Please, AARP, leave me alone for a few more years!

For the past two years, the AARP has sent me temporary membership cards, imploring me to join now. Today, I made it to the next level; a plastic membership card.

I am 42 years old.

Poem: Battles

Battles

The battle rages fiercely.
Defeat is countlessly imminent;
Yet there is fight,
A search for a plan of defense.
Setbacks build layers of despair
Buried under ever-mounting obstacles.

Each scar or cut grows,
Within the mind moreso than about.
Fear overwhelms where strength once blossomed,
Yet forward visions yield wants;
Dreams of better days bring life.

Another day passes with tears and belief;
Mixed incongruities of the battle.
The soul is the stake to claim.
Each next moment is an unending answer;
To quit or battle on.

Copyright SGW 1999

Poem: I'm An Accountant

Yes, I am an accountant, but this poem is not auto-biographical. It is based on outside auditors who came in to the office I worked in at the time. It is meant less to be mean, and more to have some fun with the stereotypes.

Oh, and I should mention that this poem has gotten me job offers.

Don't kill me; at 25 I did not like classical music, but do now. Plus there's nothing wrong with McNeill-Lehrer. Youth!

I’m an Accountant

Hey look at the dork
In the suit and the tie,
With the black rimmed glasses.
Who is that guy?

He’s got pens in his shirt pocket;
Hair cut short and so neat;
Always clean shaven;
Black shoes on his feet.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

He stays late every evening,
But so loves to work.
Ask him to party,
He thinks you’re a jerk.

He says, “How can you go out,
With a job still undone?
Who needs a social life?
Accounting’s such fun.”

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

The last time he dated
The girl fell asleep.
Fun’s watching McNeill-Lehrer;
He thinks it’s so deep.

Doesn’t own cable television.
He thinks it’s a bore.
And he won’t listen to rock.
He likes classical more.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me.
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

So look at him walking;
Clumsy and slow.
He’s a drip top to bottom;
From head down to toe.

I’m an accountant.
Watch out for me
I’m an accountant.
Don’t you wish you could be ...
An accountant
With my six-column pad.
An accountant
With my shirt colored plaid.

Copyright SGW 1989

The West Wing

Cynics would call it fantasy and liberal hogwash. I would say it is what we are, yes ARE, capable of. President Bartlett had flaws, as did the people who worked under him on NBC's "The West Wing." The show had failings, too; namely most of the last 2 1/2 years until its revitalization over the past month or so. But "The West Wing" was still a great show and a reminder to us all.

Ultimately, President Bartlett represented our better selves. His administration was America as Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hamilton, Franklin, and others imagined it - striving to do what was best, basically noble intentioned and a home for freedom and justice.

Call me hokey and remind me that it was only television. Maybe. But in the face of the worst of what we can be governing us today in the real world, a seven year glimpse of the best of who might be was a place I will always want to look in upon.

Poem: River

River

River flows gently with quiet resolve
Life's many hardships in time may dissolve
Softly the tides of the water bring ease
Silently drifting 'neath firm-standing trees
Washed in the current that cleanses the skin
Spirit finds healing without and within
Calming sensations surrounded in bliss
Safety and comfort of God's loving kiss
Unwittingly restful, pains wash away
Here, in the river, where hearts hope to stay

Copyright SGW 2006

Juanita Yoder - Artist extraordinaire

I recently attended Juanita Yoder's Art Open House and I must rave about her work one more time. The woman has a gift that is beyond words I am capable of expressing.

If you belong to a church that is looking into seriously enhancing their place of worship with art that can truly touch the spirit, please check out her "Public and Liturgical Installations" page. In particular, look at the "Stations of the Cross" project she recently completed for a church in Arizona. Juanita creates based on the architectural structure, the nature of the space and what she comes away with from meeting with the people of that church.

Mother's Day is around the corner, too. While you cannot see scarves and other clothing on her website, they are beautiful. Trust me. Her silk creations are stunning to the eye.

Check Juanita Yoder's work out for yourself. If you live near Princeton, go into Princeton Cathedral and view the six pieces hanging there. If you live near Lambertville, NJ, go to Greene and Greene and see her paintings and scarves. Ok, that's enough of that.

Honey On My Grave - Abbie Gardner

Abbie Gardner has released a collection of songs on "Honey On My Grave" that puts on full display a degree of complexity and range of musical influence that is rarely equaled. Gardner, also a member of the Appalachia-based group Red Molly, blends together multiple genres throughout the CD, and it is that mixture of styles that becomes her greatest strength. "Honey" finds a voice in pop, blues, Appalachia, torch songs, bluegrass, and folk. It is impossible not to be excited as each new track approaches, wondering what Gardner will do next.

