Make your own free website on

not-so-New Prose and Poems

PEACE... Moving Beyond War

New Prose and Poems
An Old/New Beginning: A Sort Of Firm Definite Maybe
Mission Statement and Contact Us
Whitman White Papers

Vase of Roses

More words without the music 

and again into the breach we march and the tapping
upon the military snare and the sandy camo uniforms
are being called to grab a hold upon another war


sipping coffee and playing karaoke to elton john
remake of 'candle in the wind' for Diana
'English Rose' and not that it matters so much
but something i know and still again know
it is still another spot on of the dream
i wrote then a bit of stuff called 'Two Mothers'
of Mother Teresa and Lady Di and about
the real in reality and what it be given by
a chosen two who then answered their own
call and gave more of themselves;
in fact all of themselves; and you know
what it be i mean...
Some six years prior, through e-mail
i wrote responses to a Palestinian
explaining Dr. Martin Luther King
and Ghandi and peaceful confrontation
would benefit the cause of a Palestinian
homeland greater than any violence
could ever accomplish...
I saw a blurb on BBC of a small Palestinian
group using non-violent protest for their
freedom and the grandson of Ghandi
had met with their group, urging
non-violent action to help their cause...
Do you not see, do you not hear,
the words and tears and fears
of persons wanting to be free...
i be not the one to speak of
who did wrong to who;
as i say, i believe in a higher power;
but will not debate the exact name
this higher shall be called
for that be the choice of those
who call a certain faith their own...
i would still say, my belief says that
a higher power with complete
compassion for humanity; would not
seek one person to harm another, simply
because of the name a soul
would call the name of that
highest power...
it be that simple; a child-like simplicity
that i seem yet still to possess...
and what makes one faith; one race, one nation, born
superior to another? nothing that i might see; for
even as power and fortune and property and
weapons be accumulated; what is that but a short
life thing in a universe older than any measure
of time that we silly mortals could ever imagine.
i see the beauty of things about me, as a human male;
among that be seeing a beautious female, or a real
rainbow, or yet other explosions of all colours
and shades and hues, fragrance, and grace and gracefulness
and you have those things that lift your heart and paint
special pictures and comfort your souls and spill a smile
on a sad or tired face
and dance with joy and weep with sorrow
and fills life with more than the grey winds
and sleepy visions and every single day
as every other single day and every word and
every picture and every sound as
repeated only again and again and again...
and would you rather not dance and laugh and sing
as much as one can; than hurt and hate and blame and fight
as some might want you to carry old angers day after day?
Oh my, i am beginning that aging thing that; no
matter how one cuts it or plays it, that my life has moved
to the place where i have lived more years
than i have left to live; and i certainly seek not
to leave any time soon... but that be not my choice
and what choice i do have is that people
live easier together after i have gone
than while i was ever here
be that a silly dream or folly? it be a folly to expect
such a naive wish, though perhaps a bigger folly
to not seek that dream or work for that wish; for
if we show not the next of us, that dream to make
all of us free, how can we hope that our children will
have done better than we have done...

Zoe S. Avator

there is nothing like a silly ol' fool
scratching a 3 day old beard, sipping a cup of well-brewed
coffee and the  doors are closed and the windows
are cracked and even cracked open and the stars are
really bright or is the sun and morning or noon or afternoon...
oh my yes, the photo, don't know haven't seen the
movie yet, she isn't blue like on the movie, she says
she is getting married, so she must be blue at home
it will not rain to-day and is suppose to be 78 degrees
and I have never met Ms. Zoe and likely never will and
that movie is of no interest to me and does any of this matter beyond that she is a lovely woman.
oh, and was there something to tell me or sell me, oh never-mind, the stars will be coming soon to my skies again...

I am not so young and I
can no longer watch silently
as my years gather around me
and begin to swallow
and wrinkle me and laugh what
was my younger self...
i am an elder, if only by age
and listen or no, care or no, or
what it be... and though be i
a'whisperin' in the nite
or weepin' in the dark or
jus' makin' an ol'fool
outa myself... it be me
that says it...
i be much too old within
to play hate games
and fight the same old fights
that i have never fought
and would start not now...

This is a test...
Just to see if you even noticed...

movie: Eddie & the Cruisers
a fictional 1960's Rock'N'Roll band
introduced the drummer
by saying... "He's just going through a phase"
oh my, gee whiz, cheez whiz
and a golly gosh, do i know that feeling...
a not now, later roll a turkish blend tobacco
cigarette and sip a cheep Sangria or perhaps
a Vin Rose'
on the first sweaty nice warmer day
though clouds and bit o'breeze are
unfurled near the big lake...
still love the old country song...
as a take-off on gunfighters
in the wild west saloon.
the song is set in today time about
bar fighters, rather than gunslingers...
and a big green kid walks up
to the middle-age guy who had a reputation
for being the best bar brawler in the state...
the kid challenged the older guy to a fight,
and the older guy listed all his fighting injuries
and daily pains of carrying around all the old
Finally, the older guy lifted his beer
as in making a toast, and said: "Congratulations
Kid, You're the Winner", sipped on his beer
and pointed to his mug for another drink...
i have those 'kinda' dazy days, where some folks
walk up from 'outa' nowhere and offer their
unrequested, unsolicited, undesired opinion
either in person or electronically 'hot E/G mail'
or something like that...
as many times as not
it be a hate thing
or a pain thing
or a thing-thing
that ain't really anybody else's concern
and whether i be here
or just another nearby here
or my soul flies somewhere
over the rainbow and
the tomorrow still shall come
for all the rest left together in nite and
in the new days...
ask me not to hate
even those who might hate me
for this be no great sermon
of turning my cheek, your cheek, her lovely cheek, 
this be a middle-aged older man who
has seen and heard enough hate
to last my lifetime
and i daresay your lifetime...
yes, someone did something to somebody
and somebody else will likely do it again...
but i need not encourage, condone, endorse,
or swim in the waters of their angers, of their
hate, and perhaps even their violences...
the old cliche'
-it be better to lite a single candle
than curse the darkness 

