You were born five years before the Spanish Civil War that would see your father exiled.
Language came later to you than your little brother Manuel. And you stuttered for a time.
Unlike those who speak incessantly with nothing to say, you were quiet and reserved.
Your mother mistook shyness for dimness, a tragic mistake that scarred you for life.

When your brother Manuel died at the age of three from meningitis, you heard your mom
Exclaim: “God took my bright boy and left me the dull one.” You were four or five.
You never forgot those words. How could you? Yet you loved your mom with all your heart.
But you also withdrew further into a shell, solitude your companion and best friend.

You were, in fact, an exceptional child. Stuttering went away at five or so never to return,
And by the time you were in middle school, your teacher called your mom in for a rare
Conference and told her that yours was a gifted mind, and that you should be prepared
For university study in the sciences, particularly engineering.

She wrote your father exiled in Argentina to tell him the good news, that your teachers
Believed you would easily gain entrance to the (then and now) highly selective public university
Where seats were few, prized and very difficult to attain based on merit-based competitive
Exams. Your father’s response? “Buy him a couple of oxen and let him plow the fields.”

That reply from a highly respected man who was a big fish in a tiny pond in his native Oleiros
Of the time is beyond comprehension. He had apparently opted to preserve his own self-
Interest in having his son continue his family business and also work the family lands in his
Absence. That scar too was added to those that would never heal in your pure, huge heart.

Left with no support for living expenses for college (all it would have required), you moved on,
Disappointed and hurt, but not angry or bitter; you would simply find another way.
You took the competitive exams for the two local military training schools that would provide
An excellent vocational education and pay you a small salary in exchange for military service.

Of hundreds of applicants for the prized few seats in each of the two institutions, you
Scored first for the toughest of the two and thirteenth for the second. You had your pick.
You chose Fabrica de Armas, the lesser of the two, so that a classmate who had scored just
Below the cut-off at the better school could be admitted. That was you. Always and forever.

At the military school, you were finally in your element. You were to become a world-class
Machinist there—a profession that would have gotten you well paid work anywhere on earth
For as long as you wanted it. You were truly a mechanical genius who years later would add
Electronics, auto mechanics and specialized welding to his toolkit through formal training.

Given a well-stocked machine shop, you could reverse engineer every machine without
Blueprints and build a duplicate machine shop. You became a gifted master mechanic
And worked in line and supervisory positions at a handful of companies throughout your life in
Argentina and in the U.S., including Westinghouse, Warner-Lambert, and Pepsi Co.

You loved learning, especially in your fields (electronics, mechanics, welding) and expected
Perfection in everything you did. Every difficult job at work was given to you everywhere you
Worked. You would not sleep at night when a problem needed solving. You’d sketch
And calculate and re-sketch solutions and worked even in your dreams with singular passion.

You were more than a match for the academic and physical rigors of military school,
But life was difficult for you in the Franco era when some instructors would
Deprecatingly refer to you as “Roxo”—Galician for “red”-- reflecting your father’s
Support for the failed Republic. Eventually, the abuse was too much for you to bear.

Once while standing at attention in a corridor with the other cadets waiting for
Roll call, you were repeatedly poked in the back surreptitiously. Moving would cause
Demerits and demerits could cause loss of points on your final grade and arrest for
Successive weekends. You took it awhile, then lost your temper.

You turned to the cadet behind you and in a fluid motion grabbed him by his buttoned jacket
And one-handedly hung him up on a hook above a window where you were standing in line.
He thrashed about, hanging by the back of his jacket, until he was brought down by irate Military instructors.
You got weekend arrest for many weeks and a 10% final grade reduction.

A similar fate befell a co-worker a few years later in Buenos Aires who called you a
*******. You lifted him one handed by his throat and held him there until
Your co-workers intervened, forcibly persuading you to put him down.
That lesson was learned by all in no uncertain terms: Leave Felipe’s mom alone.

You were incredibly strong, especially in your youth—no doubt in part because of rigorous farm
Work, military school training and competitive sports. As a teenager, you once unwisely bent
Down to pick something up in view of a ram, presenting the animal an irresistible target.
It butted you and sent you flying into a haystack. It, too, quickly learned its lesson.

You dusted yourself off, charged the ram, grabbed it by the horns and twirled it around once,
Throwing it atop the same haystack as it had you. The animal was unhurt, but learned to
Give you a wide berth from that day forward. Overall, you were very slow to anger absent
Head-butting, repeated pokings, or disrespectful references to your mom by anyone.    

I seldom saw you angry and it was mom, not you, who was the disciplinarian, slipper in hand.
There were very few slaps from you for me. Mom would smack my behind with a slipper often
When I was little, mostly because I could be a real pain, wanting to know/try/do everything
Completely oblivious to the meaning of the word “no” or of my own limitations.

Mom would sometimes insist you give me a proper beating. On one such occasion for a
Forgotten transgression when I was nine, you  took me to your bedroom, took off your belt, sat
Me next to you and whipped your own arm and hand a few times, whispering to me “cry”,
Which I was happy to do unbidden. “Don’t tell mom.” I did not. No doubt she knew.

The prospect of serving in a military that considered you a traitor by blood became harder and
Harder to bear, and in the third year of school, one year prior to graduation, you left to join
Your exiled father in Argentina, to start a new life. You left behind a mother and two sisters you
Dearly loved to try your fortune in a new land. Your dog thereafter refused food, dying of grief.

