The Future Revealed

The Future Revealed

I’mm not a clairvoyant but mmy sister seems to be; well not really but it would seem so when we consider something she said ‘way back when’ and what actually is taking place today, sum years later.

I won’t divulge what amount of time that is because for sure mmy sister would be more embarrassed then mme simply due to the fact that she IS much, much older than most turtles found encased in rocks not far from sunken galleons.

Oh not really. Actually she’s only a year OLDER, but we love to rub each other’s faces (or is that feces?) in silly sib-lingerings… slingerings perhaps? Whatever, maybe I’ve invented another word; like there needs to be more tearing apart of the alphabet, yes? Noooo… I’mm sure sis Sue would agree with you about this.

In that regard let it be known mostly because we’re very seldom next to each other physically, that she is oh so much shorter than I as well. It’s a fact that she is, at least by several inches - shorter; except when she wears ‘heels,’ as they say; which I never thought was fair because they won’t accept that as being her REAL height at the doctor’s office; not mmy fault, I didn’t make up those rules, that’s just the way it is. Most religious organisations except those that make up their own rules at bingo would even recognise this; it must be true, but don’t ask sis.

In any case, mmy dear Sue is such a cool person. She’s kind, generous, funny, loving to anyone and everything that exists including large or small animals, except those that get into her garden when they’re hungry; any size plant outside or in no matter the stem, leaf or route it took to get larger; birds of all species and most bugs that like her when she’ll return the favour only or unless it doesn’t leave crumbs all over the place. She likes a neat kitchen, bathroom, living room, porch, deck, alcoves, halls and of course and most importantly, the roof.

She’s brilliant, smart, beautiful to the degree of having several armies of boys who wanted to date and or marry her while they were in, or shortly they’re after her, high school Her current husband, who’s always been not too much longer after high school I might add got ahead of the line maybe because he was the tallest one and one who lived the furthest away; one may say not long after they met he had a car. For some strange reason this did make a different to several high school girls I can remember when relating these sir come stance is.

His car wasn’t as cool as most or even mmine, but the thing ran on fumes until one fateful night when the gas ran out too far away from home, a phone (there were no cell phones in those daze) on a dirt road and too late at night. Needless to say it wasn’t a very pleasant experience in our house; and rightly so.

Even though she was and still is as beautiful as anyone you’ll ever see, including YOUR sister, she was grounded for well over half a day or maybe a full one at the most. Her smile melts metal that even most of those in authority hadn’t or still have no defense even before she’s had a bath; don’t get mme started.

Ronnie her husband then and now, being the great dude that he is also attended a different high school and I must add a huge rival to ‘ours.’ Although his had a football team and ours didn’t made no difference. His team most times beat another high school’s team I always rooted for most Thanksgivings they played against his. One big strike against him until mmy team won one year after we met; and only once as I can recall. Why; had nothing to do with him, I was sure.

I always thought mmy sister to be a traitor because of this; oddly enough when I got to know Ronnie, for some reason I became a traitor too, that’s what height will do for you; it certainly wasn’t his football team. To this day I love the guy and for some reasons even more than I would several of mmy own school mates.

I must say one thing about Sue though; she’s thinner than I, but only by a few pounds. Yep, she’s got mme beat there and most of us know that’s really because of that physical, technical thing is that she’s a girl and has smaller bones. So I’d say we’re pretty equal on that account. At least I’ll go to mmy grave saying so.

To get to the real point here, it was on our daily walk to high school one day. Our conversation led to trying to figure out what we’d like to be as people when we grow up; maybe lucky enough to be in the grand age; like grand parents and such. Well, she’s one now with two, of course drop dead gorgeous daughters which I’mm sure her husband had nothing to do with, he was just there to let’s just say, light the fuse, that’s all. How important is that? Light and run isn’t it?

She said to mme, “You know bro, (we didn’t use bro back then but do now) I’d like to be the grandmother living in a house that everyone loves to visit and eat mmy home maid cookies. Do you think that will ever happen?” Genius that I never was nor a sage, but liked to cook with it; after I laughed for most of the way to school, stopped at one point before looking both ways wild crossing those streets and then said, “Nope; not a chants.”

“You don’t even know how to cook a hot dog yet.” To which fact she has to agree to this day because even shortly after her marriage she couldn’t reach this technical milestone with the recipe book staring in her face. She did know what a fork was though but a mixing bowl? I’mm not sure so don’t quote mme on that.

I on the other hand, watched our mother daily on mmy way to becoming or could have become one of the greatest Italian chefs of all time. Not as good as mom of course but I DO know how to make her red sauce as well as follow any recipe including that of bred. I can remember making mmy first meat ball with mom; as well as juice, cookies of all denominations and of course more juice.

