Many people, including myself, are not happy with the current state of College Football. It is ridiculous that there is no playoff system in place to insure a more fair and reasonable determination of exactly who is number one.
I have heard arguments against a playoff, ranging from too many games for the teams participating, the destruction of the traditional bowl system, to a huge loss in revenue for member schools.
I have answers for all these objections. First of all, I would institute a 10 game maximum on the regular season (it used to be that way) and an 8 team playoff bracket. Obviously the two teams who make the final would play the most games and it would be capped at 13. (same as now).
As for the Bowls, I propose that the four national quarterfinal games would be the Rose, Orange, Fiesta and Sugar Bowls with the winners advancing to semi-finals and a BCS Final similar to the final four. All the lower bowls could keep business as usual, as they have no say in the national championship anyway.
The revenue question is answered easily as well...no one can deny that football is BY FAR the most popular sport, the revunue generated by the "bowl quarters", the national semi-finals and the championship game would be nothing short of HUGE. The TV ratings alone would make the NCAA and the member schools small fortunes.
As of today, I have taken the liberty of mapping out exactly what a playoff like this might look like this year...it gives us some intriguing match-ups and doesn't leave out possible unbeatens like Boise St. and T.C.U. My projected winners are nothing more than my opinion, but I think it makes my point that this system would be AWESOME for the fans.
Ohio st.
Oregon
(Rose Bowl)
Stanford
T.C.U.
(Orange Bowl)
Boise St.
L.S.U.
(Sugar Bowl)
Wisconsin
Auburn
(Fiesta Bowl)
I think the semi-finals might be Oregon vs. T.C.U. with Oregon winning and Boise St. vs. Wisconsin with Boise st. winning. That would make the BCS championship game Oregon against Boise St. with Oregon winning it all...and NO one could spit sour grapes and say they didn't get a chance. I know someone will say what about the 9th best team that didn't get a chance in the playoff, I figure if you finish 9th, you had to have lost a game or two at least and are taking your chances with being left out.
Now that would some exciting college football that the fans would go crazy for!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Cartel of the Infernal Machines (Chapter 1)
The Village
In the spring lull before the summer storms, our sleepy little village died. The golden fields reflected the cold black grimace frozen on every face. The end came at a traditionally happy time when the crops were growing with vines heavy with fruit. This is when the skies filled with bright metal lights and the whine of engines burnt the air.
I had went to the village to fetch water for my father who was plowing the field that ran adjacent to our land. It was a warm day with a freshening breeze that promised a shower in the evening. As I walked languidly down the dusty path I remembered my mother's touch with a smile.
Whenever I or my sister were troubled she would smile sweetly and take both of our small child's hands into her field worn ones and calm us. The warmth of a mother's touch is all healing and all powerful. At least it was for me at seven years old.
I heard it before I saw it. A high-pitched whine that I could not place. I ran into the square and looked up just as the sky exploded with activity. Metallic lights and bright flashes blinded me. I couldn't make out any shapes, just a glimmer of movement.
The flashes faded as the craft slowed to hover over the land. So many appeared that they seemed to fill the horizon. I was in awe, still unafraid of the strange sight up in the sky. Fear would not be long in dawning as the dark intentions of the visitors became apparent.
My elder sister ran toward me screaming and pointing into the sky. She was fourteen and excitable, not a good trait. My father had always prided himself on his composure and had taught me to do the same. I thought it funny that I was the calmer of the two of us at this strange time.
I tersely told Elke to calm down and took hold of both of her hands for effect and looked straight into your eyes. It worked, as I saw the trapped rabbit look go out of her eyes to be replaced with curiosity. Our momentary control was shattered soon after as we watched helpless as our mother was burned alive.
In the spring lull before the summer storms, our sleepy little village died. The golden fields reflected the cold black grimace frozen on every face. The end came at a traditionally happy time when the crops were growing with vines heavy with fruit. This is when the skies filled with bright metal lights and the whine of engines burnt the air.
I had went to the village to fetch water for my father who was plowing the field that ran adjacent to our land. It was a warm day with a freshening breeze that promised a shower in the evening. As I walked languidly down the dusty path I remembered my mother's touch with a smile.
