Poetic Leanings

Poem: Outside In

2012-01-16T13:39:00.000-05:00

Outside In

Midpoints are reflective moments
Look back
Ponder
Successes intermingled with failures

Too many failures

Too many roads not taken
Too hurried
Too gun shy
Too perfecting
Too scared

How often lemonade turned to lemons
Yes, it can be done

Unyielding in violent self-immolation

Could haves
Should haves
Would haves

Didn’t

Sit with this latte
Write and look forward
There are curved roads ahead
Eyes cannot see what waits
And what has come before is done
And not a guarantee of what is next

Copyright SGW 2012

Poem: Cliche Poet Voice

2012-01-08T09:27:00.000-05:00

Cliché Poet Voice

Step to the mic with a purpose

Unfolding their papers; commencing

Crowd sits attentive to listen

For all that the poet’s dispensing

But many are no more than just speakers

Pretending they’ve crafted a form

Reading an essay or sentences

It is mostly quite endlessly long

Poems, or “spoken word” missives

Lacking any stylistic device

The pretension of artistic creation

In its ease it must surely entice

What more are they doing than talking

Or reading, more descriptively true

Turning their pages and pages

And pages and pages, they do

But the piece de resistance – the vocals!

The cliché of the “poetry sound”

Voicing indignation or fervor

It is common and too commonly found

Poem: Rockies

2012-01-03T20:54:00.001-05:00

Rockies

High over mountains forever to see
Their depth and their wonder are of timeless degree
God sure as sculptor that would shape them so vast
The landscape lies packed by the marvels He’d cast
How mighty their image, how impressive they stand
However they’re looked ‘pon, they are undeniably grand
Eons been weathered as lifetimes dissolve
Formed by duration of no finite resolve
Reminders endure that we are small in their midst
Here they will be when we have long ground to grist

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Vase

2011-12-18T15:38:00.000-05:00

Vase

Vase on a shelf
Never deigned to be exquisite
But there

Then it fell
Knocked ‘gainst walls
‘Twas exposed to world

Until it showed cracks
Faded luster

More cracks

So it was left
Left on the shelf
To gather dust

Growing old in its broken solitude

Copyright SGW 2011

Cancer Alliance Blog

2011-12-07T19:23:00.003-05:00

People finding their way here looking for information useful to anyone dealing with cancer, should check out:

David Haas, Awareness Program Advocate

Poem: Music

2011-12-02T09:07:00.001-05:00

Music(Dedicated to Jerzy Jung, Cat, Novae, and Matt Kay.)

Melodies lift me to spirits removing
Notes of the singer
Gently fine in the soothing
Lilting, the voice of a graceful, soft soul
Connecting the chords as embracingly whole
Strumming guitars
Tapping ivory with touch
All sounds of the music I love oh so much
Strings adding body
Or drums for the pace
A world without song is a world I'd not face
Closing my eyes as each word grabs my being
Every line in a song leaves new stories for seeing
As rhythmic waves bring caresses to heal
This musical ocean is the cleansing to feel
To swing and to sway with a full-measured voice
Heavenly rising within rapturous choice
In music's a closeness to God everlasting
For the heart left adrift there's a line that He's casting
Artistic endeavors through the music discovered
A touch of true beauty in the sounds left uncovered

Copyright SGW 2003

*Inspired by every musician who has left their imprint on me, and shared their gift. More of my poetry is based on the sounds I have heard than on any other form.

50/50

2011-11-05T16:54:00.002-04:00

This is not a movie review. I am just home from seeing the movie "50/50," the story based on the experiences of its writer, Will Reiser. I have to admit that I expected this movie to be somewhere between sucks and stupid. For one, Seth Rogen tends to play the same character over and over in movies that are painfully dumb and shallow; he plays his usual character here, too. Secondly, my mother and brother recommended this, which was enough to make me bet my home that it was not going to be good (sorry mom and brother).

Surprisingly, "50/50" is a sweet, tender, funny, sad, fragile, and sensitive film that deals with the struggles of having cancer and human relationships in all their forms.

As a cancer survivor, I got a chill from watching the cold-hearted and detached doctor telling the Joseph Gordon-Levitt character, Adam, that he has cancer. The doctor reminded me so much of that day, February 1, 1999, when Dr. K___ told me I had cancer with nary a hint of feeling, compassion or understanding. I could feel Adam's shock and sense of confusion in those filmed moments.

I also felt the tinges of painful remembrance as Adam walks down the hall after his first chemo treatment. My memories returned to radiation sessions I had or more recent visit to Sloan Kettering for exams, biopsies and blood tests. As you leave, at least for me, you tend to notice people as if you can see through them. You observe and feel more deeply. Adam, though stoned from marijuana-laced macaroons, experiences this, and you see with him in a way that is artistically filled with depth and awareness.

You feel Adam's mortality throughout the movie despite his coolness and seeming refusal to succumb, until, finally, he admits his angers and fears. You are touched by his realization that his mother, though overbearing, means well and loves him. And you ultimately appreciate his best friend, the Seth Rogan character, Kyle, who stands by Adam 100% throughout.

While it was hard to come to terms with the relationship Adam develops with his therapist, Anna Kendrick's, Katherine, for its unlikeliness, Kendrick portrays Katherine with such a soft combination of gentle, awkwardness and determined support, you dismiss the weakness and appreciate her role in helping Adam through his struggles.

So this is not a review of "50/50," so much as it is my connection to it as a cancer survivor who was touched. One last thing, too: For all the single women out there, did I mention I am a cancer survivor?

Poem: Whole

2011-10-20T17:59:00.002-04:00

Whole

Pieces lay tattered as remnants imparted
The gift of a promise turned grimly discarded
Relentlessly dreaming from irrational hope
It’s the curse of belief as the end of my rope
Truth belies wishes that at hand comes some start
The female whole that has broken my heart

The garden’s grown weeds far too countless to name
As the faces and memories play repeated refrain
Seen as the tease of a flowering bloom
What is left in the wreckage, only darkness and gloom

Exhaustion takes hold with a deadening vise
Years built ‘pon failure comes with too great a price
Sit and I write as remembrance transcribed
The pain will remind; hurt will abide

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Nameless

2011-10-09T22:48:00.001-04:00

Nameless

Everything, everyone, wherever might turn

A maddening silence would be all to discern

Reasons may vary as any drop of the sand

Though intentions bring promise the results are less grand

False are the footsteps from the masquerade dance

You follow the sign posts yet never advance

Stand misdirected with paralyzed grip

A stifling sickness that can shoot from the hip

As one quiet poem crafts a marking of words

Shout from the rafters and never get heard

Poem: Corporatocracy

2011-09-21T10:04:00.000-04:00

Corporatocracy

The decisions are made in the shadows
Where the big-monied interests can thrive
Manipulating systems of power
As they keep the illusions alive