Yes, eye bee a gettin' older
and since i have worn baseball hats before
IF i wore my baseball hat sideways, crooked or
bass-ackwards, i'd look drunk
instead of cool...
and the michigan miltia did not blow up
the Moscow Subway and all the Fox Commentators
just keep saying the same stuff
over and over again
and it all sounds like either we should
give more money to rich people, help
keep workers poor and then complain that
working people don't spend enough money,
and then just say more mean crap about
people who don't want to keep giving
all the more money to rich people.
See in journalism, you aren't suppose to have your mind
made up before ya write the story, which means
nuthin' on Fox is journalism.
Fox, The Republican TV and Radio Network
started blaming the victims of anti-healthcare reform attacks
for the hate speech and attacks and threats, because
the people who were for passing healthcare reform had the nerve
to be for healthcare reform...
Ya know, I done did write something
about the political silly season being here...
pro-gun rhetoric [the folks who believe they have
a god-given right to own bazookas and machine guns
in America are holding a pro-gun rally in Virginia
on the anniversary of the Oklahoma City fed building
bombing by Timmy McVie and last day of the Dividian Siege in Waco,
texas.   and hutaree michigan militia running around
and don't you know; Obama was suppose
to be rude to Netanyahu so Obama could
defend the honour of the U.S. vice president,
give Netanyahu a chance to tell
american audiences the Israeli [misguided]
point of view, and look like a
victim of the mean ol' United States President.
[If ya don't know staged political theatre, that's
a lesson...], maybe it's coincidence, but it was still
political theatre...
Folks, ain't ya getting tired
of hatred and violence?
i'd rather look at a beautiful woman
than read or hear about
people that hate, intimidate, and kill, or
play some silly vid-wii x360 boxed apple
e-i-o game with somethin' tryin' to shoot
something else...

...yes; hello... what is it you are looking for here?
do you want salvation, recognition, justification, or
just killin' time while northern Spring has not quite
sprung and though all the winter's snows are gone and
green is coming and warmth in the sun is coming
and, what is it you wanted, again;
and Y am eye suppose to be concerned
and not that it matters really; for not asking
really to benefit myself, though "I"
do ask for the general firetruck of it...
what be in it for me?
i am alone at nite by choice
sort of... and that is not your concern
so much, and i roll a home-made cigarette
with real tobacco and lite the vanilla incence
and the small tea candle against the cold
darknesses and a car pulls away in the moon-lite
and a couple dogs are barkin' in competition
and what was it EYE was talkin' about
and i be restin' from writing about peaceful things
in the mornings and in the mournings
for strangers [I don't know, which is redundent]
and a treaty here, a conference there, some missiles
 thrown away and home-made bombs not thrown at all
and maybe, a little bit o'peace, and EYE will take a
little bit o'peace home and sip on a cup of people
not hating so much, let god forbid, even get along
though be differing faith or differing colour or different
flavour fast food restaurant...
oh, Eye'm sorry, [and many would agree], what
were you asking me this cool Spring morning
and i will have a cocco-mocho, latte'
or something like that?
Peace out or some other very nice thing...

poetry by poetwhitman

darknesses within autumnal
cold storms greys
upon purple within wet airs
it be the saddening calms;
watched an empty hearse
followed by horse-drawn
wood and glass hearse
pass down the street slowly
i paused my little busy-work
along a sidewalk
as a bit of respect;
and it tagged my moods
of and for that day
and the cold rain slowly
built to heavy and soaking
dismal days consecutive
in their silent chants
i cannot do always
what others would wish;
most times, even when right , would i be
able to do as i wish...
who is calling out my name
to do what i know be not right...
i am tired, and i be sad
more these days
though i am not quite all through;
though perhaps mostly through,
i very well, may be...

it be quiet and cool and i a little
dopey and drowsy and nappy
and still shall i later be still today
it be one of those days
those days of too lazy
to even proclaim phantom shapes
in cloud banks within a pastel blu skie...
and i don't know about jokes and circus clowns
today and i'll snack on left over chicken
from a private bar-b-que and halloween
packets of candy corns
and perhaps that internal auto-pilot switch
and the mona lisa smile of pleasant non-committal
for one day
though someone will enter my thoughtful
-within cubicle-
that might be screened
but has no solid walls
even among others
still be there the open eyes
closed mind isolation
du U have daze
when U can 'turn it on'
"turn it on" and do an actor's turn
and present them one self side
that U believe they want only to see
and the exchange of semi-casually formal
pleasantries and without offense
'just the private unspoken -just Y am i talking to you?-
if it be rain
it be without slicker
or umbrella
for i will dry
and i feel not its chill today...
i do not turn away
neither do i turn toward it
for it just be there
as i just be here
as it be where i had
previous chosen to be
and chose not to change such plans
for that would have forced
new plans and extra thoughts...
in days past
be other cultures
it would be a half bow
and nod before
entering the near outer space
of the one the next chat or
worldly discussion might
be correctly visited upon...
it be not wrong to fly upon
the day in the auto-pilot mode...
perhaps, it be wrong only
to admit it... 

