Baker, Warrior, or Saint

I hate to write in Numbers
Always counting
Finding clever ways to label
Each passing year
Today The Bakers Dozen
Seems Fitting enough.

Unseen Eternal battles
Being waged across the Universe
Fighting the Good fight
Our Warrior fights on
As days turn into Months
And Months yield to Years

Saint Michael’s Soldier
Guiding his flock
Protecting the rest of us
From Evil,
From Our own Darkness
Offering Safe passage to the Light

Baker, Warrior, or Saint
Your spirit burns
Through us
Connected and Still Alive.
We All still Live for You
Tonight, and Forever

Scavenger

On a filthy planet it lays in wait to consume the life of those with faith

breeching only for the moon

it bares fangs and dead yellow eyes

this monster in my mind

unknowingly it preys on you

swallowing your hope

inside the darkness you dwell

till my beast within is hungry again

Artwork

Years and Tears by the Dozen

12 years is a lifetime for many
but only a moment
for the Lost, left behind

Today's unusual cold summer rain
God's tears, with a purpose
to cleanse our Souls.

Wash away the sadness
of a dozen years
with a warm haze of memories

Time battles to suffocate the pain
surrounding it with positive thoughts
of almost forgotten days

Scattered, flashes of the past
tethered through the Spirit
that lives within us

Connecting us all together
a cosmic, eternal lasso
binding us to you.

For you, my Brother, I continue
To Live, Laugh, and Love.
Everyday is my memorial to you.

3 Days

Yeah, 3 days maybe more
3 days, and I will knock on heaven’s door
3 days, my vision will darken
3 days, death’s call will hearken
A wearied soul must wait
for its healthy body to cooperate
Prayers to God and pleas to heaven
Unheard! Ignored? Forgotten?
I will take my case to God
And hope he tells me I am not so rotten
I lived my life the way I thought I should
Made tragic mistakes; outrun them I thought I could
He gave me life, it is not mine to take away
I will give Him 3 days to have his say

Love,
Michael

cursing constellations

two a.m.,
the chill in the air
circles like a nightmare.
sitting on the roof,
i'm waiting for a star to shoot
in hopes of a better way out.
the night sky
is as ugly and empty
as i am, a warm tear
drys windblown
because i know
you deserved more.

Last night Mike rode in on a meteor

Tuesday, August 13th, 2002
2:42 am Last night Mike rode in on a meteor. I seen him as the sky lit up, lighting the match of our last joint together. It's silly to explain the feeling I have about Mike when I know he's with me. It's not a feeling like God is with you, that at all times around type of thing. It's a feeling that when I close my eyes I'd be passing to the left, where he'd be if I just reach over. A feeling that his presence is Meant to be known. Letting me know that the thoughts in my head is really the dialog we'd be having in person- but it is his.

Tonight I sat on my roof staring Northwest waiting for the next shooting star. The flash is orange fire, through the sky, dying to get TO the Earth. It's a contest I'd imagine, of which ones can survive the atmosphere. Only the toughest outlast and touchdown on the Earths soil most that make it only are lost to the ocean. . Who knows where that Extra Terrestrial visitor started off, and how old he is. I've been in awe of the Redwoods of California thinking of all the life they've seen, sightless, it's a number I can understand enough to respect. The equation to figure out the meteors age alludes the bounds of what my mind can distinguish in time. At 100,000 years or 1 million or 1 billion it really all means the same to me. Where that little chunk of rock fits in a time line of my 5th grade science project, I'm not sure.

When you catch a shooting star- and yes the word is "catch", it's a gift. It connects itself to the viewer, usually one in a group of people, that shouts skyward, 'Did you guys see that!' Its fire creates a karmic bond with the lucky viewer, and by way of the viewers soul gives them a piece of energy that it brought to Earth with them. Some call this the part where you get your wish. But I know it as something different. As that energy fills your spirit, it's not a wish exactly. It's an understanding, a greater sense to oneself in the universe. For a second it all makes sense.