Unlike dear sis, cooking talents came naturally to moi, except when one will consider a little, tiny flaw as a meatball’s shape being that of a ball, or round. I wanted to make oblong ones that turned into a favourite meal at the time, but maybe not considered a meat ball; known in our house as a croquette.

That’s another story altogether but suffice it to say sis is a great cook now and most likely due to a library of cook books or most importantly that she knows mme and calls mme constantly for cooking advice and what would I do if. Most times I won’t reveal anything unless she admits that I’mm the better cook.

Seriously, I love mmy sister Sue and brother Bob too. I’mm lucky to have been born into the same family. MMined you, from time to time will probably continue to enter stories about us on this new bloggo arena. I’ll warn you first.

In the interim this then is a short poem about and mostly for mmy dear sis whom I love more than broccoli dipped in ice cream mixed like soup. She actually became the dream she envisioned and I, like countless others love her for what she hoped she would be and certainly, without a doubt is:

The Future Revealed

More than anybody I know
She’s probably the happiest grandmother
This side of the Verrazano.
When she smiles
You can see her eyes form their usual squint.
Her crow’s feet, of them I’mm sure
She is really not self conscious about;
Begin to show a little deeper
As she approaches another year
Of adoring her family,
Especially her grandchildren.

Ah yes, her life and the way she relates
To her grandchildren and anyone for that matter
Are exactly as she told mme she had hoped
She was going to be as a grand mother.

When we were younger
I remember as we walked to school one day
How she described what she wanted to be
When or if she became an older person,
Especially when reaching the grandmother stage.

Well, now she’s there and you know what?
She is what she thought she’d become.

She’s so kindly, and giving
Smiles all the time, makes cookies constantly
In what she says is a never ending quest
For those treats from and given to her grandchildren.

Have you had any of her oatmeal cookies?
She just packs those treats full of
What you wouldn’t believe would be in those things.

I’ve seen her make them; and other won’s;

In the kitchen she moves precisely
Like she does most of the time
As a retired high school teacher.

Whenever she is crammed for time
She’ll have everything placed in order
As she reaches to the top of her cabinets
Or to get what’s important on the bottom shelf.

Like an octopus grabbing everything at once.

She’s so generous when it comes
To sharing her love.

She is love.

I love you too Sue.

Song in the MMirror

January 15, 2010

Song in the MMirror

There’s many roads a percussionist can travel in the whirled of mmusic. Off tin times those who enter the field of count less or much more time four, six eight time, or any combination of fractured rhythm and tones, beats two, bangs ‘fore, crash is, end door booms; oar even moor metal than won kin shake a stick at will be involved in one to several and still counting genre’s of mmusic just because like any mmusican vent chore wring in mmusic threw out noise soar sounds, they can.

Studying in a classical manner, early on, and hungry for everything mmusic, I dreamed of being asked, won day to be in the presence of Mr. Abe Marcus, a percussionist at the Met while he performed in, on, around or near the pits.

If there were ever a slight chance to walk to the Met with him, I'd take it at the drop of a ‘follow the bounce sing ball.’ At that time Mr. Marcus was this writer's percussion instructor. The Metropolitan Opera his home away from home.

Many times I've tried to switch a private lesson to a Saturday morning won. This would be a convenient time to be around for him to ask moi. Usually, a lesson in late morning was the last lesson he had to endure before the Met’s matinee.

After the first time I finally got it right by more or less planning a last lesson an hour or so and just before the matinee was to begin. That's if one could get a Saturday lesson to begin with. It seems, unbeknownst to be but pretty obvious when you think about it, many of his other students had the same idea.

In dreams I’d watch him adjust to his technical cues; pay attention to his every move; listen intently to his touching or adjusting the tones of the timpani heads; the positioning of the various percussion instruments; study him; his hands; his sound; his classical mmusical genius. As a long tenured orchestra member he was always calm and quite an interesting person. We didn’t always talk mmusic.

Finally, the day I've waited not months but years before the opportunity to watch him perform had arrived. After a late morning lesson, we packed our gear and walked the short distance to the Opera house where he Met. Excited before hand, I followed every step in his footsteps as we walked briskly through the hustle of New York City. It was I was following in his footsteps by following in his footsteps. It was a winter morning’s dream with slushed and slippery wet streets.

The side walks too were a slushy mushy mess. At unexpected points the not so shallow snow made mmy shoe’s get wet; up past the socks. We walked through the huge cemented plaza; under, over and into an under the building parking lot before entering the back staged area.

WOW! I'mm here! At The Met! I'mm finally going to sit in the pit of the Met! Or thereabouts. At this point I had no clue where Mr. Marcus would station his student to watch the next performance of whatever it was Opera that was scheduled at the time; but I was sure to have at least a place to stand near him.