And what is it
you want from me?
is it rhetorical
for you to hear-
or be i speaking out
to myself...
i could write stephen king images
of wars i have not seen
live but only through film
i could write of bloated bellied children
with begging eyes for food
that i have only seen on film
though i have come closer to hunger
than i would like to tell...
i sometimes peddle a bike
to keep from getting fat
and keep from fore-4-for-four bucks
a gallon and it be better for me anyway...
a three dollar valu-meal at
the Doodle-Burg Delite Shoppe
and an extra side of bio-fuel grease
with that...
it is a cold wind
and a tree gnarled with no leaves
in the distance and i see
barren open space ahead
and i could also give U candy
and a day at the park
with carnival rides
and balloons and clowns
and game-winners
carrying around big stuffed bears
or a view within the mind of a soft smiling
beautiful younger woman barely sheathed
in sheer finery
about to...
and need i say more...
the days ahead will not be so easy perhaps
as some of them past
and i be one old fool
doing little more than my
Quixote joust upon a windmill
the old toothless wolf
trying for a few last howls
upon a so distant laughing moon
i retire for the evening
to split my time
eating rice and beans
rolling my old legal smokes
and watching "The Diary
of Anne Frank" and a Sci-Fi thriller
and some sexy little flick
in between perhaps organising
some semi-written poetry collection
that no one is ever likely
to read anyway...
oh god, i'm rambling
about what... again
that i am young and old
that i still dream and lust
and sip flavoured coffee
and lite rose wine'
and would rather not view war
but a lovely woman instead...
but, i have a little challenge
skip one fast food trip a month
and give it to some legit
-Feed Somebody- group
and yourself take a day and a half
of only water and rice...
it not be the day with only the rice...
it be the next morning
and looking forward again
to only the rice...
and then tell me about your hardship...

the air slow and stale and damp
my clothes glue to my body
in about all -those places-
and to be delicate or not-
"fix myself"...
i cannot see
even with the photos before me
the hell on earth being delivered
in africa
a note from every UN government
to -those- nations...
no rhetoric
no fancy diplomatic
double speak...
-it has to stop-
in palestine and israel and syria and jordan
and egypt- it is time- as it is in africa-
to make "refugee" and
"resettlement" camps obsolete.
if not one angle, but another...
a regional plan for palestinian refugees
-accepting that there would be no right
of return acknowledged within the
"Green Line" of israel...
if israel withdraws from 90 to 95 per cent
of the west bank, that is where many of the refugees
would land...
now, then, i say
tell us the real state
of the camps
in all the region...
tell us how many Palestinians
would return to Palestine
and tell us the capital needed;
tell us not propaganda
tell us about rebuilding
all of Palestine, tell us
about a future for the refugees
in Palestine or remaining in other nations
Should Peace Come...
Tell Us... 

dawn and it is sundown
somewhere and afternoon somewhere
and in Madrid they pray for tolerance
as it should be-
symbolic- merely show-
who knows- why not such a show...
it is time again
to speak those words
as if christmas in july
peace on earth-
goodwill towards all-
i get my times
when i would
play the games
and such
and then i come back
upon myself
and ask why
and also why not
what if war took a holiday
and the research
and the knowledge
and the money
oh yes
show me the money
the money went to feed
the hungry
and rebuild where there
were bombs and poverty
and resources went to those who
were in true need
not those in glutoneous want...
it be dawn and it be sundown
and afternoon somewhere... 

oh my god it is life
and it happens
sometimes seemingly long
in our short lives
and yet again in momentary flashes
that are relived later
in slowing motion
though in an instant occurred;

my father past a few months ago
and a cousin my age
spent special time to comfort me;

in a couple of days
she was struck down with a stroke

my mother's sister
dying slowly of cancer
came to my father's service
and seemed strong enough
to be there with us.

this aunt lived a true Christian life
of decency and charity
and dropped me a card from time to time
and she passed just a week later...

at my father's service
in a country church
of good-hearted people
my special son of six years old
walked to my father's open casket
and said "wake up, wake up"

at that sweet and gentle moment
that I did not collapse myself
I cannot say...

I heard a radio report from the recent
China earthquake of a young couple
who had left their 22 month old boy
in the care of his grandparents.

the parents held out hope
the child would have survived
and maybe the grandparents also.

As rescue workers dug in the rubble
that had been of the grandparents
apartment building, they cried and prayed
with just a little hope
and great, great pain.

