The Attention Deficit Compan

VERDI'S REQUIEM

2012-01-10T11:08:00.002-05:00

(with apologies to his countrymen,
especially the Gambino Family)

A composer whose name was "Giuseppe"

Wrote a Requiem ever-so-peppy.

When heard by the Pope,

He shook his head "Nope!",

"I'm-a supposed to be-a sad,
but I'm-a heppy!?"

Lost Art Notecards are now on the market

2011-10-29T23:55:00.002-04:00

Sold locally in packs of 8 identical cards with envelopes. Blank inside.
Will be available on-line sooner or later.

Yet More Drawings

2011-09-24T21:12:00.002-04:00

Did these in Pen and Ink -- sometimes a little charcoal -- for a series of notecards ... now available locally ... eventually to be available on line from this website. 8 identical cards per pack, with envelopes... about $7.

There's no caption on the next two, 'cause I dreamt them up. The first one was inspired by Thirteenth Lake in the Adirondacks. The last one just appeared gradually in my sketchbook when I sat down to draw ... I'm not sure why or how.

I call them "Lost Art Notecards" ... because writing handwritten notes is becoming a lost art, thanks to texting and email. I figure I have a moral obligation ... to cash in on it, of course. It's the least I can do, don'tcha think?.

More Drawings -- Pen & Ink & Charcoal

2011-08-25T21:49:00.005-04:00

My Church -- in 1911 and 2011 -- original, freehand pen & ink

2011-08-25T21:40:00.000-04:00

Some Portraits of the Only Model Who Would Pose for Me

2011-08-25T21:30:00.003-04:00

LOOKING YOUTHFUL: Another Semi-Serious Sonnet

2011-05-19T14:11:00.005-04:00

If you want to look young, just consider the crayon.

There are some that will always look new.

With there tips that stay sharp and their wrappers that stay on;

But not Red, Yellow, Purple or Blue.

Likewise, Orange and Green are quite quickly worn down

'Til just a dull stub doth remain.

Even gloomier shades, like the Black and the Brown,

Are soon sticks made of wax on the wane.

Yet the Okra, the White and perhaps the Chartreuse,

With their wrappers that haven't been torn,

Simply stay in their box for they don't get much use,

So their points hardly ever look worn.

But what pride can you take appearing so youthful,

If it means that you're not very useful?

Author's Comment:

Many well-preserved people lead useful lives. In fact, keeping busy helps keeps you young. This poem refers to those among us who value appearance only ~ and don't look deeper. I'd like to incorporate this point into the poem ... but who ever heard of a sonnet with three stanzas?

IN THE BEGINNINGS: A Semi-serious Sonnet

2011-05-19T13:50:00.000-04:00

So ...

God rested on the seventh day.

We have accepted that on faith.

But Scripture doesn't really say

what He did on Day the Eighth.

It seems that only Heaven knows

just how God spent that second week

With omnipotence would you suppose

He'd hit the beach in Martinique?

No!

Creators don't stop making things!

He would make some more dimensions

Full of divine imaginings,

truly marvelous inventions,

and Creatures unlike me and you.

That is what creators do!

A FATHER'S LULLABY: There Will Always Be Dragons to Slay

2011-05-10T18:30:00.001-04:00

Play-along

Free sheet music

Lucid, Vincent
There Will Always Be Dragons to Slay (A Father's Lullaby)
+ MP3 (human interpretation) / MIDI
Voice, Strings ensemble

Celtic / 2010
V. J. Lucid © All rights reserved

Make a donation to Vincent Lucid

My Music

2011-05-02T01:02:00.003-04:00

Here's a convenient way to listen to some of my serious compositions.
http://drspeedbump.com/MyMusic2.6x.html
You may download the sheet music (no charge) elsewhere on DrSpeedbump.com
or at Free-Scores.com

Lamb of God (St. Cecelia's Mass of Hope)

2011-05-02T00:31:00.000-04:00

Free sheet music

Lucid, Vincent
Lamb of God (St Cecelia's Mass of Hope)
+ MP3 (digital interpretation) / MIDIChoral SATB

Mass; Choir; Sacred / 2006
V. J. Lucid © All rights reserved

Make a donation to Vincent Lucid

Glory to God (St. Cecelia's Mass of Hope )

2011-05-01T23:27:00.008-04:00

Free sheet music

Lucid, Vincent
Glory to God (St Cecelia's Mass of Hope)
+ MP3 (digital interpretation) / MIDI
Choral SATB

Mass; Choir; Sacred / 2010
V. J. Lucid © All rights reserved

Make a donation to Vincent Lucid

Ave! Maria

2011-05-01T22:15:00.001-04:00

My Ave Maria has been downloaded nearly 400 times by visitors from about 70 countries, including: Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Japan, China, Jibouti, Ivory Coast and other surprising places. Thanks to Google and the other search engines that put it on page 1 of an image search. Go figure !

Lucid, Vincent
Ave Maria
+ MP3 (digital interpretation) / MIDIPiano and Voice

Mass; Choir; Sacred / 2003, 2010
Vincent J. Lucid © All rights reserved

Make a donation to Vincent Lucid

Hey!

2011-04-24T20:08:00.011-04:00

Just because it's not about you

doesn't mean that you're not affected by it.

If someone closes a door on your finger or in your face,

even if it's unintentional,

you have a right to say: "Hey! You closed the door on me!".

If you don't say "Hey!", at least once in a while,

you'll slip backwards toward Irrelevance.

Some people want to be irrelevant.

It requires no courage -- but the cost is self-respect.

Others refuse to be ignored.

Have no expectations.

If you say, "Hey!" and they get defensive,

rather than apologetic or compassionate,

that's the time to turn the other cheek.

Just watch your fingers next time.

The Prayer of the Children

2011-03-29T14:32:00.012-04:00

If you happen to recognize this men's a capella group, please let me know.

I'm breaking my own rule and posting something that's not my own work. I wish it was. Click to the right of the "YouTube" logo to get the full screen video -- and grab a tissue.

What is LOVE? Who is GOD? Mysticism for the Shallow Mind

2011-01-26T11:21:00.014-05:00

LOVE is GOD ~
     for GOD is LOVE (1 John 4:8) ~
All of it!
Every warm feeling or thought,
Every kind word, spoken or written,
Every secret longing, every unselfish action or prayer ~
    ever and everywhere, since the first light of the first dawn.
The unseen, often unfelt, centripetal force that makes us One.
That is what Love is -- and that is who God is.
Powerful beyond comprehension.
All the rest is garbage or glitter.
Any more questions?

-- an excerpt from the imaginary anthology, "Mysticism for the Shallow Mind"

In Bryce Canyon, singing "Mule, Never Walk Alone"

2011-01-25T09:49:00.002-05:00

Stillwater 2010

2011-01-25T09:35:00.000-05:00

(click on the picture to enlarge it)

Note: I helped God a little with this scene.

I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here ...

2011-01-25T09:30:00.000-05:00

(click picture to enlarge it)

This is Noel -- the Frickin' Kitten from Hell -- in Jekyll Mode

Just an Ordinary Tug-Hill Barn

2011-01-25T09:25:00.000-05:00

(click picture to enlarge it)

Parallel Universe

2011-01-25T09:13:00.001-05:00

(click to enlarge)

Olivia's World

2011-01-25T09:10:00.000-05:00

With photo credit to Lisa Hawthorne and apologies to Andrew Wyeth.

(click to enlarge)

The Promise of an Old Day

2011-01-17T23:22:00.001-05:00

(click photo to enlarge)

Mi Casa es Su Casa

2011-01-12T09:30:00.002-05:00

Click on Image to Enlarge It

WAIT !
I've recently fixed the place up:

At the End of a Busy Day

2011-01-12T07:28:00.003-05:00

Click Photo to enlarge it

Rockport, Mass., more or less

2011-01-09T00:45:00.001-05:00

Click on photo to enlarge it

Motif Number 1.n

2011-01-08T11:08:00.003-05:00

Rockport, Massachusetts

Life is NOT Just a Bowl of Cherries...

2011-01-08T10:48:00.078-05:00

(Click Picture to Enlarge)

Life is NOT Just a Bowl of Cherries.
Sometimes Life is a Bowl of Berries.
Sometimes Life is a String of Pearls.
Sometimes Life is a Bag of Squirrels.
Sometimes Life is a Bowl of Warm Piss.
Life is What Happens ~ It is What It Is.

THE LORD'S PRAYER -- St. Cecelia's Mass of Hope

2011-01-05T00:52:00.006-05:00

Free sheet music

Lucid, Vincent
The Lord's Prayer (St Cecelia's Mass of Hope)
+ MP3 (audio extract) / MIDI
Choral SATB a cappella + chimes

Mass; Choir; Sacred / 2008
Recording is an excerpt from the premier performance, December 7, 2008, by the Syracuse Chorale,
conducted by Warren Ottey, at St. Paul's Cathedral, Syracuse, NY
V. J. Lucid © All rights reserved

Green #1

2010-12-29T09:20:00.001-05:00

Meery Christmas!

2010-12-25T09:29:00.000-05:00

Impressed Yet Distressed ~ Counting the Ways: #10 and #11

2010-12-03T20:48:00.004-05:00

You bet
I'm impressed,
for you are very kind.
I must confess, as well,
I find you very sweet ... Dear Heart.

But yet
I'm distressed
for in my foolish mind
I just pressed (oh, hell!)
Control, Alt, Delete ... Re-Start.

TOWARD FULFILLMENT

2010-10-28T15:23:00.000-04:00

(Reprise from April 11, 2010 - with one word change)

    Where are you going, my Little One ...?

We choose our path and pack our own duffel,
     mostly with stuff that's not worth its weight;
         and we set out on our own private odyssey --
             or perhaps we wait for a ship that never comes.

Though never quite sure where we are going,
     we are guided by Wisdom bought with pain
         and by a gift of Grace, which somehow appears,
             perhaps delivered by a prophet, or just by a friend.

The Cloud of Unknowing hides some distractions
      and we suddenly realize what we've known all along:
          that Being Loved is the place we have been longing for;
              and Loving is the only way that will surely get us there.