Wherever it was I didn’t care as long as I was there; that was the main goal. We then navigated through vary us roams and core rid doors enter ring another big room. A gaggle of classical mmusicians were congregating like groups of notes on a wall all discussing amongst themselves how to, or trying to form a mmelody.

Mr. Marcus introduced his student to a few violinists; an oboist and a bassoonist while having a short conversation with one of the saxophonists. I felt like a deer in headlights, a child in a candy store; in a dream like state wild pinching mmyself to feel if it was real. (Thanks Uncle Lenny – you were correct; it did happen)

I glanced around the room. Many of the mmusicians were tuning up while others were in small groups talking in hushed tones mostly about mmusic. I overheard the word harmony while dissonances, scales and long tones bounced in echoes off the waltz; a cacophony of indistinct tonality, wild timbre rings out of time.

The humm drummed multiple conversations were drowned out by the mmusic I was beginning to hear else where. I stared uncomfortably at the mmusicians dressed in their formal attire, each one caressing they’re prized cello, bass is, clarinet, flute, pick a low or any form of their valued in strumm ends.

Mr. Marcus pulled gently on mmy arm and bell oh'd," FOLLOW MME SON." After a short distance we were standing backstage next to a huge bass drumm just resting on a stand. He held a large cotton mallet in his write hand as we nonchalantly talked about vary us mmusic culled questions I wanted two know.

We were alone at this point, know one was around standing, sitting or anything else be sight us. The performance had already begun as I wondered why Mr. Marcus was knot in the pit. At this point he was still standing with and talking to yours truly! What’s that all about? I wondered wild getting anxious.

When are we going in two the pit? I thought to mmyself. What's he weighting ‘fore? I looked at his eyes and he didn't seem to be worried or in the least bit of a hurry. We continued talking all the while i was wandering when will he take his plays? Will we have two run? I hoped knot wild thinking, sheesh it’ll be dark, and what if I fell into another mmusician?

Perhaps in our hurried entranced in two THE PIT – we’d rue win the concert 'fore every one their? Naaaaaaaaaah; Butt them again, may be I’d even knock over a mmusic stand oar sum dings. Knee'd less too say, I was very nerve us wild standing there with aunt Tissa Patience.

This long waiting was to mme, knot nor mull, but surmised it too be just the weighs of a classy cull mmusicull thing. More times than knot percussionists have to zip, doubt scores of measures before it's timed to play – they’re part.

Maybe I'mm just to high per of a person to just sit they're as hundreds of measures pass bye wild weighting patiently, ready to explode into a Tin Penny roll, a quiet try angled ping or an ear rake to bassists and bassume’s of a symbol crashed!!!

Suddenly, a question popped into mmy hungry for every thing mmusic information from good ‘ol teacher here. I oh penned my mouth to ask it when he suddenly and firmly put his hand on mmy shoulder and said to me, “HOLD IT! Adjust a second MMick.”

Exactly and at the same time he whips his arm back looking like a big league badder who had just been pitched a perfect pitch and was about to hit a home run into the upper balcony or grand stand ding. “He’s about to swing and HIT that thing!!” I murmured to mmy self.

The he quickly pointed to the TV monitor above our heads and out of mmy sighed view as he focused on the come ducked 'er who seemed to be looking at us looking at him back for a mili- second; Mr. Marcus's face flushed with blood rushed to his head - end with all his might - he smacks the hell outta the HUGE drum we were standing next to; then…. caBOOOOOM!!!! The cannon from a far.

I could see and mostly feel the drum shudder on the stand wild almost tipping git over; the cow highed head reverb burr raiding with the intense blow it had jest absorbed!! MMy ears popped and mmy mouth dropped as I looked in amaze meant feeling the concussion of the rippling, rumbling drumm wringing in nears.

I thought, GGGG's, that's sharp; either he just ruined the hell out of the hole concert or like a true professional, he came in at just the rite mo' meant when of course the conductor point did to him, their ya go he didn’t even have to count.

I should have known all along what he was going to doo butt our conversation took the best of mme end a weigh from what was going on all that timed. I should have realised he was simply wading to play his part. We could have had lunch! That’s the weigh of a waiting classical percussionist if one cares to measure it.