The year after Mike passed I made good on my promise to make it across the country. As I am not one for arguing with the supernatural, I found myself in the desert of Arizona during the same Meteor show as tonight. The sky there looks like a planetarium without the big star wars machine in the middle. The sky is black and there must be 20 stars for every one we can see here, because there's no ground lighting like the NY bluish night sky has. Arizona's sky was lit up with thousands of stars that night, the weather was beautiful and a coyote howled yards away from us for effect. There was a shooting star every minute or so. It's places of Power mixed with incidents like this that fills me with energy. Makes me admit I'm an extension of the Earth which is alive all around us. I've felt the touch of this natural energy in many places, like San Diego, Baja Mexico, Niagara Falls, Virginia Beach, and there, in the under the desert's meteor strewn sky that night. Each of those places have more than their location that makes them an energy antenna. Times and occurrence play a big factor. But each of those stories is for another day.

On an occasion where you share a sighting I think it's important not to only wish something, but to give a karmic nod to the other knowing you're sharing that meteors energy together.

As I watched the orange streak of fire through the night my amber ember of a remaining joint I brought for the two of us, quickly lights then fades. The two lights at the same moment talking to me in a cosmic language that let me know- Mike is next to me waving his hand and throwing a star through the sky for me. His way of joining me on the rooftop tonight.

Six years is a meteor flash, and the time it takes for a tear to fall from my eye to the ground.

Be very quiet...

The heat of the Night Sticks to me
air conditioner struggling to please
to ease
the torture of the summer
Bugs scream outside
is it agony or is it my own
that warps the sound
from its usual low hum of life
underlining the night
natures own motor
powered by
fireflies lightning
cicadas rumbling
crickets jumping
I listen closly
the message is clear.

The Union of Destiny and the Soul

Infinite paths to choose from;
And by the chance of Time, Place, and Opportunity
The path may choose you.
It’s important to listen closely;
Because unlike Opportunity who simply
Likes to knock on your door
Destiny beats a drum;
But distantly, calling your soul
To follow the path and unite them
Coincidences and chance happenings;
They are road maps guiding us
A propitious scout in the wilderness
Nothing is Random;
Don’t be fooled by Fate wearing a disguise
He’s tricky, a prankster for all eternity,
The Right path;
Is laid out before you, feel destiny’s drum
beating rhythmically, with your own hearts pulse.

Pega-Pat the Constellation Shaped like a Panda Bear

(How about a little scansion diminishing meter? line two is hendecasyllabic )

The Days of our childhood fade into random memories
A black and white film in my mind plays frames of
Bowling, snow ball fights, and hopping fences

That movie plays in my thoughts and dreams
Over and over again, with a trembling smile
That disguises the deeper sadness inside

Is that you tapping me on my shoulder?
Like Hermes the winged messenger
Whispering that it’s ok for you now

Are you traveling the cosmos?
Exploring, Seeing, Moving
Freely amongst the stars

When we meet again
We’ll sign the book
Together this time

I can feel you now
Watching us
Waiting

Midnight Tripps through the Dark

The night invades the mind
With darkness and silence
Leaving a body alone to ponder
The path taken, leading to this moment.
This road is scattered with milestones
With the darkness for camouflage
Hiding the truth,
That most of them are headstones
Each has their own story
That the darkness whispers
Forgotten tales of lives or loves
Moments that will never live again
But even without life
The darkness acts like a movie screen
Memories become silent movies
Reruns of the best and worst episodes of our lives.
Forever. My biggest fear
The darkness. It surrounds me
And now I’ve learned to live in it
My only comfort.

---
for jt

2920 Windows

On August 11, 1996 I lost one of my best friends. He touched me and the world in more than a million ways.
Only the Good Die Young. Everyday of my LIFE
I wonder where he is and what he is discovering. I hope that when I finally pass that threshold into heaven it is he who is waiting with open arms for me. I know you are smiling down on us, but I wish you were smiling next to us.
So Where Ever You Are MY Friend, We miss you dearly, and not a day goes by without a memory of you passing through my thoughts.

2920 Windows
A Dark hallway with no walls
On each side that isn’t there
Hang rows of windows, Floating
All with a view
Each unique all though familiar
Showing scenes of happiness, sadness, joy and pain
Only one window stays open
Until the next one is hung.
Window number 2 and Window 2920
And all spanning between
Have one common trait
That’s been missing since the first was hung
Missing the laughter, the thoughts
Missing the happiness and sadness, together
Missing the light that the first window brings
That keeps this hallway dimly lit
Sadness washes over me
Each time I visit the first window
To catch up on a thought
Or just a feeling not often remembered
Calling out to you- I hoped you’d hear me
Pleading for you to please come inside-
But alas my words are only muffled by the cold window pane
That’s has been closed since it was hung.
I don’t like to visit the second
A portrait of pain
It’s the darkest in the hallway
With coldness that touches the soul
I hope that when this job has come to a close
And I hang my last window
That I’m giving the choice
Which window I would like to go through on my exit
2920 windows and counting
the hallway grows
but until the job is done
each window is closed as the next is hung

The Dreamer and the Dreamed.