Some songs will sound familar to everyone, such as "Ain't Misbehavin'" and "Hit the Road Jack," the former sensually alluring and the latter done with a poignant simplicity and fortitude. Gardner's vocal range comes forth on "Ain't Misbehavin," but also on songs such as "Honey On My Grave," and "Breath Again" in unique and interesting ways. All her efforts provide the listener with a sense of passion, intensity, heartfelt emotion, and a bit of the rascality so evident in Gardner's live shows.

The playfulness that comes out in those live shows is most clearly revealed in Gardner's fan favorites "Caffeine" and "Ohio." You don't get any of Gardner's jokes on this CD(come on Abbie, tell us the one about the antenna wedding!), but her clever charms are wide open for viewing on these songs. What makes "Ohio" particularly fun is in the knowing that it was inspired by the first word Gardner came upon while watching TV - a song was born from a seeming nowhere.

Abbie Gardner is an accomplished musician as well, and her trademark dobro can be found throughout the various tracks of "Honey On My Grave." However, Gardner has also surrounded herself with an array of skilled artisans that are up to the task of keeping pace with her. Matt Munisteri, guitar, Peter Carr, banjo, Benny Rietveld, bass, and fellow Red Mollyer, Laurie MacAllister, background vocals, shine in support. Pat Wictor joins in on a duet to end the CD,"You Got To Move," that is a wonderful closing number to a great eleven songs.

Abbie Gardner is an incredible talent, vocally, instrumentally, as a songwriter, and through her presence. "Honey On My Grave" is a testament to all of those marks of skill that she possesses. I have my copy. Why don't you have yours?

Poem: Legacy

Legacy

President Bush a leader only in name
Through stolen elections and manipulative game
Not up to the challenge and of limited mind
Comes off as stubborn, tone deaf and blind
He can't see his failings and will not shift direction
It's a misguided voter who still shows him affection

History will scribe him as the greatest of liars
He led us to war with illicit conspires
The "nukular" threat was completely a fiction
Fed by the money of an oil addiction
No link to bin Laden or the pain of September
A foe was created time revealed a pretender
Meanwhile, distracted from the real war unfinished
Our focus removed, though the threat's not diminished
Al Qaeda rebuilds in the Afghani wild
While Georgie gives slogans and a stupefied smile

Domestically speaking he's short-shrifted protection
Securing the homeland no concern post-election
Plants stand unguarded and ports are a sieve
Katrina revealed slight attention he'd give

He's stirred up religion as a means of dividing
Compassion he preaches, yet there's none he's providing
Portraying devoutness in his heart for a God
But it's 'nary much more than a Rove-made facade
Programs for needy he has slashed to the core
While the wealthy got tax cuts and he'd gladly give more
Decisions are made currying big business favor
When it comes to his cronies he will surely not waver

As the Leaker in Chief he defined his real making
If you're looking for values he sincerely is faking
The legacy forms as a man of small measure
Where heroes might lead he prefers time for leisure

He'll talk like a cowboy and pretend to be strong
His hollow bravado yields decisions all wrong
A compass-less captain on a ship undirected
He hides in the White House unaware or affected
Void of a conscience o'er the damage he's wrought
That's all there can be of a presidency bought

A verdict forthcoming is a must, I beseech
This time there is reason and a need to impeach
No sexual contrivance, but a betrayal of nation
Institutions longstanding he has brought desecration

I'd go on ad nauseam, but the image is clear
With George Bush in power there is too much to fear

Copyright SGW 2006

Poem: My Father's Son

My Father's Son

I am my father's son
Loving openly
With displays of affection

Bringing a voice to the cause
Desirous of healing all wounds

Yet playful
And curious
And filled with a million words

I am my father's son

Copyright SGW 2006

Tina Vero: Award winning musician

Tina Vero has been garnering attention of late for a four song CD release. One song, “Nowhere,” was runner up in the AAA/Alternative Category of the International Acoustic Music Awards. No arguments with that, as the songs on this CD are all gems. It would seem that the worst criticism that can be leveled upon Vero’s effort is that there are only four songs to enjoy, when one craves so much more.

With guitar playing hinting of Ani Difranco, and a soft, yet powerful voice reminiscent of Dar Williams and Jonatha Brooke, Tina Vero weaves stories of vivid imagery and complex musical arrangement. Together, these tools provide Vero with an ability to bring about a discussion of life’s experiences in a way that is uniquely her own, yet familiar, too.