Needless to say, Mr. Marcus was an amazing mmusician! A wonderful person as well as a great teacher. I'll always be grateful to him for those lessons both mmusical and non. Thank you Mr. Marcus you were an inspiration ‘fore this

Song in the MMirror

This note
This one tone is
A vibration
Having been borne
From two particular
Key signatures
Consisting of both sharps as well as flats
Drumming with occasional accidentals
In a modern composition
Changing tempos
Designed like a glance
A Jazz freedom dance
An improvisation by a percussion orchestra
Engaged in a Cage
An onerous score
For octopi and centipedes
Performing in unison
Counterpoints beating and
Pausing simultaneously
To pound then ponder
A completed silence
Pieces of colour
Thrills and shrills
A tone most likely to be a part of
An unfinished symphony
Discontinued in a heartbeat while
Sharing the stage is of
A one whirled core us
A note sometimes plays in tune
Seeking harmonic progression
Scales to completed mmelodies wild
Jamming with mmelodious thunks.

Sleeping With COTS

January 14, 2010

Sleeping With COTS

After searching on the net for other ‘ART’ things is when last year about this time and for the very first time, I found the Coalition On Temporary Shelter (COTS). Hence the title of this poem, yes? Google them and you’ll see what I mean. May is another yearly fundraiser you may want to attend, ‘A Stroll Through Time.’

Looking around their website last year I found what they’ve called for several years, ‘ImagineAid.’ ImagineAid was one of COTS’s most productive fundraisers. With artists in mmined it was to help the homeless and those in need of COTS programs. Artist’s helping homelessness, how cool is that?

Many of the artists who donated their work for the occasion were schooled from one of the local prestigious art colleges whose students are picked to enter the corporate world from freshman on and who graduate with honours as well as present their amazingly creative imaginations of the past, present and especially the future, all over this planet.

I’mm not an expert on COTS nor claim to know little more than I do about them. All this artist can tell you that like many other entities similar to COTS they do their jobs well; too the point beyond what most of us can imagine they can with a very limited budget, and do every single day. As we go about our day to day they go about their’s every single night as well.

I won’t name too many names because first of all I’mm really a stranger and don’t want to embarrass them with any little thing I’ve got to say about them which means that mmy very limited knowledge of them you can fit into a thimble half the sighs of your smallest finger. Suffice it to say I know Lynn, Robin, and met their CEO who from hearing her in person can tell you that she is definitely a hell of a great singer,. They all reach out and moored than ever in today’s economy, many reach in to count on COTS for so many programs that help them, the uncounted.

I will tell you though, the person I have had the most dealings with simply because she’s one of COTS’s ‘go get ‘em’ administrators is Ms. Lynn Wilhelm. Along with the Robin and most I’ve met there, Lynn is also one of the warmest and most caring individuals you’ll ever meet. They all help each other to keep the well oiled machinery of the COTS organisation running as smoothly as possible at any given moment of each and every day; their arms outstretched, their hearts welcoming to everyone and anyone.

Without a doubt these women have big hearts; so does everyone I’ve met who works there really; from entering the front door, the people who work and smile, yes I said smile right there in non-complacency and as far up the stairs or elevators anyone cares to travel, the place is chock full of those who care for others. This fact was easily recognisable at the first time visit.

A few months later they invited this artist to attend their fundraiser/thank you in April of last year held at one of the local ballrooms where they raised over $80,000 in just that one night. Because of the hard times we’re all experiencing they still managed to raise that amount even when one considers all the planning months beforehand and the expense it took to present their combination fundraiser/ thank you to the corporations, artists and special people who help and support them.

It was a great evening and one not soon forgotten. I don’t think Mr. Ford, Chrysler or GM knew I was there, nor should they have, but I knew THEY were. Their donations along with everyone who attended including and especially the donation from Ms. V, the person most responsible for the local Jazz Festival, were very generous and kind to say the least.

The following poem then, is an interpretation of just one view of things that surround COTS’s everyday. Who ARE they? What DO they achieve? With WHOM do they achieve this? What are the lives like of those they help before and during?

Most importantly composed in somewhat of a street language the first question exactly like the last question and ‘fore won, I hope you may consider before your next hot meal and warm bed tucked in your heavenly heads up and over your security blankets.

COTS for all they do and most you’ll never know, deserves your hearts, warmth and part of your pockets; know matter how small, it’ll help in a big weigh.

‘ImagineAid,’ a take off on John Lennon’s famous quote, isn’t it? That word combination presented to you and because of what COTS does obviously live up to his dream; Imagine

Sleeping with COTS

What YOU be thinkin’ of… when you think you’re help in COTS?
Our, you savin’ family trees?
Our, you help with troubled teens ‘n tiny tots?
That’s right… That’s right… That’s COTS.

Struck with dire times, the mmom’s ‘n the pop’s
You know it’s a crime when sum - our livin’ - out – cold plops
Of fired dreams - a wake to none, to knots.

