Change Charges Promise [Today's News Poem, February 28, 2011]

Change Charges Promise [Today's News Poem, February 28, 2011]

Change is a coin that one flips in the air,
Calls as it lands; then one curses the name.
Nickel's the treatment for rust in the metal;
Keeps all the surfaces shiny with promise.
Promise me coins will prevail
After we've flipped and set sail
On an ocean of change on a charge card—a barque
Made of plastic that charted the storms and approved.

"“At the end of the day, how much change will there really be in Egypt and other countries?” he asked. “There will be many disappointed demonstrators, and that’s when they will realize what the only alternative is. We are certain that this will all play into our hands.” "
—SCOTT SHANE, The New York Times, Published: February 27, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/28/world/middleeast/28qaeda.html

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Rat Maze [Today's News Poem, February 27, 2011]

Rat Maze [Today's News Poem, February 27, 2011]

Over capacity, under the freeway,
Next to the tower of smog—yes the thunder's
Alive, not like Thor, but like eyes that observe
The mazes of pageantry, splendor of rats.
Wedged in a corner of pavement; the rodents
Halve and are mice, halve and are newborns—
Divide to the zygote, to ova and sperm.
Repeating division, the dead are reborn,
Branching through time as the life-form imagines,
Mates and then dies, is reborn in the fragments:
Cast origami of proteins unfolding
Building a lattice of mazes just like it.

"... there are warning signs that China could soon suffer from the same overcapacity that has long afflicted the United States and Europe. Half of the executives surveyed by KPMG, the accounting firm, believe that China will have too many automotive plants within five years, according to a study that KPMG published in January."
—JACK EWING, The New York Times, February 27, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/28/business/global/28iht-cars28.html

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11.5 More Hours of Combatwords

Get your Combatwords right here: http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-25-2011-friendship.html

Hikimadwoman http://preservativewoman.posterous.com/:
"i
hold
still
a rubber kick
my hands shattering"

RToady/Seann McCollum http://carrioncall.blogspot.com/:
"saguaro phalluses ablaze with blossom,
clumps of opuntia best approached with caution."

Vandamir http://vandamir.wordpress.com/:
"my lover sent me an irate message. His family read my online journal and confronted him regarding our relationship. They were concerned because I practiced magick and openly discussed birth control."

Anton Gourman http://forpuck.wordpress.com/:
"Five tables stood in line
Small candles flickering Morse promises
of future greatness and the perfection of the moment,
casting shadows of time on
the crayfish, cheese, bread and the paper plates,
which were ready to lose their innocence for our pleasure"

Naomi McArdle http://harmlessnoise.wordpress.com/:
"And yet, we're bound by
invisible blood-brother rites,
the ink of life that decrees
in small-print clauses and codicils
the benefactors of emotional wealth
on a pre-mortem testament."

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Breadlines and Roselines [Today's News Poem, February 26, 2011]

Breadlines and Roselines [Today's News Poem, February 26, 2011]

Make a date: the Ferry Building Farmer's Market.
Wait in a civilized line for a sourdough.

In gray we trust the bridge of shadow, steel, and sunlight
To conjure the dungeness claws for an altar:

Motor oil and seagull bones; a coil of feces
Nearest the merchant with roses from Bakersfield,

And nearest where we kiss, the first of many kisses
(Enormous, between and beneath, we're impressive)—

Nearest rust we trust will wait—our lives beginning
Ordered disorder, with roses and sourdough;

And ready for bridge or pier collapse,
And ready for kiss and crab and rust.

"Workers were still hastily painting over graffiti calling Colonel Qaddafi a “bloodsucker” or demanding his ouster. Just off the tour route were long bread lines where residents said they were afraid to be seen talking to journalists."
—DAVID D. KIRKPATRICK, The New York Times, Published: February 26, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/27/world/africa/27libya.html

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Whiteout [Today's News Poem, February 25, 2011]

Whiteout [Today's News Poem, February 25, 2011]

In the dark, it's mind and toes that cringe and hands that grip the walls;
Dark and it's raining—you'll drown in the whiteness of clouds and squalls.

It is simply candle dulling sight to match the other senses.
Stars fall as gushers; to river down asphalt, as water fences.

And combined they're dull, as white as candle wax or strips of rain
Flinging the sparks to the earth in a tantrum of cloudy chains.

"Yup. Still Raining."
-Khakjaan Wessington
Source: A window in SF

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Blackout [Today's News Poem, February 24, 2011]

Blackout [Today's News Poem, February 24, 2011]

Rain the timbers sideways, raise the tarp
And slide if you dare through a hurricane.
Jets are steaming drinks of sky for you:
A latte of contrail and shivering.
Who recalls the first of many lights?
The last is the one we remember.

"The weather looks like shit in my neighborhood, but no snow yet."
-Khakjaan Wessington
Source: Khakjaan Wessington's window

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The Slave Meme [Today's News Poem, February 23, 2011]

The Slave Meme [Today's News Poem, February 23, 2011]

Calculate value with margins of error:
Rome had its slaves who rebelled and destroyed it;
We have computers to operate, process
Assets, authority; ever our servant.