Hello again my long lost friend
Those fleeting days of our songs
carried by love and wind
will be ours once again
in days left to live.
A familiar chain of scents
and things we forget about
most of the time
but often
find ourselves longing for in a way
we can't describe.
The days pass us by,
the seasonal joys and misleading goals.
Live to love
And love to live I say.
Dream to keep hope in your heart
and remember
the value of living each day.
It is hard to live
we all see sometimes
we all lose ourselves but always
will find a picture,
a song of friends
that are gone but memories we
can't leave behind.
It seems very strange
wherever you are
regardless of distance,
no matter how far,
I'll think of you always and love you
forever my crazy beautiful star.

Teddy Bear

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause. Who at the best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly." -Theodore Roosevelt

Tears are a good chaser for Tequila

What are the epic events in ones life that changes them forever? They can't be forecast, and most aren't even realized until after they've past. Unfortunately it's the one's that leave the lasting scar that weigh heavier then the ones who end with a smile or a tear of happiness. The heated tear of pain, fear or emotional calamity burns the cheeks flesh while permanently scaring the mind with every salted drop.

Taxi Driving or New York though the eyes of the Dreamer

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Star Crossed

An incandescent desire
dancing the center
stage of night.
Oceans of sky
envelop the fire.
Bound by gravity
and want,
Alcor-Mizar we are.

Idealism

A mans sexual choice is the result and sum of his fundamental convictions.
Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life.
Show me the women he sleeps with and I will tell you his
valuation of himself...

He will always be attracted to the women who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience-or to fake-a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer-because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a slut. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desire of his body.

Love is our response to our highest value-and can be nothing else

sand castles

curving,
arching
every which way
the wind demands.
i am yours to rearrange.
i am the sand
within your hands.

Schizophrenia (Or Velvet Descent)

In this suspended darkness
I gather to myself
Pockets full of silence
And hold them close
Unable to pick-up the words
Tugging at my mind and
Tricking my tongue
I will refuse your voice
And turn your words away
They aren't mine
You have failed to see me as I am
You imagine me this pure thing
Some lucid creature of your own design
Never seeing the heavy velvet
That tangles my heart
The heart that begs
For your doubt and mistrust
My soul
I wear it with pride
In this close strange place
Where I meet myself
And trade places
Someplace in my dark
You press your voice
To the cloth of my mind
"Have you ever
Seen anything
So possible as
Beauty justified?"
Your voice haunts me
Then it's your hands
You hold out to me
For me to touch and take hold of
But I can't
I don't want to be in your saving
Because once there
I would linger amongst the shadows
Of predictable emotions
Better it is
I stay encased in this velvet
Waiting for you...
To hear the words my heart wants to say

The words that you will not hear.

Riding out the Storm

sitting alone in my dark room
empty bottles strewn across the floor
staring at my hands in despair
trying to fight my silent war
words echo through my head
"just give it all it takes
even the very best of the best
have made some terrible mistakes"
these words pierce the darkness
a slim ray of hope shines through
i would have given up, long ago
if i hadn't have found you.

Relativity

It bothers me everyone knows the name Albert Einstein as being a great mind, but ask those people what he'd done and you more than likely get a blank stare into the sky and a reply of " ummm I know this... gimme a second... "

"Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute; sit on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour-- that's relativity"
Albert Einstein

He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is mighty.- LAO-tzu

Pondering Dika

i never felt so alone
until i met you
through that lens
i watched you
from a distance
as you lived your life
blissful in your ignorance
and oblivious to my existence
never knowing
that i was watching
unaware that only
electronic distance
kept us apart.
Originally I was going to call this "My Cyber SnowGlobe" - which just isn't as deep- and I also scrapped "CyberStalking for Dummies" as it impresses a sinister aura when an innocent one was intended

Pain is temporary, Glory is forever - Anon

IT IS DARK TRUTHS WHICH APPEAR IN THE WORK
OF THE TRUE POETS: BUT THEY ARE TRUTHS,
AND ALMOST EVERYTHING ELSE IS A LIE.

