The other day I featured a poem about a dog which, though humorous, was honestly a bit depressing. Here's something about man's best friend with more of a feel-good, lazy summer day vibe.
SUNNING
by James S. Tippett
Old Dog lay in the summer sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
He flapped an ear
At a buzzing fly.
He winked a half open
Sleepy eye.
He scratched himself
On an itching spot,
As he dozed on the porch
Where the sun was hot.
He whimpered a bit
From force of habit
While he lazily dreamed
Of chasing a rabbit.
But Old Dog happily lay in the sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
National Poetry Month #20
But I'm sure there are still plenty of potheads out there. In your honor, today I present a short collection of even shorter poems--the kind that your average teenage-to-early-20s boy might think was kinda awesome when he wrote them under the influence of the devil's weed some 15 to 20 years ago.
Have a happy day, you stoners. Enjoy your youth, but do it responsibly. Those of you over the age of 30--grow up already. Those of you with children--shame on you. You're responsible for more lives than just your own. Act like it. Well, maybe except for today. Have fun today, but then join the real world tomorrow, will ya?
Club ded
Naked bodies floating
Inward poolside,
outward leaving.
-----------------------
The first words
he ever heard,
while digging around
his anus with a spoon,
were
Please, mama
Please, mama
Please don't let me burn.
-----------------------
THE VERGE OF SLEEP
35:09 forgot why I am writing--
Dead people
63 of them are not the murdered
And the rest of them be serviced out for bed
with my hand of steel.
Shit.
The Lincoln-bug shyness and filth--
The longest I try...
Think I fall asleep soon
-----------------------
Darkness permeates the cell
The criminal finds his hell
The innocent cry as well
-----------------------
Flip fuckin' flop.
Friday, April 19, 2013
National Poetry Month #19
Short on time today. No big intro, just that I like this poem (obviously)...
by John Ciardi
Stiff-dog death, all froth on a bloody chin,
sniffs at the curb. Skinny-man death, his master,
opens the traffic's hedge to let him in.
Jog was his name, silliness his disaster.
He wasn't satisfied to scare the truck:
he had to bite the tire. Fools have no luck.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
National Poetry Day #18
Wow! This very cool sonnet just arrived to me via @qikipedia on Twitter. I was only slightly impressed until I researched it a bit and found out it was written in 1936. The poet couldn't simply hit the ol' Internet Anagram Generator and piece together lines from what it spewed back to him. He had to very deliberately and methodically figure this out and make the result not only make sense, but freaking RHYME too! Incredible! I love it!
Believe it or not, each line is an anagram of the title.
WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE
by David Shulman
A hard, howling, tossing water scene.
Strong tide was washing hero clean.
"How cold!" Weather stings as in anger.
O Silent night shows war ace danger!
The cold waters swashing on in rage.
Redcoats warn slow his hint engage.
When star general's action wish'd "Go!"
He saw his ragged continentals row.
Ah, he stands – sailor crew went going.
And so this general watches rowing.
He hastens – winter again grows cold.
A wet crew gain Hessian stronghold.
George can't lose war with's hands in;
He's astern – so go alight, crew, and win!
Believe it or not, each line is an anagram of the title.
WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE
by David Shulman
A hard, howling, tossing water scene.
Strong tide was washing hero clean.
"How cold!" Weather stings as in anger.
O Silent night shows war ace danger!
The cold waters swashing on in rage.
Redcoats warn slow his hint engage.
When star general's action wish'd "Go!"
He saw his ragged continentals row.
Ah, he stands – sailor crew went going.
And so this general watches rowing.
He hastens – winter again grows cold.
A wet crew gain Hessian stronghold.
George can't lose war with's hands in;
He's astern – so go alight, crew, and win!
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
National Poetry Month #17
A Martian astronomer, eh? Yesterday's post segues perfectly (Prefectly?) into today's. For though it's technically National Poetry Month, there's nobody saying we don't welcome the enthusiasm of folks from other countries... worlds... or even solar systems.
Why, the Vogons from Douglas Adams' comic sci-fi masterpiece The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy are great lovers of poetry (though the Guide indicates that their poetry is actually artistically the third worst in the universe).