The parents wailed when soldiers
found the child and grandparents
tucked near one another
crushed in the remnants of the fallen building

Tens of thousands are recent dead in Myanmar
as tin horn generals restrict aid
for survivors
and play petty politics
to claim credit for what little aid
is reaching those left living
after the terrible cyclone.

Israel is sixty years old this week
and I grew up watching the footage
of film of the Holocaust and the
starving bodies of those survivors
of those damn camps in central
and eastern Europe.

I see Palestine wanting to be free
as rebels fire rockets
into the Israel of today

I remember Viet Nam
the murder of Dr. King
of Bobby Kennedy
of John Kennedy
of John Lennon

tell me no more about fair
tell me more about peace

even when leaders
cannot bring immediate peace
and war seems destined to come
the goal must be to bring
even a little peace

Peace: we must want it
Peace: we must embrace it
Peace: we must find a way to build it

tell me no more about fair
tell me more about peace

I have my own sadness
and I have my moments of joy

and let us all remember yesterday
and then build a better tomorrow
in an imperfect world
that with prayers for peace
in any language
ring out louder than any bullet
or any bomb

let us want peace
let us embrace each other
of any and all nations
who would share a new and better peace
and let us work together
in sorrow of those gone
in joy for the moments
we shared their lives
and build a monument of peace
in honour of those taken or fallen
while trying to make this world
a better place to live


and techno beams and satellites can magic-like
transmit all the pain and all the joy
across the planet in whatever be
a nano-second...

still it be just you
and it be just me...

as i see what i see
and you shall see
what you see.

and i hear what i hear
and you shall hear
what you hear.

it is simple
would you deliver pain
or ease the suffering;

would you not see hunger
or feed those in want;

would you take yet more
from the poor
to give to the wealthy;

would you absorb the dignity
of another
rather than build their pride;

shall you lay aside weapons
or wield that power wrongly
what may you possess
or could obtain;

and shall you and i
choose to live as a brother
or a sister
side by side
or still side by side
in want or turmoil
or even in violence...

sometimes i may have a foolish tongue
as in sometimes your words
ring sour as a broken bell
for hardly do we reach perfection;

and when i see or hear
what is beauty to me
so may you see or hear
what is beauty to you;

let not the quests of ourselves
bring harm and suffering
to the others
and let these quests bring peace
and fill the needs of the others

let these be the gifts
we bestow upon all others
so that our children may see
and so shall they hear and know
what goodnesses can prevail
even in a world
that is divided between joy
and joylessness;
in a world
that would destroy others
as well as tend with beauty
those who suffer greatly...


and yesterday has past\

and letting it rest

things said now forgotten

for things said in tempest

and mild turmoil

need little linger


it is as it is

the daily things

of small tempers

and perhaps even

a bit of laughter

slip into the light

late summer breezes


and I float upon

that light breeze

of this body

yet looking down

as if not of all

within this form


that there be greater purposes

that there be higher callings

perhaps of perhaps not


just a smile again

and a bit of the bump and grind

of the wok-a-day blues


and I remember little of

the previous day

and it was good

and a little not so good

as it is with most days


and I say ‘good-day’

in all ways

that yet could be taken

as a greeting and

as description

and time passes

and one person memories


left not to be lingered upon

except the better ones

and shall we leave it at that

and tomorrow shall important be

in peace as in hopes of peace

even today…

Wire Rim Glasses

i am sad and tired
and now at this advanced age
understand yet again
as in the epiphanal
of another kind of
losing ones innocence
someone spaeaks to me privately
as if i be a child still
as i be their child
it is to walk a little more quiet
to talk a little more quiet
because i know what my realness be
and the see the realness
of life for others
i smile a different kind of smile
the smile of age
if not wisdom
a joke because a man of my stature
at 5'2" and eyes of blue
seems a manchild to me
and even more to you...
i see the realness
of my life
and the realness
of life for others
as to as far as i can
my private moments are gone
even if resting and sleeping
i know what it is i know
and i seek not your private moments
and i know what is realness
and what is not of that same realness
and i smile the smile of aging
of having seen fifty years of life
in curiousity
though i am sad and tired
and have no private moments
i see and feel with my years
if not with a bit more wisdom
and i sniff at the flowers
newly cut in the vase
and sip my too sweet coffee
and care not that
what you might see as pretense
is not of another's concern
without that invitation
to the private places of this life
i pray for peace
and sleep a bit more restless
and look to the night
as the moments before
perhaps another day
and perhaps even a brighter day
and still i pray for peace
and dream of and for peace
and what do you pray for...
if you pray for my soul
i give you thanks
but would ask rather
you pray for peace
someone already has my soul 

have not recently read the real Whitman poet

though know not of any relationship

i with affection recall him as Uncle Walt


during the Civil War

i believe he tended the wounded

in Washington D.C.