Paul Eluard

Nelson Mandela's Inaugural Speech 1994

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ' Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?' Actually who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some of us. It's in everyone. And as we let our light shine we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Nelson Mandela's Inaugural Speech 1994

Morning Light

the pounding
of my heart
is speeding the pulse
of the clock beyond midnight.
i am drenched
in the sweat
of my latest regret
when i fear morning
is only hours away
and i will see
even more clearly
in the pale
of the dawn
how much worse it is
to break a heart
other than your own.

The Devil and Me Makes Three

There are pathways through life and like a single candle in an eternal darkness we each seek to make our mark. We strive to contrast our surroundings never realizing there are shades of gray. Some people instinctively know their way while others stumble in the night. It is at those times when darkness reaches out a hand and reveals it is only a shield from reality. When we realize we must face the world as our own person and not what others want us to be, we falter. Humanity likes to neatly label feelings. Confusion and adolescence are only a few names for realization. To survive you must reach out and take what is offered. Fight to be uncovered from the darkness and the face the light of days. Ignore the rays of the sun that urge you to follow their way of thinking. Then you will have made your mark by being an individual.

luna

another night
slides down the wall,
caressing the crevices
and quiet corners.
an invalid,
in a beautiful bed,
i observe
night's lengthy
and lonely descent.
i am allowing myself
to be abused
by insomnia's underworld,
but yet i feel
somewhat blessed
to be best friends
and the devoted witness
of every lunar movement.

King of Halloween

If I could be anything besides human I'd be an 8 Foot owl.... I'd be able to turn my head all the way around... and not worry about parking... and anyone I don't like gets a present sent airmail....You know you'd think in the modern era of technology and cloning they'd be able to create one of them. It would be awesome to own one as well as be one. You could ride them like a horse... just think about Halloween... get on your owl with a carton of eggs and you'll be the king of Halloween...

Intuition

i have this
gut
feeling,
like there’s
something
in the air
around her,
telling me
to look harder,
closer,
beneath the surface,
almost
like some variety
of prophesy
telling me
she’d be
worth the energy.

she has
those sort
of ocean foam
eyes that
seem
to pierce
the soul.
i wonder
what it is
shes sees.
i want to know
all that
she nows.

K.T. Jong

The Summer of Four Foot Two

When girls meant 'yuck'
and friends were new
Dreams were unshattered
and worries few
When recess was too short
and life too long
Decisions came easy
without the need to belong
When storks delivered babies
and passions weren't so strong
Friendships were unbroken
right was right, wrong was wrong.
When farewell meant just for summer
and real friends didn't part
The fun went on forever
and never left a broken heart

illusion of future

The eye-blue sky
is showing off
all of its seventy-six
degrees
as the barely-there breeze
brushes fragments of autumn
off of the sidewalk.
Yellows and reds are only
momentary,
mindless illusions
of future,
and for the moment
they are serving
to flavor this Indian Summer

I see him everywhere

I spend a lot of time trying not to be "that guy"

I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol

I just love to use the word ostensible

Like all great novels, Watership Down has both an ostensible subject and an real one. Ostensibly, the book is about a group of surprisingly rational rabbits. Man, however, is the rational animal, and Watership Down is a transplanted tale of the human spirit--a story of courage, resourcefulness, survival, and heroism.

Below is a section of the novel that I loved.

It is an untitled poem by Silverweed, a rabbit who lives in a very peculiar sort of warren. The rabbits there are all well-fed and comfortable; they have little to worry about in the way of predators, and food seems to miraculously appear wherever they look for it. Every so often, though, a rabbit vanishes without a trace... The warren has tacitly agreed never to discuss such matters. Silverweed was the poet of the Rabbits. He tests the boundaries of this silence in his poetry, which is what's made him popular in the Warren. "Frith" is the sun, a God to the rabbits.

The wind is blowing, blowing over the grass.
It shakes the willow catkins; the leaves shine silver.
Where are you going, wind? Far, far away
Over the hills, over the edge of the world.
Take me with you, wind, high over the sky.
I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-wind,
Into the sky, the feathery sky and the rabbit.