Here's a wonderful example:
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath bitled out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.
 |
| Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz has quite a way with words. |
Why, the Vogons from Douglas Adams' comic sci-fi masterpiece The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy are great lovers of poetry (though the Guide indicates that their poetry is actually artistically the third worst in the universe).
Here's a wonderful example:
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath bitled out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.
Oh, Netflix, what will you do next?
I love that Netflix is getting into original programming now. The Kevin Spacey political drama House of Cards is apparently doing well with both the public and critics. I dig Spacey, so I watched the first couple of episodes. It was neat but not really my thing. Glad it's doing well, though. It's successes like this which will continue to pave the way for other original projects like the new season of Arrested Development that is slated to release exclusively on Netflix on Memorial Day 2013.
It's also opened the door for programming that would never see the light of day on regular cable TV. The original werewolf horror program Hemlock Grove, which sees release in just a few days, is going to make all the adult content on BBC America, AMC and FX look like Romper Room outtakes.
Here's the extremely NSFW Red Band trailer, which warns in advance that the trailer itself contains "mild fornication, fellatio, heavy cocaine use, lesbian necrophilia and violent hemorrhaging." ...Not sure what makes lesbian necrophilia worth pointing out specifically. Is it really any more deplorable than straight necrophilia?
Now that you've seen that, how about a closer look at that werewolf transformation. Note that the mythos of this show has already set itself apart from every other werewolf picture I've seen in that the beast really is quite literally within. Take a look at the show's logo. It gives a further clue as to what sets this show apart from other werewolf lore. Here's that transformation scene:
Yep. It started with his eyeballs being poked out by the new ones developing behind them. Then his wolf teeth pushed all the human ones out. That canine hair didn't grow out of his existing follicles. The hairy body ripped through the human flesh. Ew. Seriously.
As I was watching I asked myself, Really? How does this town explain all the bloody, fleshy, gooey human remains puddles scattered throughout the forest every full moon? Then the clip answered me. Ew. Again. Hey, transforming into a beautiful and deadly wolf makes a guy hungry.
I am not sure I am going to watch this show. I'll probably check out the first episode, but I'm in no rush to do so. I'm curious about the effects more than anything. And to find out how they work with those new twists to the old mythology. Oh, and to find out why the guy's friends aren't fearing for their lives as they witness that transformation.
Netflix deserves kudos anyway for striking out in this new direction. Scoring Spacey for their initial outing into original programming was a major plus for them. Grabbing the Arrested Development helm and running with that is probably a great move too. What's the angle on this one? Appeasing the Twilight crowd and the traditional horror fans all in one? Killer special effects? Pushing the envelope of taste further than even American Horror Story?
Time will tell if Hemlock Grove proves to be a success or a stumbling block. Either way, Netflix has taken the gloves off and is not messing around. It's poised to become a powerhouse in narrative visual media distribution (and creation).
It's also opened the door for programming that would never see the light of day on regular cable TV. The original werewolf horror program Hemlock Grove, which sees release in just a few days, is going to make all the adult content on BBC America, AMC and FX look like Romper Room outtakes.
Here's the extremely NSFW Red Band trailer, which warns in advance that the trailer itself contains "mild fornication, fellatio, heavy cocaine use, lesbian necrophilia and violent hemorrhaging." ...Not sure what makes lesbian necrophilia worth pointing out specifically. Is it really any more deplorable than straight necrophilia?
Now that you've seen that, how about a closer look at that werewolf transformation. Note that the mythos of this show has already set itself apart from every other werewolf picture I've seen in that the beast really is quite literally within. Take a look at the show's logo. It gives a further clue as to what sets this show apart from other werewolf lore. Here's that transformation scene:
Yep. It started with his eyeballs being poked out by the new ones developing behind them. Then his wolf teeth pushed all the human ones out. That canine hair didn't grow out of his existing follicles. The hairy body ripped through the human flesh. Ew. Seriously.
As I was watching I asked myself, Really? How does this town explain all the bloody, fleshy, gooey human remains puddles scattered throughout the forest every full moon? Then the clip answered me. Ew. Again. Hey, transforming into a beautiful and deadly wolf makes a guy hungry.