You arrived in Buenos Aires to see a father you had not seen for ten years at the age of 17.
You were too young to work legally, but looked older than your years (a shared trait),
So you lied about your age and immediately found work as a Machinist/Mechanic first grade.
That was unheard of and brought you some jealousy and complaints in the union shop.

The union complained to the general manager about your top-salary and rank. He answered,
“I’ll give the same rank and salary to anyone in the company who can do what Felipe can do.”
No doubt the jealousy and grumblings continued by some for a time. But there were no takers.
And you soon won the group over, becoming their protected “baby-brother” mascot.

Your dad left for Spain within a year or so of your arrival when Franco issued a general pardon
To all dissidents who had not spilt blood (e.g., non combatants). He wanted you to return to
Help him reclaim the family business taken over by your mom in his absence with your help.
But you refused to give up the high salary, respect and independence denied you at home.

You were perhaps 18 and alone, living in a single room by a schoolhouse you had shared with Your dad.
But you had also found a new loving family in your uncle José, one of your father’s Brothers, and his family. José, and one of his daughters, Nieves and her
Husband, Emilio, and
Their children, Susana, Oscar (Ruben Gordé), and Osvaldo, became your new nuclear family.

You married mom in 1955 and had two failed business ventures in the quickly fading
Post-WW II Argentina of the late 1950s and early 1960s.The first, a machine shop, left
You with a small fortune in unpaid government contract work.  The second, a grocery store,
Also failed due to hyperinflation and credit extended too easily to needy customers.

Throughout this, you continued earning an exceptionally good salary. But in the mid 1960’s,
Nearly all of it went to pay back creditors of the failed grocery store. We had some really hard
Times. Someday I’ll write about that in some detail. Mom went to work as a maid, including for
Wealthy friends, and you left home at 4:00 a.m. to return long after dark to pay the bills.

 
The only luxury you and mom retained was my Catholic school tuition. There was no other
Extravagance. Not paying bills was never an option for you or mom. It never entered your
Minds. It was not a matter of law or pride, but a matter of honor. There were at least three very
Lean years where you and mom worked hard, earned well but we were truly poor.

You and mom took great pains to hide this from me—and suffered great privations to insulate
Me as best you could from the fallout of a shattered economy and your refusal to cut your loses
Had done to your life savings and to our once-comfortable middle-class life.
We came to the U.S. in the late 1960s after waiting for more than three years for visas—to a new land of hope.

Your sister and brother-in-law, Marisa and Manuel, made their own sacrifices to help bring us
Here. You had about $1,000 from the down payment on our tiny down-sized house, And
Mom’s pawned jewelry. (Hyperinflation and expenses ate up the remaining mortgage payments
Due). Other prized possessions were left in a trunk until you could reclaim them. You never did.

Even the airline tickets were paid for by Marisa and Manuel. You insisted upon arriving on
Written terms for repayment including interest. You were hired on the spot on your first
Interview as a mechanic, First Grade, despite not speaking a word of English. Two months later,
The debt was repaid, mom was working too and we moved into our first apartment.

You worked long hours, including Saturdays and daily overtime, to remake a nest egg.
Declining health forced you to retire at 63 and shortly thereafter you and mom moved out of
Queens into Orange County. You bought a townhouse two hours from my permanent residence
Upstate NY and for the next decade were happy, traveling with friends and visiting us often.

Then things started to change. Heart issues (two pacemakers), colon cancer, melanoma,
Liver and kidney disease caused by your many medications, high blood pressure, gout,
Gall bladder surgery, diabetes . . . . And still you moved forward, like the Energizer Bunny,
Patched up, battered, scarred, bruised but unstoppable and unflappable.

Then mom started to show signs of memory loss along with her other health issues. She was
Good at hiding her own ailments, and we noticed much later than we should have that there
Was a serious problem. Two years ago, her dementia worsening but still functional, she had
Gall bladder surgery with complications that required four separate surgeries in three months.

She never recovered and had to be placed in a nursing home. Several, in fact, as at first she
Refused food and you and I refused to simply let her waste away, which might have been
Kinder, but for the fact that “mientras hay vida, hay esperanza” as Spaniards say.
(While there is Life there is hope.) There is nothing beyond the power of God. Miracles do happen.
 
For two years you lived alone, refusing outside help, engendering numerous arguments about
Having someone go by a few times a week to help clean, cook, do chores. You were nothing if
Not stubborn (yet another shared trait). The last argument on the subject about two weeks ago
Ended in your crying. You’d accept no outside help until mom returned home. Period.

You were in great pain because of bulging discs in your spine and walked with one of those
Rolling seats with handlebars that mom and I picked out for you some years ago. You’d sit
As needed when the pain was too much, then continue with very little by way of complaints.
Ten days ago you finally agreed that you needed to get to the hospital to drain abdominal fluid.

Your failing liver produced it and it swelled your abdomen and lower extremities to the point
Where putting on shoes or clothing was very difficult, as was breathing. You called me from a
Local store crying that you could not find pants that would fit you. We talked, long distance,
And I calmed you down, as always, not allowing you to wallow in self pity but trying to help.