The stream is running, running over the gravel,
Through the brooklime, the kingcups, the blue and gold of spring.
Where are you going, stream? Far, far away
Beyond the heather, sliding away all night.
Take me with you, stream, away in the starlight.
I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-stream,
Down through the water, the green water and the rabbit.

In autumn the leaves come blowing, yellow and brown.
They rustle in the ditches, they tug and hang on the hedge.
Where are you going, leaves? Far, far away
Into the earth we go, with the rain and the berries.
Take me, leaves, O take me on your dark journey.
I will go with you, I will be rabbit-of-the-leaves,
In the deep places of the earth, the earth and the rabbit.

Frith lies in the evening sky. The clouds are red about him.
I am here, Lord Frith, I am running through the long grass.
O take me with you, dropping behind the woods,
Far away, to the heart of light, the silence.
For I am ready to give you my breath, my life,
The shining circle of the sun, the sun and the rabbit.

Main Entry: os·ten·si·bly
Pronunciation: -blE
Function: adverb
Date: 1765
1 : in an ostensible manner
2 : to all outward appearances

I don't know anything about Proteins.

Hidden Tangents

Sparks of electrical pulses surge ceaselessly connecting the world putting a tangible value on transcendentalism...

one thought.

it's a little treasure I found locked in the back of my mind that I tripped backward head over foot trying to find sleep.

i get scared that there are cobwebs that shroud those treasure chests. They lie hidden in a corner of my mind like a forgotten LaCrosse jacket with my name stitched in cursive from high school that I look at only when moving thing around the attic, searching with a flashlight. Even though I feel sad to know these places of my mind aren't in regularly visited, it's also like the jacket. It's only meant for those brief moments of springing intense happiness on me. Things will do that for me. It's those bursts of happiness, trivial to some, that tie together the mundane of everyday.

fill time up

leaves
colored tea-stained
circle like a cyclone.
it is a transparent
explanation about how
nothing stays the same.
we sit behind the building
on a cold bench and exchange
idiosyncratic observations
about how brittle leaves behave.
we banter about the display
of the world to fill time up
because we cannot talk of love.

Fate's Tangled Web

A long time ago
Someone once said
Fate is a tangle
Follow one thread
I've finally sorted
Through knot after knot
Picked a thread
Followed it to the top
It lead me to you
To your smiles and cheer
You made me revalue
Things i used to hold near
Fate is a tangle
Follow one thread
Without you here
I know I'd be dead

Gino's Soundtrack of Life

believe that there's a reason for each meeting, every chance encounter, and coincidence even though its usually not realized. The evolution on Man's mind and spirit is quickened by the exercise of seeking out the meaning, the reasons, or the lesson learned.

My diner chit chat with Dika last night was the latest I was pondering. Besides good karma and a bowl we shared thoughts from California Redwoods to She-Ra the Princess of Power. Back to the reason... Dika mentioned a movie she'd thought I may find interesting, Wonder Boys. The story was excellent and I recommend it to any fan of eccentric writers (let's face it, that's just about everyone reading this now) But it was the soundtrack of the movie that made me love it. Leonard Cohen, John Lennon, Van Morrison, and a lot of Dylan. I think every good story should have a good soundtrack. As my own story of life writes itself there's a constant soundtrack in my head. Sometimes it's the Beastie Boys, Sublime, or the Theme to Superfly, it's constantly changing depending on my mood, environment, and the laws of nature. The unfolding story of life helps me realize that it's a ride not a race. And every good ride needs good music. That's why you'd go on the Gravitron instead of the teacups at Great Adventure. Sure you're going to the same level of gyroscopic nausea from both but in the Gravitron you can Jam to 80's hair band music so loud you can't hear the pale kid next to you puking on himself as it sticks to him for 3 minutes and 32 seconds until the ride finally stops. Ok maybe gravitron isn't the best ride to compare life to.

So what was the importance of my Mozzarella stick meeting? I think it was to come away with this story ... It's about rival gangs of Queens. Back in the early ninties there was a turf war going on. The battle was for the Pear tree. When ever the pears came in season the Squirrels would pull them off their branches, take one bite then drop them to the ground, callously wasting the entire pear. This would of course make them inedible, (even though the slow kid up the block kid must have got dared to eat one of those nasty old pears that was one day rotting on the lawn) So the enraged rival gang... let's call them the Dikettes (to protect the innocent) would climb that tree a month before the pears were ripe and swipe them from the squirrels...