                    All the rest is colored bubbles.

Part I. CRITICISM FROM OTHERS

2010-10-14T11:24:00.002-04:00

From CRITICISM, A TRILOGY

FOREWORD

My head wrote this poem to buoy up my heart
     when it was low in the water.
It worked -- so now we offer this verse to you,
     with sincere hope that you’ll find something useful.
If you don’t like what it says or how it’s said,
     we really don’t give a dust bunny.

It’s Not About You

Do not take to heart
     any judgmental comments from others.
Cynics and most critics
     are cursed with a relentless itch --
A need to convince themselves
     that they are not inferior to others.

They project their fears and inadequacies
     onto whomever they can.
So when they make disparaging remarks,
     it is one self-image chastising another.
Neither one is yours.
     It’s not about you at all.

If someone throws bricks at you,
     do not stoop to throw them back.
Build something with them --
     perhaps a wall around your garden.
Leave an open gate – you want a boundary,
     not a fortress or a prison.

Elitism is a Euphemism

Snobbery is Insecurity all dressed up
     in fancy, musty clothes from a stuffy attic.
False Pride is Shame going the ball --
     but dreading midnight.
Snobs are afraid they’ll be found out
     to be like everyone else, frail and flawed.

Most of their shortcomings matter very little,
     but one crucial virtue is lacking.
Humility – the habit of seeing yourself
     as you truly are, not as you wish to be.
Once you accept the truth,
     there is nothing left to prove.

Part II. SELF-CRITICISM Reprise from April 6, 2010

2010-10-14T11:17:00.000-04:00

From CRITICISM: A TRILOGY

The Road To Perfection

The harshest critic is usually the Judge within you
     taking over the task begun by your parents.
Perhaps it’s time to send that judge down the road –
     and to exile the Judge’s soul-mate, the Victim --
that pin-cushion Martyr, with arrows by the hundreds
     sticking into him or her from all angles.

Do you set higher standards for yourself
     than you do for others? Isn’t that Vanity?
Why be so slow to forgive yourself for making errors,
     when you would so quickly forgive a friend?
Do you think you can achieve Perfection?
     If so, you’ve already made one big mistake.

Accept the fact that the Road to Perfection
     has not been completed -- nor will it ever be.
Check all your baggage except for one knapsack,
     then tear up the ticket and travel light.
Let the Judge and Victim trudge toward Perfection,
     while you head toward Fulfillment instead.

Your Garden

Peer into a mirror as if it were a window
     looking out on a garden.
Then step outside into that garden
     and just admire it for a while.
Now you may look around for weeds,
     but go slowly and carefully with the hoe.

Every new sprout is not an evil alien invader
     on a mission to choke your petunias.
Welcome some wildflowers,
     like Spontaneity and at least a little Risk.
Trust Helen Keller -- “Life is a daring adventure or nothing.
     Security is mostly a superstition. ”

Take time often to water your garden,
     but not with a fire hose.
Compassion is a persistent shower,
     but a gentle one --
Enough to wash the dust from the leaves
     and refresh the thirsty roots.

Now go somewhere else
     and do something different.
Come back in the morning light to see how well
     the garden grew during the night --
Simply because you turned it over and left it alone --
     trusting that all would be well. It is.

Part III. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

2010-10-14T10:25:00.054-04:00

From CRITICISM, A TRILOGY

Criticism Without Condescension

The only criticism of any value
     is Constructive Criticism, kindly offered.
Patronization is a hollow bone,
     useful only as a weapon.
Sincerity is the marrow needed for growth.
     Pick no bones without it.

Whom Do You Trust?

Seek the advice of someone with no agenda
     other than to help you.
Someone trustworthy, truthful and tactful,
     who will say what they truly believe.
Don’t bother if you’re just looking for someone
     to agree with you.

Put your own opinion on a shelf, for now,
     to make room in your head for new ideas.
Listen with an open mind
     and adopt ony the ideas that willl work for you.
The finest new clothes may not come in your size.
     Borrow only those that fit.

Value the opinion of a simple man,
     though he may lack tact or eloquence.
Unencumbered by pride or reputation,
     he often sees more clearly than the experts.
With childlike honesty, he will give you his view,
     and be delighted that you asked for it.

Divine Guidance

Tech support is available from our manufacturer.
     Call him -- anytime, any topic, no cost!
Smarter than Google, though slower than a turtle,
     with answers tailored to your needs.
It’s not necessary to put your question into words,
     or even into complete thoughts.

You won’t be addressed by a voice from the sky –
     unless you’re Charlton Heston.
It will be more like a telepathic message
     from Jiminy Cricket, perhaps when you’re asleep.
Wish upon that star … then wait … patiently ... quietly …
     and the answer will seep into you.

Without your knowing when it happened,
     you’ll realize that you can see more clearly.
When you get this gift that some call Grace,
     do what Mom taught you: say, “Thank You!”.
Somehow, the fog will have faded away –
     and you will know what is right and true.

AFTERWORD -- An Earworm for You to Sing and Share

“Has anybody here --
     seen a judge and a victim?
Can you tell me where they hide?”
     “I thought I saw them trudgin’
Down the road to Perfection,
     with Anger, a Martyr, and Pride.”

LAST WORD

Copyright 2010, V. J. Lucid and The Attention Deficit Compan
but feel free to forward it to friends.
It’s too big to chew without cutting it up,
so each part and many verses are written to stand alone.
If you like it, please tell DrSpeedbump@DrSpeedbump.com
If you don’t like it, you can't image the size of the dust bunny I do not give.

CHORAL DEMERIT SYSTEM

2010-10-14T00:50:00.001-04:00

ATTENTION CHORAL DIRECTORS !
Are you tired of saying the same things over and over to maintain discipline.
Here's what you have to do:

Post this Demerit System on the bulletin board at the beginning of the season.
Appoint your spunkiest Alto to keep score.
Concentrate on the music.

http://DrSpeedbump.com/ChoralDemeritSystem.html

FREE-SCORES.COM

2010-10-12T01:14:00.000-04:00

Here's a web-site where you can download public-domain sheet music, as well as compositions by contemporary composers. I've posted some of my music there. "Glory to God" was downloaded 80 times over the weekend. My "Ave Maria" has been downloaded over 150 times in two weeks. You can even hear an MP3 of somebody with a mediocre voice singing a demo of "A Father's Lullaby: There will Always be Dragons to Slay". Check it out.

http://www.free-scores.com/Download-PDF-Sheet-Music-vincent-lucid.htm

All the Forest Creatures

2010-10-10T08:28:00.016-04:00

All the forest creatures,
     small and great,
          held their furry or feathery breath
as Prince Franklin hovered
     over the tranquil, nubile waif on her mossy bed,
          still asleep despite the lightning and thunder,
and with his trembling, noble hands,
     descending like parachutes toward her snow-white
          (actually off-white, yet still virginal) bosom --
Franklin suddenly pushed the buttons on the paddles
     that he had wired to a tin-foil kite,
          and authoritatively yelled “Clear!”,
scaring the droppings
     out of all the forest creatures,
          small and great.

TRUSTING in GOD

2010-10-10T01:19:00.005-04:00

Suppose you’re on the edge of a cliff, the brink of the Unknown.
You’re facing the setting sun, an angry sea behind you, far below.
Suppose God asks you to stand on your toes,
raise your arms into a crucifixion pose -- and fall backwards,
trusting that the ocean has been filled with God's Grace.
Could you do it? There's no shame in saying "No".
So, let’s try something with a little less risk.
Shall we?

Go into your bedroom tonight and turn off the light.
Close the door, leaving your worries in the hall --
preferably in a plastic bag, all tied-up tight.
Sit on the foot of your bed and say two little prayers:
one for someone you know, and another for someone you don't.
Then, try to sit for at least a minute without thinking at all.
Just listen. In the Darkness, God says, "Trust Me."
Did you hear it?

God says your Guardian Angel just sprinkled Grace
all over your blanket, like Tinkerbell and her pixie dust.
She stuffed some in your pillow, too; and there’s plenty left over.
(If you recall, God had planned to fill the ocean with Grace.)
Now, fall backwards from your sitting position,
rest your head on that pillow and cover up with that blanket.
Let God keep the world spinning for a while without your help.
Can you do it?

Let go, Dear Heart, and sleep in serenity
trusting that God will send the Morning Sun
to bring warmth, light for your path and new hope.
Perhaps the Garbage Angel will pick up your worries before you awaken.
Above all, remember God's promise to bless you
with all the Grace you’ll need to get through One More Day.
Since the day you were born, God has always kept that promise.
Hasn't She?