You went home and found a new pair of stretch pants Alice and I had bought you and you were
Happy. You had two changes of clothes that still fit to take to the hospital. No sweat, all was
Well. The procedure was not dangerous and you’d undergone it several times in recent years.
It would require a couple of days at the hospital and I’d see you again on the weekend.

I could not be with you on Monday, February 22 when you had to go to the hospital, as I nearly
Always had, because of work. You were supposed to be admitted the previous Friday, but
Doctors have days off too, and yours could not see you until Monday when I could not get off
Work. But you were not concerned; this was just routine. You’d be fine. I’d see you in just days.

We’d go see mom Friday, when you’d be much lighter and feel much better. Perhaps we’d go
Shopping for clothes if the procedure still left you too bloated for your usual clothes.
You drove to your doctor and then transported by ambulette. I was concerned, but not too Worried.
You called me sometime between five or six p.m. to tell me you were fine, resting.

“Don’t worry. I’m safe here and well cared for.” We talked for a little while about the usual
Things, with my assuring you I’d see you Friday or Saturday. You were tired and wanted to sleep
And I told you to call me if you woke up later that night or I’d speak to you the following day.
Around 10:00 p.m. I got a call from your cell and answered in the usual upbeat manner.

“Hey, Papi.” On the other side was a nurse telling me my dad had fallen. I assured her she was
Mistaken, as my dad was there for a routine procedure to drain abdominal fluid. “You don’t
Understand. He fell from his bed and struck his head on a nightstand or something
And his heart has stopped. We’re working on him for 20 minutes and it does not look good.”

“Can you get here?” I could not. I had had two or three glasses of wine shortly before the call
With dinner. I could not drive the three hours to Middletown. I cried. I prayed.
Fifteen minutes Later I got the call that you were gone. Lost in grief, not knowing what to do, I called my wife.
Shortly thereafter came a call from the coroner. An autopsy was required. I could not see you.

Four days later your body was finally released to the funeral director I had selected for his
Experience with the process of interment in Spain. I saw you for the last time to identify
Your body. I kissed my fingers and touched your mangled brow. I could not even have the
Comfort of an open casket viewing. You wanted cremation. You body awaits it as I write this.

You were alone, even in death alone. In the hospital as strangers worked on you. In the medical
Examiner’s office as you awaited the autopsy. In the autopsy table as they poked and prodded
And further rent your flesh looking for irrelevant clues that would change nothing and benefit
No one, least of all you. I could not be with you for days, and then only for a painful moment.

We will have a memorial service next Friday with your ashes and a mass on Saturday. I will
Never again see you in this life. Alice and I will take you home to your home town, to the
Cemetery in Oleiros, La Coruña, Spain this summer. There you will await the love of your life.
Who will join you in the fullness of time. She could not understand my tears or your passing.

There is one blessing to dementia. She asks for her mom, and says she is worried because she
Has not come to visit in some time. She is coming, she assures me whenever I see her.
You visited her every day except when health absolutely prevented it. You spent this February 10
Apart, your 61st wedding anniversary, too sick to visit her. Nor was I there. First time.

I hope you did not realize you were apart on the 10th but doubt it to be the case. I
Did not mention it, hoping you’d forgotten, and neither did you. You were my link to mom.
She cannot dial or answer a phone, so you would put your cell phone to her ear whenever I
Was not in class or meetings and could speak to her. She always recognized me by phone.

I am three hours from her. I could visit at most once or twice a month. Now even that phone
Lifeline is severed. Mom is completely alone, afraid, confused, and I cannot in the short term at
Least do much about that. You were not supposed to die first. It was my greatest fear, and
Yours, but as with so many things that we cannot change I put it in the back of my mind.

It kept me up many nights, but, like you, I still believed—and believe—in miracles.
I would speak every night with my you, often for an hour, on the way home from work late at
Night during my hour-long commute, or from home on days I worked from home as I cooked
Dinner. I mostly let you talk, trying to give you what comfort and social outlet I could.

You were lonely, sad, stuck in an endless cycle of emotional and physical pain.
Lately you were especially reticent to get off the phone. When mom was home and still
Relatively well, I’d call every day too but usually spoke to you only a few minutes and you’d
Transfer the phone to mom, with whom I usually chatted much longer.

For months, you’d had difficulty hanging up. I knew you did not want to go back to the couch,
To a meaningless TV program, or to writing more bills. You’d say good-bye, or “enough for
Today” and immediately begin a new thread, then repeat the cycle, sometimes five or six times.
You even told me, at least once crying recently, “Just hang up on me or I’ll just keep talking.”

I loved you, dad, with all my heart. We argued, and I’d often scream at you in frustration,
Knowing you would never take it to heart and would usually just ignore me and do as
You pleased. I knew how desperately you needed me, and I tried to be as patient as I could.
But there were days when I was just too tired, too frustrated, too full of other problems.

There were days when I got frustrated with you just staying on the phone for an hour when I
Needed to call Alice, to eat my cold dinner, or even to watch a favorite program. I felt guilty
And very seldom cut a conversation short, but I was frustrated nonetheless even knowing
How much you needed me and also how much I needed you, and how little you asked of me.  

How I would love to hear your voice again, even if you wanted to complain about the same old
Things or tell me in minutest detail some unimportant aspect of your day. I thought I would
Have you at least a little longer. A year? Two? God only knew, and I could hope. There would be
Time. I had so much more to share with you, so much more to learn when life eased up a bit.