I am not sure I am going to watch this show. I'll probably check out the first episode, but I'm in no rush to do so. I'm curious about the effects more than anything. And to find out how they work with those new twists to the old mythology. Oh, and to find out why the guy's friends aren't fearing for their lives as they witness that transformation.
Netflix deserves kudos anyway for striking out in this new direction. Scoring Spacey for their initial outing into original programming was a major plus for them. Grabbing the Arrested Development helm and running with that is probably a great move too. What's the angle on this one? Appeasing the Twilight crowd and the traditional horror fans all in one? Killer special effects? Pushing the envelope of taste further than even American Horror Story?
Time will tell if Hemlock Grove proves to be a success or a stumbling block. Either way, Netflix has taken the gloves off and is not messing around. It's poised to become a powerhouse in narrative visual media distribution (and creation).
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
National Poetry Month #16
Honestly, after yesterday what more can be said?
EARTH
by John Hall Wheelock
"A planet doesn't simply explode of itself," said drily
The Martian astronomer, gazing off into the air--
"That they were able to do it is proof that highly
Intelligent beings must have been living there."
EARTH
by John Hall Wheelock
"A planet doesn't simply explode of itself," said drily
The Martian astronomer, gazing off into the air--
"That they were able to do it is proof that highly
Intelligent beings must have been living there."
Monday, April 15, 2013
Godless morality
In the immediate aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombing
earlier today, a coworker struck up a conversation with another coworker right
next to my desk.
“All this reminds me of a man I heard speak recently. He brought up a very good point. In the last 20 or 30 years, since these mass shootings and all this garbage has escalated, what is the main thing that has changed in society?”
I knew where this was going, so I tried to steer it another way by chiming in. “A lot of things have changed in the last few decades.”
“Like what?” I was challenged.
“Technology has come leaps and bounds. Communication is almost instantaneous, and it’s worldwide. Civil rights and tolerance of others’ lifestyles are expanding…”
Not what she was fishing for. “The lack of morals and values,” she explained. “This country has suffered a serious decline in the presence of morals and values. And it’s because we’ve taken God out of everything. God is out of government. God is out of our schools. God is not number one in everyone’s lives. Only God and the church can bring those morals and values back to our kids. We have to educate them and guide them or we are in real trouble as a country and a world.”
Coworker number two nodded in agreement and voiced her approval, “I agree with you 100%. It’s a sad state we are in.”
...I had to say it: “Well, I disagree.”
Coworker number two, who knows me a bit better than number one, said, “I know you do." And I could tell she didn't really want to hear more.
But I continued. ”There is no way to pin the decline of civilization down to any one cause. Too much has changed. There’s no control to compare against. Even if you could, there is no one magical cure-all that is going to fix it. And religion isn’t a necessary prerequisite for morality.”
That shut the conversation completely down. That was probably a good thing. I am getting tired of hiding who I am simply because I have an unpopular opinion. If people want to engage in theological discussion, they need to be prepared to actually have a discussion rather than a one-sided kowtowing session.
I was always told that three discussions do not belong in the workplace: religion, politics and sex. Our own HR videos state as much. But if the door is opened (and it is opened a LOT in this place) I’m prepared to go through it and into the realm of discussion.
I’m tired of hearing that the only way to learn morals is through Christianity. The qualities of empathy, altruism, love, honesty, respect, charity, compassion and kindness do not derive solely from the teachings of any one book, no matter how popular that book might be. They are ingrained in the human psyche, obviously in some humans more so than others. Deep down on a primal social level we realize that these qualities create predictable rules for behavior that are necessary to make society function.
Granted, putting those rules in writing and giving them a voice is one way to emphasize them, but they are already there for most people. Some people simply have no moral compass, or it is broken. Those are the ones doing the shooting, whether in the name of atheism, Satan, Jodie Foster or God (though I’ll bet dollars to donuts that God is the one on the top of the “blame” list).
How you come upon your sense of morality, it matters not. As long as you use it to make the world a better place, who cares? I do not currently get my social cues from a nonexistent, magical man in the sky, but he did have a hand in educating me about morality from an early age. Well, at least his book did.