we alone cannot

end current wars

and yet we have

if not always the best voice

this nation does have

the loudest voice…


From Ramalleh to Jerusalem

and from Gaza and Tel Aviv

people want peace

for their own people


and Baghdad and Beirut

and in this land

people want peace

for their own people


and i would say

i believe Uncle Walt

who wrote as he could

to represent the all

of the people

especially the working class people

he would likely agree


the rough and wrangle

of the great and lesser conflicts

that with the information age

first born with the telegraph

so that we now see through the lens

the suffering of those

whether innocent

or not so innocent

affected in these conflicts

and suffering of people

is as it is for all people

in the grip of suffering


for the crucial point be

that such conflict shall only end

when great and lesser leaders

decide to end the suffering

of their own people

and to even extend their compassion

to those who suffer as well

even again of who would be called

-the other side-.


and i believe Uncle Walt

who wrote of peoples of all shades

and would tolerate peoples

of all faiths and honourable views

likely would appreciate these words


and as i have said before

there be times when i

wearing the grey fedora

poet hat of mine

become na´ve’ and dreamful

that peace and compassion

for its own sake could prevail


peace and compassion

need neither excuse nor apology

though be it impossible

to shake a hand with greeting

while it holds a sword

a gun or bomb


it be possible when each side;

is willing to share

the bounty of its land

with all who reside there;

to respect the views

of all who live in the lands;

allows those of slight difference

to live in peace

whether side by side

or in community nearby.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I awaken to a new dawn

tired and mild refreshed

and see a feeling within

of a little better hope


not from outside;

so much on the wider horizon

for daily it goes

each with that routine

yet also for those

that routine has no meaning


I delve into the unknown

not the mystic

though if better things

came to be

it would ring magical


and if not this day

to have routine broken

in a mystic and magic way;

it would raise that sweet

inward song


that song of joy

that would echo within

built on hope

extended to deeds

not of anger

or apprehension


rather the bravely bold

of standing for peace

in a peaceful way

though not in weakness

or silence


for peace is not a weak thing

as love is not a weak thing


for peace shall be a passion

as true romance is pure;

though it be not always gentle


as the hue of each flower

shall be shaded of each colour

the shades of peace

and of love

has in its own time

and moment

with differing strengths

and power and intensity


and yet what is seen

as soft and gentle

to reach out for peace

and love and romance

may yet take the strength

mightily from within

that the out-reached hand

the offered cheek

be accepted

and not slapped violently away…



* * * * * * *

like the guy afraid to ask
the pretty girl on a date
some be afraid to say
they want peace
it is sad
that some say
peace will not come
but at least
they speak of their own view
of what is true
do i think peace
between israel and palestine
will happen soon
-likely not
 however it is not impossible-
in iraq; they need a leader
to take command
and say- we will be one nation
or we will be three nations-
and be done with it...
peace is still the answer
in coalition
to build smaller armies
and the good ol'
turning swords into plowshares
and reminding these many nations
and ourselves
you could probably build
a decent school
for every tank a country buys
! @ # $ % ^ & * (+) _
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And the rain hard and soft
paused and temporary
and i wander through it
washing the sweat from my hair
into my eyes and just a little burn
and i see the water gather
in yards and near curbs
and sometimes step through it
and sometimes around it
and the mosquitos will come
and the swelter swelter
will likely return at
high tide of the sun...
and this be home for now
and would have it remain
unless called somewhere
with another purpose or mission
beyond my own comfort
i see other voices
and hear other faces
and the speeding car
a couple nights ago
that filled my rearview mirror
and what was their hurry
and then they just stopped
and sat and stared toward me
and i am in not so hurry
as much for what would it matter
and i rested last eve
and wondered of little
for it was a time
given to rest
and little taste for the bachellor three
of wine and women and song
with no real place
to woo or wine with them...
the lights be out
and my heart a bit dual
as in both toughened and tired
and yet do smile
and do inhale the memorie
of the red roses and the red carnations
of a past love
neither painting away
that which was good and
that which perhaps was not so good
for only a fool would completely dismiss
all of love's gentle kiss
and dismiss all of love's
greatest sting
and still i kneel and pray
in my own way
for a blest and real peace
and the lights are out
and the candles unlit
and i
this moment
i will not rest always yet
and will dream and hope
and strive and journey
even my little distance
for a little more peace
among people
and yes there will be days
when my voice be harsh
and my thoughts be of a cynic
though my heart will still
be of peace
even after it forever stills
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Pool Party

i am melting at 94
and the humidity sweats over 75
per cent and did i say i was melting
and the car needs a new tail pipe
and the A.C. don't work
and i can't decide if i want
a coffee a latte'
or long tall draft
or a long tall blonde
[or brunette]
and i am daydreaming again
that my words can
make angry warriors calm
and those who not be warriors
to stay calm...
though i do know
that fighters are there
who care not if their own people
be the victims of mayhem and attack
and i wish that this be not so
and so it goes and so it goes
and did i say
the day be as sticky
as cotton candy
in the same sun
the spun sugar
melting and melting
and the dog days have come
and the harvest days will follow
and the days shorten slightly
and soon selling stands
of home made cidar
and home grown pumpkins
will appear
and leaves will change colours
and you already know those colours
and maybe a little closer to peace
and a little more dialogue
and what else could one want
than a little more peace
and why would anyone
seek war and glorify war
and we correctly do honour
those who have fought
and will fight the wars
and let the innocent
find and receive the peace
each of us should be entitled to and
let those who would be our foe
to let us go home
and stop their violence
as we would want our fighting to stop
oh my, let this day-dream stop for now
and let me get back to the broken tailpipe
and back to the uncooled apartment
and whether i decide
on that latte'
or the tall draft
or the blonde or brunette that
ain't really gonna be there anyway... 

