The Puppet Man



The Puppet Man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears or ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting
program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

i see your faces, swoons and frowns
watching fixed, puppet take puppet down
they're not real, you carefully remind
while i silently die standing behind

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

with human hate they dance for you
showing the worst the we can do
superb! delight! encore' you shout
so once more the toys come out

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

the lights are gone, empty isles now
i fall broken, wondering how
these hands will heal, gather strength again
so, you can watch through my gift, friend

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man

*note: i wrote this poem a few years back while struggling with managing the internal demands that i often felt from others' external behavior around me. i think as children we often take on the role of performing for the 'big' people in our world - and although maturity requires us to grow more autonomous, we many of us struggle well into adulthood to perform for others... it is only a problem when the price is our very health, peace and well being.

**Photo used by permission

Spring Time Play Ground

We have some new neighbors and they include children. I was mowing the lawn as they darted past me through our side yard and down the hill to the creek. I stopped the mower and as the engine went silent I heard one of them yell, "We're going to the creek!"

We are fortunate that even though we live in the city, we have the benefit of a lot that boarders a few wooded acres and a creek, complete with the remnants of an old mill wall. The greatest part of this event is that these children, ages 7-14, aren't sitting all day inside playing video games or online clicking through Facebook - they are outside, immersed in nature with old trees, clean running water, illusive crayfish and each other.

Here's what has them excited - care to come out and play?


Emotive - Not a Water Poem



Emotive

placid ripples radiate
out from the stone's wake
it falls into silence
downward

from a nameless toss it came
flying in a moment
failing to break gravity's spell
downward

descending the abyss
parting waters of primeval ways
stirring the reservoir of rage
downward

what lies beneath
what longings to be stirred
what hopes become reacquainted
down there

a small pebble settles into deepest sediment
nests into it's new dark home
and then
something disturbed
moves
down there.

Beat the Reaper - A Killer of a Book

My son loaned me a innocent little yellow covered paperback book, "Beat The Reaper, " by Josh Bazell.

Turning to the opening chapter, I was smitten - in love I tell you - by the first line: "So, I'm on my way to work and I stop to watch a pigeon fight a rat in the snow, and some fuckhead tries to mug me!"

The great news is the read gets even better. Carol Memmott, USA Today, is quoted on the cover "It's just what the doctor ordered...think House meets The Sopranos." She couldn't be more right!

Bazell wields wonderfully strong verbiage and a bouncing story line that darts between a clearly depicted real-world hospital environment and a fantastical realm of underworld brutality.

I'm finding the book disturbing (I even have nightmarish dreams). I find it engaging. I find the work mesmerizing.

Sharing the Green Thing Today - My St. Patrick's Day Post

Abigial Harenberg is on a quest - 365 Self Portraits this year, one every day. Check out her flickr record here. She has promised me a special photo for St. Patrick's Day so be sure in click over to see what she came up with.

Stay in touch by following her on Twitter or vis Her website.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

For more St. Patty's Day Fun - see previous post, but then, "where's the green in that?!"

Some Green Worth Sharing

Let's Hear It for Green

I wandered in the woods off the Blue Ridge Parkway one spring and found this place. Now this is some green worth celebrating.




No need to ask, "Where's the green in that?" (see previous post).

Top 10 Ways to Play on St. Patrick's Day

If you are not Irish and you don't drink, what is the point of St. Patrick's Day? Really.
Although one could argue that the day is intended to remind us of the success of the historical St. Patrick's success in advancing Christianity on Ireland - the practical connection is completely lost. For me, it is a good topic for a blog post...





So, how about these Top 10 Ways to Play on St. Patrick's Day?

1. Wear green - creatively. Don't just wear a little pin on your lapel, or a green blouse - get creative. Wear a hat, sport a bow-tie, or dye your eye brows green.
2. Offer green M&M's to people all day (and then whisper "They're not really M&Ms - after they eat them)
3. Write Green - Use a green pen for everything you write that day, or change your email font color to green.
4. Randomly ask people "Where's the green in that?" in response to anything they say.
5. Post "Have you seen my leprechaun?" on all of your Social Media statuses.
6. Send a FTD Shamrock bouquet to your boss (or at least call the florist and try)
7. Ask people to tell you difference between a clover and a shamrock and then reply with #4 above.
8. Rank everything on a 1-5 Shamrock scale and announce your rating - everywhere! "Yeah baby! I'm talking 5 Shamrocks!"
9. Just say "Shamrock" every chance you get. It's fun to say. All together now - SHAMROCK!
10. Provide a #10 for this list in the comments...

Bound - A Poem about Moments of Self Doubt


bound

the knot tightens
the grip of self within self
constricting fists of self hate and loathing
mauling my soul

doubled over in pain
breathless from the impact
blows of fury born of hatred and distrust
disemboweling my being

healing hands, where are you?
gentle touch of truth, come
come, come
release me, untie me, free me

i am weary with waiting

The Top 9,009 Numbers for Lists and How to Use Them

The Top 9,009 Numbers for Lists



Here is my detailed analysis on the topic. After years of research (read "time spent reading") top 10, 20, 3, and 5 lists for countless theories, techniques, processes, and approaches I have come to the following conclusion - one that will certainly simplify and increase your success at list making. So, here are the top 9,009 numbers for lists and how to use them.

Approach #1 - start with the number 1 and then number each item on your list consecutively until you reach 9,009.

Approach #2 - start with 9,009 and order your list in descending order until you reach the #1 (and often most important) item on your list.

And there you have it! The Top 9,009 numbers for lists and how to use them!

(in case you haven't noticed, lists are very big these days and I wanted to write a post about lists - tongue firmly planted in cheek. Did you really think this would be a list of 9,009 items?)

I Don't Remember Being Forgetful

Let me just first say that my memory isn't that bad. In fact I have an excellent track record of memorizing lines for plays, poetry, and countless talks, speeches and other messages. However, if you ever visit my family down in South Carolina, within 15 minutes you will begin to hear stories about my childhood and one of them will no doubt be about my forgetfulness.

There was the time when I was 7 or 8 years old that my mother sent me to the front yard to empty the waste basket into the large metal outdoor trash can. For those too young to remember (there's that memory again) they look like this.





So, out I went to empty the trash and apparently while on my way back to the house I came across one of the neighborhood dogs wandering through our front yard. Dogs wandered in those days (can you imagine that, or do you need another photo).

Now it seems perfectly reasonable to me that a 8 year old boy would stop and play with a readily available dog. The story, as my mother tells it - endlessly - is that i came back inside (after a prolonged time) happy and clueless of the fact that I had left the waste basket in the front yard. Therefore, I am forever deemed "forgetful."

To me it is a simple case of priorities. Which is more important: an empty waste basket, or a wandering dog?

That's my story and I'm sticking to it - like white on rice.