Wrought nerves, stalled rents, cold nights, cold tents ‘n dazed in flight, all’s spent
Sleep in rubbish lots of unprotected, razed and hazed, a dim life
Of cold breeze is in the air of shunned, left, doubt, in the reign of storm ‘n done
Saddened eyes, river tears of have no one to help ‘em - fear’s
That’s right… That’s right… That’s COTS.

Wild walk in fields, sore asphalt jungles, shaggy clothes, no shoes
Lost bundles of your neighbors, cousins, uncles ‘n aunts blues
Brothers, sisters now’s your chants to teach, too stop the rage, reach out ‘n catch
Bare feet runners-closed door stage-lights out-curtains-drop of water’s dry bummers.
That’s right… That’s right… That’s COTS

Those chosen when blues, ill wind billows their weigh too put them ass under’s
Shots ring out wile aye - lid’s closed-the coffins of broke in hearts - those that
Fell; a sleep under cardboard ‘n yesterday’s news spelled – you’ve cried
Wild; they’re holding their breadth of better day guise
Faith lost in visions of everyman’s cost -betrays rise up is
Left behind rings stifled chimes - oar just a weight - ‘n si - dies
That’s right… That’s right… That’s COTS.

Will you give a smile, your heart, your touch, your hand?
Too help them on their way to stand, a loan?
A fresh new start, a human kind, a phone?
Like you feel in your own safe home behind clothes, doors
And like why’s; those with scents of found – goaled pours
You know the feeling.

What it’s like to raise your families - friends
With thoughts ‘n strength of care – depend on warm den’s
Warm hugs ‘n gentle smiles, good health kissed – mother’s love child.
We’ve all been raised – too - share
With our family of WORLD - the one’s you’d never no end they’re
Like those you’ve loved in life from way back then until now… rife
The pearls – wheel’s mmedicine - sow.

Sow yes, hold LOVE ‘n don’t let go.
That’s right… That’s right… That’s COTS!!

What YOU be thinkin’ of when you think you’re help in COTS?

A Whish

January 13, 2010

FACE found mme in a hushed room with just the light of a candle as well as the mostly ethereal sounds of a classical radio station emanating threw history of humanity; bye an old but very real radio plugged into a wall, ‘A Whish’ came too mmined. Unlike yesterdays ‘Habitat’ poem, the verse is which are really song lyrics without mmusic, they’re actually in the process of being composed; those to.

On the other hand, I suppose anyone so inclined can compose mmusic to most words or poetry including this poem; some easier than others if easy is really ever a prerequisite. Since this intro, preamble, pray lewd, overt chore, blabbers, babbling or what have you may be of a good distance end to end, I’ll forego the usually lengthy nest ovit hear; although an even longer one is very possible you may breathe easy when realising the fact that you’re a favourite censor re: form.

Instead; like a wish trans - mitted, or trans - port did, from one place to another, carried with or threw the winds of thought with you in mmined is:

A Whish

Listening to a choir now
Angelic sounds
You know the voices
Either a children’s chorus
Moor women’s rounds
Highest of pitch is
Slight and slow movement
Harmony and mmelody
Heavenly lent overtones
Ethereal tomes
Sparse accompaniment
If any – spiritually bent
Vocals fading in - out softly
Just heard, announced
“The Voices of Ascension”

Been hearing recently, and often
Over the years of course
Benjamin – Britain’s
St. Martin in the Fields
Love that name
Most times their mmusic
So much so in fact
Personal promise
Two visit them won day
Perhaps bestow a painting on them
Hoping they’ll accept it – purr haps

I’mm enamoured of
This time of night
Creative endeavours
90.5 Classical
National Public Radio
Beaming light into mmy room
Chamber or orchestral
Piano – clavichords - ruminate
Familiar Ravel piece performed by
The French National Orchestra

Oboe’s – flutes – violin bliss
Nothing frantic mmined you, mist
At least the first movements
However, which ever’s sow emotional

Sitting - hear at the computer
Thinking, the last few daze
… and you
Candle glow
Face playing her voice
Every now and then
Let’s mme know she loves us
She climbs a favourite spot
Next to the computer where on
A covered printer
Soft towel waits
Bass ad onnit
‘Fore her to relax
Be near two - us
Like many in this, or any abode
We reside - presently
She’ll sit - her regal Sphinx pose
Appearing queen of the Nile
Purr rhythm’s to her breathing
Her body angled mmy way
Staring - two observe
Turning her head from time to time
Back to mme again
Or any time I look her way
Her eyes timed two greet mmine
I love this girl
MMy FACE
A comfort two, be, hold