I thought on the situation for a while, and tried to figure out who was the hero and who was the villain. It's easy in a story like She-Ra where you that the evil forces of Hordak are the bad guys. How ever in our little tale I think you could focus it and make either one our victim. The poor squirrels without enough to eat for the long winter (summer?) ahead or the rabid little rats ruining all the fruit for the children in the neighborhood. It's more like a Quentin Tarantino movie, without a true hero. Where the bad guys are the god guys, and you don't know who's the hero. Did the Dikettes take the fruit for spite? Did the squirrels laugh as they took one bite and let the rest fall to its death? Is a day old half squirrel eaten pear ok if you kiss it up to God?

I'm not sure I have answers, but I certainly know that If I were to be part of the pear swiping gang the Theme music to the Pink Panther would be playing as I snuck up the tree....

This post brought to you by the letter I for Insomnia
and the number 420

Emotional Backpack

i know
you don't
carry the weight
of what was
around with you
the way i do.
i hope at least
i earned
a fragment
of your sadness
and perhaps
a sleepless night

What we are today comes from thoughts of yesterday and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow; Our life is the creation of our mind -Buddha

Being a Best Man is all about a good speech

Hello everyone. My name is Gene and today I have the Honor of being Mike’s Best Man. First I want to thank both the bridesmaids and groomsman for helping make this wedding a wonderful & memorable occasion. Each one of you put in a tremendous amount of time and effort and as everyone can see you helped create a wonderful event! (START APPLAUSE.) And I can’t continue without saying how beautiful Mora looks tonight. She’s the perfect bride… isn’t she?
I also want to thank all of you who have traveled from out of state or the country, to join Mike and Mora on this special day- it’s amazing how far people will go for an open bar. Your presence is truly appreciated and the wedding would not be the same without each of you here.
I think everyone agrees that it was a beautiful wedding. Unfortunately, the downside is you have to listen to me speak for a few minutes. Mike, I personally want to thank you for the opportunity you’ve given me today and especially that you have finally admitted after all these years that I am in fact the “best man”.
A little history about Mike and I- In 7th grade my family moved down the block from the Cannons- Mike was the first kid I met in the neighborhood… From that point on we we’re close to inseparable… We were a good team…Mike had the greatest talent for figuring out how to get us into trouble… and it was my job to figuring out how to get us out… We also worked together at just about every teenage job you can imagine... We were paperboys, gas station attendants, worked at the car wash together, and our favorite– the beer distributor……ahhhh, all that beer, I mean, um, hard work and diligence- this is where we built our work ethic. Besides working hard outside of school Mike graduated 11th in our senior class, and in very close race, was voted best hair, ironically the entire right side of his head was shaved off…
During our college years, we attended different schools. Mike landed himself at University of Scranton, in Pennsylvania, where I would go and visit him on the weekends. At Scranton, Mike met many of the friends that are here with us tonight, and I think they will all agree with me since Mora has made it this far If I start telling stories from his college years I might scare her away on her wedding day. For the sake of Mike’s honeymoon I’ll keep them quiet.
After college, Mike decided to move to California. I, was of course, sad to see him go. But I knew it was the right decision when he turned to me one day before he left and said, “California is where my dreams are waiting for me” And Apparently, he found his dream. He met Mora…Mora, you make Mike happier than I have ever known him to be and I thank you for that. Please take care of him- he needs it. In truth, I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Mike has always been more like a brother to me than a best friend. I can only hope that I have been half the friend to Mike that he has been to me.
Before I finish my speech, I’d like to ask you both to do something for me… Mora, I would like you to place your hand, palm side down on the table in front of you- Now, Mike, place “your” hand on top of Mora’s hand. Mike, want you to remember this very moment Because this is the last time in your life, that you will ever have the upper hand.
Finally, it gives me great pleasure to invite each of you to stand, raise your glasses with me, and offer the new Mr. and Mrs. Cannon a toast of congratulations! Here’s to a new beginning- a life of happiness, health, adventure and love! – To you both

A wink and a wish.

she's on top
and i'm under.
we flip-flop
when it's over
we lie and we love.
we profess, and cry
it's never enough.
how is it
that we are
so successful
at being failures
to each other?