Glossary of Seldom-Used Music Terms

2010-10-02T01:25:00.005-04:00

*Dr Speedbump’s* *Glossary of Seldom-Used Music Terms* *3.5* *Page 1 of 2*
*al dente*	with a toothy grin; (see *liberace)*
*al Fredo*	heart-breaking
*al Pacino*	violent, but charming
*altissimo*	as high as you can sing
*analgesia*	gradually emerge from a painfully slow tempo
*anchovi*	few will like this section; (see *broccoli*)
*anesthesia*	slow enough to put the audience to sleep
*archipelago*	extremely stretched out
*aria guitaria*	air guitar
*aria guitaria segovia*	very good air guitar
*asphyxia*	squirming around to get more comfortable
*awolto*	an alto absent without notifying the director
*broccoli*	distasteful, but doesn’t stink as bad as *anchovi*
*bromo salsa*	a dance that follows *anchovi pizza molto presto*
*caracas*	crisp; (see *dorito* and *tostito)*
*cleavagio*	whole notes smushed together but still distinct
*clipiti clopiti*	in the style of Gene Autry; (see *palomino*)
*colorado*	beautiful, except where it’s flat
*con supina*	sing even if you don’t want to
*counter tenor*	a singing waiter at a diner
*da Vinci*	be inventive; make something up
*de Julio*	campy, but in an oriental style
*de Niro*	forget about it; the composer’s not talking to you
*disconcerto*	falling apart when the conductor loses his place
*domino*	finish in 30 minutes or less or you don't get paid
*dorito*	corny; one variation of caracas
*dumbo*	heavy, but soaring
*el Greco*	distorted, like everything by this composer
*fargo*	from a distance
*farina*	fine but distasteful
*fraudulento*	sung slowly, faking the words
*gambino*	in control with conviction (don't screw it up)
*gelatino*	generally shaky
*generalissimo*	with a commanding voice
*graziano*	a rocky, medium-heavy rhythm; (see *marciano*)
*innuendo*	very suggestively
*karo*	sickeningly sweet
*largo cargo*	slow and heavy
*largo con fuego*	a slow burn
*liberace*	with gaity, al dente, in a tuxedo
Glossary of Seldom-Used Music Terms *Page 2 of 2*
*linguini*	a very thin tone
*marciano*	a rocky, very heavy rhythm; (see *graziano*)
*martini pimento*	ornamentation with no real purpose
*mea culpa*	with lots of mistakes
*mea maxima culpa*	the worst mistake imaginable
*nolo prima*	miss the entrance
*oleo*	saturated with flats
*omaha*	flat and boring
*palomino*	more uniform than *pinto, ala* Gene Autry
*pinto*	with contrasting spots; (see *clipiti clopiti*)
*paterno*	with blind determination, ad infinitum
*payola*	you must pay to play; i.e., no union musicians
*pinnochio*	played stiffly with strings
*pizza molto*	very flat
*pizza pepperoni*	with zest, but still flat
*pizza poco*	just a little flat
*pizza poco a poco*	getting flatter all the time
pp	what you should have done before the concert
*priapistico*	performed while standing for more than 4 hours
*primi*	start way too soon
*quasi modo*	moving along at half-speed
*quasi morte angelina*	beautiful but fading; literally “like a dying angel”
*repugnissimo*	very disgusting
*rico*	executed by an ensemble
*riga morte*	stiff and very dull; quiet but not soft
*rigatoni*	a more robust tone; (see *linguini*)
*rondo bondo*	a recurring theme, each time by a different instrument, but never as well as the second one; always rehearsal section 007
*sara palino*	totally unprepared, stopping halfway through
*semolina*	coarse and gritty
*siberia*	no *sorento,* ever
*silencio*	a cappella tutti (orchestra, chorus and soloists)
*soni bono*	literally “a good sound”, but really a bit irritating
*sorento*	go back to this place; (synonymous with DS)
*stubato*	stumbling painfully along
*tipperari*	from an even greater distance than fargo
*topeka*	there’s absolutely nothing to do in this section
*toledo*	very exciting, compared to *omaha* or *topeka*
*tostito*	another variation of *caracas* (see *dorito*)
*vivace fortissimo subito*	wake the audience up; (see *anesthesia*)
*wasilla vista*	see *siberia*
*zombi*	*riga morte quasi modo*

THE SABBATH STORY

2010-10-02T00:20:00.000-04:00

With all creation manifested
On the seventh day God rested
At least that’s what we’re taught the Good Book sayeth.
So we observe the Sabbath Day
Watching Donovan McNabbath play
God found another job, per se, on day the e-ighth.

Jews and Seventh Day Adventists
Except the bankers and the dentists
Were so zealous they began their work on Sunday.
They tried to start their work week over
But couldn’t sell it to Jehovah
So, they’re saddled with a Sabbath off by one day.

They do all their chores on Sunday
Sabbath Saturday is fun day
In the Fall they watch a lot of college ball.
If they could have they’re druthers, though
They’d watch Peyton or his brother throw
But these pro games they don’t get to see at all.

But Lo! A would-be savior came
Howard Cosell of boxing fame
Before he died, he saved them, somewhat, from their plight.
If you believe this Sabbath story
Give Howard thanks and praise and glory
For his gift of one more game, on Monday night.

An Invitation to Repeat Visitors

2010-09-26T18:41:00.000-04:00

Welcome back, whoever you are.

If you come to visit from time to time
to my humble attempts at rhythm and rhyme,
A "Follower" I invite you to be.
It would feel most rewarding to me,
For, as a poet, I don't earn a dime.

You only need to register with an email address, to protect us bloggers from anonymous abusive comments. You won't get any spam. It would sure be inspiring to know that somebody out there actually reads some of this stuff. I'd just like too know if it piques anyone's interest. Comments are always welcome (even slightly abusive ones if they're the least bit constructive).
Lavish praise and unbridled admiration are preferred, of course.

Thanks !

In Memoriam: Meus Deus-Pater

2010-09-25T13:10:00.003-04:00

A man of joy.
A man of sorrow.
Easy to love.
A contemplative genius
Too deep to fathom.

He looked like Santa Claus.
The children, for a while, believed he was.
No ... the beard was too well trimmed.
More like Hemingway, I'd say, though
Hemingway's prose was not as poetic.

He excelled at everything.
Even warfare for which he later atoned.
After bombing Nantucket, accidentally,
A fighter pilot in the oxymoronic Pacific War.
He came home more penitent than triumphant.

No mother, no father -- but embraced
by aunts, uncles, cousins and a brother,
plus a new brotherhood of disciples
of Ignatius, in which he made reparation
for acts of war by facilitating Acts of God.

A teacher, missionary and spiritual director.
On countless occasions,
he touched thousands of souls
in hundreds of ways over scores of years,
sharing the grace of one God.

Not without a demon.
In his hour of darkness
he made it down that hallway
with the help of others.
I know he helped them, too.

Even after being struck down,
unable to talk, unable to walk,
his eyes were clear as a starlit sky.
I looked into those eyes one day
as I cut up his chicken dinner.

There was no doubt that my Godfather
was still in there, with an awareness
that would make Buddha smile.
Liberation would inevitably come.
When the Father called, he went in peace.

Out of the Mouths of Babes ...

2010-09-25T10:16:00.002-04:00


Yes, it says "Marilyn Monroe". Who knew?

A Self-Portrait

2010-09-23T01:33:00.000-04:00

On the Road

2010-09-23T00:13:00.001-04:00

Sometimes,
you meet pilgrims
who appear to be going your way.

But,
walking side-by-side
doesn't mean you share the same goal.

Why
assume a common goal
when you started in different places?

So,
run your own race
and stay in your own lane 'til the end.

St. Cecelia's Mass of Hope

2010-09-20T12:37:00.002-04:00

After eight years, off and on (mostly off),
I have updated St. Cecelia's Mass of Hope
for the next-to-last time.

Now, I can write the Alleluia and move on ("Alleluia" indeed).
I am finishing up just as the Vatican is changing the words.
I hope Episcopalians discover it. They can sing it "as is".
I'll look at it all again sometime in early 2011 and
perhaps update it according to the new Roman Missal.
While revising the words, I'll write a melody line
that the average RC congregation could sing (if they actually tried)
and harmony (with less ornamentation) for your average Catholic choir.
For now, at the risk of excommunication, the working title
for the final Catholic update is Messa di Bingo".*

So, whatever room of God's house you reside in at the moment,
please have a listen to St. Cecelia's Mass of Hope.
I suggest that start with the Gloria,
the Lamb of God,
and more if you have time.
Look at the scores and sing along with the MIDIs.
"Kyrioke!". [Sorry, I couldn't resist].

I would be absolutely delighted to hear your comments,
even if you think it's bubble-gum music or totally unsingable.
The only part ever performed, as far as I know, is The Lord's Prayer.
The Syracuse Chorale, 80 voices +/- did the world premier
at the Episcopal Cathedral in Syracuse for a 2009 Christmas Concert.
It was an honor for me, especially to be on a program with Vivaldi.
I got to take a bow. He didn't.
__________________________
*Someone once asked
"What's a Catholic Church without Bingo?"
It was a rhetorical question. I answered it anyway,
and blurted out "An Episcopal Church!".
[Transubstantiation is easily overlooked; and American
Catholics don't pay strict attention to the Pope anyway.]

I'm told a Bingo Mass won't sell in the South.
Bingo is a Northeast phenomenom (like Kennedy's, I suppose)
How about "The Mass of Grace and Grits" as a Southern alias.
Why? Because (according to Scott Peck) a wise southerner once told a Yankee,
puzzled by the white stuff on his breakfast platter,
"Them's Grits. They're like Grace. You don't order them. They just come."

If You Close the Door ...

2010-09-19T01:47:00.000-04:00

So,
you think no one can hurt you
if you close the door
and lock it from within.

Now,
no one can hear you
no one can help you.
no one can even ask "How are you?"

Soon,
your friends stop trying.
You think no one can hurt you?
Someone just did.

A View of ADD -- from the Inside

2010-09-17T00:58:00.002-04:00

It's not a deficit of attention.
On the contrary,
there's an abundance of attention,
with a sensory overload to match.
The Creator, for some impish reason,
didn't bother to install a stimulus filter
in the brains of some of us:
butterflies, cabbage moths, hummingbirds
and me. You too, perhaps?
Like the rip-tide in swift river
where the flow converges
at the downstream end of an island --
and at the mouth of that river,
when the wind is blowing onshore --
there's bound to be turbulence
where the flow of thoughts collide.
With unfiltered sensations
from the usual five senses
plus a few more that, for now,
we'll call intuition and inspiration,
trying to get something accomplished
is a bit like boiling a 3-minute egg in a geyser.
Making a decision is similar to
pointing out your favorite snowflake
before it hits the wet pavement.
If you prefer,
imagine the life of a goldfish in a lava lamp.
It's not like a hurricane with a headache --
not so organized or directional.
Rather, more like an electrical storm:
with lightning sky to sky and sky to ground,
sudden cracks and ominous rumbles
that no one can hear but us.
You may see it in my eyes sometimes,
when you're talking to me
but you're not sure if I'm tuned
to the same channel.
Salmon know what it's like,
swimming upstream through the rapids,
leaping above the whitewater now and then
to gain some distance.
Paradoxically, we sometimes hyperfocus,
with steel-wire determination, unable to let go.
Despite the turbulence,
Salmon are intent to spawn and die.
And so, I suppose, must I.

Shall I Compare Thee ...? Counting the Ways #9

2010-09-16T23:57:00.002-04:00

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Well, art thou sticky and hot?
Thank God, the former you're not;
and the latter I consider OK.