We can reference democracy’s standing
A republic’s the story some tell
And the tea-drinking masses can swallow
All the Kool-Aid that business will sell

It’s the bankers, CEOs, corporate interests
That devise all the rules to the game
‘Cept for sprinklings of progressive rebellion
Politicians are a lot of the same

Regulations are weakly concocted
Though they will sing us the “stifling” song
And the tax rules overwhelmingly favored
The richest of rich all along

The media won’t spotlight these actions
And the ignorant pull ‘gainst themselves
A small oligarchic construction
As the rest of our interests are shelved

And this teabagger movement is nonsense
For it fights for the richest man’s cause
Where the cause is moralistically lacking
As the ones most in need it ignores

So the dance is congressional illusion
It is fraudulent and merely for show
The outcome’s determined in darkness
Where the powerful interests can grow

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: You

2011-08-14T08:52:00.000-04:00

You

Cleanse me of the grime of exasperation
Frustration of an endless walk
Talk of what I have missed
Listlessly awash in sorrow
Tomorrow arrives and finds me gleaming
Dreaming of the promise you bring
Singing transcriptions found in words
Heard anew
You

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Adrift

2011-06-05T09:11:00.000-04:00

Adrift

Out 'pon the ocean where horizon meets sky
Distance is timeless and the blink of an eye
Reflections of promise in the vastness of sea
In the softness lies hidden unforgivable plea
Dreams gone awash from the shores where we'd sit
Throw in the secrets we release bit by bit
With the sun gently fading what is light starts to fade
The singer can sing but the songs' all been played
I watch and I listen and I search to no end
The ocean demands quite a lot of a friend

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Loves Ones

2011-05-15T10:43:00.001-04:00

Loved Ones

The quiet moments are fraught with complexity
Your absence is painful reckoning
Reminiscences of countless memento images
Better times
Someday, smiles will recall infinite joys
Now there is empty need for just one more shared day
Sense awareness of you lingering within my soul
I can’t lose that … I won’t
For you brightened my life a million times … a million ways
I will keep a lock box safely in my heart
Visiting you there
Never forgetting; always loving
Always

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Blanket

2011-04-16T14:38:00.000-04:00

Blanket

To lie in the sun
On the first day of springtime;
A reward of peace

Copyright SGW 2008

Abbie Gardner: Hope

2011-03-31T12:25:00.001-04:00

Abbie Gardner has followed up her brilliant “Honey On My Grave” CD with another fine piece of artistry called, simply, “Hope.” The Red Molly member continues a long tradition of diversity in her music, with ample displays of blues, jazz, country, and pop/rock.

Gardner opens with “Break It Slow,” which does nothing of the kind. Her skill on the dobro comes quickly to the fore in this rollicking, bluesy beginning. But this track is merely setting a mood that is prevalent throughout the eleven songs on this CD. And that is what I believe defines “Hope’s” essence; it is a mood. Each song is unique, but they all blend together to create a feeling that the listener is sitting in a dark and smoky bar, with drink in hand, leaning back, and taking in musicianship extraordinaire.

Gardner brings vocals to the table that are at once sweet and soft, while also feeling edgy and sly. Her voice gives the impression of a wink and a knowing, furtive smile. The dobro only enhances that sensation with its alluring pull of playful, soulful, street-wise touch. Add in the smooth base of Craig Akin, slick piano of father Herb Gardner and the unassuming organ of sister Sarah Gardner (Can everyone in this family play at a high level!?), and the atmosphere of the downtown Chicago or New York bar/nightclub flourishes all the more. This is a tight group of musicians, also including Ben Wittman on drums and Emily Hope Price on cello, playing together as if one. The backing vocals of fellow Molly, Laurie MacAllister, along with Robbie Hecht and Fred Gillen, Jr. are also placed brilliantly and seamlessly throughout the tracks.

“Comes Love” is the ultimate seedy-tavern song, with Herb Gardner’s ivory keys dancing about throughout the track. His lively playing joins hands with Abbie’s bouncy and smiling, “It’s You,” later on.

Abbie Gardner is also a gifted songwriter, and this has rarely been more clearly on display than in the title track, “Hope.” She sings: “Got no cause to believe, but my hope just won’t leave.” This, with the vibe her dobro transmits, and the musical accompaniment enhancing all the songs, is really what Gardner is most attempting to convey here. We should never lose faith, even in the worst moments, and Gardner has to “give up. I give in;” she won’t fight the reality any longer that she is a sucker for the promise that we tell ourselves; that in the bleakest moments, there is … hope.

Gardner also cannot resist other elements that define her. In “Bang Bang,” she is mischievous, devious, conflicted, and unsure. “I could aim for her or aim for him,” or she could do herself in or walk away. Bang bang takes on multiple meanings and possibilities here and one can only guess who gets banged, or not, in the end.

When taken as one, “Hope” always comes back to mood. The bar is filled with ominous-looking folk, there is a lot of something going on just beneath the surface or in the shadows and no one really knows what will happen next. However, through it all, there is a sense of possibility and insinuation that makes us wish to stay and see where it all goes.

Abbie Gardner gives us “Hope:” listen, feel, love and, most of all, hope.

Poem: A Fucking Poem

2011-03-27T12:52:00.002-04:00

I do not often curse in poems, though sometimes nothing gets a point across more clearly. However, I was thinking of the ever-versatile word, "fuck," and, well ...

A Fucking Poem

If someone should ask you the most dimensional word
Cover kids’ ears so it isn’t soon heard
It is deemed rather vulgar or crude to its use
You won’t find it in classrooms or the famed Dr. Seuss

Fuck is a word that knows limitless place
“Fuck it” or “Fuck yeah” or “Fuckin’ disgrace”
“Fucked over quite royally” or “No fucking way”
“Fucking like rabbits” or “That fucker just may”
“Fuck up” a project; “Get fucked faced at the bar”
Or the envious marvel for “The fucking rad car”
“That mother fucker’s just fucked me,” so “Fuck you” returned
“I’ve no fucking idea” when a plan’s not discerned

“Fuck!,” you’d exclaim in a moment of pain
“That dumb fuck’s a moron” you would rightly proclaim
“Where the fuck are we” and “Who the fuck cares”
“Who gives a fuck” or “He is fucking downstairs”

The word can be fit into any deemed spot
It is a marvel of English though a prude’d rather not
I use it here freely as a tribute as such
The fucking poem is finished having used fuck … so fucking much

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Escape From Newark

2011-03-09T20:34:00.002-05:00

Escape From Newark

Four hours and counting on United Six Forty-Five
Stuck on the runway; not a hope we=d derive
Chicago flights passing as we miss each connection
Cramped on the airplane with no moving direction
Pretzels and bread crumbs our in-flight consumption
Our eventual departure is a hopeful assumption
Control tower's offered little sign we'll be leaving
And with words such as Kilo there's a chance they're deceiving
We've sent for more ice and First Class got a cookie
But as to whether we'll fly soon - make no bet with your bookie
Great, now a baby is crying and my cell phone's gone dead
What I wouldn't give for a sandwich on some fresh, made rye bread

We're off of the plane ... for a moment ... removed from embarking
At Gate 18 stopping, our plane is now parking
Wait! We've re-boarded quite sudden and I'm back in my seat
At least we've made friends on the flight we did meet
The questions remain if we'll take soon to the skies
The door was just closed so let's see what's implied
Happy Days! Hallelujah! The planes in the air
On our way to Chicago; at last we are near.