A Tree shows signs of Trauma in its rings

The progression of time leaves behind a wake of morbid anniversaries that torture the soul. It’s inevitable, the only way to avoid this is to become one of these memories. My mental calendar is scarred with dates of lost friends, family, and heroes. Last evening I felt strength in my sadness for Our friend Stitch. I know he was up there casting a spiritual flood gate to hold back my tears. I wasn’t sure why I felt so strong, as my usual reaction on a two year anniversary of losing someone is a river of tears flowing into my beverage. But alas, here I was wondering if Stitch and O'Leary were passing a joint looking down on all of their friends trying to shield the sadness. It was the strength of my friends' voices today sharing my pain, which had lifted my spirit and kept my sanity in check. I drifted to sleep trying my best to have my thoughts reach Stitch like a magical game of telephone.
On a visit to Scranton PA, I ran into Stitch when I pulled in. I stopped and he helped me try to locate Mike Cannon, who was no where to be found... Not unusual... So I wound up with Stitch all night walking around town party to party, searching for Mike, and by the 4th place we had forgot we were looking for him. At the 6th place we got to Mike was there and wondering what had took me so long... It was in Stitch’s nature to take care of people. That night wasn’t a random event, it was who He was. We just mask the importance of the kind of person he was by remembering it as a great night we partied together, and not saying he "took care" of me that night. And at 20 years old- most of us needed taking care of.
Almost pushing 30 those days seem like yesterday. And I appreciate that Stitch is still looking out for me.

A Dai in my Life

Sharing your words
perfectly placed and hypnotically charged
verbal brain food
swirling together sharp images
connecting to form your Thoughts
Sharing your Thoughts
together on a cosmic adventure
painting vivid murals
overlapping the shared boundary
that’s connected by our Dreams
Sharing your Dreams
more than words telling this story
keeps me hanging
watching every small movement
each breathe leaving your Body
Sharing your Body
the reaction effects all senses
stirring chemical impulses
decoding a secret equation
already known within our Souls
Sharing our Souls
walking euphoric with each other
bound throughout time
pulled together magnetic drawn.
united again in this Life

Mask of the Impostor

A faded memory haunts
A small unvisited room
In the back of her mind
Closed in a book, unread
The volume it fills
Would be too heavy
To carry if written
Instead held on the shoulders of the past
One night, can show you the world
Connecting vibrations
One moment, eyes locked
Can be a life time lived
A swirl of coincidence
Opens the book
Unfolding the story
Almost forgotten
Pleasure yields to pain
As truth shines
Tears rain
Memories are too ephemeral

The Good Fight

I’ve lived a lot in my 21 years
Seen a lot and cried many tears
Bound by fortune, beholden to fate
Rescued by love, thwarted by hate
I walk my path, on the Earth I tread
At the end of the journey I will be dead
In between I must figure it out
Truth, Strength and Love I can’t live without
Fight the good fight as the warriors say
Die the good death on its appointed day

Party in the Sky

Party in the Sky

It’s 6:14 am. Mike woke me a 5:30 today

There is no definition on what a person is. But what separates Mike from my fatal vision of The AfterMIKE (a way to measure time, which is much like aftermath, but way more gnarly.) is the SOUL. The Aura of a soul can not be faked, plagiarized or facsimiled. Staring or simply window shopping through Mike’s eyes you could tell that. He was both a Warrior and a Poet.

My excitement for the Future is waning. Its seems like I am watching my life on ABC’s After school Special. I’m the scared friend who wanders through the whole episode blaming himself even though everyone tells him he shouldn’t . I talked out loud to Mike whenever I am alone. For some reason this seems perfectly logical to me. Just like we were sitting in the O’Leary Mobile.