Evening glides slowly
Merely 8:30pm
Good deal of time left before
Eyes fade - two rests
Twelve, 1a.m or…
More painting to continue
Middle of another few
One – cool shades of purple
(I know - you)
Placed with dabs of
Plastic wrapped in hand
Colour applied, throughout
Pure white background plan
Old, rectangle, school desktop
Antique eye suppose
Dear friend brought
During her last visit
“… If you can use - it’s
Yours,” “…’spose,”
Kind of thing
So yes, it’s being a plied
Heavy oak/wood piece
Painting’s on the back
In order not to ruin
The antiqueness
Though it’s cracked
Front has the usual
‘Slots’ for pen, classroom things
Children’s markings/gouge is - end
Curved edges, wow bell rings
Parts of this painting
Notes and stems
Materials that aye used – pour tend
Applied to as well as to hide too
Bring out the various colours
To ‘Accidentals’ – the work
Amm now off to re: due
But first aisle amble outside
Talk two hour mmoon …and you
Whilst thee sleeps, dreams
Or ponders while awake
Who, next two?
Perhaps you’ve heard
A Whish?

Have You Ever Habitat?

January 12, 2010

Have You Ever Habitat?

Perhaps not an easy read this; but besides presenting different spellings to change meaning like much of this writing does intend, it’s also to help slow down the reading; to give pause if you will; maybe you’ll spend the time to picture the images as it’s being read; seconds yes, but maybe minutes or moor; too ponder the circumstance is; look - at what’s being said or done at the time; ‘listen’ to the conversations as the seen’s are being played out in your mmined.

Hopefully you’ll read these without getting annoyed or pissed off. I’mm sure you real eyes that reading writing like this does tend to make one stop in they’re tracks. But hold on, after a time or too or however long it takes you, if in fact you’re still with it; it’ll flow; I’ll of course welcome you back each time and…
All weighs.

In any case, as most things in these types of situations seem to go in the life of MMShine, there’s a heck of a lot of stories connected with everything one can imagine; from the beginning to… there’s really no end yet; I’mm still alive at this writing. When I DO arrive at that point know that I’ve instructed friends where to find the rest. Suffice it to say this is not the beginning of those stories but sum - we’re in between.

In 1994 through every fault of mmy own is when this life arrived in a storm while hoping to be involved with a Jimmy Carter Work Project - Habitat for Humanity. Unlike most, I had no ticket to ride as they say; like Woodstock, I just showed up with really no clue as to what will follow. Years later I’mm still trying to follow as best I can, what was found after what was lost before - way back then. (Thanks CRST- I love you too)

Habitat is the same international organisation headquartered in the U.S. state of Georgia; and not far from the ex-U.S. president’s home town. Habitat is the same corporation who build homes for and especially with - WITH low income families. Quite an experience it was and won that I’ll never forget; for lots of reasons really. It helped to change mmy life is the most important won hear. It will yours too if won day you may decide to be involved – end do.
Hear’s hoping you will.

Remembering many of the things that happened during that seven day experience as well as thinking a bit about the before, and the questions one may ask themselves or especially you after; the one most important question to you is:

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever pounded nails in this?
Have you ever screwed those things on that?
Have you ever helped doubt; sighed width siding?
Have you ever built a house? Wild, trying
Two teach, end learn with families buying
The very first home of their own?

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Yes, their won end ownly - a very first home we'd
Quench a thirst of those who've dreamed for years and worse
Threw toil end tears just couldn't cope
Tried hard, no dough supplied - " Know hope!"
But weren't able or per haste unstable
When the monetary whirled sir killed
There wag gone - or poked holds in they're
Sales pitch 'n sums of an arm mend a leg

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever joined 'em too few coin them?
Lasts a week or so, then aisle bet chew goes
"MMan! I’mm glad we did that Beverly, Jean."
Installing rock, sanding pocked marks - cleaned,
Listening to Jazz singing red, blues with
Folks in a country or any setting all the time fretting
Of falling off a ladders WHISH!! WHEW!! Wild-SWISH
Gladys 'n the kids 'n other guise in bibs
Overalls were standing up walls
End too and took a lottaaaaaa
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?


"Grab that board knot the thin but the fat one
Oops! Yes, that son, THAT'S the won… help 'em Will
Bring it hear plea's Jill, we'll cut it like cream cheese, cakes grilled;
Shear those ends Wright, off this fir, flaked - Doug drilled
Wheel glue wit too, it’s plays, end pluggit
We all yelled, "Yaaaaa’s," as we tugged at it
"The waist? Goes there, watch this end, pitch it! Stay clear there, Richard!!"

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever put on shingles
Standing slanted, wild sliding off a roof? "Weave just a single nail?" asked Gayle
"Who wants some juice, ICE CREEEM!!" booth lunch ladies wailed
How come Gayle? All that's left at the bottom of THIS pail,
'Caused the lass won up forgot two, "BRING more Dale!"
Has he bailed to retrieve the door trim punch
From Richard the red head’s bag-ged lunch?