A GLOSSARY of EMOTIONS

2010-08-29T13:38:00.002-04:00

The Attention Deficit Compan

presents

A GLOSSARY OF EMOTIONS

Anger is the bottle of warm soda that you dropped on the floor and then left on the table for an unsuspecting person to open. Sometimes it’s a suit of armor (see Hurt).
Anxiety is a parasite that feeds on Doubt and defecates more than it consumes.
Confidence is the jar that Anxiety comes in. Don’t drop it!
Contentment happens when you stop bitching long enough to count even a fraction of your blessings.
Desire and Fear: two puppeteers who try to move you about. They inevitably tangle your strings.
Despair is a sea of Sadness on a moonless night in March. Hope is a dolphin.
Disappointment is a result of focusing on the outcome rather than on the process.
Discontent is what you get when you can’t see what you’ve already got.
Embarrassment is the ragged underwear beneath a suit of Dignity.
Envy is the result of looking in the mirror and seeing somebody else instead of yourself.
Faith is a conviction made with insufficient evidence.
Gratitude is Grace going the other way.
Grief and Sorrow are the wounds left behind when a part of you is ripped away. Sympathy is the bandage and Compassion is a kiss to make it better.
Guilt is the hangover your conscience gets when it realizes what Selfishness has done.
Happiness is the prize you get if you stay on the ride through the ups and downs, remain seated, keep your hands inside the car at all times, and hold on to the few things that really matter.
Hatred is not the opposite of Love. That’s Indifference. Hate is the venom of the snake that inevitably bites its own tail.
Hurt is the little person inside a big suit of Anger, sort of like the Wizard of Oz.
Jealousy is the jailer who tortures himself when his prisoner tries to escape.
Loneliness comes to visit when your roommate is a self-image that you don’t really like.
Love is God, for God is Love. All of it! Every warm feeling or thought, every kind word, every secret longing, every unselfish action, ever and everywhere: the unseen, often unfelt centripetal force that makes us One. To learn how to Love and how to Be Loved – that’s why we’re here. All the rest is colored bubbles.
Sadness is something that you need once in a while so you’ll recognize Happiness when it happens.
Self-Pity is Sadness with Low Self-Esteem.
Shame is the noise a secret makes when it rattles the closet door.
Suffering is the soreness you get for resisting what is. Pain is inevitable; Suffering is optional.
Vengeance is where Pride goeth after the fall. Humiliation is the driver.
Zeal is Enthusiasm on Speed.

___________________________________________________

It’s OK to forward it to anyone who might like it.

Lots more at DrSpeedbump.com and TheAttentionDeficitCompan.com

CHRIST on an Acrostic: The Cross is Us!

2010-08-08T17:36:00.008-04:00

Christ did not cease to suffer after His death.
He endures our pain: every stab, every woe.
Remember that He arose before He ascended.
It matters not that His body once died.
Still suffering ~ for us ~ Christ lives
Though He insists His burden is light.

"Know that I am with you always." [Matthew:28-20]

A PCYNICAL PSALM

2010-08-05T13:03:00.000-04:00

Note: The P is silent, as in swimming.

This is the day the Lord has made;
but let's not get too overjoyed.
For minute by minute it's destined to fade;
and once it's gone by, it's destroyed.

This little gem is just a reminder that I'm still on the planet.
I've been busy writing music -- soon to be presented on DrSpeedbump.com

The RIME of the ANCIENT MARINER: a review

2010-07-07T18:35:00.037-04:00

Attention Deficit University
presents

The TOME of the ANCIENT MARINER:
A NEVER-ENDING STORY by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Reviewed in a Single Quatrain

In Freshman English Lit'rature
there assigned once to me,
by a long dead bard, a twittering rime,
which never stoppest doth he.

[Note: My propensity for picking on poets
with depression and addiction
is coincidence with a cause.
It seems that it's awfully hard to avoid them. ]

EDGAR ALLAN POETRY

2010-07-07T08:49:00.018-04:00

RAVING

Once when I was feeling cheery, I found a poem, bleak and dreary
by a man who died at fortyish, more than a hundred years before.
While I started fairly happy, suddenly I felt real crappy
and soon I got plenty sappy, sappy as his metaphor.
"This is pitiful," I muttered, "to be sappy as a metaphor."
I read this verse, and nothing more:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more."

REQUIEM for an ANNELID

2010-07-03T23:32:00.008-04:00

The day was not yet dawning.
The birds weren't even yawning.
They hadn't peeped a single little peep.
It was oh-dark-hundred a.m.
Life would surely become mayhem
Just as soon as they awakened from their sleep.

Sherman was a humble worm
Out for the daily morning squirm
That he took before he had to go to work.
An earthworm has to be alert
To make soil out of dirt
And be careful to avoid a sudden jerk.

When the worm on guard that morning
Blew his bugle as a warning
To run like hell and hide beneath a leaf,
The warning sadly was not heard
And Sherm got turned into a turd.
Unfortunately, all worms are dumb and deaf.

In ENGLISH CLASS

2010-07-02T15:17:00.007-04:00

My English teacher is The Lord of Nerds.
He claims he knows a lot of words
that rhyme with no other.
"Try me", I muttered.
This heated exchange then occurred.

"Surely you can't rhyme 'elephant'."
"Professor", I touted, "the Hell I can't!"
"Nice try", he told me,
He gave me a 'C'.
At least it was better than 'pelican'.

"You won't even come close with 'month'."
"Oh yeth", I lisped, "I'm no dunth".
"Well, how about 'orange'?"
"Will you thettle for 'porridge'?
He anthered with groanth and thum grunth.

A SPECIAL BLESSING for SOMEONE I'VE KNOWN ALL MY LIFE

2010-06-30T17:17:00.025-04:00

FOR ME

May Wisdom find me.
May Enlightenment guide me.
May I be marinated in Serenity, day and night.
May my Confidence and Humility learn to get along.

May my weaknesses become my strengths.
May Anxiety be transformed into Enthusiasm,
Obsessiveness into Endurance, Sadness into Serenity
Restlessness into Motivation, and Distraction into Imagination.

May I love myself as I love my neighbor.
May I be aware and accepting of whatever Love is offered to me.
May my Expectations of others dissolve in Mindfulness that they, too,
are learning how to give and accept Love; and they may be repeating a grade.

May I notice the absence of physical pain, as well its presence.
May my pain remind me of the agony Christ quietly accepted for me.
May it serve as my offering on behalf of one of the multitude of Innocents
who are suffering today from Hunger, Disease, Injustice, Oppression and Abuse.*

May I never forget that I am a Child of God.
May I have Faith in Him to match his Faith in Me.
May I realize that I do not have to earn His Guidance, Protection and Love.
May I muster enough Courage, each day, to show up for the Life He has planned for me.

*Even as I write this, the pain in my feet subsides considerably, replaced by warmth and a gentle tingling. I hope this means my offering was accepted -- and I wonder who and where is the beneficiary.

LIFE is Just Like BASEBALL ...

2010-06-29T16:31:00.018-04:00

Life is just like Baseball ...
except, in LIFE, you never know:
How many strikes or outs you're entitled to,
How many balls, how many innings there will be, or
How many pitches of unknown objects
might come flying at you, all at the same time,
from different directions.
You can't trust that umpires even try to be fair, or
that the people who were your teammates yesterday
are on your side again today.

In LIFE, as in BASEBALL,
There will be opportunities you swing at --
And some that you'll let go by, for better or worse.
Of course, if you screw up on 60% of your turns at bat,
You won't get a trophy like a hitter with a .400 batting average.
Let's hope this Game, the only one underway,
won't be called due to inclement weather
like Fire, Ice or another annoying Flood.
There might not be another game after this one.
If there is, it could be like curling or cage fighting.

Suit up, Rookie!
You're in the Big League now.
Pick up your bat.
Step up to the plate.
Just do your Best.
That's all that the Coach and the Fans expect of you.
You might bring some Joy to Mudville today --
Or maybe not.
Either way, if LIFE is truly like BASEBALL,
It's OK to spit.

YARD WORK

2010-06-28T17:33:00.006-04:00

The man who lives next door to me
Mows his lawn obsessively
And then he'll fertilize it, so
All the faster it will grow
And once again he'll have to mow.
This makes no sense at all to me.

But wait! There's more ...

He complains about the work, but still
He rakes the leaves so they won't won't kill
The grass he wishes would not grow,
The grass I know he loathes to mow!
I don't rake or mow and never will.
So, he calls me an imbecile.

Go figure.

A few Haiku pour vous

2010-06-27T16:08:00.010-04:00

A REFLECTION at LAKE NEATAWANA
February 24, 1997

A gull with a limp
is still majestic in flight.
Be not quick to judge.

A REALITY TRILOGY
February 9, 2010

I wait in Silence
hoping that a Dream will come
and swallow me whole.

Reality dawns
to awaken me again,
so I close the shade.

Real Life rings loudly,
but I don't want to wake up.
Where's the snooze button?

YODISH WISDOM
June 18-ish, 2010

Hurts, to walk, it does
If, on comfort, you insist
For the hearse, here wait

HOW TO ACCEPT WHAT YOU CANNOT CHANGE

2010-06-20T16:25:00.028-04:00

Define something that bothers you
and something else that brings you joy.
Write them down in two short phrases.
Now! Give them permission to exist in your kingdom.
Just for now. Not for ever.

Don't wrap your difficulty in despair,
nor get too comfortable with comfort.
Good fortune is a reason to be grateful,
rather than self-congratulatory or smug.
Acceptance precludes neither hope nor risk.

Wear or carry some little trinket, anything,
to remind you daily that "this, too, shall pass."
All that is painful or joyful, beauteous or hideous,
will inevitably fade like the morning fog.
So, give it permission to be in your kingdom ... for now.

Photo Credit: Dave Kemp - PicturePerfect.nu

THREE KAYAKING MEMORIES Actually four, counting my picture.

2010-06-18T23:57:00.062-04:00

ONE

Kayak on roof-rack.
A strap goes 'snap'
My craft is aft.

TWO

The ocean is vast, I'm but a speck
who's lost in fog near Rocky Neck.