Whenever I or my sister were troubled she would smile sweetly and take both of our small child's hands into her field worn ones and calm us. The warmth of a mother's touch is all healing and all powerful. At least it was for me at seven years old.
I heard it before I saw it. A high-pitched whine that I could not place. I ran into the square and looked up just as the sky exploded with activity. Metallic lights and bright flashes blinded me. I couldn't make out any shapes, just a glimmer of movement.
The flashes faded as the craft slowed to hover over the land. So many appeared that they seemed to fill the horizon. I was in awe, still unafraid of the strange sight up in the sky. Fear would not be long in dawning as the dark intentions of the visitors became apparent.
My elder sister ran toward me screaming and pointing into the sky. She was fourteen and excitable, not a good trait. My father had always prided himself on his composure and had taught me to do the same. I thought it funny that I was the calmer of the two of us at this strange time.
I tersely told Elke to calm down and took hold of both of her hands for effect and looked straight into your eyes. It worked, as I saw the trapped rabbit look go out of her eyes to be replaced with curiosity. Our momentary control was shattered soon after as we watched helpless as our mother was burned alive.
changing gears...
I have decided to back away from poetry for a while and focus on a short story that has been rattling around in my mind for a while. The plan is to post one chapter a week and see where this thing goes.
PLEASE post comments to let me know what you think as the story rolls along. I can't get better without imput.
jeem
PLEASE post comments to let me know what you think as the story rolls along. I can't get better without imput.
jeem
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Back Yard Drawl
By Jim Markley
Saturday September 11 is the 25th anniversary of an event Major League Baseball would rather have us all forget. On this date in 1985, Pete Rose slapped a single into the outfield for the 4192nd hit of his career.
With that hit, Rose surpassed baseball immortal Ty Cobb and went on to finish his career with 4256 hits, 3562 games played and 14053 at-bats, all of which are all-time marks in the sport.
Of course Rose also went on to be banned from the game he loves due to a gambling problem that revealed he bet on his own team while managing the Cincinnati Reds.
The grand old game had not seen such a sordid spectacle since “Shoeless Joe” and the Black Sox Scandal of 1919.
While as of now, there is no ground swell of support for Rose to be included in Cooperstown, that situation could change in the next few years as the baseball powers that be start to consider players of the steroid era for enshrinement.
Are Rose’s transgressions any more heinous than the juicing behemoths who wiped away both Maris and Aaron from the record book? That will be the question.
Will those who came forward and were honest about their performance enhancing drug use be treated differently than those who consistently denied their involvement, until they were caught red-handed? (Like Rose)
Gambling addiction is seen as a mental disorder of the nature of alcoholism or drug addiction and the treatments are similar. Several admitted drug addicts are in the hall along with many alcoholics.
If flawed heroes like Ferguson Jenkins (an admitted cocaine abuser) and Mickey Mantle (a historic alcoholic) are in Cooperstown despite their problems, does Rose not deserve the same treatment and consideration?
This is not a plea to enshrine Pete Rose.
It is a plea for consistency of treatment. If baseball writers choose to exclude Rose, along with all steroid-tainted athletes from the 90’s from the Hall of Fame that seems fair and is their right.
What would not be right would be to give hallowed spots of honor to players who knowingly gained a competitive advantage by using performance-enhancing drugs, whether they admitted it freely or were forced into it.
If the door is closed to Bonds, Clemens, and Sosa, then it seems to follow that admitted users would also be left out in the cold. Players like Alex Rodriquez, Andy Pettite and Jason Giambi should not be considered for the hall.
The worst case scenario would be a piece-meal approach where each player is rewarded or denied based on whether they appear “sorry” or contrite” about their actions.
A person can appear very sorry, but are they very sorry for what they did, or are they simply very sorry they got caught? Knowing the true motivations of others is probably the slickest of slippery slopes.
It seems strange that Rodriquez admits using P.E.D.’s at the beginning of last season after trying to cover it up and apparently all is forgiven.
McGuire pleaded the 5th before Congress to avoid prejury charges and is now the hitting instructor for the Cardinals.
Pete Rose however, has to buy a ticket in order to get into Great American Ballpark and watch the Reds.
