncle stark dig service faster prince bold public utterly plane layer seriously powers strike heroes seven disaster slice trash eternally lawns sowed wife issues lasting kings crawls event diamond significance swallows prisoners bleeds russian friendship oceans matters piled dish cell ******* dieing trains milky haunted fuel lumps seats owned pollution systems vanity champagne degree pump command daughters fortunately talent carpet foolish leg carrying virgins hosts lump dangerous license cleaning crucial cells wedding musicians greater genitals china responsibility knot jet weapon rottening slaughtered decent stolen goat absolutely tool limit possessions snakes righteous ozone happens illusion bounce shabby producing tumbled equal neurons insect biscuit notion link staircase fulfilled chewing ordered gadgets transporting craves stunned strategy damage fragments borders insurance jerusalem panda lasted cultural sluggish ****** member coins eyebrows contains buddha pointing clever virus overwhelmed acts solve classical fluid media mcdonalds widow cloths russia reported babys collapsing tom homeless nearest calculated humour ravenous boiled depend reject phones earthquakes discuss **** ****** misconception prodigal social jane nasty eats president sipping propaganda super electricity fathom spilled carrots liver bored behaviour fault similar ethics commercials sells boiling mortgage donald tons directly apes gruesome civil french passers theory construct crashes abnormal pleaded hack clan eaters delusions flaunt gonorrhea vegetarian taxes rockets leash ripping rational pirates embarrassing dolphin nationality shipping ****** thanksgiving goods deals hopefully nephew flounder kennel ****** communists erupting haircut gays ku klux chins justin draped cerebral usa ***** puke ***** fraction neutral warren fornication belive batteries stoning chopped buddhism tolerate enlightened antibiotics dependence mae apocalypse irrational vise pets comedians sympathies somalia crises terrorists breakdowns peppermint biological ***** disobedience ****** vandals hippie fakes mac bombing nosebleed mafia infamously lesbians berg stylish pr dubai burgers production cruise commander embryos presidents clones gluttons chock ******* illegitimate iphone philosophical yucatan refuges celine inclusive spam dion sanitary waddling mullahs nationalism karl ***** remix sensationalism psychopaths techno disney www punks bombay pomme rappers stucked elixirs bjork mutilations allright lagerfeld enormously elton rabies damien hirst capitalists ravers idealism salaries allready freddie zeitgeist dictatorships invoice asmile berlusconi scarified subjectivity riped ozzy snobbish bnp mcdonald we're you'll we'll beethoven's god's men's arseholes queen's feet's elizabeth's putin duck's einstein's poppop puppy's pig's buffett warhead self-satisfied post-human poo-poo 15 2000 fannie pictorial laundries ****** mahmoud caliphate woodworks biebers frites wonderfulmeaninglessness mujahedins fwarhols pseudo-subjectivity anti-document exstraordinary ahmadinejad behavelike muthafukas somethingeverybodyreally yourlanguage crucialenemies sayevil alicense yourselfwear thatyoudon'tlike someheavy reallymeancontrol andindulge swastikasneversayaword oneincludingyourself yourselfagunandplaywithknifes eraseany heartace parkistan bashra iq's entertanier 28000000 märsk mc-kinny möller onepays isharshand muthafuckasdrop representingallthat toyesor ifno hintsaboutyour tosmallviolentgroupsin societylet andbeseenamongsymbols ifasked cremaster nothingofthisworks andstrangereligiousbehaviours automaticgunandpoppop getdrunkand oddpoint friendswithodd spreadrumours notunderstand ofviewspicksome intosomeviolence yourselfintooblivionaboutyour surroundyourself behavioursand disrespectfuland dotcom

If only we would put down the gadgets,
That's when we would find
that even we were blind.
Blind to the girl that was abused,
Blind to the boy who harmed himself.
Just when it was too late
did we realize how much we create?
The boy was bullied by people who knew.
The girl never felt good enough.
If only the gadgets were used to help
instead of destroy.
Only then will we know joy.
But it is already too late.
For it was already made into fate.
The people who can't keep words in their mouths
They are the ones that cause the worst.

The comfort and luxury of the world today
we have more than we did on any other day.

No old-fashioned letters or telephone calls,
today technology does it all.

Latest gadgets and gizmos we have access to
that make our days easier to get through.

Separate fact from fiction,
or look up a definition

Technology has got you covered
better than you’ve ever wondered.

Just press a button and watch it happen
technology better that you can imagine.

Like a genie in a bottle that will give you three wishes,
technology, on the other hand, does not have a limit.

Ask what you want you’ll get a reply
with a clear answer of how and why.

Technology will keep on getting better
but it’s a good idea to keep in mind that
old-fashioned letter.