Of course, during that education they left out most of the horrible bits about fathers stoning their own sons and such, focusing only on the positive lessons. I guess that book, if read from the wrong perspective, could cause a reader to come away with a… less-than-tolerant… and “holier than thou” position, which could actually be counterproductive to the betterment of society.
“All this reminds me of a man I heard speak recently. He brought up a very good point. In the last 20 or 30 years, since these mass shootings and all this garbage has escalated, what is the main thing that has changed in society?”
I knew where this was going, so I tried to steer it another way by chiming in. “A lot of things have changed in the last few decades.”
“Like what?” I was challenged.
“Technology has come leaps and bounds. Communication is almost instantaneous, and it’s worldwide. Civil rights and tolerance of others’ lifestyles are expanding…”
Not what she was fishing for. “The lack of morals and values,” she explained. “This country has suffered a serious decline in the presence of morals and values. And it’s because we’ve taken God out of everything. God is out of government. God is out of our schools. God is not number one in everyone’s lives. Only God and the church can bring those morals and values back to our kids. We have to educate them and guide them or we are in real trouble as a country and a world.”
Coworker number two nodded in agreement and voiced her approval, “I agree with you 100%. It’s a sad state we are in.”
...I had to say it: “Well, I disagree.”
Coworker number two, who knows me a bit better than number one, said, “I know you do." And I could tell she didn't really want to hear more.
But I continued. ”There is no way to pin the decline of civilization down to any one cause. Too much has changed. There’s no control to compare against. Even if you could, there is no one magical cure-all that is going to fix it. And religion isn’t a necessary prerequisite for morality.”
That shut the conversation completely down. That was probably a good thing. I am getting tired of hiding who I am simply because I have an unpopular opinion. If people want to engage in theological discussion, they need to be prepared to actually have a discussion rather than a one-sided kowtowing session.
I was always told that three discussions do not belong in the workplace: religion, politics and sex. Our own HR videos state as much. But if the door is opened (and it is opened a LOT in this place) I’m prepared to go through it and into the realm of discussion.
I’m tired of hearing that the only way to learn morals is through Christianity. The qualities of empathy, altruism, love, honesty, respect, charity, compassion and kindness do not derive solely from the teachings of any one book, no matter how popular that book might be. They are ingrained in the human psyche, obviously in some humans more so than others. Deep down on a primal social level we realize that these qualities create predictable rules for behavior that are necessary to make society function.
Granted, putting those rules in writing and giving them a voice is one way to emphasize them, but they are already there for most people. Some people simply have no moral compass, or it is broken. Those are the ones doing the shooting, whether in the name of atheism, Satan, Jodie Foster or God (though I’ll bet dollars to donuts that God is the one on the top of the “blame” list).
How you come upon your sense of morality, it matters not. As long as you use it to make the world a better place, who cares? I do not currently get my social cues from a nonexistent, magical man in the sky, but he did have a hand in educating me about morality from an early age. Well, at least his book did.
Of course, during that education they left out most of the horrible bits about fathers stoning their own sons and such, focusing only on the positive lessons. I guess that book, if read from the wrong perspective, could cause a reader to come away with a… less-than-tolerant… and “holier than thou” position, which could actually be counterproductive to the betterment of society.
National Poetry Month #15
Wow! Can National Poetry Month really be halfway over already? I can hardly believe it. I don't envy myself the tough choices that are in the next two weeks ahead of me. This evening I dug out an old poetry paperback I used to love reading, called Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle and Other Modern Verses. It was compiled by Stephen Dunning, Edward Lueders and Hugh Smith and originally published in 1966, though my 15th printing was done in 1974 and distributed by Scholastic.
Here's one of my favorite pieces from that book.
DUST
by Sydney King Russell
Agatha Morley
All her life
Grumbled at dust
Like a good wife.
Dust on a table,
Dust on a chair,
Dust on a mantel
She couldn't bear.
She forgave faults
In man and child
But a dusty shelf
Would set her wild.
She bore with sin
Without protest,
But dust thoughts preyed
Upon her rest.
Agatha Morley
Is sleeping sound
Six feet under
The mouldy ground.