I hope the baseball writers do not decide to tread on this one.
By Jim Markley
Saturday September 11 is the 25th anniversary of an event Major League Baseball would rather have us all forget. On this date in 1985, Pete Rose slapped a single into the outfield for the 4192nd hit of his career.
With that hit, Rose surpassed baseball immortal Ty Cobb and went on to finish his career with 4256 hits, 3562 games played and 14053 at-bats, all of which are all-time marks in the sport.
Of course Rose also went on to be banned from the game he loves due to a gambling problem that revealed he bet on his own team while managing the Cincinnati Reds.
The grand old game had not seen such a sordid spectacle since “Shoeless Joe” and the Black Sox Scandal of 1919.
While as of now, there is no ground swell of support for Rose to be included in Cooperstown, that situation could change in the next few years as the baseball powers that be start to consider players of the steroid era for enshrinement.
Are Rose’s transgressions any more heinous than the juicing behemoths who wiped away both Maris and Aaron from the record book? That will be the question.
Will those who came forward and were honest about their performance enhancing drug use be treated differently than those who consistently denied their involvement, until they were caught red-handed? (Like Rose)
Gambling addiction is seen as a mental disorder of the nature of alcoholism or drug addiction and the treatments are similar. Several admitted drug addicts are in the hall along with many alcoholics.
If flawed heroes like Ferguson Jenkins (an admitted cocaine abuser) and Mickey Mantle (a historic alcoholic) are in Cooperstown despite their problems, does Rose not deserve the same treatment and consideration?
This is not a plea to enshrine Pete Rose.
It is a plea for consistency of treatment. If baseball writers choose to exclude Rose, along with all steroid-tainted athletes from the 90’s from the Hall of Fame that seems fair and is their right.
What would not be right would be to give hallowed spots of honor to players who knowingly gained a competitive advantage by using performance-enhancing drugs, whether they admitted it freely or were forced into it.
If the door is closed to Bonds, Clemens, and Sosa, then it seems to follow that admitted users would also be left out in the cold. Players like Alex Rodriquez, Andy Pettite and Jason Giambi should not be considered for the hall.
The worst case scenario would be a piece-meal approach where each player is rewarded or denied based on whether they appear “sorry” or contrite” about their actions.
A person can appear very sorry, but are they very sorry for what they did, or are they simply very sorry they got caught? Knowing the true motivations of others is probably the slickest of slippery slopes.
It seems strange that Rodriquez admits using P.E.D.’s at the beginning of last season after trying to cover it up and apparently all is forgiven.
McGuire pleaded the 5th before Congress to avoid prejury charges and is now the hitting instructor for the Cardinals.
Pete Rose however, has to buy a ticket in order to get into Great American Ballpark and watch the Reds.
I hope the baseball writers do not decide to tread on this one.
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Field
A rambling well-worn meadow
Showing it's age and wear
Still interesting
If you look deeply enough
Every path overrun
All manner of brambles and overgrowth
Vibrant and forbidding
Pastel and severe
Hard to find
Inaccessable to most
A curious puzzle
My mind
Showing it's age and wear
Still interesting
If you look deeply enough
Every path overrun
All manner of brambles and overgrowth
Vibrant and forbidding
Pastel and severe
Hard to find
Inaccessable to most
A curious puzzle
My mind
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
College...
I had my last day at college today. What an experience, I loved it. I learned so much from so many people that it is hard to believe. I cannot possibly thank everyone I should but I will try to acknowledge some folks...Mun Joe Day,Katie, Dut Dut, Jimmy, Kristen, Russ, and Joe Wolfe I will miss you guys. Professors Atkinson, Yoak and Young, you were amazing.
My biggest thank you however, has to go out to Torie. I could not have gotten through all the things i did in the last year with out your knowledge, patience, and encouragement. You know your stuff and are kind enough to share it with a bunch of juvenile smart Alicks who sometimes wouldn't let you get a word in edgewise. You put up with a lot of stuff...and always showed grace and charity. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done to help me actually get a DEGREE.
