On Forgetfulness

If you hear me complain that I cannot recall
     where I put my car keys,  or my dead cell phone,
     when I came home from wherever it was that I went yesterday ...
Please ask me if I can remember
       the very first time our baby grabbed my finger,
           or called for me in the middle of the night,
               or how I felt when the school bus pulled away
  that September day, so many years ago.

CHORAL OLYMPICS: a lofty idea

Conductor Events: 
Fermata, Caesura, Allargando, Vivace, Largo, Evil-Eye, Photocopying, Impossible Phrasing Instructions, Mis-Cueing, Self-Contradiction ...

Chorister Events: Dragging, Unintelligible Diction, Ad-lib Breathing, Heroism, Looking-Up Once in a While, Flipping Pages, Crystal-Shattering (Soprano),  Window-Rattling {Bass), Wisecracking (Alto), Award Ceremony Just for Showing Up (Tenor)

A Proposal to Make America Safe

A review of recent events reveals that white men with guns sometimes shoot black men with guns ...  and vice versa.  Thus, the common denominator is twofold --- men with guns.  Furthermore, most men are slobs; most women are not.  So, women are better qualified than men to command a "well-ordered militia".  The Second Amendment just says "citizens".   In the event of a true threat to the liberty of our Free State, women may choose to distribute arms to men, but not necessarily "firearms", nor live ammunition, neither of which are specified by the Second Amendment.

Dallas

When comrades have fallen, people feel fragile,

Suddenly humble, when all has gone wrong.

You cannot hide sorrow behind your bravado.

Heros will crumble, no matter how strong.

DaeAnna's Blessing

May you find security when you're caught out in the cold.
May you find serenity when chaos has control.
Until you learn you're not alone, without having to be told,
May you hear a small voice say, "It's OK".
                          " It's OK, I'm right here with you."
Everywhere you go.

Reuter's photo of Dae'Anna,  "the bravest little girl in the world", aka, " the small voice from the back seat".
     

The Unbeatable Foe

Pens can be mightier than swords
but sometimes they're no use.
You cannot win a war with words
when your enemy's obtuse.

The Tao of Pain

Chronic pain is the Tao, the Way,

like Fibro or Arthritis.

We live to love for one more day,

with frailties that unite us.

Life is a beautiful mess -- and we're all in it together.

An 8-Step Solution to the Syrian Refugee Crisis ... and more

1. Close the prison at GTMO
2. Replace it with a refugee camp (the entire base is 46 square miles) named in honor of President Obama.
3. Open a casino (for training purposes).
4. Train the refugees for jobs in restaurants, hotels and casini ... perhaps through UNLV Cooperative Extension.
(There are many restaurants already on the base, including: McDonalds, Pizza Hut. Baskin-Robbins, etc.)
5. Pay them $15 per hour, but get it all back by charging for Room & Board and tuition.
6. When the refugees complete 8 weeks of training, cut off their food supply and supply them with facsimiles of Cuban credentials .
7. On moonless nights, open the gates to Cuba to allow the refuges to disperse and find jobs in burgeoning tourism industry.
8. Reopen the restaurants and bring in another group of refugees.

Note: When the refugee crisis is over, deport illegal immigrants now in the US and turn the base into a resort and amusement park, perhaps called "ObamaLand"

Some Ideas for My Epitaph

• Oops !
• Still don't have a clue
• 'Tis a far, far better something-or--other
• DC al Fine
• Lift-off, we have Lift-off !
• 42, it IS 42 !
• Gone Fishing (with the worms)
• LOL
• Would someone please feed my cats
• Pickle Me Elmo
• Vacancy
• Ungrateful
• My name is Ozymandius ... Oh, wait ...
• God Almighty, I'm free at last
• Still thinking outside the box
• I'm right behind you
• Error 404 -- File not Found
• At least I'm not hungry
• This, too, shall pass
• Do you want to dance?
• I have to pee real bad !
• Life and Death:  a dream within a dream ... but which is which?
• Fuck the flowers -- go get a shovel !

Seriously, how about "Perchance to Dream"

As a Rainy Day Dawns

Note:  This would make a better song than a poem.  Thus, it is a Work in Progress. 
Suggestions are welcome

As a rainy day dawns,
a weak old man yawns.
His legs and hands ache,
so he knows he's awake.

With groans and with moans
and creaky old bones,
with grunts and with sighs,
the man tries to arise.

His vision is blurred.
He can't hear a word.
With each wheezy breath
he's closer to death.

Accepting his pain,
he smiles at the rain.

When his feet touch the floor
he thanks God once more
for the gift of the dawn
and  the strength to go on,.

TRUST -- the saddest poem I've ever written

I remember the first time, twelve years ago,
   when a spring-loaded kitten
      jumped down from my desk and sat on my lap.
His name was Shamus,
   but we sometimes called him "Wild Thing",
      so I was delighted to have earned a little trust.

Today, "Wild Thing" was sitting on my lap for the very last time,
    as we waited for the vet to open that dreaded door.
He was serene -- I was sad,
   but also delighted that he put all his trust in me.
I remember thinking how his life is truly in my hands,
     and how it troubles me to have already made a decision
         that he doesn't know about ...
 or does he?