Copyright SGW 2003

Footnote: I was flying from Newark to Seattle, with a stopover in Chicago. This was 2003 .... The weather was fine and there were no situations in Newark, not even a Mike "The Situation," as far as I know.

Anyway, we sat on the runway for 5 hours. Since the plane ran out of food and water, we finally went back to the terminal gate, got off the plane and crowded into the nearest restaurant. After 15 minutes, we finally got close enough to place an order, at which point we were called back to our plane without getting food.

Back on the plane, we sat another hour before taking off. This inspired me to write a poem called "Escape from Newark," which I then shared with my friend and travel partner. He loved it, but the girl on my other side heard it and asked me to read it again, which I obliged. She, in turn, told the flight attendant.

With about 45 minutes to landing in Chicago, they had me stand in front of the cockpit door and recite the poem over the intercom system. After, I was asked to announce my E Mail address.

Returning home from vacation, I had about 15 requests for copies of the poem, and, just a year ago, a girl wrote to me and said she was on that flight, found my E Mail address, and asked if I would send her a copy of the poem.

So, Bruce Springsteen may have performed at Madison Square Garden. But when he can claim to have put on a show at 30,000 feet, tell him to talk to me!

Poem: Eat

2011-03-04T12:46:00.001-05:00

Eat

Eat with abandon within love of the meal

Shine with contentments from the joys that you feel

Taste buds should revel with distinguished perception

Each bite or lick is attuned for reception

Eat like you're dancing with a partner of food

Meals for sustaining are just blessings eschewed

Passioned embracing of sensations unbounded

God's food is yummy where the glee is compounded

Dive into dining so all limit's released

Eat like a Viking who will recklessly feast

Consume without conscience so the body's acquiver

Food can bring pleasure if allowed to deliver

Me, I'm a puppy who will pounce on his bowl

Tail is wagging as I frolic in whole

Face has a smile as I sing in delight

I love what I eat, every morsel I bite

So eat like the food is a gift you've unwrapped

Explode to the skies; you're the well that's been tapped

Join me in savoring every sip, every munch

... poem is over as I sit down to lunch

Poem: Tumult

2011-02-15T17:29:00.000-05:00

Tumult

Inside the dark of tranquility lies a numbing lament
Where the long, lonely hours mark the dreams gone unspent
Bereft in an ocean sits a ship with no wind
Secure is the man stands untouched by the sinned
Destinations might open to a land suffering’s spared
But the map is in tatters and the sailor grows scared
Winds whip with vengeance in an all-knowing rage
Escape not an answer for the battles we’d wage
Conclusions are wrought with uncertainty’s vice
As wrong choices linger to a far-reaching price
Devices of reason are unreasonably wasted
The tonic for suffering is consumed but not tasted
Screaming and laughing, always cursing the sky
Forget any wisdom or the gifts she’d imply
Slowly unraveled lies the nightmare delusion
Where all of the rhythms are but empty illusions

Copyright SGW 2009

Poem: Boo

2011-01-20T09:57:00.001-05:00

Boo

My special friend and roommate
Belly laugh inducer
Patting my chin with outstretched paw
Demanding a scratching
Let’s crawl about together
Lie in the soaking sun
Meow at the birds

You snuggled up beside me through my multitudinous struggles
Greet me at work day’s end
Sleep by my side

Head butts and kneading

So now, you and I,
We will enjoy our time together
No more false and torturous “treatments”
Let’s laugh together while we can

And then I will remember

Copyright SGW 2011

Poem: Incitement

2011-01-18T20:37:00.002-05:00

Incitement

Shots ring out in the morning air
Death comes to young and old
Snuffed out by madness

Madness enflamed
Madness incited
Madness called upon
Madness condoned

With targets, speech and fear
Of violent rhetoric en masse

You called for this day
Asked for it

And it came

It came and a nine year old is gone
It came and a judge is dead
It came and left others lost
And still more, clinging to life

You – Palin, Angle, Bachmann, Perry, teabaggers
Blood is on your lips

Copyright SGW 2011

Footnote: Perhaps the Arizona shooting was not caused by the violent rhetoric in this country in any way. However, the incitement has created a climate and that is real. In that way, I find a correlation between the shooting and the inciters.

Poem: Cords

2011-01-13T21:18:00.000-05:00

Cords

Cords from sweatpants are cut away

Precautions of another time

Served up as a reminder

Of overwhelm and panic

Now these sweatpants with no cords fit less tightly

And am I wound less so?

Posted for R.A. as a reminder that others understand, and that things do improve from the darkest moments. You simply must keep walking until you walk into a lighter space.

Poem: Incitement

2011-01-11T08:39:00.001-05:00

Poem: Black Swan

2010-12-24T18:08:00.002-05:00

Black Swan

(Inspired by and “written with” the aid of Natalie Portman’s brilliance)

I lost myself in you

Consumed by the purity

Purity held, lost, convinced of

Who are you

Who am I

The sheltering womb consumed

Fragile lies unreachable dreams

Devouring the mind, spirit and whole

I lost me in you

In me

In this

As I reach

And grasp

Hold for all to see what I’ve attained

But what is real

But what is me

What is this

And I die

Wrapped in the blood of

Perfection’s duplicity

Note: Who/what devours Nina? Is it the controlling, slightly demented mother? Is it her own innocence at war with the hunger of her just out of her grasp/within reach dream? Is it something inside her too in opposition with itself to live after it is discovered?

Note: I wrote this with uncontrolled passion. It was completed instantly. I was left exhausted and needing to re-find myself upon completing this piece.