Six feet under
The earth she lies
With dust at her feet
And dust in her eyes.
Here's one of my favorite pieces from that book.
DUST
by Sydney King Russell
Agatha Morley
All her life
Grumbled at dust
Like a good wife.
Dust on a table,
Dust on a chair,
Dust on a mantel
She couldn't bear.
She forgave faults
In man and child
But a dusty shelf
Would set her wild.
She bore with sin
Without protest,
But dust thoughts preyed
Upon her rest.
Agatha Morley
Is sleeping sound
Six feet under
The mouldy ground.
Six feet under
The earth she lies
With dust at her feet
And dust in her eyes.
Where did I go wrong with Zero Dark Thirty?
Someone tell me I'm dead wrong, please, and convince me to give it a second chance because all the reviews and online conversation I can find regarding this movie consider it one of the year's greatest films.
I saw Argo and loved it--I was on the edge of my seat throughout most of it... I saw Life of Pi and it truly inspired and resonated with me--I ruminated over it for at least an hour afterward... I saw Django Unchained and it blew my freaking mind... I thought director Kathryn Bigelow's other critically acclaimed, six-time Oscar-winning film The Hurt Locker was an incredible piece of filmmaking...
What did I miss in the first hour of Zero Dark Thirty that should have made me want to keep watching and find out what makes it so great? Did I just not give it enough of my time?
Please help. Thanks.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
National Poetry Month #14
The "Unicorn" post got me thinking more about my record collection, which in turn focused my attention on the selection of hilarious Smothers Brothers LPs in my library. Logically, then, I must present another Shel Silverstein poem, and you'll see why. Dick Smothers gave a little tune to this one and recorded an extremely abbreviated version of it for the It Must Have Been Something I Said! record in 1964.I've always loved this album. It has some of my favorite Smothers tracks on it, including "Hiawatha" and "Crabs Walk Sideways," both of which I still find myself humming on occasion, decades after my last listen. Looking back, though, knowing what I know now, I envision a completely different interpretation of the following poem than Silverstein intended. I'm sure Lovecraft was never on his mind when he penned:
THE SLITHERY DEE
by Shel Silverstein
The Slithery Dee
He lives in the sea
He saw all the others
But he didn’t see me.
The Slithery Dee
He came out of the sea
He chased all the others
But he didn’t chase me.
The Slithery Dee
I hid in a tree
He caught all the others
But he couldn’t catch me.
The Slithery Dee
He went back to the sea
He ate all the others
But he didn’t eat me.
The Slithery Dee
Oh where can he be?
He ate all the others
But he’ll never eat … S-L-U-U-U-R-P!
Saturday, April 13, 2013
National Poetry Month #13
Happy National Poetry Month (and National Scrabble Day as well)! Today I bring you a fun little piece from a true American wordsmith.
TO AN INSECT
by Oliver Wendell Holmes
I love to hear thine earnest voice,
Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--
Old gentlefolks are they,--
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.
Thou art a female, Katydid!
I know it by the trill
That quivers through thy piercing notes,
So petulant and shrill;
I think there is a knot of you
Beneath the hollow tree,--
A knot of spinster Katydids,--
Do Katydids drink tea?
Oh, tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too?
Did Katy love a naughty man,
Or kiss more cheeks than one?
I warrant Katy did no more
Than many a Kate has done.
Dear me! I'll tell you all about
My fuss with little Jane,
And Ann, with whom I used to walk
So often down the lane,
And all that tore their locks of black,
Or wet their eyes of blue,--
Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?
Ah no! the living oak shall crash,
That stood for ages still,
The rock shall rend its mossy base
And thunder down the hill,
Before the little Katydid
Shall add one word, to tell
The mystic story of the maid
Whose name she knows so well.
Peace to the ever-murmuring race!
And when the latest one
Shall fold in death her feeble wings
Beneath the autumn sun,
Then shall she raise her fainting voice,
And lift her drooping lid,
And then the child of future years
Shall hear what Katy did.
TO AN INSECT
by Oliver Wendell Holmes
I love to hear thine earnest voice,
Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--
Old gentlefolks are they,--
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.
Thou art a female, Katydid!