You taught me to fish (it did not take) and to hunt (that took even less) and much of what I
Know about mechanics, and electronics. We worked on our cars together for years—from brake
Jobs, to mufflers, to real tune-ups in the days when points, condensers, and timing lights had Meaning, to rebuilding carburetors and fixing rust and dents, and power windows and more.

We were friends, good friends, who went on Sunday drives to favorite restaurants or shopping
For tools when I was single and lived at home. You taught me everything in life that I need to
Know about all the things that matter. The rest is meaningless paper and window dressing.
I knew all your few faults and your many colossal strengths and knew you to be the better man.

Not even close. I could never do what you did. I could never excel in my fields as you did in
Yours.  You were the real deal in every way, from every angle, throughout your life. I did not
Always treat you that way. But I loved you very deeply as anyone who knew us knows.
More importantly, you knew it. I told you often, unembarrassed in the telling. I love you, Dad.

The world was enriched by your journey. You do not leave behind wealth, or a body or work to
Outlive you. You never had your fifteen minutes in the sun. But you mattered. God knows your
Virtue, your absolute integrity, and the purity of your heart. I will never know a better man.
I will love you and miss you and carry you in my heart every day of my life. God bless you, dad.

Fig Newton Vanilla Wafers
Like sand through an hourglass
The smell of Doublemint Wrigley’s
Gum that lingers in the air like
Your poltergeist hanging on a string

Chicken and dumplings
Christmas at your place
There were so many pictures and
Do you remember me anymore?

Quicksand neurons coughing up
Phlegm and congestive heart failure
Diabetic membranes hooked up to pacemakers
You’re kidneys were caustic waste bins
And you ****** yourself

Cancer Cancer
Don’t shut your eyes
***** and hypertension
Hyperventilation
My mother is crying
I’m crying
Don’t die
Please don't die
"She’s not responding"
"Somebody say something"
Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace

Moved by his computer frame
Love to love you he loved to move
her body frame he loved to love
That chrome never over to be undone
  Those delicate cake fingers
Those ABC key notes
  musically wired moved by the

Marionette elementary my dear
Watson in  a chrome jar mason
Hard mission with circuits
Radio days
She was so committed and clicked
All towered like the French Provincial

"All Metal" I phone rings to his
commercial I tunes conventional
So moved by her like the sentinel
Fingers frantic through the
yellow pages loving and soothing
But that wasn't so romantic
more silver linings

But Iced latte like fine slender metal
Soft and creamy cake in her love portal
So Sara just smile she was something
In her way was the General Lee
French stewardess Wee Wee
Her chrome metal Oh! Gee

What it did to him drove him
For hours to the address named
The hard drive
Mentally he was melted
he had to stay firm but pacing like the
buzzing beehive
The midday she moved into another
Red carpet Hollywood drive
She was out of her box racing too red
Too much of his chrome wheel heat
Metallic leather moves in her heels

Mighty sweet but some
anger management to beat
The crunch the bunch the
workout being spooked out
Those biceps couldn't take a bad rap
High life joy wife loves the cook-out
So outgoing gift of gab
Jekyll and Hyde lab

That metalworking grime
More networking like the
hard water crime
The marching wooden soldiers
Christmas time got the metal locket
He was ready for her lips
fired out rocket

In the dark the spark more alive into
A gunmetal lovely portal
Moved by the rebel her face had a
dark silvery veil Apple computer
Love mentor crazy love inventor
She was hard as a rock
At the muscle club

So hushed how she moved her
lips he is the
Chrome metal built up
Was her heart moved away
Her hands tightly closed cup
It got caught on the metal chair
Moved like a piece of furniture

Shine on the modern metal lamp
It was blown glass
Like the cartoon
"Lady and the *****"
Genie just appeared
Moved by him her
metal box could tear
The Mozilla stronger then

The silver back Gorilla
Chrome attire good fella
Yahoo singer Miss Diva
Venus-Stella,
Not a child's Crayola
She loved to drink
In his metal cup mountain dew

Moved up by Mothers Day

She needed to bloom
more (May I)
Way too polite
Heavy lifting rain April
fools season
  But he had the
stiff collar June he took
such a hard drive
Moved by her chrome metal you decide?

  Cosmos two in a half
metal, she was always in the
lab finding new age turn
of the page new turf
War veterans deserve the metals
Oh! Metal Heart take a chill pill
Becoming junkies  leaders and
Quack up Doctors

(Ripley’s believe
it or metal it)
So tickled chrome pink
To forget it her cell I- O-U metal
heart phone
  Here is a link to my song I did

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0p-HADoF1I&t=162s

The  ammunition of
the best silver
That was Terry Tech lee
his brother was Techie
Heavy metal rounds the
sea minerals
To top things off  the
"Metal Generals"

Moved by only chrome
The robot combat type metal
Not a belly wash to be pregnant
What a moving day convent
I need my own outlet

If I only had a brain
Were built like machines
anyway
The pacemakers nothing
feels real
The Brooklyn bridge
Deal or no deal
No grudge to hold onto
Wartime metal moved by
The honorable Veterans
Have a heart, not of cold stone
if I only had a brain
  All-metal wedding  

Taking the City train earthquake moving
Speaking traditionally white
Metal is the future of the website
Well! how much olive oil can
they serve the Tin man wizardly
He crushed my cheeks like
Rotten metal tomatoes

Mr. Clean robot cleaning
up the metal hearts
Someone will throw you off the
Brooklyn, let's play bridge
Should you get a metal bridge?
The Jewish dentist, he has plenty of bridges.
You could find him near the Trump Towers.