My first solo kayak trek,
and I've misplaced the Kennebec!

Yet, I don't fear another wreck.
Plastic Jesus is on the deck.

THREE

A following sea
bigger than me.
I'll surf a bit ...
a breach -- oh, shit!
Foam in my face,
forgot to brace.
Turning turtle ...
kersplash, glub,
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
gurgle!

NEVERMORE!

THE MAN OF LA MAFIA (Not La Mancha) Complete Script with Stage Directions

2010-06-18T19:21:00.015-04:00

The Attention Deficit Production Compan
presents
The MAN of La MAFIA
A 'Long-Running' (12 minutes) Musical by Dr Speedbump
With apologies to D. Wasserman, J. Darien, M. Lee and Cervantes

LAS VEGAS, sometime in the 1970s

CHARACTERS:

Don Coyote (Peter's Brother) -- our narrator, as explained vaguely below.
Donaldo Bonano, aka Don Banana -- a devote pacifist born into a Crime Family.
Pancho Sanza -- Don Banana’s “special friend”.
Annette Funicello -- a Las Vegas showgirl, formerly a perky Mouseketeer and beach-party bikini babe who danced like a surfboard.
(just) Donovan -- a prisoner, formerly a singer (more or less), whose only remaining name was all but forgotten by the 1970s. Aging hippies have reported recent sightings, probably flashback hallucinations.
Peter and Gordon -- petty thieves, formerly nerdy recording artists like Chad and Jeremy, but that was yesterday, and ... well, you know.
The entire Bonano and Gamblino Families -- hard-working, highly motivated refugees from New Jersey; neighbors who now run competitive family businesses in Las Vegas.

[Note from the Playwright: This is a play within a play: a theatrical gimmick that must be as old as Euripedes. Just you wait! 'Death of a Cellphone', a work in progress by The Attention Deficit Production Compan, will have 9 or 10 levels. It's a story about a play within a play within a play within a play within a play within a play within a play within a play within a play. Don't miss it; or I'll have to write a sequel that recaps the story.]

PRELUDE
The stage is bare. The narrator, thankfully, is not.
[This is a soliloquy by some guy who we think is Peter Coyote's brother, Don. He looks inexplicably like our hero, Don Bonano, and sounds just like Peter Coyote impersonating Rod Serling.]

DON COYOTE

May I set the stage? I shall impersonate a man. Come into my website and see him! His name, Rod Serling ... er, I mean Donaldo Bonano … a meek and gentle man who by some cruel quirk of fate was born into the Mafia (which doesn’t really exist, you know). As he comes of age, the impossible mission of this devote pacifist and certified Conscientious Objector is to sally forth into the world of organized crime and avoid conflict at all costs. Sadly, everyone in both Families, including Don Bonano himself, mistakes his peace-loving demeanor for cowardice.
[Orchestra now plays something heroic and Italian, like 'Fratelli d'Italia' (the wrong name for the Italian National Anthem, 'Inno di Mameli') -- or 'The Theme From Rocky' (the wrong name for 'Gonna Fly Now').]
No one recognizes the true courage needed for Don to deny his birthright and live a life of non-violence within the Bonano Crime Family. Uniamoci, amiamoci. Siam pronti alla morte. (Look it up; or ask your grandmother.) He has been dubbed ‘Don Yellow a la Banana’. We shall call him simply ‘Don Banana'. Observe what happens as he drives his black 1961 Cadillac 'station wagon' down the Strip in Las Vegas -- as he enters ... the ‘Nightlife Zone’.
[doo do doo do, doo do doo do.]

ACT I

SCENE 1 -- THE STRIP IN LAS VEGAS [Weren't you paying attention?]
[Note to Set Designer: a stupid, neon, animated 30-foot cowboy is mandatory -- or the audience might think we’re still in Atlantic City.]

DON BANANA: (singing to the tune of ‘I, Don Quixote’)

Hear me now, oh thou bleak
and most criminal world,
Thou art dark and as scary can be.
One young man,
with his blonde hair all prettily curled,
now hurls down his luncheon on thee.
[Cymbal crash and music suddenly gets louder and faster]
I’m no Don Corleone, though spawned by a mobster,
if danger should call I will hide.
[Unnecessary Note: Orchestra crescendo to fortissimo, which really goes without saying because they can’t help themselves anyway.]
The woodwinds and trombones
will blow me right over.
My liver is lilied inside.
Liver is lilied inside.
All through this story, I hide!

PANCHO (joining in song):

I’m Pancho.
No, I’m not macho.
My life’s a disaster, end to end.
I’m scared of … my own shadow.
I’m a coward! So's my friend!

[Don and Pancho get into the black Cadillac station wagon and speed away as if being chased.]
[Note to Prop Department: This is an opportunity to go overboard with a totally superfluous full-size vehicle appearing on stage for all of 3 seconds, like in Grease and Miss Saigon.]

SCENE 2
The Boomer Room, a nostalgic nightclub at Mickey's Palace, one of the Gamblino's casinos (or is it 'casini' ?).

The room is full of mobsters with their girlfriends (while their wives are filming a reality-TV show, which later flops like Grandma's what's-its -- oh yeah, 'pancakes' -- because this is the '70s and the TV audience isn't yet sophisticated enough to appreciate reality shows.)

The entertainers in the Boomer Room are dressed as Mouseketeers.
[Yes, 'Mouseketeers', not 'Musketeers'. You're thinking of a suspiciously similar Broadway musical that appears to be a rip-off of this one. Those producers have an impossible dream, alright. Their show will surely fold in a week. Then I'll promptly sue the proverbial pantaloons off that pathetic, penny-pinching pair of pompous, pea-brained, purloining poachers to pilfer whatever paltry pecuniary proceeds their pitifully plagiarized play has perchance produced. Probably a pile of pennies! Please pray for this perennial pauper -- I'm a perpetually, painfully poor playwright and I'm profoundly peeved! Pfooee! ... ... ... But I digress.]

DON BANANA
[enters the room and spots one showgirl who looks oddly familiar]
Sweet Lady ... fair virgin ... [He averts his eyes worshipfully]
I dare not gaze full on your freckled countenance, lest I be blinded by beauty ... so I'll stare at your boobs instead. But I implore you -- say your name, just once. I know it's not 'Doreen', although she had heaps of talent, too.

ANNETTE
[with a bouncy voice and a snappy salute]
Annette!

DON BANANA
My Lady! I will sing about you to the tune of 'Dulcinea', from a musical that's suspiciously similar to the one we're performing now. Maestro, please ...

I have seen you on TV
You are Annette Funicello
and for you I have lust in my heart.
As you out-grew your tee-
shirt, the breath of Don Yellow
would stop and this gasping would start.
Gulping air! Gulping Air!
I've got asthma and I'm always gulping air!
[He points at her tee-shirt.]
At your name I always stare
through fogged-up glasses.
Gulping air! Gulping air!

ANNETTE [sings slowly in response to Don B's poignant love song.]
Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company ...[She turns her back on Don and exits poco a poco, still singing the Rickey Rat ... er, I mean, the Mickey Mouse Club Farewell Theme.]

INTERMISSION
LETS KEEP THIS UNDER 5 MINUTES, SHALL WE?
Everybody wants to get out of here as soon as possible.
Sorry, Ladies ... no time to stand in line.
(see "At The Theatre" for some sympathy)

ACT II

SCENE 3
A 5-star federal prison resort in Scottsdale, AZ, where the guests ... &nbspI mean, inmates ... are trying to impress one another with their crime stories.

DON COYOTE impersonating ROD SERLING portraying DON BANANA

I'm not guilty, you know. I'm no criminal -- I don't even rip the tags off new pillows. I won a free cheeseburger at Burger Whop, and I reported it on my income tax! I was framed by an imposter. No, not the narrator -- although he is a phony. Wait! I'm the narrator, impersonating ... oh, you know. Gordon framed me ... I feel like a knight in rusty armor in a world without love. I don't want to see him again. He then begins this song, which is suspiciously reminiscent of 'Golden Helmet of Mambrino'.

Gordon held up a casino
Up in Reno, not LV.
For his crime now,
I'm doing time, now,
in this penitentiary

DONOVAN [who was convicted of drug charges -- Surprise! -- back in the '60s. Now singing, more or less, to the tune of 'I can hear the cuckoo singing in the cuckooberry tree'.]

Oh, they call this fellow yellow
and they do so quite rightly

CHORUS of INMATES:
Quite rightly!

PETER
[No, not Don Coyote's brother. Rather, Gordon's former partner.]

If that's really what got held up,
it pissed off The Family.

DON BANANA [woefully, in the original tune]

Gordon held up that casino
but Gamblino's after me...

SCENE 4 -- Back at Mickey's Palace

ANNETTE
[Now wearing not much more than her sequined mouse-ears and holding a peacock feather.] [Note to Costume Dept: For the matinee, a bikini is recommended, preferably with two monograms: 'Ann' and 'ette' -- or, if necessary, 'A' and 'F', depending on how much talent the actress has.]
Why do you do these stupid things?
DON BANANA
What things?
ANNETTE
These cowardly ... the things you do.
DON BANANA
I hope to add some measure of grace to the world of organized crime.
ANNETTE
You're going to take such a beating.
DON BANANA
Whether I'm respected or not doesn't matter.
[awkward silence]
You're hot, Annette, but no one ever accused you of being bright.
You're supposed to say "What does?" so that I can respond,
"Only that I follow the quest and avoid conflicts at all costs."
ANNETTE
[spits loudly, into her microphone, or over the orchestra pit into the audience]
That for your quest!
[turns, marches away, stops, turns back -- while the music plays:
BUMP! Bump, Bump, Bump!]

CHORUS
Come along and sing a song and join The Family ...

ANNETTE
What does that mean ... 'quest'?

DON BANANA
[Note: If you don't know the tune of this one, I'm surprised you made it this far. Don't you have something better to do?]
It is the mission of each true Conscientious Objector... No, his privilege! ...

To scream, the awesomest scream,
To hide, from the smallest of foes,
To leave, with the ten grand I 'borrowed',
To run, like the other C-Os.