Vintage transistor radio

barely noon sweat
rolls both down and up my face
shirt sticking and would wish
to remove it
but vanity and not scaring
the blue noses
does so prevent me
i wear a loin cloth
beneath my denim khaki
four or five pocket walking shorts
and act is if my travels
are as important
as my destination
the radio says it is an ozone day
and the bus is free
but so are my feet
or my bike
and the car has petrol
though i have little sense...
it is routine
it is another
every day
and yet i discuss
with myself
the places
i am not going today
having already been there
once if not several times before...
by three in the day
the calendar reaches
94 degrees and the air
is heavy with nearly the same humidity
and i have the audicity
not to be concerned about it.
the street noises are not exactly the same
as yesterday or will be the same tomorrow
yet they will be so very close
that i could record them
and close out the world
and close my eyes
and replay the tape
and not know if it be now
or if it be a time before
and would it indeed matter
if i heard a live recording of judy garland
singing somewhere over the rainbow
from 1939 or 1942.
and will one find this day
a day to help the precious
seeking of peace
and where did this change come from?
and this is where my separate thoughts
do seem to wander back;
after work stuff and bill stuff
and family stuff
and day-dreaming about some lovely lady
in various states of dress and desire
though likely my desire and not likely
her desire...
i slip back into reveries of a precious peace
as if it may happen
or will happen
or, at least, have a better chance of happening
than a snowflake surviving in Hades...
and, at least, some have not stopped trying
the ones that have a little sway
of what happens in the day
those of a little power
of a little influence
one person has little juice,
little pull, but with many together
that juice fills up and even flows
but let it be real peace
not surrender not escape
not evasion but peoples
living together, hopefully
for the right reason,
or even just because
they tire of fighting
and can't change the neighbours
and it is already hot
and sticky and my skin
almost clean
begins that gritty feel
and i feel the darkenings
in the crease of my neck
and the hollow of my arms
and i will lightly nap
at the height of the sun
and pray a little for peace
before a little supper
and another evening
of laughing or crying
at the blue blue moon
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

yesterday and tomorrow
it is as it is
may or may not be
i walk through slightest puddle
that remains of the previous storm
it will be gone before
the sun reaches near
the days highest point
i look but a bit forward
and need not crane up
my neck to see the billowy clouds
on one distant horizon
over the path that perspective
guides the outside edges
ever inward
--and it be the cloud
as a fingerprint
or a snowflake
or another cloud
as could be repeated
or even similar
but so so random
and how at this second
at this moment
this fraction of a moment
get to this place at this time
and no, not i mean,
did i walk here or bus here
or drive here;
but with each little and big decide
with each big and little decide
by another
was my belt too tight
my pants too long or too short
was i or she
too cute
or not cute enough
it is as it is
and may or may not be
and would you
walk the same walk
or talk the same talk
if you have seen and made more
of the better chances
and the better possibilities
not that i be such
a great example
and I digress
and yesterday has flown
its heart away
and tomorrow has yet
to be here
upon the breeze
yet to blow...

Illustration: Relaxing in the bath

And in the night
i looked into the moon
perhaps the same moon
as Holly Golightly
[as in Audrey Hepburn
 Breakfast at Tiffany's
 with George Peppard
 long before the A-Team]
as she strummed a guitar
and sang or lipped
'Moon River'
on the little balcony
of an apartment
allegedly or likely
in Manhattan
the grey fedora and the coffee
and a couple of self-rolled
tobacco cigarettes
and the stars
seem either laughing
with irony
or twinkling with teasing winks
depending upon which way
my head seemed to tilt
or if her smile
[any one of whoever's smiles
 that might be]
were part of a positive
little electric
exchange of glances...
do you know the difference
'txixt subtlety and a sledge
or nuance and blatancy
and does it matter
in the realm
of an innocent hello
or in an evening
of a couple doing what
couples often do...
oh my the evening lags
and i pause in alternation
between the Bach and the Segovia
on a CD in my invented atmospherics
of candle light and incense
and whether to be naughty
or profound
or naughtily profound...
i allow the other things
--of daily life, of longer life,
and even life beyond my life--
to spin along without me tonight
and perhaps maybe even tomorrow
though back to the daily things
and those other things i will come
perhaps humming along
with Holly Golightly
something about me and the moon
and a moon river...

is that the name of the song
-Just another Brick in the Wall-
by Fink Ployd...
sorry, it's an inside joke...
even in august
the days slightly shorten
though the daily air
stagnates at the top
of the sun
trivial matters
personal matters
sometimes collect
and gather like dust
on a table top
-[though often still
important to a someone
until much has piled
needlessly there
ask me where i was yesterday
and i will tell you
about the girl i made out with
thirty years ago
under the roller coaster
at the amusement park
where we worked together...
or having just found the knit
shirt i wore for the first picture
of me holding my son
when he was just 24 hours old
and what was the question
for whatever the problem
it must be my fault-
and i move along to relive
my senior days in school
or breathing in fresh air
on a bicycle ride
or uttering or writing
little prayers for peace
and maybe people will hate less
and embrace
[literally and figuratively] more
and trying to separate
my wants from my needs
and do i want fries and a coke
with that deluxe sandwich
or should i just get the combo meal.
it be my superficial joke
at my 51 and half years
to dye back my hair to light brown
or perhaps Andy Warhol
white it out
or just shave it all off
say a little prayer for peace
do someone a favor;
know the past and the present
and look toward the future
but don't spend too much time
in any one of the three...
where was i yesterday?
oh well, that was then
and this is now
and what about tomorrow...