Poem: Festivus

2010-12-23T06:00:00.001-05:00

Festivus

Many have Christmas for holiday cheer
And Jews with Menorahs hold Hanukkah dear
The rest of us empty of our own special day
Until Frank Costanza, non-conformed, led the way
Festivus, Festivus, the day he devised
Four major pieces, you should be so advised
A Festivus Pole stands erect, unadorned
“Tinsel distracts me,” as Frank has since warned
Airing of Grievances would begin dinner plans
The disappointment in loved ones is heard by demands
“I’ve got a lot of problems with you people,” Frank’d angrily spit
And all ‘round the table, “Now you will hear about it!”
Then holiday supper does, of course, have its role
Feats of Strength are required for the night to be whole
If Festivus strikes you as especially clever
Make checks to “The Human Fund,” a “Money for People” endeavor

Copyright SGW 2009

Poem: Contemplation

2010-12-17T20:27:00.000-05:00

Contemplation

Out in the whispers of wishful relent
Soothed by the seasons in offered consent
Seeds of forgiveness will open the heart
Fog falls to tinker with unconscious part
Keep at a distance until left all alone
No call to reason’d forever atone
Sit with me, linger and hold tight my hand
Love knows its limits as drops of the sand

Copyright SGW 2010

Poem: Whirl

2010-11-26T16:28:00.001-05:00

Whirl

Upon reflection
Thoughts run circles around me
And I am dizzy

Copyright SGW 2008

Molly Venter: Love Me Like You Mean It

2010-11-21T10:30:00.003-05:00

When listening to Molly Venter's "Love Me Like You Mean It," one is taken by the passion of a woman who is clearly "all in." Whether it is in loving, self-evaluation or simply life's dance, Molly Venter conveys her pursuit of life with unquenchable fire. Wear gloves when handling "Love Me Like You Mean It," because it is hot to the touch.

I came across Molly Venter in her new role as the third member of the Appalachia/Bluegrass trio Red Molly, who I have followed from their inception. Rather than discussing Ms. Venter's fit (perfect) within the trio, I will save those words for their hopefully next CD release.

Molly Venter's alluringly, sensual voice grips the listener immediately and never lets go. Have no fear; you will want nothing but to stick around.

Venter opens with "Shaky Ground," an introspective springboard to what is to come. Venter is clearly giving thought to who she is and might become. We can all relate, but few dig so deep and honestly as "I've been stepping on landmines and running straight into things. Now I am broken down, I am broken up, and there's no one to save me."

But maybe there is.

In "Happier Now," Ms. Venter's self-effacement - "My lips are thing/My legs are not so thin" - serves as a path to acceptance of self. I will save myself by being who I am ... and that is all right.

Molly Venter cuts straight to the heart often here. On "Love Me Like You Mean It" she is "not holding back" with her love and expects the same in return. This longing is further reflected in the impassioned desire of "Playing For Keeps." Venter always does.

And Ms. Venter is willing to laugh at her love tribulations, too. In "Tonight," she is tripping over herself, defensive and unsure. While she sings, "You like giving me hell just to see me react," one thing is guaranteed - react, she will. Could someone with such fire not do so?

In "Good Mother" and "Playing For Keeps," Venter puts forth need, fragility and longing. She is a mixture of strengthened confidence and scarred and struggling traveler. As she says on "Real Anymore," "I am this body, but I'm not. I am a walking paradox."

Yes, Molly, perhaps you are. But when Molly Venter sings and speaks to us, we are grateful for each contradiction. "Love Me Like You Mean It" is something to be thankful for, too. A great collection of songs will take you down a path of emotional passion few artists can match.

Poem: Lakeside

2010-11-08T18:24:00.001-05:00

Lakeside

Down near the water where the world slips away
Beside whispering cattails ‘neath the sunny-sky’d day
Ducks on the current gently swim in their row
Frog in the tall grass with his trumpeted blow
As I lie on the dock, feel a nature’s cool breeze
From within all my core I’m completely at ease
Deer on the meadow lightly nibble the green
Bear and her cubs walk along down the stream
Eyes drift to clouds that are puffy and soft
Hawk smoothly glides on the winds blown aloft
Hear the sweet water of the timeless, drawn lake
I will lie in this spot for as long as I’ll take

Copyright SGW 2010

Poem: Tea

2010-10-29T19:37:00.001-04:00

Tea

The voice of the teabagger is a voice often loud
With the signs of misspelling and the racism proud
Don’t know the issues that they’re too fool to learn
They will storm and unravel all that’s good by a turn
Strings pulled by wealthy; the big business elite
To “take back the guvmint” is the goal they would meet

For who needs tax fairness
Or Wall Street contained
And healthcare for all
Righteous goals since obtained
A mess of their making
Economic decay
Depression averted
Yet they ask a replay

An undercurrent of hatred cannot mask true intent
The far right wing mantra of a fearful relent
“Take back our country “ truly translates the pitch
Yet it’s not to what’s better, but rather white, Christian, rich
The worst of our nation with a small-minded vision
They feed on unknowing’s misinforming, revision
Of destructive contempt for any leaders who’d think
The teabagger movement wears Republican stink

Copyright SGW 2010

Testicular Cancer, PSA Exams, Prostate Biopses and other fun and games

2010-09-24T09:41:00.004-04:00

So, I went into Sloan Kettering yesterday for my yearly post-testicular cancer check which involves a chest x-ray, blood work and testicle grab, and all is fine for another year there (11 1/2 years now). However, I have taken PSA's for a while and it was 1.3 in 2008, 1.56 in 2009 and 2.3 this month. I was concerned with the degree of increase, so I figured since I was seeing the best in the field anyway, why not have it checked?

My doctor sends in one of his underlings first. Needless to say, when I told him about the PSA's, I got the highly dreaded prostate exam. He said all seemed ok, but he called in the main doctor, Dr. Sheinfeld. Dr. Sheinfeld also gave me the prostate exam ( I felt like I had cheated on the first guy) and said everything felt normal. He said PSA's can rise for a million reasons and we could check the levels again in a few months or, while I was there anyway, I could get it biopsed and than not have the unknowns.

I agreed, so bring on Dr. Sandha, who performs prostate biopsies at MSK. I went into the room where the procedure is done and got ready. Step 1 was an ultrasound of my prostate by a technician, which is even more unpleasant than the prostate exam. That lasts about 5 minutes (Or what felt like a week to me!). Then Dr. Sandha comes in and injects me, yes in there, too, with Lidocaine to numb the area. There is a slight burn and pinch, but no big deal. After waiting about 5 to 10 minutes, still laying completely exposed as to hind quarters mind you, he comes back in and has a device that injects you and removes a sample of the prostate - about 15 times!!! Oh, and the sound and feeling is sort of like a stapler (though not that painful). I asked if he was stapling me shut!

Needless to say, far too many things were being jammed up my ass, especially since I am not a fan of having ANYTHING jammed up my ass!! I want a tattoo now, yes, on my ass, that says, "Exit Only."