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.

At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver
Song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

Though your dreams
Be tossed and blown.

Walk on
Walk on

With hope in your hearts

I And you'll never walk alone

You'll never walk alone.

Walk on
Walk on



By Gerry And The Pacemakers

Gerry And The Pacemakers
Best Of Gerry And The Pacemakers
You'll Never Walk Alone
(R. Rodgers - O. Hammerstein II)

When you walk through the storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on, through the wind
Walk on, through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

A little nod to
Joseph Seamon Cotter, Jr.

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back;
There passes across my ceiling
Last year’s thoughts and flashing lights of passing cars*

Three hundred and sixty days of things: clusters:
Horrifying stories of battered women and abuse children
Sickening parents with mental issues trended across the globe:
And a new seasons of Law-in order special Victim’s unit on Netflix
Teenagers and adult on a summer cruise: party hard:

Sunday church goers grasping the holy bible so tight to their *****
like a stick of dynamite golden heirloom
Girls under twenty in their fashion nova curves club outfits

Leaving nothing to the imaginations: the old men will live longer:
According to National Statistics estimates: without their pacemakers

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back;
There passes across my ceiling,
Last year’s thoughts and flashing days of
Mishaps and misery on my job
As this coming year draws nearer, I pray
That I will find a way
Out of this path I have chosen.

Don't name drop __, they wanna hear your name drop
I know you're *******, but that won't make the pain stop
Your friends are in battles too, thats why they pop,
Rethink this, this isn't something you should adopt
They say fight fire with fire, but if life so cold
Where do you find it to inspire and fight the new with the old
Drown out the night
But I can't drown out the knight
In ****** armor on the mic
Mi amor that I spite

Sippin on *** 'n monster hoping I don't go bonkers
Yonkers playing in the background as I ponder
and let my mind wander
Wonder why I'm squandering the time,
I could be making money and conquer
But my psyche doesn't concur, because life is somber
And I stay up thinking I can make the next Midnight Marauders
It's 4 am and I'm wishing life was longer
Eyes set on the calendar because our time is numbered
Thundering white Walter, water drips from the ceiling of my bunker
Bombs bombard it, I'm surprised I'm not drunker off this alter
I'm on a pedistal and my perception has altered
Now my personality has a septum, a couple I can use as fodder
Hopefully I can find a mentor to call me his grasshopper
Much needed like a jumper for this one-dimensional dunker
Drumming up my sadness like it's not like any other
You can throw shade, but I can make your day brighter

I'm a lot of things, but mostly a warhawk with synesthesia.
The sight of my enemies dropping is like symphonies, analgesia.
No mother, no father, your little boy isn't going through schizophrenia
That's just what's needed for me reach euforia
If I cut it up, rinse my face and change it to not seem displaced
I can cut a deal with my friend and maybe get me something laced
Wait, this isn't the time and place, don't be your own disgrace
Grace was your safeguard, no need to kick up the pace

Pacemakers for the worried, just incase
Peacemaker at heart, man I try to embrace

Encyclopedic mainframes
Lap-top heads
Power-boxes for multitudinous outlets, plugs, chargers
Conduits manipulating
Fiber-optic arteries
Artificial energy
ZAP
Pale lights
Computers aglow in dark cloistered bedrooms
Powered pacemakers stalling at microwaves
Electrocuted blood - cookied fantasies
Ads proclaiming everything free!
Pharmaceutical elixirs for limpness, lumpiness, loneliness
Snake-oil for suffering
Nigerian kings, Syrian refugees
*******, clever memes, whimsical gifs, shocking news, witty banter
Socio-politic-religous-diatribes
Spewing on every thread

Existential *****.
Aroma-less cuisines
Vacuumed vacations
Youtubed communions
Suicide selfies.


Crucifixdrones - pedolandia
Jdate.POF.AshleyMadison.Match. Eharmony.SpeedDate.OKcupid
CG. Missed encounters...
Serial killers,
Pixalated *******, vein-throbbed **** shots, cardboard gloryholes

Instagramed I
Inviolate I
Internet I

I    I     I

No sweaty arm pits, cottage cheese, gray nose hairs or belly fat
Computer [ScreenShot]
While behind, posters hang: The Doors, Tupac, NIN, The Smiths, Hendrix, Joy Division, Nirvana

HandshapedHeart.

2D souls
Text-dating
144 word manifestos
#revolutions
Archetype emoticons

Doodled centaurs
Caged in matrices

Transcendental notes
Need a hit
Of internet smack

A line, a pinch, a drag
A like, a comment, a kudos
A reply, a thumbs up, a share, a poke
One measly view
Baby, come on, give me a fix
Just one
Notification: ding-beep-buzzzz
I want to dissolve like alka-seltzer in tap water
Otherwise I'm a used-up toothpaste tube
Sitting in a dank medicine cabinet

If not, I am
A stick-figure created from matches
Drowning in a drum of gasoline

Not buried beneath pregnant soil
No. dumped into blue recycling bins.

