Saturday, June 16, 2007

Hearing and Knowing vs. Meeting and Seeing

I heard about D before I met him.
I think he heard about me before he met me too.
Its funny how it started out like that;
Hearing before meeting;
Knowing before seeing.

Now we hear about each other (phone, blogs, email)
more than we meet with each other.
Its funny how we keep it going like this;
Hearing more than meeting;
Knowing more than seeing.

Would Jefferson and Adams still have written letters
if there had been telephone, or email?
I think they would have.

Would Cicero still have written all those letters
to his beloved friends
and companions of heart
if there had been telephone, or email?
I believe he would have.

In missing my friend,
I remember what he has said to me.
I replay him.
His expression,
of face
and word.
In his distance, he is closer
than many I see and meet,
but have such trouble hearing
and knowing.

Friday, June 15, 2007

On Your Mark, Get Set

Shot of tequila,
a beer,
and a chest full of smoke;
Thats where I was when the
evening started.

I could feel it for days prior.
The angst and emotions,
a plague of unbalance
sloshing about,
barely kept in check.
One day I am a machine of logic
unstoppable mind,
the next I'm fried
and ready to escape to a
poor cave, richly devoid of people.

There is no escape from your nature.

Drop the Wrench and Back Away Slowly

We are passionate,
self motivated,
and other elevated adjectives
that bullshit bloated
childhood authority figures
drilled into our foreheads,
eager empty eyed missionaries
tightening bolts
on our social salvation,
and each day of our lives
we do what we can
to escape the impossible
fucking goal of living up to


We are passionate about escape
We escape in intellegent ways
We escape in creative ways
We are self motivated to escape
Everyone I know gives escape one hundred and ten fucking percent!


and in doing so
we do so.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

I am not your gameboy

I'm finally on.
Its 8:22pm and I'm now on.
I'm writing and wrestling with
I've enjoyed a wonderful
half bottle of pinot.
The smoke has been superb.
In my mid thirtyies, I've finally
established respectable smoking habits.
I've got this laptop,
warm and clicking in its
response to my thoughts.
I've had a truly mangled dinner experience;
salad from a bag and dressing from a bottle,
microwaved bacon, maple and extra salty,
dripping with grease from the
many pieces that used to be there -
these were the last two
and the dripping best.
The music is superb,
Elctro Pop at its current
finest. Wonderful new
genre - I'm enjoying music from the older
side of the artists, doesn't
change a damn thing - good is still good
no matter how many more beers
and years I've had.

Quality Code

Good quality code comes from discipline. Intelligence and knowledge are useful, but without discipline quality is impossible. Disciplined programmers are a vital asset to a software company, form them into a team and you have your greatest asset.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Little Honest Bits

I'm not sure if any poetry
is actually good.
I like some of it,
a very little bit.

The best seems to be honest,
voicing every day topics
I may not be voicing to myself,
but should.
They can lock all the romantic poetry
away in a vault to be preserved
but never read
and I would feel fine.
Its all shit,
and it makes real life feel pale,
and incomplete.
Religious writing often
leaves the same after taste.

Lock them both in a vault and leave
me with Bukowski and the philosphers.
Leave me with the honest seekers
and safe guard the next generation from
the lying, misleading, overpromising crap
that oozes from the finders.
I want the seekers:
Fuck the finders.

Anything I find, becomes another step
to peer over the next unknown.
My focus must always be on
seeking, searching and creating.
That is the vibrant
reason to live.
I've strayed before:
I was a finder more than once.
Every time; mistake.
Reuction of self,
until something inside goes
It gives up on my dumb deluded ass
and sleeps,
until I wake up and remember
that seeking and searching
are the only ways
to create something new,
something fresh and honest.

Thats when I feel good for the first time
in too long.
Those times, the periods when
I'm an honest creator, seeker, searching;
ponderer of obscurities for fun
and general stimulation.

That is what makes it
possible to put up with
all the tedium, and stale air
we have to breathe and muck about in
to fund the seeking.
The jobs, the employers, the empty
false panic of the business crisis.
Without the spark of personal,
small, wonderful creation
everything would be covered in
a dim grey fog of subsistance.

I would rather not end this poem
on that note,
but it probably sets the most