Vintage Radio

it is just another brain cramp
oh well, what the he**
the skies are blue
and yet i expect
today another
hurricane in Ohio
or was it Idaho
and what do i mean
or do i seem to mean
it is just one of those
-keep smilin'
'cause it just keeps
getting better and better-
kind of days
like the TV commercial
when the two year old
feeds oatmeal to the VCR
I am not too worried
about how darn cool
I know I truly am
or if 'pot pouri'
comes out of my
elecrtic sockets
or if my bran flakes
taste like cranberries
and or peanut butter...
It is August
so Christmas is coming
and did the dog
just eat the cat again
today feels like a Seinfeld episode
and doesn't cream cheese
taste good on just about everything
the museum is closed on Monday
but the bar is open
and i prefer in-line-rhyme
to doublets or couplets
or sonnets about bonnets
i think i'll get a beer
light a candle
put on my grey fedora
and pray a bit for peace
and don't mind me
I am serious
about taking a chill pill
or just kickin' it back
'bout bein' serious
it be my feel
that peace be supreme
and on a hot day
should i say
that i don't know
if my polyester shirt
goes with poly-cotten
blend shorts worn
on pasty white fifty year old
guy legs and does the flavor
of the cornflakes really matter... 

*     *     *     *    *     *     *     *     *     *
is this day a practical day
to complain and say what be possible
what be real
what it is that one can do
it be not that day
this be a day to dream
a day to soar and rise
and float like a regal bird
above the mountain tops
what is the question
is that a question of what will
the others allow of me
when what I seek
is not to benefit me
but nearly all others
and certainly those
who would give peace
a chance to breath
to kiss a war-torn people
to let people worry about
where the next meal would come from
and not if their lives would be taken
and their lands and homes plundered
and do you not see
this be not about me
though times be a bit
turbulent now
and unsettled
in my own home
this be not about me
but about a simple
and greater peace
and the dreams
of those people
from the Beatitudes
of Jesus, though be I
not a traditional Christian
for I leave immortal questions
totally in the hands
of the highest power
and I will not say
to you or another
by what name you shall call
that highest power
it be your right to choose
the name you give that power
but I do say; I believe that
even a just war
is still of man;
and not the highest power
it is time to let
a new peace shine
it is time to let go
the angers of the past
and rise and float and soar
for it is time to dream again
the dream of peace...

Black-haired woman's face

Female figure

the morning rain is soft and light
with a little mix of grey clouds
and blue skies and violent violet
clouds that gather yet seem
to diffuse in the distance...
not a metaphysical Tempest
the storm within the storm
the rains do come and go
sometimes even after
clouds have past
it is no matter
the rains come and go
the sun comes and goes
the night the moon the stars
come and go...
shall we fight about this also?
can we not build
a safer and a cleaner world
my my yes
the so much bickerings
and bombings
and building-
where farming should be
when the old factories
should be repaired
or replaced
and why do people want
to fight so
is it the battle
to find someone
who is -less-
than ourselves
so one can be
better than another?
and why will not a people
let itself have the chance
to be free?
it be a thing
these rivalries
but at such hostility?
as i age
i understand
these silly fights less
and wish to leave
the next players
a better world
than we; in our game got...
so i say good day
good evening
and have a nice whatever...


Maxim photo for a little fun, before Couric CBS gig--- pjw

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
    perhaps these be times yet for me
to step back and relax
a different type of rest
for the dreams still are here
but rather more
not the means
for there be no silver spoon here
it be a different tired
not of fatigue or exhaustion
or losing faith
that not not be the matter
the walls and barriers
some of wood and brick
some of more spiritual
and etheral types
and yet it be also
the coin of the realm
and it more likely be
that i am less tired
and others be
more tired of me
do you not know
that peace and equality
here and abroad
are what i seek
though i am not
so naive to think
that junior wishes
will make it so...
though a little good karma
can never do harm
and i few prayers
and dreams and hopes
worked and worked some more...
and this be a day of rest
of leisure and i shall quietly read
a few stories
and perhaps a few poems
and let others
do battle
even if there be no real fight...

 looking too hard
for the poetic epiphany
trying too hard to be more than better
and so it goes
the d**n ebb and flow
knowing that sometimes
you merely just keep doing
and for most
the evolution
is just another process
of time...

whether -the rush-
be real or another push
without substance
to know when to elevate the game
or settle into practice
to know when the auto-pilot
is pretty darn good
and when one finds
something more to display 

               * * * * * * * * * * * * *

are you looking for false hope

or real hope?


nothing be impossible

between two people


'cause people sometimes change

and expand their emotional range...