After I peed, I was allowed to leave. I had to wear a pad, though, as there could be some bleeding. At this point, fortunately, there has been no blood in my urine, and only minimal, and expected, blood from the rear exit, which stopped by the next morning. I am on Cipro to avoid infections, which also will allow me to open any letters with anthrax.

The bummer is I have to wait a week to find out if I now have prostate cancer!! Didn't I fill my cancer quota already!? Hopefully, the PSA's went up for some unknown reason. Even a good biopsy, though, will likely have me getting PSA's more frequently to monitor it.

Nothing like the cancer specter hanging over your head for a week ... while you bleed out of your ass and wear women's liners.

Oh, and I should note that Dr. Sandha and his staff were fantastic. They were professional, thorough and minimized any pain. It also goes without saying that I trust Dr. Sheinfeld completely and have full faith in how he treats me as a patient.

Update: Today is Tuesday, September 28, 2010, and the doctors both called from MSK with the good news - no cancer. I will continue to monitor my PSA's, but am glad to hear the positive report.

Some interesting additional observations:
1. I do not know if it was the distraction of bleeding for a few days, the high cure rate for prostate cancer, a strong positive attitude now from years of hard experiences, or complete faith in great doctors, Sandha and Sheinfeld, but I was never panicked during this process. There was a relative calm that I would be ok no matter what and could deal with things. It is nice to know I have more inner strength than I had realized.

2. I want to re-iterate what fantastic doctors both Dr. Sheinfeld and Dr. Sandha are. I joked a lot about the biopsy above, and it was hardly a fun time, but Dr. Sandha did a remarkable job. It seems as though there are no complications for starters. Also, while aspects of the procedure were uncomfortable, it was not painful. The stapler stuff mentioned above was more a pressure combined with a creepy sound than anything else. No one should fear the procedure if done by a doctor as good as Dr. Sandha.

As for Dr. Sheinfeld, I can honestly say that I have 100% faith in the man. I trust his judgment, skill and knowledge, and I believe that was a major factor in my remaining calm throughout this process. I knew he would be taking care of me. Both Dr. Sheinfeld and Dr. Bosl, who I originally dealt with, are also great doctors because they talk to you like you are a human, in fact, like you are their friend. This goes a long way!! There are a lot of doctors, I am speaking to you William Kohlberg, who could learn quite a bit from the bedside manners of Drs. Sheinfeld and Bosl.

3. One of the things you cannot do have a prostate biopsy is have sex for two weeks. My thought on that was that it was nice to have an excuse for a change. :-)

4. I posted this entire story, as well as the other three cancer-related postings you can view down the right-hand column for a reason. I hope others read these stories and gain some solace, understanding, knowledge, and, also, appreciation for the necessity of taking care of yourself, seeing doctors when something is wrong and not pretending there is nothing wrong when something is. Here I have posted on this website about testicles, anal bleeding, prostate biopsies, and so forth, so throw the stigmas out the window, would you!? Talk openly about stuff, don't be afraid and get or be well.

Poem: Trek

2010-08-22T15:41:00.001-04:00

Trek

Where the clothing of expectation illy fit
An outcast self-made
I can walk alone
And do

Seem as society’s freak
Dancing to the drumbeat of the land’s rhythms
I will risk all to find all
And do

This is me
This is us
Listen
I am home
I am free

In the freedom comes understanding
And home is not so far away
Or confining now

As death takes me
Vision clears to fulfillment and peace
I can close these eyes having lived
And do

Copyright SGW 2010

Footnote: Inspired by John Krakauer’s book “Into the Wild” and Chris McCandless’s journey to life. This author would note that the poem should not be misconstrued as a calling to anyone to put their life at risk in the way that McCandless did. There are better ways to grow, learn and experience. Careful consideration, caution and wise steps are recommended.

George Wirth: The Last Good Kiss

2010-08-08T11:26:00.002-04:00

I’ve just finished “reading” fourteen novellas in the last couple of hours. That would be – I have listened to George Wirth’s “The Last Good Kiss” from beginning to end for the first time. Surely, anyone who has fallen into a Wirth song knows that each one is a soft chair, reading light and cherished book containing stories that take the mind to distant and imagined sanctuaries.

Wirth’s second full-length album, following “The Lights of Brigantine,” is another instant classic. His music is like that heavenly piece of land that we wish we could share with a million others, yet we are equally happy to keep this warm place somewhat hidden and reserved for those who will truly appreciate what we have here.

“The Last Good Kiss” is a compilation of Wirth’s observations of life’s struggles, tales and loves. From his dark tome to Asbury Park, “Memorial Drive,” to his subtle love song hidden behind images of Jesus Christ walking on water, “Weight of Sin,” Wirth takes us down long and winding paths that lose time and place as we turn each wonderful page.

On this effort, Wirth has brought some talented friends along for the weaving of his webs. We are graced by the fiddle of Amanda Shires (“The Last Good Kiss” and “In Your Arms”), the dobros of Abbie Gardner (Make You My Home – backing vocals, too) and Jim McCarthy (“Dreamland”) , Gardner again on lap steel (“Power Lines”), and the elusive Janey Todd (writer and co-vocals on “Dreamland). What is most interesting about these contributions comes from the sense that what each artist has brought to the songs has always been there. Each accompaniment is reserved, harmonious and comfortable in its place, as if walking side by side perfectly with Wirth’s guitar and lyrics.

“The Last Good Kiss” is also graced with some of the best songwriter found this side of Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen. Wirth’s aforementioned “Weight of Sin” and Todd’s “Dreamland” stand up to anything the two legends could pen. The aching “The Last Good Kiss,” the conflicted “Water on Water” and the photogenic “Easter” are other extraordinary examples of writing brilliance.

George Wirth is an artistic magician. With the help of some incredibly talented people, he has crafted an album that is required for anyone who wants to say they have the best music on their shelves. I would say more, but I am going to sit quietly and listen some more now.

Poem: Ghost

2010-07-24T12:04:00.000-04:00

Ghost

The ghost pulls at heart strings

Laughing its shivering laugh

Then, in escape, a scent lingers

Of a haunting possibility

The ghost chooses pain and abuse

The ghost would bask in his nothing

Nothing more than emptied soullessness

And I sit marveling at all she might be …

With me

Poem: Creation

2010-07-16T10:40:00.000-04:00

Creation

In completed lines
A poem is granted life
Of glorified form

Copyright SGW 2008

George Steinbrenner - A More Accurate Portrayal

2010-07-14T18:21:00.002-04:00

George Steinbrenner died the other day. I would offer my condolences to his family if I knew them. I did not wish him the illnesses he apparently endured the last 5 to 7 years of his life and I did not wish him death.