I might - have the most awful song
to sing, as I'm chased long and far.
And my friend has his head out the window,
to retch on my beautiful car.

This is my quest,
to flee like Johnny Guitar,
no matter how hopeless --
We'll be feathered and tarred.

Too frightened to fight,
I bet there are laws
for protecting the timid and meek,
who keep shitting their drawers.

And I know, if I'll only be true
To this glorious Quest,
That my heart, will be spotless and pure,
[slower, pulsed]
when it's torn from my chest.

[He reaches in his shirt and pretends to throw his heart to the floor]
[Note to Prop Dept: Save the turkey giblets for the Epilogue -- to hold off the PETA-people until the end of the play. They are already complaining about Annette's peacock feather and phony mouse ears. If they rush the stage, lure them away with bananas.]

[Pancho is still retching -- and now Annette and some of the musicians are, too. God help what's left of the audience. When the retching subsides, Don Banana finishes his song with this anti-climactic verse.]

The mob world -- will not ever forgive
that I ran, and then jumped in my car
And drove, not as fast as the others,
who I stuck with the tab at the bar.

Yada yada yada ...

[ I forgot to write a Coda. Make something up, as long as it ends with:]
To scream, the awesomest scream!
[Don nervously looks over his shoulder and runs off the stage, screaming.] Aiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

EPILOGUE

[Don Banana is lying motionless on the bare stage. It is assumed that he has been caught and killed, but we don't yet know by whom. Annette is kneeling over our fallen, heart-wrenched hero like Maria in West Side Story, except that we won't let her sing. In the unlikely event that Casting found a hottie who actually can act, Annette will show mixed emotions. She'll be in tears, as phony as those mouse-ears and who-know-what-else, while she calmly places her bloody peacock feather over Don's gentle, peaceful, courageous, non-violent, dead face. In her other hand, Annette clutches some really messy turkey giblets, assuming that none of the stage hands had them for lunch, again -- and she reveals a sly grin to the audience.]

AUDIENCE [ideally, a collective gasp; but a collective gag will do.]

PANCHO [Silhouetted against the curtain to magnify the shadow of his mouse ears]
Una bella ragazza italiana con le lentiggini?

I never did trust that bitch!
An Italian girl with freckles!
Ha!

FADE TO BLACK

[as orchestra with several concertinas (or is it concertine) play

'Funiculì, funiculà' like a funeral dirge, largo con fuego (a slow burn).]
Note to Director:
It's doubtful that there will be any applause during the curtain 'calls'.
You can expect the remnants of the audience will likely sit silently aghast,
mouths ajar -- unless they're still retching, of course.

Order of Curtain Calls:
Mobsters & Mouseketeers/Showgirls
Donovan & Peter (They motion as if Gordon is coming out, but he didn't actually appear in the play, you know. The three of them romp together hand-in-hand-in-hand around the stage . No, sorry, that was yesterday ... with those nerdy understudies.)
Annette (misshaping one of her monogrammed souvenir tee-shirts, which will be available in the lobby for $39.95. Size small, only. Prostheses sold separately.)
Pancho (who stole the show, of course), carrying an armful of souvenir mouse-ears (also $39.95, $59.95 for the ones with sequins).
Don Bonano (with a bunch of autographed bananas, also for sale.)
Last, exuberantly running to center stage, crying with joy, arms spread wide and phony bouquet in hand, Don Coyote, the narrator who inexplicably looks like Don Banana (who, to the surprise of the other cast members, is still on stage) and sounds like Peter Coyote impersonating Rod Serling for no apparent reason.

FINE

PHOTO CREDITS: " The Strip", by V. J. Lucid 1991; all others on loan, courtesy of somebody or other.

PONDERING LIFE AFTER DEATH and RAMBLING ON about it, too.

2010-06-12T15:36:00.021-04:00

PONDERING

Will there be Life after Death?
Will we find God or Nothing?
We need not fear -- it doesn't matter.
A difference without a distinction.

If there is no afterlife, we won't know it.
If there is, it is beyond knowing,
at least until we get there.
What's the difference between unknown and unknowable?

Two questions,
but just one answer.
One Truth.
One.

RAMBLING ON

We've heard it again and again,
this same answer to many other questions:

"I am the Alpha and the Omega"
"In the end, there can be only One."
"E Pluribus Unum."
"One, singular sensation ..."
"Om."
"We get to carry each other.
One. One."
One.
"What's so hard about that?

HAIKU TEE-SHIRTS ? Why Not?

2010-06-10T17:41:00.010-04:00

Knowing the answers
is not as important as
knowing who to ask.

This Haiku is the first of Dr Speedbump's
serious, satirical and silly Smarty-Pants Slogans
to be available on Tee-shirts, mens' or ladies',
in your choice of size and color
through Zazzle.com

On an austerity budget? Get the same Haiku slogan
on a pin-back button and put it on any old Tee shirt or cap.
TAKE A LOOK HERE

OR
Make your own custom gifts at Zazzle

HOW TO WRITE A REALLY BAD POEM a lecture in verse

2010-06-10T10:31:00.045-04:00

Attention Deficit University
presents another lecture
by Dr Speedbump
(This one is about something he does quite well)

How to Write a Really Bad Poem

PREFACE

If you want to write verse,
you can't do much worse
than to do what I'm doing today.
I sure hope that you
won't write like I do.
It's OK, though, to do what I say.

Lesson 1 - RHYME

If you choose to write verse in rhyme
Coming close will sometimes squeak by 'em
Emily Dickenson
got an exemption,
But we seek perfection each time.

Lesson 2 - RHYTHM

Some would-be poets beat a drum:
ta-TUM ta-TUM ta-TUM ta-TUM.
Others care only about rhyming
and don't mind if a line (due to too many words or not enough)
lacks timing.

In sum,
ta-TUM ta-TUM ad infinitum
eventually becomes as bothersome
as no rhythm.

Lesson 3 - ALLITERATION

Alliteration is a little like chili sauce.
Since the same starting sound sure sounds spiffy in spots,
It's a dandy device
that does add some spice.
But dinner's destroyed if you use lots and lots.

Lesson 4 - ORIGINALITY

Metaphors are the heart of good verse
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Similes ought to be as
fresh as a summer 'bree-az'.
So please do not beat a dead horse.

You won't make an impression with obvious rhymes
and hackneyed expressions that are older than Time.
Like making 'Love' rhyme with 'Dove',
or 'Under Heaven Above'
So sing a new song, instead of poems like mine.

CONCLUSION

A poem might be bad due to sloppy technique.
Yet proper technique it not all that you seek.
For a poem that's good, you need something to say:
A feeling or image that you wish to convey.
You must make it your own -- you must make it unique.

I want to give you some homework before you go.
Write two little poems about something you know.
Make one of them bad, like I have just done.
Do just what I've said for the second one.
Then please post them right here under "Comments", below.

"Class dismissed!"

WHEN SOMEBODY KNEADS YOU

2010-06-09T09:30:00.010-04:00

Note: I reclined on the couch with my laptop and tried to finish a play.
Shamus, our only live cat, made it impossible to type.
So I composed this verse instead.

Why, Lord, when our cat wants to rest,
must he rest right on top of my chest?
And why must he circle
and claw ‘til I’m purple?
Am I really too firm for a nest?

A SONG of THANKS

2010-06-08T01:02:00.010-04:00

Thank you for the Dawning
  of one more newborn Day.
For the Innocence of Morning
  and Fog that burns away.

Thank you for the Sunshine,
  the Warmth of Afternoon.
The Stillness of the Evening,
  the Brilliance of the Moon.

Sometime after Midnight,
  I’ll choose one distant Star,
And ponder in the shivering light
  what Miracles we are.


Note:  I plan to write a refrain and set this to music.

A QUIVER of PRAYERS*

2010-06-07T20:04:00.008-04:00

This is just an advance promo
for yet another new collection of poems,
destined never to be completed.
The theme this time is “prayers”.
May God have mercy on my soul.

I seldom pray with words.
God already knows the situation here ~
and the odds are (7 to 5)
that He’s going to give us what we need
rather than what we want, anyway.

Thus, most of my praying,
even the majority of my music,
regardless of what the lyrics say,
is more like a Vulcan Mind-Meld
than a Vatican Message with a Nihil Obstat.

Nonetheless, language-based prayer is poetry.
So, I do write some LBP on occasion;
but I really don’t expect that the Vatican
will be adding new beads to rosaries,
at least not any time soon.

MATED FOR LIFE* -- Counting the Ways: #8

2010-06-03T17:34:00.019-04:00


Two old geese
       at the edge of the pond.
Necks tired and limp
       each wrapped around
             the other.
Plumage faded,
        now mostly gray.
Time unabated,
        they cherish each day
              together.
Husband and wife,
        mated for life,
              indeed.

* For my wife on our 39th anniversary (10/10/09),
based on a dream, and
composed in about two minutes.

ONE SUMMER EVENING

2010-05-31T17:13:00.008-04:00

As I sit by the open window
I enjoy some milk and a cracker.
Though I despise the fireworks show
that's caused by my neighbor's bug-wacker.

Fifty moths for every mosquito
get heinously fried by this wacker.
But the fireflies giggle and glow.
as they wire it to his tractor.

Another Song from MY STATE FAIR LADY*

2010-05-27T18:00:00.008-04:00

*For a synopsis of the story, see the Blog for May 18, 2010
[Plays Coming Soon ....] or click the "Broadway" label for this post.

HENRY the BARKER grew a conscience and is trying to make amends
for cheating people over the years with crooked Midway games.
So, rather than dancing all night, he sings:

I lost my pants last night
on games of chance last night.
I worked 'til half-past four.
I didn't cheat at all
when they threw basketballs.
Tonight, I'll lose some more.

I'll never know why it was so surprising,
when just for once the darts flew right.
I'm feeling so sincere - I need more teddy bears.
I lost my pants, pants, pants, alright!

FALLING IN LOVE -- Counting the Ways: #1

2010-05-26T18:09:00.009-04:00

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
wrote a perfectly good poem that begins with
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways."
It was not a long poem, though.
Perhaps she, too, had an attention deficit.
So, to help her out, I've started to compile
one more poetry collection in my open-ended series
of unfinished collections of poetry*.