My biggest thank you however, has to go out to Torie. I could not have gotten through all the things i did in the last year with out your knowledge, patience, and encouragement. You know your stuff and are kind enough to share it with a bunch of juvenile smart Alicks who sometimes wouldn't let you get a word in edgewise. You put up with a lot of stuff...and always showed grace and charity. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done to help me actually get a DEGREE.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Anxiety
A knotted and black feeling
Wrapping itself tight
Mind races from option to option
Dwindling returns breed more stress
Needing a bolt from the blue
An extending vista
To replace walls encroaching
And doors closing
Identity questioned
Value in doubt
Answers are better
Unanswered questions sting
Wrapping itself tight
Mind races from option to option
Dwindling returns breed more stress
Needing a bolt from the blue
An extending vista
To replace walls encroaching
And doors closing
Identity questioned
Value in doubt
Answers are better
Unanswered questions sting
Monday, July 19, 2010
August
Powerboat backs from the quay impatiently
Low and sleek, loud and obnoxious
It's green and pink hull glistening
As it roars upstream madly
Exhaust blatting disturbs the humid stillness
Running from the moist oppressive air
Temporary comfort in the middle of misery
An escape from the worries of today
And the nameless fears of tommorow
Slashing the water, as the very air drips of it
Impossible to overcome the moist grip
August hangs upon us, like a dazed prizefighter
Unwilling to release us for fear of dishonor
Cool breezes blow only as a portent
Precursor of violent storms in the offing
The brisk kiss of September seems distant
Crisp air and mellow sunlight anticipated
As humidity gives way to cool gusts from the north
September seems far in the distance
As we are held in the stagnant pool of August
Low and sleek, loud and obnoxious
It's green and pink hull glistening
As it roars upstream madly
Exhaust blatting disturbs the humid stillness
Running from the moist oppressive air
Temporary comfort in the middle of misery
An escape from the worries of today
And the nameless fears of tommorow
Slashing the water, as the very air drips of it
Impossible to overcome the moist grip
August hangs upon us, like a dazed prizefighter
Unwilling to release us for fear of dishonor
Cool breezes blow only as a portent
Precursor of violent storms in the offing
The brisk kiss of September seems distant
Crisp air and mellow sunlight anticipated
As humidity gives way to cool gusts from the north
September seems far in the distance
As we are held in the stagnant pool of August
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Angie and Josh's wedding
My wishes for you…
Memories without sharp edges
Joy to offset heartache
A long and happy life
The essence of give and take
Time to reflect warmly
On the wonders you two share
A full and poignant life
As you become a perfect pair
Friends to share your happiness
To wring out all the zest
Always find the good in life
And lay down all the rest
A union made in heaven
All the joy that you deserve
As two combine to build one life
May you always feel the word
With love on your wedding day,
Uncle Jim
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Scrub Planet (I dreamed this last night)
He landed by accident on the Scrub. His navigation system must have been affected by the radiation. By the time he realized, it was too late to apply afterburner and break free of the powerful gravitational field. Luckily, the safety systems were intact and he glided to the surface light as a feather.
As he climbed out, he remembered the tales of humanoid life on the Scrub. They were said to be human-like with a faint blue and orange glow. Supposedly friendly, no one had actually returned from such a visit. The danger here was the left over radiation.
The land was dry and cracked and devoid of life. He was glad he had emptied the cockpit food dispenser of all non-perishables and stocked up heavily on water. It looked to be a long and lonely walk.
He marched toward a faint purple rise in the landscape for four "days". The fact that daylight came and went here every four hours would take a little getting used to. Loneliness began to overtake him, but he was not alone.
They scuttled back and forth, just out of his line of sight. Eight-legged creatures with long brown furry snouts. The legs were black and had long stiff hair, while the muzzle ended in a mouth full of large canine-like teeth. The most disquieting feature had to be the glowing, intelligent eyes.
As time passed, the creatures became bolder. They began cutting back and forth in front of his path. He was so terrified by their appearance that he didn't realize they were attempting to herd him away from the humanoid settlement on the rise. His response was to change direction to avoid them, completely unaware that they had him surrounded with their rearguard out of sight.