Something donned on me today ...

"Don" is a title of respect,
as in Don Quixote, Don Juan, or even Don Corleone.
So, how do you explain:
Donald Duck, Donald Trump (Dona nobis pacem)
Don Ho, Don Rickles, Donny Osmond, Donna Summer,
Don and Donna, Donder & Blitzen, Jelly Donuts
and "Don we now our gay apparel" ?
Don't it kinda make you wonder? Don't it, though?
(Sorry for the redundancy.)
I'm no John Donne but day is done
and I'm all done with this dumb* poem.
Done, done, done, DONE!
____
* Tomorrow, I may ponder Dumb & Dumber, Dominos
Dom Perignon, Dom DeLuis, FemDom, the Carrier Dome, Domestic Violence and Dominic vobiscum.

Winners and Losers

A WINNER is someone
who daily takes chances,
learns from their losses,
and gives their winnings away.

A LOSER is someone
who never takes chances
because they fear losing
something they've already lost.

Consciousness, Creation, Buddhism and the Bible in 60 seconds

My Least Favorite Things

I recently had the good fortune to participate in a masterclass sponsored the Onondaga County Public Library and CNYJazz.  (Video to be posted here eventually.)  Encouraged by Larry L and a others who enjoyed my performance of "Dreams of a Lovestruck Biologist", I'm learning how to accompany myself on the guitar.  Here's a progress report: a rough recording of a song from
 "The Sound of Mortars".

CLICK HERE for my SOUNDCLOUD  Page

"The Sound of Mortars"  is set in war-time Afghanistan.  Is there any other time in Afghanistan? It's about a beautiful double-agent,  "Madeeja" (played by Christiana Amanpour), and a lovable but bungling band of seven dwarf terrorists, who follow her everywhere.  Other songs include: The Sound of Mortars (Madeeja), How Do You Solve a Problem like Korea and Climb Every Mountain (both sung by Mother Hillary). and Invaded Twice (Ain't it nice), sung by Captain Von Laden,  joined by Madeeja and the boys, just before they escape the military occupation of their beloved, pulverized homeland.

The story is fiction, of course, based on fact that is reminiscent of earlier fiction based on earlier fact. The name of the war may be different, but the story's the same. Who knows? The fiction/fact cycle may even go back, war by war, to the Peloponnesian War, and the futile attempt by Sisyphus to escape over the mountains with his very large pet rock.  

What's the Fuss?

The world is in turmoil. 
So it seems.  On a global scale, nations are dealing with terrorism, disease, genocide, natural disasters and poverty.  On an individual level, it's the same -- people are struggling with their personal fears, health, mortality, physical security and finances.

How do I know this? 
My perception of everything that's happening in the world depends upon how I process electrical impulses in my brain.  Everything that I perceive, everything I've seen, heard or read about, plus everything that I conceive and that I believe, is electrical impulses in my brain.  All Creation ... the Present, Past and Future of the Universe and all that dwell within and beyond it, are merely electrical impulses in my brain.

Does it matter whether there is more to Reality than that? 
For practical purposes, everything has been reduced.  These electrical impulses are mine to do with as I please.  So, just for fun, I'll take my view of the world and stir in some fantasies and some memories. My vision of the future is imaginary, of course.  Memories are my perception of things that happened in the past, minus the details that I've forgotten, plus whatever I now imagine to have perceived at the time. Let's be honest, memories are (to some degree) imaginary.  The Truth is not naked.

So, it's all the same, huh?
When I recall the past or envision the future, it's all just electrical impulses ... like my perception of the present world in turmoil.  Everything is just electrical impulses in my brain.  
But wait! 
 Surely, my brain is not the true center of the Universe. I'm just a lowly pilgrim.  
So why, I humbly ask, is everybody making such a big fuss about my electrical impulses?

If you have an answer to this rhetorical question, I'd like to hear it. It will become another electrical impulse to be processed, then stored or forgotten, like the rest. Ho, Hum!  Of course, that's no excuse for you to be apathetic. I have mine. Go get your own.
   
FINI

A Split-Rail Fence

PAIN is a fence -- 
     sometimes barbed-wire.
More often,
     a split-rail fence.
It can confine us,    
     if we succumb to it. 
We have choices, though:
Climb over it;  
      leap over it; 
          or pole-vault.  
Crawl under it.  
     Squeeze through it.  
Dismantle it. 
Balance on it.   
Find a gate; or build one.
Just ignore it, 
      run smack into it, 
      and get even more pain.
We always have choices.
Indecision is one of them.

One More Night

When my ashes are entombed,
my soul will go into the Gloom
to feel the Burn
                    or see the Light.     

I asked the Keeper of the Gate,
"Do I really have to wait?"
 I want to learn.
                    She said, "Alright."

If you perceive a fuzzy glow,
then you will know that I went Home
but have returned
                    for one more night,
                    for one more night.
                    

Port-of-Call

At birth,
      we disembarked to a port-of-call
             full of joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure.
We may view it as a furlough,
       as a life sentence of imprisonment in a body,
             or as an all-day pass at an amusement park.
When the Captain blows the whistle,
        we stop what we're doing, return to the ship
                     and sail on.