I know it by the trill
That quivers through thy piercing notes,
So petulant and shrill;
I think there is a knot of you
Beneath the hollow tree,--
A knot of spinster Katydids,--
Do Katydids drink tea?
Oh, tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too?
Did Katy love a naughty man,
Or kiss more cheeks than one?
I warrant Katy did no more
Than many a Kate has done.
Dear me! I'll tell you all about
My fuss with little Jane,
And Ann, with whom I used to walk
So often down the lane,
And all that tore their locks of black,
Or wet their eyes of blue,--
Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?
Ah no! the living oak shall crash,
That stood for ages still,
The rock shall rend its mossy base
And thunder down the hill,
Before the little Katydid
Shall add one word, to tell
The mystic story of the maid
Whose name she knows so well.
Peace to the ever-murmuring race!
And when the latest one
Shall fold in death her feeble wings
Beneath the autumn sun,
Then shall she raise her fainting voice,
And lift her drooping lid,
And then the child of future years
Shall hear what Katy did.
Friday, April 12, 2013
National Poetry Month #12
Here's one of my favorites from the legendary Lizard King himself.
THE MOVIE
by Jim Morrison
The movie will begin in five moments
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the next show.
We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued.
The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
you might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?
THE MOVIE
by Jim Morrison
The movie will begin in five moments
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the next show.
We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued.
The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
you might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?
I'm getting out of here Where are you going?
To the other side of morning Please don't chase the clouds,
pagodas
Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand.
Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand.
It's alright, all your friends are here When
can I meet them? After you've eaten I'm not hungry Uh, we
meant beaten
Silver stream, silvery scream
Oooooh, impossible concentration.
Oooooh, impossible concentration.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Today is a perfect storm of celebrations
Not only is today the 11th day of National Poetry Month, I just found out it's also National 8-Track Day! How do these two celebrations perfectly intertwine with one another? In the memory of my favorite 8-track as a child, combined with the swath of stormy weather plaguing the Midwest over the last day or two.
When I was a kid, I absolutely loved the Irish Rovers' album The Unicorn. I still do, actually... Not the 8-track so much, but I do have it stashed in a box somewhere still because of its sentimental value; never mind that I have copies on vinyl and CD as well. It endures to this day as one of my all-time favorite feel-good albums.
The title track from that album was the only chart hit for the group here in the U.S. (possibly abroad too, though I can't corroborate that). It was penned by the famous comedic poet, Mr. Shel Silverstein. Bear with me, I'm going to tie the perfect storm up in a nice little bow now.
If you are unfamiliar with the lyrics, they happen to be the story of the unicorn's extinction. See, they missed out on Noah's ark ride because they were too busy playing in the rain. Aaaand there's our tie in. It's been raining quite a lot lately, and we have flood warnings and all out here by the Illinois River. Bam!
Anyway, to honor both National Poetry Month and National 8-Track Day, I present to you the lyrics of that classic Irish Rovers tune, "The Unicorn."
THE UNICORN
by Shel Silverstein
A long time ago, when the earth was green
There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen,
They'd run around free while the earth was bein' born,
And the loveliest of all was the unicorn.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
The loveliest of all was the unicorn.
Now God seen some sinnin', and it gave him pain.
He said, "Stand back, I'm goin' to make it rain."
He said, "Hey Brother Noah, I'll tell ya what ta do.
Build me a floatin' zoo."
"And take some of them green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget my unicorn."
Now Noah was there, he answered the call
And finished up making the ark just as the rain started to fall.
He marched in the animals two by two,
And he called out as they went through,
"Hey Lord, I got your green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants -- but Lord, I'm so forlorn
I just don't see no unicorn."
Ol' Noah looked out through the drivin' rain
Them unicorns were hidin', playin' silly games.
They were kickin' and splashin' as the rain was pourin'.
Oh them silly unicorns.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Noah cried, "Close the door 'cause the rain is pourin'--
And we just can't wait for no unicorns."
The ark started movin', and it drifted with the tide,
And the unicorns looked up from the rock and they cried.
And the water come up and sort of floated them away--
That's why you've never seen a unicorn to this very day.