As an owner, you would have to call his tenure a success from a winning point of view because how many owners can say they won 7 world championships? He could also be credited for his aggressive pursuit of free agents such as Reggie Jackson, Catfish Hunter and Goose Gossage. However, the 1977 and 1978 championships were also a product of Steinbrenner allowing Gabe Paul to do his job a bit more than GM's would be allowed later on. Paul brought in guys like Chris Chambliss, Willie Randolph and Ed Figueroa, and he refused to trade Ron Guidry.

The championships of the late 90's were, to a degree, a product of a more disengaged approach by Steinbrenner, the result of his only recently being reinstated by Fay Vincent from a suspension. That somewhat hands off approach allowed Gene Michael to build around Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, etc..., Who knows how many of them would have been traded away during Steinbrenner tantrums, which happened regularly during the 80's and early 90's, when Steinbrenner was most involved in the team, and the team was mostly an over-priced, under-achieving mess. It would be easy to say that had Steinbrenner not been suspended for his shenanigans with Howie Spira, the 4 titles from 1996 to 2000 might never have happened.

But someone could look at my comments on Steinbrenner and say, "Well, Scott, you hate the Yankees, so you are just jealous." Forgetting the fact, that MOST Yankees fans wanted Steinbrenner gone from the early eighties through the mid nineties, I will tell you why I am bothered by all this ridiculous aggrandizement of George Steinbrenner. As a boss he was an abuser and a bully. No, he was not a "tough boss." He tortured his employees and was cruel and, yes, an abuser. Read Bill Madden's "Steinbrenner," or today's NY Times piece by Dave Anderson, and you will see what I mean.

I worked for an abusive prick for a long time, and my health suffered tremendously. This hits close to home for me. I don't give a shit that Steinbrenner was mean to millionaire ballplayers. But he was a bastard to the regular people working in the offices and I can only imagine how much physical and emotional damage he did to countless people over the years.

So, Yankees fans can revel in the titles of 1977, 1978, 1996, 1998, 1999, 2000, and 2009. You deserve to do so. But, you give a guy too much credit considering had he had his way, you likely would not have had many of those championships. And, worse, despite a fairly sizable amount of charitable activity in his life, nothing makes up for being a serial abuser of your employees and anyone else you had power over. Trust me; I've been there.

My sympathies to the Steinbrenner family for their loss. But the rest of us should stop pretending George Steinbrenner was much more than he was.

Poem: LeBron Can Suck It

2010-07-14T08:04:00.003-04:00

LeBron Can Suck It

Egomaniacal narcissist

“I am the King”

“Kiss my ring”

“And I will toy with your hearts”

Playing a sad game

A need for endless adulation

Non-stop self-congratulation

Not enough to have it all

But all the more

Ignore NYC

And MJ’s long shadow

And walk away from Cleveland

Where just being Cleveland is hard enough

All for the coward’s stacked deck

“The Brand” got covered in mud

And D Wade’s still the stud

LeBron can suck it

Poem: Honeysuckle

2010-06-04T13:16:00.000-04:00

Honeysuckle

Sweet scented honeysuckle
Alluring and alive
With effervescent charm
You captivate
Invading the senses
With dreams of timeless imaginings
Breathe in
Breathe in
Such beautiful fragrance
Breathe in
Breathe in
Permeating to my core

Copyright SGW 2010

Poem: The Hope And The Glory

2010-05-17T19:51:00.002-04:00

The Hope And The Glory

Long since abandoned the masquerade dance

What men holding power ever meant to advance

Written-word pages of doctrinaire thought

Ritualized worship as divinity bought

Yet Israel and Jewish as a compound of time

God’s weary people with a truth they’d define

An essence identity by a light of the soul

Through suffering hatred of an unending toll

The Macabee princes who have stood ‘gainst the wall

No longer the timid of indignity’s call

Imperfections abounding by unsettling choice

Extremisms flourish in a far too right voice

And religion’s illusion grown apart from God’s word

Devoutness as pretence to round up the herd

Yet still admiration for the self-made great land

Israel as Zion since arisen from sand

These children of Israel are heroically bold

With a secular bonding the connection takes hold

Commentary: I have rarely felt the need to have extensive remarks attached to a poem. However, this piece feels different. First, I should mention that this poem is based on the two Herman Wouk books, “The Hope” and “The Glory.” They have inspired me deeply with a desire to visit Israel.

They have also made me feel a need to distinguish between following Judaism as a religion and being Jewish as a people apart from organized religion. And that is what a large part of this poem’s message is. Early on, it speaks to the falseness of organized religion; the man-made creation used to formalize thought and action, which I feel is a device of those in power to control those who are not.

The poem then goes on to speak to the amazing accomplishments of the people of Israel – forming a nation surrounded by those that would destroy them after barely surviving the cauldron of NAZI-ism, creating a vibrant and lively society and economy from a desert wasteland and building a military that could protect all that they have given rise to.

The poem mentions Israel’s failings, too. The “unsettling choice” is the short-sighted and wrongheaded decision to build settlements in the West Bank and east Jerusalem that will be hard to dismantle and undo. Much of the difficulty lies in my original theme of religion’s extremism. These settlements, more than anything else that Israel controls, are an obstacle to Middle East peace. They have also damaged the moral rightness of Israel’s cause and position.

Without the settlements, there would be no legitimate claim that Israel in any way is the obstructing factor to peace. Taken out of the equation, the reasons for a lack of peace in the Middle East are all on the shoulders of the Arab nations. Their unwillingness to recognize Israel’s right to exist and of giving ground on military assurances to provide for that right, their stubborn resistance to removing the Hamas/Hezbollah presence, their promotion of an unreasonable right of return (that will need to be exchanged for financial compensation that Arab nations should be major contributors to), and the despotic rulers of their own countries with no exceptions are far more the cause of the circumstances in the Middle East than any Israeli positions.

In summation, this poem expresses love of Israel, despite its flaws, and a bond with the Israeli people that I feel as someone born a Jew. It hints at my previously versed views on organized religion, but with a belief that religion’s failings can be separated from a nationalist’s pro-Israeli sentiments.

Poem: Teabaggers

2010-04-25T11:08:00.002-04:00

Teabaggers

Unwilling to learn;

Intellectually lazy and incurious.

Rants against Wall Street;

But oppose regulation.

Cries o’er a debt burden.

Where were the voices during Ronnie and George?

“Take our country back!”

Does the white hood still fit?

Signs opposing socialist healthcare,

For a plan with Dole, Romney and Nixon roots.

This is the time of the teabagger,

And not much thought or reason.

