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Zeeb Nov 2022
In yellowed pages of radio lore
Find such things reported before
Oft’ dismissed with laugh and spurn
A starry night would see my turn

Casting my signal to the sky.  Anyone answer - give it a try.
It won’t be N5 JR or GG, for Junior and Pete are silent key
But if they would answer should that bring surprise?  
Their signals, we know, still travel the skies
I’ll send fourth my dashes and dots to the cold-blue
For to join with those from good friends that I once knew

Hark, an encouraging word be returned!
Sent patiently slow -  clean crisp and neat
I find myself a teen again
In QSO with Pete

But oh, now a critic emerge from the mist
complaining again 'bout my sloppy fist
It’s JR back on the air I hear
Sending too fast for either my ear
It's been 40 years and six months to the day
And this is all you have to say?

For all of this an explanation?
Our dear smug JR needs affirmation
Okay, you’re still king of high speed and high power
Surprise for you - I now own your tower!

Good copy JR?  Need I send that again?
Your father said "Take it - you were his friend"  (still am)

And as for Pete, well that’s easy to see
He was just checking on me

Yes through the magic of my ham station
I've learned much of ghosts and their relative stagnation
Zeeb Jan 2022
Bible readin'  porkchop eatin'
Just plain folks
Jackboot lickin' progressive kickin'
Just plain dolts

Routin tootin'  flag salutin'
Just plain folks
Diversity hatin',  minority blamin'
Just plain dolts

Neighbor helpin'   hound dog yelpin'
Just plain folks
Oxy poppin' history moppin'
Just plain dolts

Turnin' soil and tractor oil
Just plain folks
Gadsden flyin'   truth denyin'
Juist plain dolts

Preserve makin'   apple pie bakin'
Just plain folks
Mouthpiece TV,  supports insurgency
Just plain dolts

Fence a mendin'  cattle tendin'
Just plain folks
Vote suppressin'  democracy endin'
Just plain dolts
Zeeb Apr 2021
Dumb, dumb Daddy what has happened to you?
Are you the same man that I once knew?

See the little girl, napping on your shoulder?  That's me.
In your undershirt - the smell of Old Spice, and your chest-hair, some of it gray, forges in me a warm and valued memory - peace, security, love.  Forever with me!

But dumb, dumb Daddy, is your mind at its end?
Do you actually believe, this **** that you send?

Walter Cronkite was worthy of your trust, and you were safe in listening.
Your parent’s and grandparent’s truth-telling and faith in humanity have instilled outdated notions.
Has being reared in a more honest time rendered you this gullible?
Shall we blame that?
No one knew you carried such liability, that your attention and beliefs could be so easily captured, that you may lack common sense even.  You can't tell truth from falsehoods, or spot a demagogue.

I once thought you so smart.
Dumb, dumb Daddy, do you get out of the rain?
Did Schlitz, “hi-*****” and cigarettes ****-up your brain?

Stay away from your computer - it's not from your time
Get a flip-phone
Try to come home
Zeeb Apr 2021
Mr. Bill Roberts, approachable man, a great pack of young boys we were
His son ran with us, a fine fellow too, the best boy I know that I knew

So common back then, the boys of their dads, to brag and show off the mementos
Of war far away, though close it would stay, to our father’s lives every day

Mr. Bill Roberts unbuckled his belt in front of our youthful, fixed eyes
We’d all seen his metals and one stood apart, a golden and purple small heart

In tract-housing built for the men who in droves, were lucky to come back
His belt was quite skinny, just right for the times, I remember it silver and black

Now off with the trouser, the work of a Mauser, brought upon us boys quite a gasp
As promised that day, the price of the metal, was fully on display

The bullet went in, and then took a tumble, for to continue its buzz-cutting way
To lay the man flat, and he said to us, “It was then that I started to pray”

He’d seen his men fall, had no reason at all, to believe with the living he’d stay
But “Shook off the sad sap” to use his own words, his own life he would save, that day

The dutiful work of his heart
An evident and unwelcome sight
Pressing his hands to his leg with his might
His own body he would have to fight

Fight for your life young soldier, you know you want to grow older
Your girl is at home and Daddy is dead
Your Mom needs you.  Find your old bed

The din of combat subsided as familiar faces appeared
A dream commenced and Mr. Bill Roberts was home
Zeeb Dec 2019
Ones and zeros hold the key
For the eventual displacement of you and me
Must we unbind our worth perceived
From the job and identity we’ve received?
Seems so I’d say, why just this year
A driverless truck crossed the country clear
We must keep meaning, a useful place
for to preserve the human race
Or will it be synthetic ******
While good ole’ Maxo does our chores
Zeeb Dec 2019
Atonement ain’t happened if it still feels bad to think about it, man.  And it still feels bad for me all the time, no matter what the  gray beard veterans say, with their stupid caps full of pins and ******' hair growin' out of their ears, or what ******' pill they give me.  It feels so bad I ***** if I don't get my mind on to something else.  And look how skinny I am.  I'm fading away.

I don’t care what that ****** they sent us said.  Talk to my wife.  Yeah, right! He can go back to his clinic or wherever he came from and stop pretending he understands us.

You ain’t never going to shake off that memory, so stop trying - I'm thinking now.  You got to live with it.  Live with what you done.  Live with it till you die, and ****, possibly even after you die.  You got to forgive yourself to live with it now and get God to forgive you if you don’t want to carry it over.  Know what I’m tryin’ to say?  The God part is easy, Chaplain said.  My part ain't workin'.  Is yours?

That "pretending to be cool" guy was a ******' idiot.
You know who I really need to talk to?  The devil.  I'd beg Satan to give me my punishment and then set me free to live for a change.  I can't get that job done on my own.  The devil may be the only ****** that can fix me.  I don't care what he'd do.  I think the more he burned my ***, the better it would feel.  When he was done punishing me,  satisfied and smiling, I'd call it all even then, and give whatever was left of me permission to live.  Permission to look forward instead of backward all the time.

I'm supposed to tell this **** to my wife?  I'd like to see her face.  She's barely hanging on now.
Zeeb Dec 2019
In darkened space behind a sofa-set
I pause my return from the kitchen
The eyes of my family are watching TV
And for that they cannot see me

What’s on the screen is not to my taste
Too innocent and foolish – It's true.  I am quite smug!
But the laughs, the smiles, and sparkling eyes
Oh my family, on my heart you do tug

A gentle warm wash pours over my soul
An unexpected deep sweet euphoria

Just a simple reminder how blessed it can be
To be part of a family
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