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Yeah, Richards door trim punch when just before lunch
The nails we put in the boards 'round those doors – Those!
Have to be hit further so the doors wood close
Helps the work look come plea Ted, Rose, Dwight
Oh don't worry that the end is tweaked - just tight
Though you're right Mike - it'll bend, just like it's knot supposed - too friends!

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever stood on the top of a house;
Climbed the peek like a mouse when seek in leaks in a roof nailed on by who all Knows who goofed? What end? Weird eye put that hammer’n… ?
All the wholes should be closed oar the rain 'n snow flows, sure 'nuff ice floes too
Down in through out the place is yes, the attic space then on
It's a waist threw the ceiling quite revealing
When the lights go on ’n off threw out all that.

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever tried to cut sum plywood
When habbers ruined your mark as they stood on it gabbin' 'bout their towns?
'Course wood shouldn't be cut on the grounds, swell
" Ohhhhh, OWWWW! HELL!! Next time eye'll be looking 'round
So aye don't step on another thought nailed down, butt found sticking up,"
Wailed him penned down,” Who put that there, you Brown? You Pat???"

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever dug deep ‘fore a post? Worked in heat, burnt like toast?
Summer's hot in the attic, lined with scratchy pink stuff fabric
Like twirled cotton candy pads, MMan! I’mm just so happy Gladys
This ain't what we due for a living though aye don't mmind giving
A week of sow, of hour time, yes sigh KNOW folks are kind
When people help people with others dreams in mmined.

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?

Have you ever pounded nails in this?
Have you ever screwed those things on that?
Have you ever helped doubt; sighed width siding?
Have you ever built a house? Wild, trying
Two teach end learn with families buying
The very first home of their own?

Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Have you ever Habitat? Have you EVER Habitat?
Are ya gonna ever now?
Are ya gonna member that?

Birds of a Feather

January 11, 2010

America has so many beautiful places to discover it’s a wonder anyone would want to visit another country without seeing at least some of their own country before hand. The same can be said for other countries as well.

A large amount of these and many of the most beautiful areas I’ve ever had the opportunity to witness are amazingly enough still in their natural state. One of these places is where I was sitting won day wild in joying Mother Nature’s grand display of greenery. Included was a rather large watershed which consisted of double lake scenery as well as the sir rounding hills of rolling amber grass beauty.

The hills dotted with large trees and huge to small darker green and everything around this place was encased this day in gorgeous colours of sky blue. From time to time and in between times of huge spaces of the clear and light hued blue we were visited by puffs and puffs of small and not many of accumulating cumulous clouds.

It was also a lovely camping spot that welcomed fishermen, private boats moored to the county facility paid for by the owners of which a daily or monthly visit was a dream come true. The weather didn’t matter most times because it was administered by the park system and only open during what was really a long season. The long season was due to the fact that the state it was in enjoyed this as part of where it was situated in the U.S.

It also had a huge asphalt parking lot.

Lines were separated and drawn to account for the long most times two vehicles attached to each other. Sometimes more than too many rocket ships or ultra-modern RV’s really, had visited what seemed as in small convoys of convergence. The in sighed in habit tents were either small families or even larger one’s extended from here to kingdom come.

Upon entering the blissful grounds brought to us by Mother Nature and the county; one had to pay a pittance really when considering sometimes many of the vehicles included a whole hotel of vacation seekers.

Certain animals were also included, some of which were the humans them selves; but both had to add hear too all the rules; followed too a tea, coffee or beer was provided at the convenience stored for one’s pock it book; emptied gladly with any of the aforementioned choice is of pleasure/s and to the benefit of whomever was the proprietor. I dunno

In any case I camped there on a phew occasions. One particular one was when in mmy view while sitting by the sighed of a seemingly private view; one egretly high stepping egret proudly dipped into the shallow end of the lake and grabbed a silver peace of dinner.

Two other birds I’mm not familiar with the names of dove into the deeper water about 25 yards away from the egret and did the same thing. They floated around wild diving up and down several times pretty close to each other as if in their separateness, they were actually a pair. A serene seen it was.

At the time mmy partner who at that time was a wonderful poet and still is; a poet that is although she’s still a very good friend, inspired mme to write something about it when pointing this scene out to her. Her response was, “You should write something about it.”

Birds of a Feather

Birds of a feather

Swirls unfurled hither and fro

We fly to their side

Birds in blue weather

Submerge with cravings attain

Fluttering silver

Birds drift together

Peers in their separate quest

Sustain survival

Hearing For The First Time

January 10, 2010

Hearing For The First Time

Yesterday, I guess from 5 p.m. on and most of last night which continued well past midnight, was a day of sigh lents. It wasn’t really or not entirely, but I’ll just say it was because I was encircled, welcomed and warmed in the presence of a 3D world. At times, a quieter but in a vocal sents a very animated group of humanity. 3D is not mmy original term but one I learned from others who are involved in it.