The previously mentioned “Nowhere” has brought Vero acclaim and it is the portrayal of a person’s conflicted emotions of regret and longing that make this song stand out. Vero writes of love beyond grasp and a loss of control as life marches on. However, she does so with a free-flowing sound that points to moving forward whether we want to or not.

The CD opens with “Angel Chasing” and its haunting guitar and vocal arrangements. This song speaks with a combination of innocence and subtle frustration. The struggle that is life is depicted with a searching and uncertain touch, but it is within this lack of clarity that Vero finds a voice so true to life.

“Memory of Me” picks up this inner conflict in the form of the proverbial loving passing in the night. We make mistakes, choose the wrong paths and are unsure if what is right is within our capacities decide upon. Vero does not provide easy answers, but instead shares the turmoil of emotions with a pinpoint accuracy.

The final song on the CD, “Try,” begins as a placid piece, only to give rise to a forcefulness that we are unaware of until it is fully engaged. Speaking again of the past, Vero reveals discord, this time in whether to recapture something lost, move on or learn from the experience.

Tina Vero’s intricate writing style could easily overwhelm her musicianship and voice were she not equally adept in these two forums. Her guitar playing can be soft and tender or driven and fierce. She has the skill to meet any challenge instrumentally.

Vocally, Vero is an angel. Yet, once more, she is hardly one-dimensional. Her sweet voice ranges from the soothing to the fiery. She is at once reflective and then intensely strong. In listening to Vero, one cannot help but gain a sense of her passion for living and her search for something more.

Tina Vero is a singer-songwriter who will stir up the pot and, with an unusual rawness and integrity, will provide a portrait of human frailty. She displays life within the context of emotional fluctuation. Could anything be more honest? If you wish to be challenged to think beyond boundaries, you will find a friend in Vero. You will also be granted the chance to hear a beautiful voice and inspiring tone.

Eggs and Equinox

On Monday, at 1:26 EST, my officemates and I shared the Vernal Equinox together by attempting to get an egg to stand. I had brought the egg in and had given it pep talks on the drive to work.

We gathered around the egg and made repeated efforts to get it to stand. According to myth, it should do so.

It did not. Perhaps the egg experienced performance anxiety. Maybe it cracked under pressure. Heh ... heh ... heh. All I know for sure is that the egg did not stand.

The egg came back home with me after work. Today it is on the menu.

Addendum: The egg tasted good.

Poem: Fuller View

Fuller View

I've taken to pen with disturbance of mind
My left-leaning brethren all too often seem blind
We rightly condemn all the fools we've "elected"
And also appointments that they've wrongly selected

Liberals blast Israel for oppressive enactions
But if we take time we'd notice our misguided reactions
It's not that it's wrong finding Israel in error
Yet look at surroundings and see a life full of terror
While Palestinians suffer in unsavory position
It's in Arabic countries of their gravest condition

And I don't wish to make any blanket declarings
Still the need for some fairness is a call for comparing
When the Towers were falling many found cause for singing
At the feet of dead soldiers, cheers to Allah they're bringing
Mohammad's portrayal revealed justified fury
Yet the Jew as the devil is a daily-shown story
If American forces so much as walk in a shrine
Desecration is hollered as an unholy sign
Temples once built as a haven for psalms
Destroyed by the evil of sectarian bombs

The point I am making is our shadows are dark
Answers are fleeting, seeming vague more than stark
Hatred is hatred by degree and relation
Until all is accounted then none find salvation
Excuses disable any chance for redemption
Whether Jew, Muslim, Christian, no one gets an exemption
Joy over suffering or a glee in one pain
Regardless of source, it leaves an unrighteous stain
When respectful, compassion for all sides can be nourished
Only then will we find that God's loving has flourished
None get a pass until all live in peace
And all live in peace when the hate comes to cease

Copyright SGW 2006

Jason McElwain - A Beautiful Story

I feel bad for Jason McElwain, in that the honor of meeting the President of the United States, left him with meeting George Bush. However, if you want to watch the amazing video of this incredible young man, go here. If you don't cry, you are not alive.

The Vintage Man - Hafiz

The Vintage Man

The
Difference
Between a good artist
And a great one

Is:

The novice
Will often lay down his tool
Or brush

Then pick up an invisible club
On the mind's table

And helplessly smash the easels and Jade.

Whereas the vintage man
No longer hurts himself or anyone

And keeps on
Sculpting

Light.

From "The Gift" - Poems by Hafiz

Silk Painting - "River"

My favorite silk-screen painting from the artist, Juanita Yoder. I look at it and feel the water flowing.

See my poem: River.