One morning, he awoke to see one of them sitting a mere five feet away. The creature didn't stir, it just sat there calmly observing him. This encounter did much to sooth his nerves, he had sensed the intelligence behind the eyes. Creatures that had intellect could be dealt with much easier than blindly instinctual animals.
As he sat up, he could feel the creature trying to mentally communicate with him. It was sending some sort of mewling wet heavy thoughts his way that he had no chance to decipher. The only thing he could sense is that it was terribly hungry. He reached in his pack and pulled out a small nutritional pack. The weird glowing eyes followed every move. As he unwrapped it the creature came closer and sniffed expectantly.
He slowly tossed the morsel toward the creature's feet. It jumped, briefly startled, and then lowered it's muzzle and ravenously fed. The creature looked up when it was finished and made a sound not unlike a cat meowing. He thought he could see gratitude in it's eyes.
The sound obviously meant something to the other creatures around him. He watched in rapt amazement as seven others gradually appeared and entered his little camp from all angles. They all sat down in a circle around him and patiently waited for him to feed them too. He was not afraid as the collie-spiders surrounded him,(that's what they looked like, after all) but he was overwhelmed by the host of alien voices now trying to make contact all at once.
He fed them all, feeling not like a man feeding a stray dog or cat, but more like a park visitor on Earth sneaking food to the bears. As they ate, he could sense a sort of mental hum of satisfaction. One by one, they curled up and went to sleep after eating, still in the rough circle around him.
Four hours later a new dawn arose. He awoke to the same strange humming in his mind. Languidly he began to stretch for the new day, but he couldn't seem to move. The humming seemed to be getting louder and louder. As he struggled to open his eyes, he realized he was paralyzed. The creatures were around him, feeding. Their bite had done its job and immobilized him. It did not however, mask the pain. He looked downward and could see them opening his chest and tearing out huge strips of flesh. His last gibbering thought before the mercy of death was that the creatures were still loudly humming in gratitude.
As he climbed out, he remembered the tales of humanoid life on the Scrub. They were said to be human-like with a faint blue and orange glow. Supposedly friendly, no one had actually returned from such a visit. The danger here was the left over radiation.
The land was dry and cracked and devoid of life. He was glad he had emptied the cockpit food dispenser of all non-perishables and stocked up heavily on water. It looked to be a long and lonely walk.
He marched toward a faint purple rise in the landscape for four "days". The fact that daylight came and went here every four hours would take a little getting used to. Loneliness began to overtake him, but he was not alone.
They scuttled back and forth, just out of his line of sight. Eight-legged creatures with long brown furry snouts. The legs were black and had long stiff hair, while the muzzle ended in a mouth full of large canine-like teeth. The most disquieting feature had to be the glowing, intelligent eyes.
As time passed, the creatures became bolder. They began cutting back and forth in front of his path. He was so terrified by their appearance that he didn't realize they were attempting to herd him away from the humanoid settlement on the rise. His response was to change direction to avoid them, completely unaware that they had him surrounded with their rearguard out of sight.
One morning, he awoke to see one of them sitting a mere five feet away. The creature didn't stir, it just sat there calmly observing him. This encounter did much to sooth his nerves, he had sensed the intelligence behind the eyes. Creatures that had intellect could be dealt with much easier than blindly instinctual animals.
As he sat up, he could feel the creature trying to mentally communicate with him. It was sending some sort of mewling wet heavy thoughts his way that he had no chance to decipher. The only thing he could sense is that it was terribly hungry. He reached in his pack and pulled out a small nutritional pack. The weird glowing eyes followed every move. As he unwrapped it the creature came closer and sniffed expectantly.
He slowly tossed the morsel toward the creature's feet. It jumped, briefly startled, and then lowered it's muzzle and ravenously fed. The creature looked up when it was finished and made a sound not unlike a cat meowing. He thought he could see gratitude in it's eyes.
The sound obviously meant something to the other creatures around him. He watched in rapt amazement as seven others gradually appeared and entered his little camp from all angles. They all sat down in a circle around him and patiently waited for him to feed them too. He was not afraid as the collie-spiders surrounded him,(that's what they looked like, after all) but he was overwhelmed by the host of alien voices now trying to make contact all at once.