This was a group not unlike many others not in just the U.S.A but in the whole world. They ARE a 3D world in that of a visual sense of movement.. Sometimes half of mmy ancestry is included in a 3D world of their hand movements while discussing anything is concerned. Red spaghetti sauce is in our Italian veins.

A deaf friend brought mme along to a party, get together/pot luck dinner and somewhat of a board meeting that I’mm not a member. I just wanted to observe as well as join in the party. I was the only adult full-hearing person along with 5 children of HLA3 only one of which, “SAM, the man” was even more special. There aren’t enough words to describe the great feelings I had after leaving all and most of the members of this organisation; all one can say and humbly so is thank you very much, it was more than overwhelming; for several reasons.

At this time, I could name all the names of the 21 people in attendance but suffice it to say they know who they are and I’mm afraid to miss one or two; so as not to embarrass mmyself, will just say some of the adults were members of this organisation. I had a conversation with most of them, some longer than others.

It was another quest to attend a human circle I’d never witness really, unless a member of this group extended the invitation. (Thanks Julianne) It was oh so obvious to this stranger at least, their quick friendliness and smiles, adults as well as the children; everyone without a doubt were very accepting of this outsider welcomed into their opened and loving arms; it was such a privilege.

Part of a personal reason for attending the gathering was to continue on the search of finding and acquiring at least 1,000 used cochlear implant and/or hearing aid batteries. Hopefully they’re going to be the most important part of a new piece of art work/ painting/sculpture that is in the process as we speak of being designed. Depending of course on the response of this community and how the word spreads. Hopefully it’s just a matter of time and patience on mmy part.

Each person I talked to about many things including the request. All were very open to at least sending their multiple and quite difficult throw a way’s. The latter explained because for some reason some recycle places or drop off’s don’t and won’t accept their used batteries; therefore they sometimes can’t and unbelievably so in many ways, especially now a daze – why knot? Why is not a mystery really, especially after finding out that mercury is part of their construction. What are we too due in those instances? Check around because in fact some recycle places do.

This brings to the surface then, how can this be solved in total and for obvious reasons. I’ve no answer; do you? If so then maybe you can pass it on to the Gods of Recycle or SOME place. Can we find either a good use for them? Perhaps we can stack them on a constantly reaching higher and higher something on their stare weigh to battery heaven or face hell surrounded by more of the same – can’t.

Perhaps we’re not going to solve this in total here but maybe now a few more people are aware of this growing in huge numbers day bye day issue. In the meantime maybe you’ll in joy the latest addition; words written a few years ago. It was composed after the same friend; Julianne extended the invite to her meeting. She received a letter from her friend who had just received;

Hearing For The First Time

Just one year ago today
A cochlear implant gift.
The screeching noise toned down.
The difference Jan's tweak fixed.

For the first time in mmy whirled
Life's sounds now have dimensions.
Words toll describing sounds
Are full and rich - great depth.

Skitter scatter go the leaves.
The walk sweep swirls reflections.
Aye hear mmy bared feat on
Linoleum's light touch.

That there's sound with brushing hair
Hat knot occurred in mmy thoughts.
Startled song - a robin?
Yes robins!... robins! Of course!

Gulls 'n crows 'n blue jays heard.
Doors 'n drawers creaky groans;
Sirens perceived - just loud.
Now heard as screaming domes.

Rise 'n fall of pitched sounds pass.
People walking, talking - bye.
Kids hauled off played grounds task.
Protest ready's knot - cry.

Hear tree's sway. Leaves clap in winds.
A scratch to soothe skin on face;
The sound one hand move makes
On rough too sticky place.

Sewing is so quiet with
Activity, done by hand.
Threading fabric's tranquil.
Needle's puncture size fan.

Then there is the telephone.
Cal Relay used just 3 times.
Many calls passed - two talks
Never before clear, fine.

Give-take calls? i'mm still in awe.
The face of speakers knot scene.
Conversed understanding;
Repeated voice, tapes, clean.

Though lyrics still eludes mme;
Others have told mme as well.
Words hard to understand,
Push the limits, hear- do tell.

Use to typing - keyboards tone.
Sounds of water or tea poured.
Children screeching at home;
Silence aye, ask 'fore more.

An ironic change that's kept
Now two kids sign much more.
Cochlear brings more depth,
Of deaf nest than before.

Won more special noted then;
Our cool cat's vocal tone's sum.
End, thanks too all mmy friends of home.
Our journey has been one.