but do ya think

it happens all the time?


outa seven billion folks

once in awhile

a few get all the jokes.


my oh my

the well-meant schemes

for that dream of peace

and then we got the folks

who just say:

-I don't wanna-


maybe their cut of the pie

isn't big enough

maybe they learned

to hate too well

maybe somebody

whizzed in their corn flakes

this morning


maybe they got a good beef

but maybe even after redress

they won't let it go...


ya see, i know

that all of these could be me

then again

it could be you


the old classic argument

-I'm not sayin'

you're wrong;

I'm just sayin'

that I'm right-


okay, i ain't always right

hell, i may not even be close...


okay, junior...

take a deep breath

and so will i...


and maybe peace at some level

will find a way...


but it's hard to argue with hate;

in fact, why bother...

rather better to counter the hate

and keep talking with those

whose minds are not so made up


maybe peace will find a way

maybe dialogue will replace



what did Rocky say

to the Soviets in Rocky IV;

-If we stop and you stop

and we just all stop,

we can all get along-

[that is what is called a close paraphrase]

ya wanna have a fight

if I got the quote wrong?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
summer heat the humid rains
sweating working in the sun
i heard the green music
for a cleaner earth
the solutions need be
from all levels
and all places
hear the music play
i need also to hear the call
that life and goods and containers
need not be disposable
i have not said
to build on old industry
and build a new industry
of the greening
of the earth
and let too the greening
be a call
for a more peaceful time
on the each of the continents
in respect for the earth
and all its inhabitants

* * * * * * * * * * * ** * * -making myself almost presentable…


this begins a writing exercise

as would a singer

sing a scale

a pitcher toss around

a baseball at a soft speed


working to a greater tempo

a louder or more complex

note progression

faster and more breaking stuff


it’s three in the afternoon

and I have yet to eat

or shave or shower

on a hot summer day


my, I am indelicate

yet today…


a bit of a snack

mashed potatoes smothered

with cream corn,

though not homemade

like at my grandmother’s

for Thanksgiving or Christmas…


Grandpa Leroy was doing

quite nicely into his eighties

but it always seemed to be

“… going to Grandma’s”

and I don’t think he

minded a bit.


Quite dashing actually

in his brown wool suit

in the 1930’s.


In 1963 in the light blue Rambler

that at age seven, with a push button

automatic on the dash

I thought was a regular size big car

though probably smaller

than a Kia Rio


it be eighty degrees

and I in some ugly

dark khaki

wannabe docker shorts

no shirt and my grey fedora

listening to J.S. Bach

between bites of the mashed potatoes

and puff on self-rolled

Bugler cigarettes

because even if I won the lottery

I refuse to pay four bucks a pack

to support that filthy habit…


my, I am indelicate today

and soon will shower

and rinse because

when you notice those odors

of countless TV commercials

and even offend thyself

it be time rather

to wash and lather.


and yes, you may gather

there is no current

mistress or madame

of my humble domain

to whisper gently

upon my ears;

“Get your lazy smelly butt

in the bathtub…”


“…in a moment, dear.”

as I run the water

and plan some errands

and write this odorous

ode to a simple quiet

day of bachelor leisure.


for ladies, you know

it is always safe

to leave grown men

to their own devices

as far as gentility and manners

and decorum around a civil home…


in my present state

which soon I will alleviate

it is almost too much

and even crass or irreverent

to write of higher purpose

and prayers for peace

or singing badly

favorite old folk songs

acapella [spelling]

for the sake of ambience

and wishing the words might

become truth.


and this exercise

is come to its conclusion

on a hot summer day

as I attempt a slight level

of presentability

to what is called

pleasant society…


* * * * * * * * * * * * *     


and yes; years give you

more experience

though guarantees not

more wisdom


and I have begun to become

the old greybeard

admiring the feminine form

as I had as soon as I discovered

girls and that most of them

didn’t have cooties anymore…


as the years pass

I note that I admire beauty

for the sake of beauty itself

whether of nature

whether of human construct

or the beauty in some human thought

or in the human form


I objectify the concept of beauty in women

not just in form or figure

rather also in spirit

for a woman may have beauty in form

or beauty in spirit

and then wanders in

the woman of beauty

in both spirit and form

and this be a subjective view

for each man themselves to make…


I chuckle at the concept of one man

recognizing the handsomeness

of another man

and the jokes of a man-crush

and the needling towards

questioning his masculinity

for noting the potential attractiveness

of one of the same gender…


and a long time ago

I wrote of when two become

not a couple but actually

its own threesome

each partner an individual

for two and the identity

of these two together,

becoming a third being within

the emotional and perhaps

physical coupling…


and yes, most men are dogs

at heart…


and yes, with our own vanities

of one sort or another


it seems to me

that each of us

enjoys the validation

of having another

be –with—us

to display that we are worthy

of having another care and share

our daily life;

even more than wedding vows

that say in sickness and health;

for richer or poorer;

and even in our pleasantness

or our own pettiness;

the revelries and the vanities;

okay, even those eccentricities

and oddities

that make us human individuals


the battles and the romances,

the roses with or without the thorns…


whether be in pleasant companionship,

in pain or in passion

the many forms of the union

of two human spirits…