He fed them all, feeling not like a man feeding a stray dog or cat, but more like a park visitor on Earth sneaking food to the bears. As they ate, he could sense a sort of mental hum of satisfaction. One by one, they curled up and went to sleep after eating, still in the rough circle around him.
Four hours later a new dawn arose. He awoke to the same strange humming in his mind. Languidly he began to stretch for the new day, but he couldn't seem to move. The humming seemed to be getting louder and louder. As he struggled to open his eyes, he realized he was paralyzed. The creatures were around him, feeding. Their bite had done its job and immobilized him. It did not however, mask the pain. He looked downward and could see them opening his chest and tearing out huge strips of flesh. His last gibbering thought before the mercy of death was that the creatures were still loudly humming in gratitude.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Freedom
The 4th of July, Independence Day. Some screech loudly about their personal freedoms and their right to do everything from marry a member of the same sex to owning and discharging a firearm. Usually those yelling the most are probably the ones who should be restricted in some way from their desires.
My experiences have taught me that many people who loudly demand their rights are often the first to attempt to limit the rights of others. Such hypocrisy is galling, and seems to be pretty much par for the course. Is total freedom not the ultimate aim? Some would call that anarchy.
I have seen many shirts and bumper stickers declaring that freedom is not free. Well of course it isn't. Everything in life has a cost in one way or another. I put forth the proposition that most of us really don't even WANT total freedom. We would be terrified.
Our nature is to follow and be comforted by order and structure. We would feel like we were in free fall from an airplane without rules and regulations. If I can drive 100 mph down a city street, so can you, and if we meet in an intersection, we will both learn about the freedoms afforded us in the afterlife.
Enjoy the freedoms of our great nation on the 4th...but watch what you wish for. It could be far more than you bargained for or are ready to accept.
My experiences have taught me that many people who loudly demand their rights are often the first to attempt to limit the rights of others. Such hypocrisy is galling, and seems to be pretty much par for the course. Is total freedom not the ultimate aim? Some would call that anarchy.
I have seen many shirts and bumper stickers declaring that freedom is not free. Well of course it isn't. Everything in life has a cost in one way or another. I put forth the proposition that most of us really don't even WANT total freedom. We would be terrified.
Our nature is to follow and be comforted by order and structure. We would feel like we were in free fall from an airplane without rules and regulations. If I can drive 100 mph down a city street, so can you, and if we meet in an intersection, we will both learn about the freedoms afforded us in the afterlife.
Enjoy the freedoms of our great nation on the 4th...but watch what you wish for. It could be far more than you bargained for or are ready to accept.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Uncertainty
Some people feed on uncertainty like a drug. The challenge and unexpected nature of life drives them on to greater and greater achievements. I am not one of those people. The veiled threat that is insecurity leaves me quaking. What if? A question with a thousand thousand endings, that never pan out the way they are envisioned.
While some live the metaphor of life as the biggest and tallest roller coaster imaginable, I prefer the sedate Model T ride, or perhaps the water ride with the big refreshing splash at the end.
While some live the metaphor of life as the biggest and tallest roller coaster imaginable, I prefer the sedate Model T ride, or perhaps the water ride with the big refreshing splash at the end.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Cooling Night
Went for a drive
In the cooling night
The moon followed
As if alive
Dew and mist
Refreshing fell
Bright moonlight
My skin was kissed
The bright onslaught
Shadows recede
Revealing much
The night has taught
Til last moon is wane
Lunar power fading
Sun advances in the east
To precursor the dawn
In the cooling night
The moon followed
As if alive
Dew and mist
Refreshing fell
Bright moonlight
My skin was kissed
The bright onslaught
Shadows recede
Revealing much
The night has taught
Til last moon is wane
Lunar power fading
Sun advances in the east
To precursor the dawn
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
The Apple
Saw it there glistening
Ripe and out of reach
An apple I had to have
Not an orange or a peach
I tried to climb the branch
I shimmied up the trunk
The apple sat there waiting
Me in a dismal funk
I had to have that apple
So shiny, new and red
I'd grip the bark for purchase
Until my fingers bled
Just then I had a glimmer
That soon sparked a full-fledged thought
The ladder in the basement
Was the tool that I had sought
I soon had it in position
And was halfway up the tree
Til the object of my craving
Was right in front of me
I strained and plucked the apple
But my toil was all for not
For the backside of my apple
Was full of worms and rot
Ripe and out of reach
An apple I had to have
Not an orange or a peach
I tried to climb the branch
I shimmied up the trunk
The apple sat there waiting
Me in a dismal funk
I had to have that apple
So shiny, new and red
I'd grip the bark for purchase
Until my fingers bled
Just then I had a glimmer
That soon sparked a full-fledged thought
The ladder in the basement
Was the tool that I had sought
I soon had it in position
And was halfway up the tree
Til the object of my craving
Was right in front of me
I strained and plucked the apple
But my toil was all for not
For the backside of my apple
Was full of worms and rot
Monday, June 21, 2010
An encounter
I met a woman yesterday on the phone. She loved me at first. Sweet and kind words flowed as she attempted to get the things she wanted. Her trip became rocky as it became apparent that I was not willing to meet her demands...gradually she became abusive and sarcastic as she realized I simply could not do what she wanted me to do.