Poem: Oasis

2010-04-19T21:11:00.000-04:00

Oasis

Lips are a wasteland
Longing for tender droplets
Of one gentle kiss

Copyright SGW 2008

Poem: Terrorism

2010-03-25T21:15:00.002-04:00

Terrorism

Define terrorism at core:
Infestation of fear.

Cannot try al Qaeda in civilian courts
Fear
Don’t close Guantanamo Bay
Fear
Incite ignorant masses over “Big Government”
Fear
Sloganeer – Marxism, Socialism, NAZI-ism
Fear
Destroying marital institutions
Fear
Healthcare reform, Death panels, radical liberals
Fear

What is fear?
Lack of ideas
Small minds
No answers
Cowardice

And not all terrorists turn to Mecca
But share an increasing affinity for tea

Copyright SGW 2010

Poem: Nightwalker (Wolf)

2010-02-15T20:09:00.001-05:00

Nightwalker (Wolf)

Tucked in the silence ‘neath the moon’s sullen stare

Skirting denials of the men unaware

Quickly embark to a deepest, hid place

Known by the traveler present time won’t embrace

Passing gardens of Eden and trees to the sky

The world fills with beauty through an innocent eye

Dart like a current by the thickets and brush

Listening to winds in the soft evening’s hush

Mingle with angels in the race against death

Here lies the path where the shadow finds breath

Poem: Shadows

2010-02-07T16:38:00.000-05:00

Shadows

Shadows are hiding places
Holding what wishes to remove
But also that which is boxed
Boxed into a corner
With no desire to be
Yet is
Is from neglect
Is from obsolescence
Is from fear
Is
And it is lonely in the shadows

Copyright SGW 2010

Poem: Demise

2010-01-25T09:18:00.000-05:00

Demise

Flowers of a thousand blooms have fled
As Founder’s dream has split and bled
Where once laid rest a chalice glow
A garden dies; no one would sow

The people spoke of something bold
Yet shortly hence their fear took hold
As demagogues and selfish actors
Face frightened fools and whim reactors

People, people, your mindless voices
You do not learn of promised choices
Impatience points to no return
A country’s death you’ll soon discern

So hide within your slogan season
It lacks a depth; devoid all reason
The noise grows loud to drown the mind
You look to see you fell behind

Copyright SGW 2010

Poem: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

2010-01-03T20:20:00.001-05:00

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

Eternal the sunshine where spotless the mind

Nothing can injure what nothing can find

Erasing the sorrow; unfulfilling lament

Too much has been given, too much has been spent

Perchance for removal every schism and strain

The depth of the scarring that at once caused such pain

Forgetting the heartbreak, disappointment and loss

Remembrance is sadness we have all come across

So fresh from the suffering what memory designed

Eternal the sunshine where spotless the mind

Footnote: Based on a re-watching of one of my favorite movies, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." The movie finds hope that the heart can overcome what we think we'd wish to forget. This poet is not so sure.

Poem: Diversionary Tactic

2009-12-28T19:09:00.000-05:00

Diversionary Tactic

Used my pen as an excuse.
A poet, a poet, this man is a poet!
Off I went.
To wri .. eat the molten, chocolate cake.

Copyright SGW 2008

Poem: Below Surface

2009-12-16T07:38:00.000-05:00

Below Surface

Fool myself
Calm within distraction
“Moments” await in the quiet

Given to reflection
Hopes offer a promise
But disappointments will linger

With words of believing
Mark possibilities
Yet truth reveals the remoteness

A reckoning awaits
Frozen by the weakness
Death is in an absence of faith

Copyright SGW 2007

Poem: Making Love

2009-11-26T19:07:00.004-05:00

Making Love

Sitting together talking

Sharing unbroken vision

A peaceful meditation

Held hands in quiet moments

Hugs in joining, melt to one

Lying beside you naked

Building arousals, entwined

Back and forth of pleasuring

Deep breaths, rolling of bodies

Heartbeat to heartbeat; alive

Laughing with playful vigor

Your slender form upon me

Climactic embrace of joys

Lingering in connection

Then more and more and more still

Marveling over such depth

In the warmth of making love

Poem: The Way The Mind Of A Right Wingnut "Thinks" However Many Facts Call Into Question Every Untruth They Attempt To Mindlessly Spread

2009-11-04T20:33:00.003-05:00

The Way The Mind Of A Right Wingnut “Thinks” However Many Facts Call Into Question Every Untruth They Attempt To Mindlessly Spread

Marxism takeover
Communist plot
Destroying the nation
Fear of a lot

Suppressing religion
Obama’s a shill
Guvmint reaching
Jeremiah and Bill (Ayres)

Greenies are scheming
Queers run amuck
Death panels lurking
Immigrants? Fuck!

Drudge, FOX and Limbaugh
Feed us the fix
Pull off the curtain
Learn all the tricks

Sadly mistaken
Built upon lies
Right wingnut viewpoint
Seen with closed eyes

Copyright SGW 2009

It's Just Sex

2009-10-27T18:27:00.003-04:00

Ok, that title will get hits for sure! I am referring to the Two Roads Theatre production written by Jeff Gould and directed by Rich Shaw, which I had the pleasure of seeing in Los Angeles recently.

I highly recommend this smart and sassy play on relationships, with a few twists. Gould has written some wonderful dialogue and most of the cast does a great job of taking those lines and putting comedic timing at the fore in bringing out the humor and perceptiveness within them. Particularly good are Tommy Hinkley, as Carl, the free-spirited, open-minded husband, of Kelly, played by Jackie Debatin. Both are on the mark throughout the play and exhibit strong chemistry. They are given great material, but it is up to them to deliver it, and deliver it they do.

Seth Peterson, as Greg, is a bit wooden, and Scott Klace seems slightly miscast as Phil, Joan's (Rebecca Staab) philandering husband.

The play explores infidelity, love, mid-life boredom, aspirations, and much more. It's Just Sex is well worth taking in. Two Roads Theatre is a small and quaint playhouse, with an apparently limited budget (they hand out pieces of chocolate before the show and the lobby is not much larger than a closet), but it provides a sense of closeness with the three couples involved in the emotional roller coaster that love and sex bring about.

In L.A.? Go see It's Just Sex.