[Ctrl +Alt+Delete]

airs and graces
made up faces
hide weary bones
and holey souls

plastic smiles
haven't seen you in awhile
as internal insecurity riles
the faint heart murmurs
in these desolate piles
that have run,
far too many miles


pacemakers racing,
cracking casings,
death dicing,
panic rising,
polite ruses,
for the aged muses
pacing this,
social green mile

daily shuffle, kerfuffle
as dark winds ruffle
the blue rinse perms
and only partially muffle
comments snide
about bottoms wide,
perkless *******
and unholy rests,
of these none too
permanent guests
at this palace of
mortality and malice.

end of hours
visitors gone
wilting flowers
and dinner gong
release the  nurses
put away the purses
slump and sway
end of another day
keeping the old foe
death at bay

granny nightie,
thoughts now flighty
with pins in hair and vacant stare
fervently wishing to be anywhere
wishing for some one to be there
but knowing, life's just not fair
when you've grown this old
knowing that each day is a dare
each day a gem sometimes rare
but more often gravel  
yet, better living than stone cold.
tho stone cold.....but without a care


here I stand,  I sit, I lie,
thinking dark thoughts
on the protracted art of dying.

At Number 20 social activities have ceased it's Peter And The Test Tube Babies with "Banned From The Pubs"
Flights and ferries are cancelled at number 19 it's Madonna with "Holiday"
In at 18 freedom has been taken it's Iron Maiden with "The prisoner"
Number 17 the situation is grim it's the Blue Oyster Cult with "Don't Fear The Reaper"
You'll be left on your own with number 16 it's Bananarama with "Cruel Summer"
Clubs are closed and the streets are empty at 15 it's The Specials with "Ghost Town"
Number 14 lives have altered drastically it's Disturbed with "Land Of Confusion"
Will normality ever return it's Duran, Duran at 13 with "Ordinary World"
At Number 12 The population is getting smaller, its Queen with "Another One Bites The Dust"
He's back but which one is he at number 11 it's Alice Cooper with " The Man Behind The Mask"
In at Number 10 it's a fare bet that you will its Gerry and the Pacemakers with "You'll Never Walk Alone"
Number 9 there isn't that many it's Pink Floyd with "Is There Anybody Out There ?"
At Number 8 ironically the Police will be watching you with "Every Breath You Take"
You may need gloves and sanitizer with Number 7 it's MC Hammer with "U Can't Touch This"
He thought you was his friend but nobody can help at Number 6 it's Black Sabbath with "Paranoid"
Something is threatening mankind but I think that's the government at Number 5 it's "Virus" by Iron Maiden
In at 4 We'll keep on fighting till the end it's Queen with "We Are The Champions"
At Number 3 on your trial again are the Police with "Don't Stand So Close To Me" or anyone else for that matter
Number 2 I think Ben E King will be afraid to "Stand By Me"
And for all you solitary brothers and sisters out there it's Seal at Number 1 with "Killer"

Yours sincerely, the ocean

(snippets of old diary pages)

she said it was just another autumn day. a golden haze of dust that came at nighttime to choke you. the dazing dirt dust fleeting, leaving a baby behind. the baby was almost as crisp as the leaves that crackled a hundred times before they were gone for good. she said she wanted to hold her baby so dearly close that it would never need for it another time, but she was too tired. too dizzy, she said. it was the time of year when everything was too fragile. even the baby.

i.
my dear child of autumn,
22 years have passed;
we are now big
and bold and still wish that we
always had.
the year blooms green then it glows
red, and before it sinks into the
blur of blue, it shrinks back to
a barren brown. but we only reside
in the echoing October. a foggy layer that
hangs in the air. a land of
orchestral rustling and dying
confetti. all away
from seeing the sky.


dear 7 year old me,
admire less how leaves drop
in fall, and jump around just a
little more. i wish you wrote
down the meaning of
happiness for i need to remind
you sometime.
you used to run

carefree on the damp ground
where those once-high leaves
ended up yearly. by nighttime
you bored your Ma with
questions of how God looked
like and why we
grew up. you’ll
grow up

knowing less of God
and more of dreams.
remember when you
scribbled down
“life is a dream” and you
cared less to add more?


ii.
dear 10 year old me, crying
yourself to sleep won’t help
your Ma keep a steady breath. your fingers won’t
do the job of pacemakers, your prayers
will seldom be answered.
i wish
you kept running wild and free in spite of
everything, but instead
you curled up, watching the other
kids spinning around
and grabbing your purple pen
you wrote down that
“some birds just do not
fly.”

iii.
dear 12 year old me, stop
waiting. don’t jump at every
doorbell ring. co-existence is
an apple buried in the crispy yellow, where
there will always be
worms. your Pa won’t make it this time. so,
don’t waste
time denying for it was
not just a nightmare. it was the yawning
mouth of darkness that devoured
and swallowed your hero away. now you
care enough to add that “death
is when we wake up” with water
almost drowning ‘death’ in a shallow
hole on a worn, thick-of-age
notebook paper.