Her attitude and verbiage affected me, I was bothered by it. As time went on I was able to see the humor of her desperation and simply let it go. She has the problem, not I. People are just nicer when they get their way and some lash out when they don't.
Her attitude and verbiage affected me, I was bothered by it. As time went on I was able to see the humor of her desperation and simply let it go. She has the problem, not I. People are just nicer when they get their way and some lash out when they don't.
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Void
It looks toward me expectantly
I hover on the cusp
The magnetic pull always strong
Any deviation from the path
Merely a sideshow
Inevitable and inescapable
Meaning of our dalliances
Lost forever to the void
Just a beginning
Middle
The mysterious end
A beginning
Or a rest
A final chapter
A winking
Nothing at all
I hover on the cusp
The magnetic pull always strong
Any deviation from the path
Merely a sideshow
Inevitable and inescapable
Meaning of our dalliances
Lost forever to the void
Just a beginning
Middle
The mysterious end
A beginning
Or a rest
A final chapter
A winking
Nothing at all
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Into The Wilderness
A forced march
Anxious and uncomfortable
Lovely and frightening scene
Calming and alien
Sounds enormous treachery
A trek through
Unspeakable green things
Grown thick, inscrutable
No answers forthcoming
Only more questions
Deeper ever deeper
Anxious and uncomfortable
Lovely and frightening scene
Calming and alien
Sounds enormous treachery
A trek through
Unspeakable green things
Grown thick, inscrutable
No answers forthcoming
Only more questions
Deeper ever deeper
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Summer Of My Discontent (1)
Things are not as I wish them to be...so many changes in such a short period of time is extremely unsettling. My biggest concern at this point is security for myself and my loved ones in the future. If I honestly examine things I must come to the conclusion that I am actually alright, for now...what else is there really?
Hell Is Full
of reasons and excuses
unrealized hopes and dreams
unspoken disappointments
hidden secrets screamed
the grating voice of failure
frustration's cloying scent
incessant voice of hindsight
a psyche softly bent
shadow memories glowing
with the heat of your regret
shame and cold self-loathing
absence of all respect
sweet candied good intentions
that has drawn too many flies
self-truths so clearly evident
that they must be monstrous lies
hypocrisy carved in marble
sins never ending cost
captives perpetually tortured
their souls eternally lost
An old poem but the right shade of dark to fit my mood at the moment...
Hell Is Full
of reasons and excuses
unrealized hopes and dreams
unspoken disappointments
hidden secrets screamed
the grating voice of failure
frustration's cloying scent
incessant voice of hindsight
a psyche softly bent
shadow memories glowing
with the heat of your regret
shame and cold self-loathing
absence of all respect
sweet candied good intentions
that has drawn too many flies
self-truths so clearly evident
that they must be monstrous lies
hypocrisy carved in marble
sins never ending cost
captives perpetually tortured
their souls eternally lost
An old poem but the right shade of dark to fit my mood at the moment...