Poem: Republicans

2009-10-18T14:06:00.002-04:00

Republicans

Were elected to serve us, but serve us they won’t

Any offered solutions, their answer is don’t

Reforming of health care, the time is at hand

Stand as obstructers, to hell with a plan

Demagogue issues, deny, lie, mislead

The purpose is clearly representative greed

Speak for big business, insurers and rich

Pretend for the masses, than pull double-switch

Represented by FOX of that “fair-balanced” claim

The viewers are morons, the hosts are insane

Where fair is more fear and balance quite not

Republican bias is all that they’ve got

The Party of No, holding ‘nary a care

Twisting all answers, they mindlessly scare

The mess of their making, though they’ll never admit

Their leadership worthless, their agenda is shit

Poem: Stirred

2009-10-13T20:13:00.000-04:00

Stirred

Your curiosity and innocence dug too deep
Stirring the pot of memories
To worlds your faery-taled life can’t know
I place no blame

My cancer story pained you
But it is mine
And what I recalled was lost friends
Which led to lost loves
D
J

Then trials and tribulations beyond what I could ever expect of your comprehension
Abuses so dark
Scars too deep
Self-inflicted wounds

You cannot know
‘Fore you’ve never known
So this hornet’s nest is mine today
And I sit with all these stings

Copyright SGW 2009

Bobbyspeak

2009-10-07T18:01:00.002-04:00

"What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness; but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black."

Robert Kennedy 1968 in Indiana on the day Martin Luther King Jr. was killed.

Bobbyspeak

2009-10-03T15:16:00.002-04:00

"It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance ..."

Robert Kennedy 1966

For All of the anti-Government, Teabagging, We Hate Socialists

2009-09-18T19:28:00.002-04:00

I, ________________________, do solemnly swear to uphold the principles of a socialism-free society and heretofore pledge my word that I shall strictly adhere to the following:

I will complain about the destruction of 1st Amendment Rights in this country, while I am duly being allowed to exercise my 1st Amendment Rights.

I will complain about the destruction of my 2nd Amendment Rights in this country, while I am duly being allowed to exercise my 2nd Amendment rights by legally but brazenly brandishing unconcealed firearms in public.

I will foreswear the time-honored principles of fairness, decency, and respect by screaming unintelligible platitudes regarding tyranny, Nazi-ism, and socialism at public town halls. Also.

I pledge to eliminate all government intervention in my life. I will abstain from the use of and participation in any socialist goods and services including but not limited to the following:

* Social Security

* Medicare/Medicaid

* State Children’s Health Insurance Programs (SCHIP)

* Police, Fire, and Emergency Services

* US Postal Service

* Roads and Highways

* Air Travel (regulated by the socialist FAA)

* The US Railway System

* Public Subways and Metro Systems

* Public Bus and Lightrail Systems

* Rest Areas on Highways

* Sidewalks

* All Government-Funded Local/State Projects (e.g., see Iowa 2009 federal senate appropriations)

* Public Water and Sewer Services (goodbye socialist toilet, shower, dishwasher, kitchen sink, outdoor hose!)

* Public and State Universities and Colleges

* Public Primary and Secondary Schools

* Sesame Street

* Publicly Funded Anti-Drug Use Education for Children

* Public Museums

* Libraries

* Public Parks and Beaches

* State and National Parks

* Public Zoos

* Unemployment Insurance

* Municipal Garbage and Recycling Services

* Treatment at Any Hospital or Clinic That Ever Received Funding From Local, State or Federal Government (pretty much all of them)

* Medical Services and Medications That Were Created or Derived From Any Government Grant or Research Funding (again, pretty much all of them)

* Socialist Byproducts of Government Investment Such as Duct Tape and Velcro (Nazi-NASA Inventions)

* Use of the Internets, email, and networked computers, as the DoD's ARPANET was the basis for subsequent computer networking

* Foodstuffs, Meats, Produce and Crops That Were Grown With, Fed With, Raised With or That Contain Inputs From Crops Grown With Government Subsidies

* Clothing Made from Crops (e.g. cotton) That Were Grown With or That Contain Inputs From Government Subsidies

If a veteran of the government-run socialist US military, I will forego my VA benefits and insist on paying for my own medical care

I will not tour socialist government buildings like the Capitol in Washington, D.C.

I pledge to never take myself, my family, or my children on a tour of the following types of socialist locations, including but not limited to:

* Smithsonian Museums such as the Air and Space Museum or Museum of American History

* The socialist Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson Monuments

* The government-operated Statue of Liberty

* The Grand Canyon

* The socialist World War II and Vietnam Veterans Memorials

* The government-run socialist-propaganda location known as Arlington National Cemetery

* All other public-funded socialist sites, whether it be in my state or in Washington, DC

I will urge my Member of Congress and Senators to forego their government salary and government-provided healthcare.

I will oppose and condemn the government-funded and therefore socialist military of the United States of America.

I will boycott the products of socialist defense contractors such as GE, Lockheed-Martin, Boeing, Northrop Grumman, General Dynamics, Raytheon, Humana, FedEx, General Motors, Honeywell, and hundreds of others that are paid by our socialist government to produce goods for our socialist army.

I will protest socialist security departments such as the Pentagon, FBI, CIA, Department of Homeland Security, TSA, Department of Justice and their socialist employees.

Upon reaching eligible retirement age, I will tear up my socialist Social Security checks.

Upon reaching age 65, I will forego Medicare and pay for my own private health insurance until I die.

SWORN ON A BIBLE AND SIGNED THIS DAY OF __________ IN THE YEAR ___.

_____________ _________________________

Signed Printed Name/Town and State

Poem: Damn, It's God

2009-08-30T10:44:00.000-04:00

Damn, It's God

God as musician is a curious picture.

Creator of lyrics as opposed to the scripture.

Plays a guitar, strumming notes to some song.

His tuning is perfect; His picking is strong.

Smooth in His style, with a finest detail;

Biblical storied, instrumental portrayal.

Perhaps He'd do covers. I could think of a few.

How cool would it be if Joan Osborne He'd do?

Invokes roused ovations. Sometimes heads bowed in deference.

Solo or band? One must wonder his preference.

Discover this artist who has growing appeal.

Damn, but it's God with his own record deal!

Health Care Insurance Reform Truths

2009-08-25T17:34:00.005-04:00

Ok, I know the astroturfers, right wingnuts and all FOX "News folks won't understand this, but for everyone else, these two charts give the debate some truth.

Why Universal Health Care

2009-08-24T15:32:00.002-04:00

If I am walking down the street and I see a man lying in the road in pain, but I continue on without offering a helping hand, I am wrong and I lack compassion.

If I stop and tell that man that he needs to "buck up" and help himself, then I am cruel.

If I tell him, "Look, I feel good, so you are not my problem," then I am selfish and cruel.

If I go home to a beautiful house and look out to the street, see the man and say to myself, "Life is grand up here, those in the streets suffering will feel better if they help themselves and they can if they put their mind to it," then I am living in an ivory tower.

I am the people of this nation. I am the public. I am obligated, en masse, to help the people who cannot do for themselves.

And this applies to health care.

And the only way that all can be helped is with a strong public option toward universal health care.