"Mirror mirror on my wall, ruthless to your victim... skinny, all these voices singing, skinny, all my monsters singing..." -Skinny by Edith Backlund. hunger pains and baggy jeans hiding me from people who would see this ugly me. ana, why are you  doing this to me? too skinny to fit anything too fat to start eating too stupid to see  that ana is the one doing  this to me. "Mirror mirror on the wall, ruthless to your victi...

The other day, I was reading a piece on storiesspace, titled “Choices” and was struck by the thought that certainly my life choices have had far-reaching unforeseen consequences. It was June, 1972. I had pre-registered for a summer seminar on Geomorphology of the North American Continent, so I decided to do my two week active duty for training before the summer semester began. I put in for, and was assigned to the Navy Sc...

Songs reflecting from the walls of my heart  Echoing with sibilance in chambers Deep within my resentful defenses Built from years of pent up fears and spent tears All it means is that she will never sing With her true voice and her true soul exposed Only under the stealthy wings of pain Falling upon my heaving breast and chestShe simply gives what she has never felt But takes what she wants as she strums the strings In t...

A music player in the corner of the room plays nonstop drums, guitars, basses and keyboards. She does that to cover her cries before the knife slides across her thighs.

SummerWalking hand in hand.Two young lovers.Screach of gulls overhead.Stolen kiss.Giggles looking at the dunes.Love blowing in from out to sea.Blanket and basket in the boot.Top down hair blowing in the sun.Snoop on the radio.Back before dusk.Two young lovers.Summer.

The band warms up.Do-Ra-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Doand backwards.They start playing at two o'clock.Canopy frames and tarps are popping up.The beer garden is growing tables, booths, and fence.The soul food trailer has a sign on it that says "CLOSED."People are filling the lawn bowl that hangs from the stage.The Saint Johns Bridge's green arches over shadow us.I sit in the hot sun inside the bowl for a minute.Dragonflies swoop, dart,...

(Wine and Roses) Pan comes piping cloven hooves high-steppin' it white flutter-by maidens ring in on the changes enchanted in the glade of interleaved filtering a sun-dappled glen where she sits composing a secret audience the river laughing nearby harmonizes with tiger-lilies and tickled trout swimming against the beat cricket castanets drone keeping rhythm, beating time and time has flown the knave of hearts fans out ac...

That feeling you get, it’s inexplicable. I’m gonna try and explic it. I laughed out loud at that. Why, if something is not explainable, do we say it’s inexplicable and then when we go to explain it, we’re explaining it, not explicing it? Seems odd to me.I digress though. I do that all the time. I’m silly with my digressions. I think I think too much... You think? I’m listening to Nirvana unplugged right now. Happy, I am....

This poem will be short,  As I am with inspiration, Sat here on a bus, I wonder... Why did I say ON a bus and not IN, After all, I'm technically indoors. Ambulating, or more accurately, sitting. I watch the world go by, Listen to music, Lust after the cute girl opposite me, See the rain, smile and sing, sometimes out loud. I'm happy. The girl is cute, but gimmie my Kitten any day. Here's the love part of the poem: I love...

I read somewhere that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become good at something. I would respectfully suggest that “good” is relative. I doubt that I have that many hours of practice on any musical instrument, including piccolo and flute, which I played professionally for four years as a Navy musician. After four years of playing several hours each day, was I good? Yes. Was I a world-class musician? Not by a long shot...

Yes, I was a wedding DJ. I started in biz when DJ's were still considered a novelty. Here are examples of what I experienced. Wedding receptions fall into four categories: Great, Good, Bad and The Worst. The GREAT ones are comprised of about 15% of the receptions. The GOOD ones are about 75%, The Bad and Worse ones are the rest. These receptions are usually the fault of the people who contracted me and their guests.They a...

The more I try to recall whether I was three or four, the more convinced I become that I must have been four, because I was wearing a new, blue seersucker suit. I remember that suit distinctly, and recall wearing it to Sunday School at Catonsville Presbyterian Church. The only period during which I regularly attended that church was from late 1948 until August of 1949, when we moved out of my grandparent’s house, and to t...

Purple nails, they clack along the keyboard.Typing this tripe, listening to Metallica,Chatty chat, I go. My replies may be slow,You know? Running out of rhymes, so I’m not gonna.I’ll just type stuff, no idea of what’s coming,Quick change that loathsome track!Correct that spelling mistake,Reply to that IM! Hey, turn Jason’s bass up!Ah, my punctuation messed up there. Corrected.I kinda wanna smoke, but I’m giving up. Health...

"I'm sorry." "I don't care." "I wrote you a sonnet." Now he has her interest. "A sonnet?" "Yeah, like Shakespeare." "Why a sonnet?" "I don't know." "Is it a good sonnet?" He looks at her, his chocolate eyes meeting her icy blue. "I don't know." "Then, why are you trying to read it to me?" "Because, it's up to you, I guess. To see if it's good." "I don't take unconfident boys. Come back when your sonnet's good." "Okay." "O...

Has anyone ever told you to "follow your heart", "dream big", or, my favorite, "reach for the stars"? Well, I'm not. I am merely here to tell you that there is a fine line between a dream and a whim. A dream is a five-year-old sitting on her swing set telling the cool second grader who lives next door that she wants to be an opera singer when she grows up. Not just a singer- an opera singer. She may have only heard opera...