Suppose you were falling
from a cliff and I was trying to save you
and I've got you by one hand
and I've got the cliff edge by the other
but I can't pull you up
so I have to hold on to your hand forever.
Then suppose I'm human
and I just can't hold on any longer
and I have to make a choice about letting go
with one hand or the other.

That one's a no-brainer.
I'd let go of the cliff,
and we'd fall, in love,
with one another.
What's that?
You say you're not likely
to be hanging from a cliff any time soon?
All the same, if you don't mind,
I'll be right here,
holding on to you as if you were.

*NOTE: This Blog and DrSpeedbump.com
are bit like the great cathedrals of Europe.
Eh? Never finished, but still open to the public.
At least my web pages are not excessively grandiose,
and mostly English is spoken here.

THE SIMPLE TRUTH IS A BIG BLACK TRUCK

2010-05-26T00:15:00.023-04:00

”You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free.” *
The first half of that compound sentence is often forgotten.
Thus, you’re zipping merrily around the outskirts of Ignorance,
oblivious to danger in your sporty little “look-at-me” Illusion,
a Masquerade with tinted windows, an over-sized Misconception,
or perhaps a classic Lie (mine was a convertible).
Meanwhile, the simple, unknown Truth is a big, black truck
with no visible driver, careening down a long hill, toward you.

A collision with the truth-truck might demolish your Illusion or Lie,**
suddenly setting you free; or you might get trapped in it for a while.
Or, imagine an ominous truck bearing down on you on a desert road,
all through the night, like a Headless Horseman on wheels,***
testing your evasive skill until your brain boils over.
Wouldn’t it be wiser and more serene, yet still adventurous,
to seek the Truth, ask for a ride in that truck,
and just see where it takes you? Eh, Pilgrim?

NOTES:
* (John 8:32). Inspiration provided by Jennifer.
**or whatever they sold you at Falsehood Motors (It's HUGE!)
***A simile for my metaphor. Sorry, Ichabod! I couldn't help it.
****I wrote this, before old memories bubbled up, from 40-50 years ago,
about an episode of Twilight Zone or Outer Limits with James Garner
or that other guy I confuse with him (you know, the guy from "The Birds"),
and a subsequent movie with Janet Leigh or her wanna-be,
driving a sports-car, I think, and being pursued by a driver-less semi.
All I borrowed was the all-through-the-night part on a desert road. Honest!

MORE THAN THEY APPEAR TO BE*

2010-05-25T19:12:00.013-04:00

“Things are not always what they appear to be.”

That’s true enough; and it’s not just about being deceptive.
Sirens, grandmotherly wolves, and wax grapes notwithstanding,
the people in our lives, and the principles we live by,
are often much more precious than we realize.
We may not recognize their value until they’re gone.
Then regret seeps in to fill the vacant space.

Who did you meet on your way to Emmaeus?**

.
“If I had realized ..."

[insert the Whole Truth here]

...
"I would have cherished ..."

"I would have told him ..."

"I wouldn’t have acted as I did ..."

yada this

yada that.

It’s not too late to heal those wounds, Dear Soul.
Sometimes, though, it takes years -- and it takes tears.
If you ask me, I’ll tell you how I did it
with the memory of my father.

Right, Dad?

NOTES:
* Inspiration courtesy of Jennifer.
** Luke (24:13-35).
***For more on “not always what they appear”
see this Blog for May 5, 2010: “God’s Image and Man’s Imagination”.

SNOW-PILE LIMITING DEVICE - DEMO

2010-05-24T10:19:00.007-04:00

Write a caption for this photo.
But first, a pop quiz:
In which of the four seasons in Central New York
was this photo taken:
Winter, Mud, Construction or Deer?

Is that your final answer?

Welcome to Oswego County, NY

This is me, now 63, at the end of my driveway, which I still clear with a shovel and a smile, though I don't remember why. The photo was taken in 2007, when we were blessed with 10 feet of snow in one week. I love it ~ the more the better. The "Snow-Pile Limiting Device" is really a door (but don't tell the US Patent Office) placed on top of the pile, and tipped when I just can't throw the snow any higher with the shovel that's resting behind me.

MY LEAST FAVORITE THINGS

2010-05-23T20:58:00.011-04:00

A song from The Sound of Mortars, my upcoming Broadway parody.
Sung by Majeeda, a double agent in war-time Afghanistan,
played by Christiana Amanpour or her understudy, Rachel Maddow.
For a synopsis, see my blog entry for May 18,
"Plays Coming Soon to the Short Attention Span Playhouse".

I don't like Hummers or airstrikes that hurt us,
Heat in the summer while ironing burkas.
I hate being naked in sandstorms that sting.
Perhaps that's my very least favorite thing.

Cold, clammy caves, and wars with no purpose.
Going to jail without habeus corpus.
Camel dung on my sandals and flies that it brings.
These are my very least favorite things.

When I'm tortured, water-boarded,
When I think I'll drown,
I think of my other least favorite things,
And then I down feel so down.

There is one more verse, sung by the seven dwarf terrorists,
but I want to rewrite parts of it.

SOMETHING RESEMBLING an OGRE

2010-05-21T16:58:00.017-04:00

When something resembling an Ogre
has found a home in your backyard,
walk around the beast, three times at least,
before you start poking at it.
Provoked, it might attack suddenly.
Unprovoked, it will likely circle you
to assess your behavior,
instead of starting to poke at you.

You'll soon realize that the two of you
are dancing rather than fighting.
You'll see one another from all different angles.
You may learn that your dance partner
is merely something resembling an Ogre,
and not at all fearsome or ferocious.
It could be fun, you know --
even if it is a real Ogre.

BLESSINGS - The Final Four

2010-05-19T17:29:00.012-04:00

I have been blessed with three of the four best blessings imaginable.
I regret that my gratitude is no match for that grace.
Death is nowhere in sight, and I'm already learning
how to live,
how to love, and
how to be loved.

I have yet to be graced with the ultimate blessing:
to learn how to die.
Whether Death is crouched around the next corner,
or asleep behind the moon,
I do hope to be ready when we meet.
I know of no blessings beyond this.

PLAYS Coming Soon to THE SHORT ATTENTION SPAN PLAYHOUSE

2010-05-18T09:53:00.042-04:00

Besides "My State Fair Lady",
I have two more musical parodies in the pipe:
"The Man of La Mafia" and "The Sound of Mortars".

"The Man of La Mafia", set in Nevada and California in the 1970s,
is the pathetic story of Don Banana, a slightly unstable
but compassionate and gentle pacifist, with curly blond hair,
born (unfortunately) into a crime family. Songs include:
The Man of La Mafia, Gordon Held Up a Casino and The Awesomest Scream. In a tender song called Gulping Air, Don professes his love
for a glitzy, ditzy Las Vegas showgirl, who he remembers from his youth when she was a nubile Mouseketeer named Annette.
To Don Banana, she will always be his childhood dreamgirl,
a 16-year-old hottie with an Italian last name
and a really nice pair of ...
Tootsie-Pop eyes.

"The Sound of Mortars" is set in war-time Afghanistan.
Is there any other time in Afghanistan?
It's about a beautiful double-agent, who calls herself "Madeeja"
(played by Christiana Amanpour) and a lovable but bungling band
of seven dwarf terrorists, who follow her everywhere.
Songs include: The Sound of Mortars (Madeeja),
How Do You Solve a Problem like Korea and
Climb Every Mountain (both sung by Mother Hillary).
Also, My Least Favorite Things (Madeeja and the dwarves),
which has some of my all-time most favorite rhymes,
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
by hiking up and over the mountains into Pakistan.

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. Now, there's a promising research topic for a Theater major lacking talent.

I can't decide which of these two plays to finish first,
so I think I'll get going on the script for yet another one
that's been stuck in the pipe for years. It's a really deep play.
Here's a synopsis:
It's the story of a struggling NYC salesman who has resorted to acting
on weekends to support his family. He goes to see a play
about three or four struggling actors who have resorted to sales
to pay their rent. In one potentially confusing-as-hell scene
of the play within our play, the salesmen are rehearsing possible roles in The Drowsy Chaperone, The Producers, Hamlet,
A Midsummer Night's Dream, Taming of the Shrew, and perhaps a stage adaptation of Back to the Future -- each of which has a play within the play that's within the play within our play.
I warned you that this is really deep.
Meanwhile, back in the fictional theater of the Level I play
(the one with the title that's on the ticket you paid $90 for),
there's feisty dialogue going on between our struggling salesman
(who is obnoxious, hard-of-hearing, and from Texas)
and the guy in the next seat. This guy happens to be
the sleep-deprived author of the play they're watching ...
and other plays that get critiqued forthwith by the Texas salesman,
who obstinately refuses to turn off his cell-phone, ever.
Like all lyricists (myself included, I think), the artsy writer
is a bit manic, wound up like a clock-work detonation mechanism.
In the dramatic final scene, the meaning of our play's title
(yeah, you got it, the one on your $90 ticket) becomes apparent:
"The Death of a Cellphone".
It's a tragedy -- in more ways than one.
Deep, eh?

Lyrics for POMP & CIRCUMSTANCE: A Gift for the Class of 2010

2010-05-17T09:54:00.042-04:00

Especially for Elizabeth !

You'll get enough congratulations from others.
So, I have something for you to talk about at your graduation party:
a way to kill time until you can open the envelopes and pocket the cash. I figured there must have been myriad attempts to write lyrics for Edward Elgar's March No. 1, "Pomp & Circumstance". After Googling for nearly four minutes, I found the original "Land of Hope and Glory" and a few others, but nothing with a graduation theme.
I did discover, though, that "Accept" has a heavy metal instrumental version. It's on their "Death Row" album -- the one with the cover that is obviously a rip-off of my logo on the home page of "DrSpeedbump.com"

Now, let's sing "Pomp & Circumstance" as we shuffle along.

We have to walk slowly.
We really look dumb.
This tempo is drolly.
There's Dad - but where's Mum?

They want to take photos,
So, keep turning their way.
Keep walking like Do-dos.
We'll be here all day.