You'll see green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorn
The title track from that album was the only chart hit for the group here in the U.S. (possibly abroad too, though I can't corroborate that). It was penned by the famous comedic poet, Mr. Shel Silverstein. Bear with me, I'm going to tie the perfect storm up in a nice little bow now.
If you are unfamiliar with the lyrics, they happen to be the story of the unicorn's extinction. See, they missed out on Noah's ark ride because they were too busy playing in the rain. Aaaand there's our tie in. It's been raining quite a lot lately, and we have flood warnings and all out here by the Illinois River. Bam!
Anyway, to honor both National Poetry Month and National 8-Track Day, I present to you the lyrics of that classic Irish Rovers tune, "The Unicorn."
THE UNICORN
by Shel Silverstein
A long time ago, when the earth was green
There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen,
They'd run around free while the earth was bein' born,
And the loveliest of all was the unicorn.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
The loveliest of all was the unicorn.
Now God seen some sinnin', and it gave him pain.
He said, "Stand back, I'm goin' to make it rain."
He said, "Hey Brother Noah, I'll tell ya what ta do.
Build me a floatin' zoo."
"And take some of them green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget my unicorn."
Now Noah was there, he answered the call
And finished up making the ark just as the rain started to fall.
He marched in the animals two by two,
And he called out as they went through,
"Hey Lord, I got your green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants -- but Lord, I'm so forlorn
I just don't see no unicorn."
Ol' Noah looked out through the drivin' rain
Them unicorns were hidin', playin' silly games.
They were kickin' and splashin' as the rain was pourin'.
Oh them silly unicorns.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Noah cried, "Close the door 'cause the rain is pourin'--
And we just can't wait for no unicorns."
The ark started movin', and it drifted with the tide,
And the unicorns looked up from the rock and they cried.
And the water come up and sort of floated them away--
That's why you've never seen a unicorn to this very day.
You'll see green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorn
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...
After years of ignoring my MySpace page, I have finally deleted my account. Before doing so, I was sure to download all my blog entries from there. I am currently in the process of transferring those to this blog. They date back to 2007, and there is some very interesting stuff in them. I read through several today as I converted them to this page.
You might also have noticed some rebranding going on. Say farewell to the old McGraw Media Matters (M3) blog. I have noticed that a lot of the stuff I've been posting and basically all of the old MySpace stuff is highly personal, introspective or speculative. Seems like this blog was beginning to shift into more than I had originally bargained for, so I thought it best to simply rebrand it as sort of a catch-all blog instead of a narrowly targeted one. Here you can really get to know me now, more than just professionally.
I hope you enjoy the changes. I am excited to roll out this new image and continue in the new direction. Thanks as always for your readership. Now do me a solid and subscribe please?
You might also have noticed some rebranding going on. Say farewell to the old McGraw Media Matters (M3) blog. I have noticed that a lot of the stuff I've been posting and basically all of the old MySpace stuff is highly personal, introspective or speculative. Seems like this blog was beginning to shift into more than I had originally bargained for, so I thought it best to simply rebrand it as sort of a catch-all blog instead of a narrowly targeted one. Here you can really get to know me now, more than just professionally.
I hope you enjoy the changes. I am excited to roll out this new image and continue in the new direction. Thanks as always for your readership. Now do me a solid and subscribe please?
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
National Poetry Month #10 - A special treat
Here's something different for you on this tenth day of National Poetry Month--an original piece. Come on in. The congregation is dying to welcome you to the...
HOUSE OF GOD
by Shane McGraw
Frozen, flockless sanctuary--
Desolate, foreboding;
Thick with a stifling suffocation,
Echoes of ageless choirs
Suspended in time.
Once joyous, once fervent and hopeful
Now the same, but somehow different;
Electric, menacing
Shadows loom,
Creeping darkness
Newly consecrates the chamber.
Malignant mass
Sinister sacrament
Corrupt communion,
Body and blood of the slaughtered lamb.
Unhallowed altar,
"In Remembrance of Me..."
Gothic walls of cold stone
Exhibit the bloody stained glass
Tableaux of death and resurrection.
Above it all,
Christ hangs pallid and impotent.