iv.
dear 13, 14, and almost 15
year old me, i wish i could push
you forward, or maybe even down
stairs so you
w a k e  u p

your soul grew too heavy for
you, and it drags you
d
o
w
n.
all the time. you’re like a stone, cold
and still at the bottom
of a deep blue river
that never stops
flowing.
stop

counting the words you utter
per day. you write the things
you cannot say for the people
you’ll never have (again). you spend

the nights away wondering about
the void you feel in your bed,
in your arms, inside of you. a thick
frost that the lights – not even the
sun – could never burn. i wish i could
answer you. i wish i could
hold you.

but i still can’t.
i should also mention that
the bathtub is
not your bed and that lungs burning
is not the right way to
breathe.
so stop.
      stop.


v.
dear 17 year old me, now that you’re floating
half-breathing, you made friends,
many, but they will
leave you mid-way, i’m sorry.

people tell you you’re a ******,
but you’ll know who you are.
you’ll know.

you were just another introvert
but they’ll never understand
and you will live to prove
the world that success doesn’t
need noise. silence is bronze,
silver, and gold. a lull doesn’t impede
a war to break. you’ll live
even when you’re
“an island.”  
you’ll dance even
when you’re “a wallflower.”


22 years have passed,
my dear child of autumn,
you piece words together and let
your darker side spill
into the-once-blank papers
just so you feel like freeing,
flying. just to make room for
a deep well of relief
within you

amongst the million, million shades
of void.

now that you
don’t shut your eyes
when you cross the road.
now that you
are silent but
not just smoke.
quiet, but not
cold.

now that you
are born to live
and not to die

now that you
glow inside
out.
now that you
look the way you
really are.


write that down.
for you may need it
sometime.

she said it was just another autumn day. as soon as the sun rose, it took a long nap beyond the clouds. the sun never waved goodbye before slipping into the unknown. autumn gave birth to a fragile little thing, and i couldn’t tell if its heart was beating in time with mine. i just watched the baby from a distance. as if through old dusty glasses, the world was in slow motion. the world was distant. desperate. vague. even the baby.

Tiny tiny toes I let go
How could I survive be alone.
A walking pacemakers what I am swinging my arms as my head ticks and forgetting where I am.

What scientific wreckage is buried now
Beneath a chiseled granite sentiment?
Our clapped-out bones and flesh are not enough
To satisfy The Way That Things Work Now

Maybe our eyeglasses will hit the dirt
Along with dental fillings and dyed hair
Pacemakers with their batteries in place
Still firing dutifully after the peace

That now surpasses all understanding
With God (complete with medical branding)

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

יה
        יש

           what if...        yashwesh? jachwach po polsu
po polsku... a jakby... niet(?)
                   because the name is surd riddled...
not necessarily yashwesh but
yashwa...                     he is YSHVH to me...

ישוה          

through this day brought the fetus
to the marble
and wondered why am i tired
of the living and all glory unto the dead
so silent they storm
the palace of sounds

me hallucinating being a DJ
on egress of the crowd
from Wembley Stadium
listening to Boris Brejha...
several times interrupted
woke up munching on 64% cocoa dark
Wedel chocolate and salt toasted
peanuts
the bear vs the man vs the bear-man
and the man-child like
the emblem of the patron saint
of applying for a driving license

apparently all cyclists are *******
self entitled morons of bruised
rubber and top-knots bits-and-bobs
of jack: jack says no: n.b. hyde
and Sherlock Hyphen Skylock Showlock
first time seeing the *** army
youths of the urban environment

Europe is a museum
Europe is a museum

only when the hordes recede and hide
and bleach and bleach
two generations down:
the future is bi-racial is not bi-lingual
the future is mixed-race
i wish it was bi-lingual
likez zee schwitz zee schwitz

Lombardy and Saxony
and the Swedish House of Vaza
that came with crystals and salt
to the thrones of kings of wormhood
in the klepsydra Hydra
sow self to no-self

the ingenious idea of mingling buddhism
with christianity in the 1960s
of the 20th century...
but buddha was not Nepalese
he was an Indian Prince...
just like Jesus was not a Jew
a Hasid
Jesus was a Syrian perhaps
Assyrian perhaps
Egyptian most definitely
the historian Josephus ben Matthias cites
a false prophet of Egypt
who stormed the mount of olives
returned bitter with false faces
and thorough the distraught architecture of Rome

stands intact...
why would the ancient world care so much
about the jews killing jesus
rather than Barabbas (bar abba)
not ben abba

   ben: son of
bar: of sons of fathers

bar abba

                     Matthias bar Abba
Mathayas

                 Mathayas

Mathayas

                             not Matisyahu

Mathayas

         YAS vs YAH

in english the H is a surd a vowel catcher
not CH or samo-HA
but silent... not hatch 'atch 'itch
y'

               in Greek and in Hebrew...
please... for me to see at least...
no... no Greek... confusion with G on the Y...
me thinking the new testament
is a Hebrew-Greek propaganda smear
campaign again Rome but
so much smackers and hit busters
and what do we call these canisters
on the side of the street
motorists fueling themselves with laughing
gas...

Mathayas: iota help center: diacritical stupendous
elongate the i
using the appropriate symbols
to avoid bringing a TAIL TO I TO J
TAIL TO I TO J
JAPAN = SATAN
JAPAN = SATAN

ah! now greek some hebrew but certainly
#katakana...
    
          Pacific Ocean learning curve...

make the i longer like a j not a j not dz i.e. jot
jet jungle dzungla
dzungla...