(harmonica interlude)

We have to walk funny,
while they grin and they sob.
But they'll give us more money,
if we give them more pomp.

DAD'S REFLECTIONS on GRADUATION DAY*

2010-05-16T07:15:00.016-04:00

*Note: This is from Dad's journal for June 1996.

We did it!
We graduated from High School today,
Student and parents, too:
A rite of passage for all three of us.
No more sleepy mornings
watching for the bus
as the smell of burning Poptarts fills the kitchen.
No more baloney sandwiches,
lovingly made in 30 seconds,
then forgotten just as quickly.
The chant of "Snow day, Snow day"
and the groans when it wasn't.
Countless parent-teacher conferences
with all the same questions
and the same lack of answers.
All the homework assignments
that never made it to school
and all the notes that never made it home.
The book bag that got dropped
in that spot by the door,
where it lay undisturbed
until someone gave the morning warning cry:
"Bus on the back road!"
The occasional disagreements
about how sick is too sick to go to school.
The roller-coaster report cards;
always getting by in the end.
Reaching past the exasperation
to find some more encouragement.
The winless debates about:
"Why do I have to do all this crap?"
The work, the worries,
the disappointments, the celebrations --
and now the pride.
We did it!

JUST BE YOURSELF

2010-05-14T08:27:00.014-04:00

I found it hard to talk to girls:
A freshman, only five foot three.
No words emerged, if she had curls.
"Just be yourself", my Dad told me.

Did he think I'm someone else?
What he meant, I wasn't sure.
I didn't talk to madamoiselles
Til I became ... a sophomore.

Girlfriends came and girlfriends went,
But I let no one get too close.
Though I became quite eloquent,
I hid behind those clever jokes.

Eventually I met the one
Who loved the man behind the mask.
We were wed and raised a son.
For my advice, he didn't ask.

I gave it to him anyway.
I let him fall; I watched him grow.
"Just be yourself", was all I'd say.
That's all you really need to know.

EVOLUTION

2010-05-13T10:32:00.006-04:00

Evolution is nothing more
than God taking very small steps.
Intelligent design is just taking time.
God hasn't finished creating us yet.
Thy Will be done on earth,
little by little.
When You're eternal,
always have been
and always will be,
There's really no need to hurry.

ETERNAL LIFE

2010-05-12T09:02:00.014-04:00

In the Here and Now,
Time is a non-entity
Just as it is in Eternity.
In the absence of Time,
We cannot be moved or stopped.
We cannot cease to be.
Eternal life is Here and Now.
A gift that few unwrap.

AT THE CONCERT

2010-05-12T08:53:00.003-04:00

The conductor looked down to his right,
where two cellists were squeezed in so tight
that neither poor fellow
had room for his cello,
but they were engaged by the end of the night.

ABOUT ME

2010-05-09T21:28:00.003-04:00

When I feel this pounding pounding
Through my sinuses resounding
It’s like someone’s driving pilings in my head.
A badly botched lobotomy
Or dancing hippopotamee
Playing Whack-a-Mole with mallets made of lead.

My neck has a propensity
For pain of such intensity
It surrendered to the force of gravity.
Neither Percocet nor Codeine
Stopped my brain cells from exploding
‘Til my sinuses got clogged with the debris.

So with my aching drooping skull
At least my days are never dull
I can count on having reasons to complain.
And I can chatter endlessly
Of course, it’s always about me
For the world revolves around my neck and brain.

REGRET

2010-05-09T21:04:00.002-04:00

The tree that you planted
under the window
has grown to block the sun.
Still, after all these years,
you don't have the heart
to cut that old tree down.

NEVER TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY

2010-05-09T20:47:00.002-04:00

It's not about you!
It's not about us!
Don't get in a stew!
Don't make such a fuss!
Quite obviously,
It's all about me!

The WISDOM of INNOCENCE - A Lesson for Grown-Ups

2010-05-07T21:56:00.003-04:00

Children keep their sense of wonder
Even when hard rain is falling.
Why does lightning beat the thunder?
Why must all the birds stop calling?
Why do grown-ups keep complaining?
It won't stop the rain from raining!

An AWFUL VERSE for an AWESOME SOPRANO

2010-05-06T17:11:00.013-04:00

You've heard Herman sing about Mrs. Brown's daughter.
Well, no one who's met her has ever forgot her.
Famous she'll be,
Inevitably.
If you haven't yet met her, you really oughta.

GOD'S IMAGE and MAN'S IMAGINATION

2010-05-05T16:46:00.027-04:00

The Good Book says God created Man in His own image and likeness.
Man returned the favor -- and Michelangelo notarized it
by creating a corporeal image of the Creator, as well as for Adam.
Scripture is still assumed to refer to bodies rather than souls.

Life then imitated Art; and millions more made the same wrong turn.
Man's imagination tends to be limited by his senses.
Even a genius, in the role of artist, has this limitation. Besides,
the fussy old pope probably demanded a picture he could see.

God is a whole lot bigger than our little brains can imagine.
The Universe, His creation, is not merely what it appears to be.
Neither are we. There is much we don't know about ourselves.
Of that we can be certain, humbly confident of our ignorance.

PHILOSOPHY, IGNORANCE & STUPIDITY

2010-05-04T23:23:00.016-04:00

ATTENTION DEFICIT UNIVERSITY
presents
A Philosophy Lecture Without Too Many Words
(and hardly any of them original)

Today's Topic: Philosophy, Ignorance and Stupidity

"One of these things is not like the others ..." ~ Sesame Street

phi-los-o-phy, n., the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence. From the Greek, Philosophia, a "love of wisdom"

Most people have some knowledge, about something.
Others, like me, love it to pieces.
"We," said Majikthise, "are Philosophers."
"Though we may not be." said Vroomfondel ...
~ Douglas Adams, A Hitchhikers Guide ...

Benjamin Franklin was too smart to have said,
"We are all born ignorant,
but one must work hard to remain stupid."
Ignorance and stupidity are not the same.
I've known many ignorant, intelligent people.
Ben must have, too. Ignorance is hard work.
It's not easy to ignore everything you hear.
Stupidity is a gift from God, an abiding quality.

"We are surrounded by a deep and abiding stupidity."
~ Bob Herbert, New York Times

"I see dumb people."
~ I heard my son, Mike, say it a few times.

Ignorance, although curable, is even more pervasive.
Q. Hey! Didn't some wise man say that "Ignorance is bliss?"
A. Not exactly. In context, the poet (Gray, 1742) actually said:
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

Mark Twain was wise enough to say,
"To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence."

M. Scott Peck (Further Along the Road Less Traveled) was taught that
"Clothes make the make the man." However, "Disillusionment was bound to follow, because sooner or later it was inevitable that I would run across a well-dressed idiot." Dr. Peck then quotes a slogan on an apron (Anon.). Yes, an apron. "Before Truth, the Right Fork." This would be funny if it weren't so true.

Q. Who said this and when?
"Where ignorance is pervasive, Democracy ~ government by the people, ~ is the biggest threat there is to the success of democratic government."
A. I did. Just now. Plato probably said something like it 2300 years ago.

"Question everything. Learn something. Answer nothing."
~ Euripedes

AT THE THEATRE

2010-05-03T23:07:00.004-04:00

Life would be fairer to the fairer sex
if more women aspire to become architects.
At the theatre they wait in a very long line
due to a bias in building design.
I'm beginning to think men enjoy intermission
with time for a drink while the women are pissin’.

What genius decided that men are much bolder
and don’t mind standing shoulder to shoulder?
Some hold their breath and go anaerobic
if they're a bit shy or a tad homophobic.
Young building designers just don't understand
what maturity does to a prostate gland.

Architectural schools should give preference to
smart women who hate to wait in a queue.
Why don't older professors tell young ones to teach
what life can be like when you’ve got BPH?
Gentlemen and ladies would all be enthralled
if lots more dividers and stalls were installed.

REALITY

2010-05-03T16:06:00.007-04:00

Reality is, more or less, the Will of God.
Our Free Will accounts for the "less".
Nothing is anything,
if (or unless) God wills it,
or at least allows it.
So...
I can do anything I wish, God willing.
Conversely, without God, I can do nothing.
Sometimes, God lets me do nothing.
He doesn't expect me to do anything!
Isn't that something?

ON BEING MISUNDERSTOOD

2010-05-03T15:13:00.007-04:00

Others don't understand,
because they don't hear,
because they don't listen,
because they don't care,
and, here's the main part,
because they think it's about them.

For them to accept you
just the way you are,
you must do the same for them,
with compassion, without judgment,
and, here's the hard part,
even when there is injustice.

ON LIMITS AND LIMITATIONS*

2010-05-03T12:11:00.013-04:00

First, a note.
My son is now grown.
However, "just because they've left doesn't mean they're gone."
This is the first of a series of poems about things I tried to teach him -- or that he taught me. The non-verbal lessons didn't become poems until long after the fact, when I had gained a better view. To read the others, wait a week or a year, return to this one and click on the label below entitled,
"teach the children".

fuf

ON LIMITS AND LIMITATIONS

Find your own limits and push gently on them.
They will protect you and strengthen you.
Let them move slowly due to your effort.
Don't try to break through, lest the damage become irreparable.
Limits need to be flexible - not brittle, nor staunch.
The next time you reach them, you may find them stretched a bit.
Like new shoes that were a half-size too small for you,
they will serve their purpose even better than before, for a while.
Don't expect others to move or remove your limitations for you.
Find your own limits and push gently on them.

A BIOLOGIST'S VALENTINE SONNET Counting the Ways (2-7)*

2010-05-03T11:25:00.010-04:00

I gaze upon the pond scum
and see your lovely face.
The emptiness of space
reminds me of your wisdom.
I caress the sphagnum
and feel you in its place.
The tree stump I embrace
can dance like you, so lissome.

The gentle touches of a leech
and your clinging have a semblance.
I detect your very essence
in all the fish up on the beach.
Such are the dreams of a lovestruck biologist.
Be grateful I'm not a parasitologist.

* See Blog entry for May 26, 2010 -- for an explanation of the
poetry series, "Counting the Ways". Click below on the label: "love".