Nightmare shadows dance
On tortured features;
Once revered, now feared--
Little comfort.
In the pews,
Wholly unholy
Ghostly parishioners bear witness
To silent terror
In the house of God.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
National Poetry Month #9
Here's a bit of a long one. That's what she said.
KUBLA KHAN
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
KUBLA KHAN
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Photoshop to the rescue!
Tonight I tackled a tricky project for my friends at the Peoria Ballet. Their performances of Snow White start in just over one week, and they are scrambling to put together the program for the show. Part of that program is a photograph of the featured level 4 dancers. However, when the photographer came to take the picture, one dancer was missing. There is no time for a retake, because the program must get to the printer on time. There's no option other than to digitally manipulate the image using a photo taken for the Nutcracker performances in December 2012.
I do stuff like this all the time, mostly for fun or personal reasons--but this case was particularly challenging because of all the things going on in the Nutcracker photo. That's some troublesome masking. Also, bear in mind I am using Adobe Creative Suite 3 on a five-year-old MacBook. This stuff became a lot easier with CS5 than it was back in the Stone Age of CS3.
It took a few hours as well as a few days' worth of patience, but I am proud of what I ended up with. See below. (Note: I am not the photographer of these images)
I do stuff like this all the time, mostly for fun or personal reasons--but this case was particularly challenging because of all the things going on in the Nutcracker photo. That's some troublesome masking. Also, bear in mind I am using Adobe Creative Suite 3 on a five-year-old MacBook. This stuff became a lot easier with CS5 than it was back in the Stone Age of CS3.
It took a few hours as well as a few days' worth of patience, but I am proud of what I ended up with. See below. (Note: I am not the photographer of these images)
 |
| The original photo for the Snow White program, missing one dancer |
 |
| The source photo containing the missing dancer (front row, first one in from right), from five months ago |
 |
| The final version of the Snow White picture, now ready for program inclusion. |
Monday, April 8, 2013
National Poetry Month #8
It's not often that this man made much sense, especially in his written verse, and even more especially in his elder years. As he aged, his delusions got even stronger and he became more and more of a weirdo. Presented here for you--a shred of only slightly loony beauty plucked from within an absolute morass of unintelligible, outrageous, satanic new age nonsense.
AT SEA
by Aleister Crowley
As night hath stars, more rare than ships
In ocean, faint from pole to pole,
So all the wonder of her lips
Hints her innavigable soul.
Such lights she gives as guide my bark;
But I am swallowed in the swell
Of her heart's ocean, sagely dark,
That holds my heaven and holds my hell.
In her I live, a mote minute
Dancing a moment in the sun:
In her I die, a sterile shoot
Of nightshade in oblivion.
In her my elf dissolves, a grain
Of salt cast careless in the sea;
My passion purifies my pain
To peace past personality.
Love of my life, God grant the years
Confirm the chrism - rose to rood!
Anointing loves, asperging tears
In sanctifying solitude!
Man is so infinitely small
In all these stars, determinate.
Maker and moulder of them all,
Man is so infinitely great!
AT SEA
by Aleister Crowley
As night hath stars, more rare than ships
In ocean, faint from pole to pole,
So all the wonder of her lips
Hints her innavigable soul.
Such lights she gives as guide my bark;
But I am swallowed in the swell
Of her heart's ocean, sagely dark,
That holds my heaven and holds my hell.
In her I live, a mote minute
Dancing a moment in the sun:
In her I die, a sterile shoot
Of nightshade in oblivion.
In her my elf dissolves, a grain
Of salt cast careless in the sea;
My passion purifies my pain
To peace past personality.
Love of my life, God grant the years
Confirm the chrism - rose to rood!
Anointing loves, asperging tears
In sanctifying solitude!
Man is so infinitely small
In all these stars, determinate.
Maker and moulder of them all,
Man is so infinitely great!
Volbeat and King Diamond present a FREE download of new track
Act now to get a FREE high-quality WAV file of Volbeat's newest single featuring the one and only legendary King Diamond on guest vocals. It's a prereleased track from the upcoming Volbeat album Outlaw Gentlemen and Shady Ladies, and it's called "Room 24."
\m/ HORNS UP! \m/
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