I am now 22 years old. Every person has something that scars them the most over their lives. For me I think ( and pray) that it just happened. I still have another 2/3 of my life to live. When I go to heaven will I remember Mike? Will his features still be etched in my mind so detailed as they are when I shut my eyes? Is going to heaven like getting off a plane in the Airport. You gotta look around to see who’s picking you up. I’ll be an old man by then, maybe Mike won’t want to pick me up. He will already have explored the universe without me. I wish we could do it together. He’s the first of my brothers to go. He’s got to be a little lonely for one of us.
Follow Up:

7 years since writing this. Another ¼ of my life passed by. I read it and realize that Mike isn’t lonely anymore. I’ve had the bad luck of losing more of our friends, while he’s enjoyed the good fortune of having them added to his party. I still wonder how it’s going to go down in the end. Will everyone be waiting like a welcoming home party? Do you see friends who I’ve lost and only knew briefly? Is there a determining factor in who greets you (if all the went into the light and came back people aren’t pulling a hoax the likes of Bigfoot)? Are my relatives and friends going to be playing paper, rock, scissor celestially to figure out who has to come get me? I’m putting in my request now for Mike… So make sure you’re not playing golf with Hendrix that day.

And I am Happy to report my excitement for the future is tremendous.

October Night

October Night
Gentle dark silence
In the crisp October atmosphere
Thoughts float effervescent
Lying on one’s back
Wistful dreams and fancies
Are borne upwards to heaven
And in October the air replies
With the soothing voices
Of the angels bringing
All your dreams
Unto you

The Touched

Wise Prometheus who dared to give man the flame
Praised Jesus who sought to cure the lame
Noble Alexander who closed the world in his palm
Gentle Gandhi who cultivated respect, love, and calm
Great Sages and tragic heroes fill the catacombs of legends
Our cries, our pain, our salvation we beg the creator of heaven

Lucky Shirt

Michael has become my Saint Michael… and with his powerful wings I can sometimes feel myself lifted from the ground. With his sword I feel protected from everything. But in the picture in my mind- to picture Saint Michael is also to see him smiting the Devil to Hell. And following this analogy I guess Michael is obviously Saint Mike- and I guess I’m the world that he’s saving from the evil… and the Devil represents the negative things I have to deal with- like hating work, being annoyed about money, wanting to be in a different place and the various other negative things swallowing my life force whole on a daily basis.
Or maybe I’m the Devil and it’s Mike saving me from myself (trying?)… his sword representing what happens if I don’t follow the right way… it’s not quite worthy of a Samuel Jackson soliloquy- but when I figure it out It will be…
Back to Mike. I was thinking of him on Friday before I was about to play some cards after a horrible week of work… I starting searching all my closets and dresser for the shirt he left me… a not so stylish brown flannel with a weird collar… after a frantic search when I thought it was gone – I found it in the back of the closet… I wore the shirt he “gave” me the last day we spent together. I haven’t taken it off since Friday night. The streak of good cards I’ve had has been phenomenal and I know I have him to thank for it… and I’ll willing to bet a few others are helping him- well helping me, as well. And this weekend I had one of my greatest winning sessions- of which i owe all to the shirt.
I can feel him especially at times like when I’m sitting at a poker table- talking to myself? No- I’m asking Mike what cards they have… And he’s telling me.
Crazy because at this very second – Pictures the Matchstick Man comes on… I was writing this to the third in our trinity of friendship, Angelo... and you'd think the song came on as a sign...
I offered up the magic shirt for his upcoming Vegas Trip...
It's what great stories are made out of.

*** Luck Update... Gino won $24,000 wearing Mike's shirt check me out on www.thepokerdb.com (it's free) look me up I'm EchoMed

The Forever forward sun

Want so close, seems not far
The Forever forward sun
elusive, running
Catch up, grabhold; the star.

Slip the pure heart's embrace
Hunted down, a prize
Pray to God, beg for grace
Thou shalt not lose the race

Always yearning for the touch
felt, tasted
Wanting so much
It seems like walking distance
always so near
almost have it
thinking, running from afar

Mac And Cheese

I'll be moving all of the content of the original Mac And Cheese site

And if this is a first visit - You missed the original

sorry for the delay

Coming soon...

The Dark

i lie in the pit of darkness,
where i was left to die.
i think to myself,
and wonder why-
i was cursed with life.
slicing myself open with a butter knife,
all i can feel is my numbness for life;
all i can find is nothingness;
yet all i can see is you-
imprinted on my empty soul-
stomping and kicking, begging me
to let go.
whereas i am here now,
i wish i was there then;
fighting the battle of life,
instead of living dead,
and only in my head.
pondering on the thought of being alive;
images flash through my mind,
making me wonder why,
i don't get a chance at life.
wishing i was someone else;
somewhere else...all i can say,
is... maybe someday