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Barriers, real and imagined
My level of anarchy and disorder only appears when I am comfortably within my cage. I am able to make comments or present actions for pure shock value when a level of security exists for the frightened child within. This may be why I appear very conventional and staid at this point. Comfort and routine have been replaced with chaos and uncertainty. I don't have the luxury to be weird, or myself, for that matter.
Sometimes I think the outward exhibit of mental illness is simply a person's inner-being finally rebelling against all the artificial constraints and barriers placed before us. Their will to be weird finally wins out...until it goes so far that society decides they are a threat to themselves or others...then even more concrete barriers are erected.
Sometimes I think the outward exhibit of mental illness is simply a person's inner-being finally rebelling against all the artificial constraints and barriers placed before us. Their will to be weird finally wins out...until it goes so far that society decides they are a threat to themselves or others...then even more concrete barriers are erected.
Monday, June 7, 2010
faces
Not reality, just the image we want to put forth, most are terrified to allow others behind the mask, reality makes us too vulnerable, easier to hide behind pretensions and false premises, of course in the end, all that is washed away in the final reality. Morrison said it right, "The future's uncertain and the end is always near"
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Changes and Observations
Lost my job this week...partly my fault, partly my boss looking for an excuse to make a change. Lots of stress and worry over financial matters. Did meet some interesting people in Cleveland who I found it necessary to write about...
The Show
tousle-haired Apollonian beauty, hippie version,naked toes and a sunny disposition, equaled by a dark young cherub, hippie version, larconically watching the world pass by.
a sidewalk sitting room, speaking and spitting toward passerby, unblemished and sacred, in filthy road clothes and grime.
singing joyously, tone deaf and LOUD, leaning down a deserted metal canyon, she stops to inquire to our health, nodding serenely she continues her midnight serenade.
Menaced by a dwarf with an impossibly deep voice, dark as night and sticky, he assured he was no threat, which increased our fear, he stumbled away after a bit of panhandling.
Humanity in and of itself.
The Show
tousle-haired Apollonian beauty, hippie version,naked toes and a sunny disposition, equaled by a dark young cherub, hippie version, larconically watching the world pass by.
a sidewalk sitting room, speaking and spitting toward passerby, unblemished and sacred, in filthy road clothes and grime.
singing joyously, tone deaf and LOUD, leaning down a deserted metal canyon, she stops to inquire to our health, nodding serenely she continues her midnight serenade.
Menaced by a dwarf with an impossibly deep voice, dark as night and sticky, he assured he was no threat, which increased our fear, he stumbled away after a bit of panhandling.
Humanity in and of itself.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Humility
A day to be placed in the proper context. I am of very very limited importance in the grand scheme of things. I do, however, exist. Perhaps that is enough. I read on others blogs of exploits that border on the magical. CHILDREN attempting to sail the world, photos of mystical places and words frosted with the spirit of the truly gifted. This humbles me. All I have planned for today is to stay sober (again) and get a tattoo...
I guess if I enjoy my day and the people I encounter I am doing enough. Sober days have piled up over 8 years and enjoyment is there if I look.
I guess if I enjoy my day and the people I encounter I am doing enough. Sober days have piled up over 8 years and enjoyment is there if I look.
Monday, May 10, 2010
i have found that when i think i have the most import or effect is usually when i am completely insigificant. In order to scale myself back to realistic size all i need to do is get close to a tree and look up...I really am not that important after all in the grand vision of the world, but happily, i am a part.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monolith Moon
Monolith Moon
power lunar magnificent one
to tides and months we mark
a cold and alien figure
soft orb so cold and stark
dance beneath a blood-red face
shrill and playful and mad
whisper to an ancient rage
with words you never had
religious whirling and plaintive pleas
repel the evil spawn
revelers feed the frenzy well
until the mist of dawn
monolith moon, oh brightly lit
strange light to whither and die
daylight reborn, obtrusive moon
still dominates the sky
The Beginning...
My first blog post..I have absolutely NO idea what anyone would be interested in reading about. I guess I shall just post random thoughts and ideas that run through the ruin that is my mind. I will definitely post some poetry as I find it soothing and therapeutic to write out the darkness. Life is good and I feel lucky to wake up every day in full possession of my faculties...there was every chance that would not be the case.
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