        ヤパン
         サタン

                                ease my nerves: so much for being
born, but yet there are still people
with little nerve: big waves short sea
in my dream of recent i was taking
photographs of tsunamis
of Miller's Planet

          in my dreams i am on Miller's Planet...
Second Eden of Mann
on the Black Sun Gargantua
if humanity is still alive we will
turn earth into Giedi Prime:
earth nocturnal us morphed into luminescent
semi sea creatures
since all land will disappear
and we will return to being oceanic mammals

the death-tomb splendor of the pyramids
to graffiti onto the air
and all manner of passing
a suggestion against the desert:
mountains once stood here
now winds demonstrate and water is also
dragged by air all around
as long as the theaters and opera houses
and clocks the size of wrists of the gods one eyed
that one eyed implying second eye
a perma... human presence in foil
and grid and scoop
a silence a one eyed no-body n00b
nowhere nothing the strict residue of freed
intellectual caving
unlike riding a bicycle or riding a horse
but this exoskeleton
sk not school not wool skool
the youth and their rigid question-dyslexia...
but i hold not allegiance to England
and i can see England as i:

i once dreamed of travelling to India
and walking across the Islamic world
back to England...
God intervened...
India and the Islamic world
came to England...
now i'm either to leave England
to Australia New Zealand Hawaii...
but i'm not...
this garden a ship on the sea of carnage
seeking mouth of the river Styx
toward the land of Hades toward some thrill
of... what do we truly leave behind?

money, as concept i do not know...
money is also a saying:
better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven
flip of a coin
why is money two-faced
Mammon the 1st and Mammon the 2nd...
money is two faced...
the one eyed god invoked on one face
and the regal human on the flip face ordeal
that the moon must
drink up one ocean and **** it out
in another while also being the bartender
for penguins on Antarctica...

toward the second waking of lost earth
abandoned desert of these brats' spoiled riches
in conjuring rain
onto the deserts
like the Soviets conjured glorious
sunny weather on day rememberence
having conquered nations in germany
no thought of the re-emergent tsar nicholas
nevetcky -
               bald, scalp of Berlin....

my own mythos at stake, my own nightmares
will not be owned by others
i will reign (over) my nightmares
and call them heightened abodes
                                 google: peace-keeping
pacemakers backgammon is a **** game
only made fun on the attack
but then the luck of the draw
makes this game anti-strategic
and chess is no o-era P i.e. chess is ****
and chess is anti-intellectual
because chess is nakedness robotic
humanized in Dune's Mentats...
semi-gay quadrants of associating the tetragrammaton
to a god with four faces
the primitive allure of Islamic one one one one
this pseudo drone narrative
translated out of Arabic is a threat
and not welcome...

because intact and -ness and integrity
Judaism is not a social club
but Islam is dying a death unseen
by seeing a proselyte branch of Semi-Sufi
Soothe E           e         e         e       e       ease...
's plural missing
also not possessive: but can be...
Paul's... the chair the chair's crooked posture
in van Gogh Gohg Gogh's eye(s) zzzzzz no snooze...

chairs stacked up up and into spiderwebs of
breaking the impenetrable foliage of
comparative literature of how far the eye can see
through a pine forest of Europe
an oak forest of England
or across the horizon melt
the non-event horizon standing on the shore
of Kauai looking at the sky and the Pacific

the sky and the Atlantic are different...
more amassing of the receding
earth into the sea... what emerged as man
so forever and our Prometheus gene
to continue until the sun becomes a black
hole: our ambition...
to purge by no calamity: certain as we are
to follow the Route of House Aquarius Harkonnen
to the naked flesh devoid of sun
or tan this albino monstrosity of liquid and
pseudo-muscular tensions
these hybrid tongue-masquerade-gherkin phallus
****** brain miasmas... fried high DSL chiral...
brain mantras instead of
brain realities
brain mantras brain mantras people's
literacy skills a facade of ancient lore
of priests
now all exposed to literacy and...
like the advent of the internet
the advent of mass literacy was a failure...
when it happened or why is rather mysterious
to get rid of useful codependents
the useful friendly codependents
of the illiterate class
that could also somehow burden themselves
with hyper-status in numeracy...
i have known several dyslexic folk who were
hyper numeratic... erratic with the use of numbers
to their advantage...

**** with letters but good with numbers
and not the sort of mathematics
that is borderline language
like algebra and physics and chemistry...
but the sort of language
of numbers that's economics and medicine
and crowd control and recognizing ****** expressions
when someone is lying
and not playing a game of poker...

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!

Let's stand together and boycott EVERYTHING white men have invented: the automobile with its internal combustion engine, the telephone, airplanes, helicopters, the flush toilet, integrated circuitry, vinyl flooring, plastic, T.V., radio, movie film, the microphone, aspirin, penicillin, syringes, refrigeration, condoms, the I.U.D., guns & bullets, bowling *****, Swiss cheese, coat hangers, wall paper, ice cream, pencils, welders, sprinkler pumps, Head & Shoulders dandruff shampoo, dental floss, pacemakers, shaving cream, whipped cream, Brylcreem, the E.B.T. card, brace & bit, pop rivets, cantilever bridges, battle ships! Let's show whitey that we don't need the likes of him and his stinking technology!!!