They said there was a drought water was short
not enough for domestic use.
At first declaring it was nobody's fault
it had not rained for a long time!
Committing an offence by using a hose pipe
truthfully was a load of tripe.

Water companies are making a financial killing
everyone encouraged not to waste water.
More fancy gadgets the public would be willing  
to buy water use multiplied.
As the buzz was building more on any land
telling us there was a demand!

Thousands of houses built was there a big need
statistics only the government held.
Groups tried protesting for it not to proceed
but fields were still built on.
Heavy rains came with more depleted drainage
so did the despair and rage.

A state of increasing taxes with nothing to show
more became classed as poor.
Communication with voters becoming very slow
the authorities had a strangle hold!
As the ban on a non existent drought dragged on
more doubters joined the throng!

Was there a danger of a growing national threat
from people against the elite.
Basking in luxury as the masses increasing in debt
the drought added more fuel.
Restrictions taking away their dignity it turned sour
there would be a defining hour.

Or is this just a modern nightmare tale?

The Foureyed Poet.

cheap beats by dre uk It would be nice to have the Ipod to hand or to be able to control it remotely and the simplest is an Ipod dock with remote control functionality. This is a step up on the simple Ipod lineout dock though the audio functionality is the same as a lineout dock. Time for a course alteration. Your mastication should be as elegant as an evening gown and as silent as the grave. In search of a dr dre beats headphone that truly reveals what's in the mix Dre joined forces with the audio experts at Monster. Together they've built a beats headphone for the ultimate high definition listening experience.

I now see why the brown color was especially panned. Ugly and big looking. [Philips has two portable DVD players due out imminently that have integrated iPod docks. This is a big deal since the company excels at consumer electronics; the DCP750 and DCP850 aren't in the Philip's PET line and have smaller screens but they're worth keeping an eye on. Sony PS3 Bluetooth: This headset comes with a dual microphone personalized screen a USB connection can team it with PS3 and it's adaptable with most of the blue tooth enabled gadgets and PS3. It has been voted as the best PS3 bluetooth headset and a lot of gamers consider it as the best PS3 wireless headset.

Don't Miss:Journalist David Frost diesCup trophy's wild historyBauer: Michael Mina reviewRediscovering meadMarin's King MountainThe good: A topnotch player offering sleek design and a 10inch screen with excellent image quality. Also plays MPEG4 and DivX video files and MP3 and JPEG CDRs. Mike Stoehr is dialing in from our New York office.Before we begin I'd like to quickly remind everyone that except for historical information contained herein statements made on today's call and in today's webcast that would constitute forwardlooking statements may involve certain risks and uncertainties. All forwardlooking statements made are based on currently available information and the company assumes no responsibility to update any such forwardlooking statements.

(http://www.lovesongsonline.com/over-ear/beats-solo-hd.html,Find your favorite beats by dre products) Ethernet port mic two SD card reader beats by dre headphone ports. Using the rear jack we did a number of test clips at various recording quality choices ranging from 2channel 16 bit 44100 Hz up to 2channel 24 bit 96000 Hz. No matter what recording rate we chose the results were very clear and noiseless sound clips of singing and dictation every time.

The Ultimedia family offers uncompromising quality through an array of services and support unrivaled in the industry. In addition to toll free numbers for information on the products applications and technical issues IBM Multimedia specialists are located in nearly 50 sites across the country. You can spend a bit more and actually buy them from iTunes but you can also capture the DVD and convert it. I can store quite many of them on the device and play them on demand.

The fact that people like me can make a movie on consumergrade equipment and software is really revolutionaryblood running in the streets revolutionary as far as the art form is concerned. And then there are the video artists like Bill Viola and Pipilotti Rist who are doing something radically different but so exciting and inventive and pleasuregiving.. The back panel is fixed so you don't have to bother taking out the battery to put in your SIM. However http://www.lovesongsonline.com/beats-team-collection.html this also means that the battery is difficult to replace..

Simply plug in the beats headphones and run the cord up your arm under your shirt and you'll be running handsfree with your favorite tunes amping you up. Changing playlists adjusting the volume on the run and getting workout data feedback (via shoes enhanced with the Nike+ platform) is a breeze midstride. Hear every note every beat and every detail just as it was intended! The DT 990 features an openback circumaural (overtheear) design for rich audio performance that's designed for critical listening. The open design of the beats by dre headphones allows increased fidelity to the original recording and a more natural sound stage.
read more:
http://network-marketing.ning.com/profiles/blogs/low-price-pandora-coach-outlet-store-sells
http://v3.biodizionario.it/node/16487
http://www.ouedzmala.com/ads/ads/pandora-sale-is-a-delicate-earlobe-surrounde
http://www.uhu.es/ISWBlog/blog/?p=44