In my infancy

My offerings were limited

But I brought you wonder

Introduced you

To Sid, Ed and Uncle Miltie

We had a few good laughs

At no one's expense

And don't forget Elvis

Maybe my noisy cousin

Had dibs on his voice

But who brought you

Those crazy hips?

In my adolescence

I gave you growing pains

Bringing Camelot to an end

With a little boy's salute

And running soldiers

Through your living room

Until even Walter had enough

But the wonder came back

With a small step

On the Sea of Tranquility

In my middle years

Almost drowned out by disco

I had little to show you

But an armchair bigot

And a sweater president

With a bad case of malaise

That is until Belushi and company

Raised hell on Saturday Nights

But now in my dotage

I've made a comeback

Amidst the dueling lawyers

The squabling Senators

The raving lunatics

Of every persuasion

I offer you everything

Your heart desires

Twenty-four hours a day

Everything but the wonder

Author's Notes/Comments: 

If my TV set could only talk!

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Fixed in wax and stuck to glass

They seem rather innocuous

Staring back at me

With their big nucleoli

In fact, they seem rather like cowards

Playing hide and seek

Amongst the normal cells

But their features do not escape me

As their judge and jury

I convict them in my path report

And sentence them to death

By knife, poison, or burning

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ah, the work of a pathologist never ends!

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20 Reasons


Because you can't reset a girl,

And can't find secret fairy worlds,

Cuz you can turn games off at night,

Can't be hurt by fake cartoon fights.

In games you fight with magic swords,

Girls fight with hair curler cords.

In games you find big treasure chests,

With girls you deal with PMS.

Some games may have some hidden cheats,

But girls will give you endless heat.

Cuz games all have volume control,

But girls will rarely shut their hole.

Can shut games off if you get bored,

But girls refuse to be ignored.

In games you live in foreign lands,

At home, girls have endless demands.

In games, press "reset" if you lose,

With girls you can't escape abuse.

Cuz killing people's good for stress,

Cuz stupid things cause such a mess.

Cuz girls just really aren't much fun,

That's why I love my playstation.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"You out of your +&$^$# mind!? That's my most cherished possession. I can't let you take it."
- Cid  Final Fantasy 7

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Johnny Sleepwatches

I. Maple leaf

Let us see

November twentyone 1998 3:42am

Somewhere in this sleeping

Child's Saturday morning ritual

Little tykes and tykettes

All across the dreaming

Alike him waking up comfy and watching

Ducktales at 4:00am

Somewhere wary crying little ones awakened

Too early by themselves glued to 31 at 3:42am

Sydicate Canadian R.M.P. shockvideo

The episode with the attempted self-offing

50 Prozac probably a beer chaser

Then a red-gushing wrist slashing

Both of them smearing the eyes, leafed men's, children's

I believe the video camera caught it all

Sown into early minds

With subsequent bloodbath

Investingating images car crash

Finally the violent subjugation with moderate torture

Of a bare-chested cooperating

Alleged knife-stabbing-man

Little sleeping child's Saturday morning ritual

Shatters into wakefullness

In sync with others numbed

Shocked blase or even TV-less but subject

To their untelevised violent reality

Tykes and tykettes

Much like him seeing real TV

The real innocence melts under phosphorescent

Flashing blue and red lights and sound of burning

Rubber and bending metal

II. The music swells

Johnny sleepwatches real life

Wishes the mugging he'd witnessed out his window

Had had a soundtrack wishes he the avid viewer

Had the lead got the girl did the sunset fiding off into thing

He thinks of nothing but upcoming attractions

His walk to work passes billboards

Blanker than the picture on the 78" Sony

He keeps boobytrapped for spirits and clumsy thieves

III. Information revolution

Johnny sleepwatches made for reality movies

In which asleep or awake small children are exposed

To violent politically sensitive television

Aired indiscriminately close

To early Saturday ritual cartoon 4:00am

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a true story.  None of the brain-damaged children's names were changed, as they are no longer innocent.  Those in charge of programming at local and network television stations need to make sure that the programs you air are either appropriate for children, who may be unsupervised and unguided in their viewing, or air aired in a manner inaccessible to developing minds, who, quite frankly, don't need to see death and destruction before they have had a chance to experience beauty and happiness.  Peace.

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Did you really feel it, Bob

When you quoted the ancient scripture

"I am death, destroyer of worlds"?

Or was this feigned sympathy

After your great achievement

The physicist's dream

And the world's nightmare?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Robert Oppenheimer, director of the atomic bomb project (Manhattan Project) is said to have been truly sorry for the fruits of his labor.  Hard to believe that a guy so smart could not have foreseen the long term ramifications prior to getting involved.

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equals mc squared

said the good doctor einstein

and the rest, as they say, is history

the manhattan project under oppenheimer

and fermi delivered a brand spanking baby boy

he was an unruly boy sometimes given to

explosive outbursts some

would even say he

was possessed

but he was





a little loud

Author's Notes/Comments: 

If memory serves me, the first atomic bomb was named "Little Boy." When this poem is centered in the page, with the centers of each line aligned, it forms a perfect mushroom cloud. I don't know if the formatting software allows this. At least I can't figure it out. Oh well...

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Shelter that thought within you

Actualize it

Cradle it with caring arms

Lifted to erect electronic ediface

Up and running

Get that concept up and running

Hyperbound webfriendly and shiny

Sell those slogans

Shelter that thought within you

Actualize it

Waving your fingertips

In a sea of arms

Webfriendly and grasping

Selling us dreams

Those thoughts within us

Shared bookmarked and optioned

Auctioned off

Into the history books

Maintained webfriendly

On God's secure server

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Gold (Journey From Dark To Dark)

Moist smell of soil surrounds

  in a dark body clamp the buried

  place I call home

An unreachable sun hovers over, a

  pulling but unknown and far distant

  cousin of mass

Of all I know, only important is

  knowing I am sought by miners

  and bankers

And those willing and wanting to

  shut me away again in a dark

  moist smelling burial vault

So afraid of my power, I am put

  away locked up so that they can

  appreiate me on paper.

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"I'm unavailable now, please leave a message".

I am unavailable.  Unavailable.

Not entirely unobtainable, just temporarily unavailable.

If you let the world, it will expect you to be on call...

~easy access, no interest, do down payment~

every moment, of every hour, of every day.  No way!

I knew a man once who told me...

"In that dress you look available".

Capable of being gotten?

Pretty rotten thing to say.


"Please leave a message at the tone".

'cause sometimes, like Greta Garbo,

"I vant to be alone"!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Nobody is home.

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