Rome was the peak of the body as weapon,
Masters of iron and bronze for the export
Of edges to fringes to chip off the forests,
And skewer the lion and lamb in their turn.

Enslavement as industry; slaving the farmer,
Enslaving a continent's people who feuded
And built a machine with no center for labor;
To slave and be slain in their turn as the master.

Heirs to the empire of crumbling marble,
Sacrifice blood in arenas of numbers.

"The political turmoil sweeping the Arab world drove oil prices sharply higher and stocks much lower on Tuesday despite efforts by Saudi Arabia to calm turbulent markets."
—CLIFFORD KRAUSS and CHRISTINE HAUSER, The New York Times, Published: February 22, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/23/business/global/23oil.html

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Time Machine [Today's News Poem, February 22, 2011]

Time Machine [Today's News Poem, February 22, 2011]

Los Angeles twists on Sierra—
A snow-melt from faucet to desert—
And gargles the fossils with toothpaste.

The mountain is boundary, sentry;
And distance is measured in pipelines
We lay like a path to the future.

The future is now and it orbits
A tribe in Brazil in an airplane
And photographs warriors fleeing.

The past is around us, it threatens
The girder with rust and the freeway
With sinkholes; turns water to sewage.

Machines are the network: they've processed
The distance with diesel, computed
The time with those nerves of connection,

And mingled—yet mingle the present
With infinite loops where the t-shirts
And bottles go drift in the ocean

That links all with shorelines and current
And plastic and ink made of pixels
With past to the future, with present.

"Four Americans taken hostage after their yacht was hijacked by Somali pirates off the Horn of Africa last week were killed early Tuesday when gunfire erupted during attempts by the United States Navy to negotiate with their captors, American military officials said. American officials had opened a channel of communication between the pirates’ financier as well as elders from their village to help negotiate the hostages’ release."
—J. DAVID GOODMAN. The New York Times, Published: February 22, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/23/world/africa/23pirates.html



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American RPG [Today's News Poem, February 21, 2011]

American RPG [Today's News Poem, February 21, 2011]

I loaded my game and returned to the sidewalk.
To level, I jaywalked and dodged all the autos.
And somewhere a player is rolling the chances
And notes my encounters with clerks at the grocer.
I've died on the freeway and died on the mountain;
I've fallen off cliffs and been shot in an alley.
My character loaded, returned to the story,
Where datapoints gather the resources, treasure
And play simulation. A city of players
Where oil is from Libya; the trinkets, from China;
American program—add prayers to be certain.

"Several oil companies said they were making plans to evacuate employees from Libya and investors are wondering which oil-producing country may be next to face the wrath of its people. “Political risks is hanging over a big proportion of the world’s oil supplies,” said Simon Derrick, an analyst at Bank of New York Mellon. “I can see safe haven buying the natural outcome of all this.” Particularly strong was a survey showing that business confidence in Germany... Concerns about Portugal’s debt crisis... Earlier in Asia, investors also had their first chance to respond to Friday’s decision by the monetary authorities in China to increase the amount banks hold in reserve."
—Associated Press, February 21, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/22/business/global/22markets.html



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Skipper De-Jaded [Today's News Poem, February 20, 2011]

Skipper De-Jaded [Today's News Poem, February 20, 2011]

If I chose revolution and salvaged compassion
From my island of shipwreck, my computerized jail;
Would it fit in its place in my chest if I swallowed
That original cast-off, or would its reaction
Summon the bile of the years and erupt through my ribs?

It was breeze from my fingers that blew it to skerries
Of electrons—that voyeur of fiber and flicker.
We had sailed on my ego through oceans of info:
We saw thousands of murders, a million transgressions;
Billions of people and trillions of dollars depart.

I had come to believe my compassion a weakness,
So I left it exposed on a rock while I traveled
Through the internet, paralyzed gawker of horrors.
It's the game of the world; it enriches, imprisons,
Battens the hatches—we're planted on asses and watch

As the currents run swifter, the water much colder;
And an enemy lurks in the depths—it's a monster
That is ancient, too awful for morbid obsessions.
It is nerves and it sounds like a bus: it is bullet,
Plastic and prayer—it is servant and master in one.

"Chinese authorities detained dozens of political activists after an anonymous online call for people to start a "Jasmine Revolution" in China by protesting in 13 cities—just a day after President Hu Jintao called for tighter Internet controls to help prevent social unrest. But Chinese authorities seemed to take it seriously, deploying extra police to the planned protest sites, deleting almost all online discussion of the appeal, blocking searches for the word "Jasmine" on micro-blogging and other sites and temporarily disabling mass text-messaging services."
—JEREMY PAGE , The Wall Street Journal, FEBRUARY 20, 2011, 2:10 P.M. ET
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703498804576156203874160350.html

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Above Average [Today's News Poem, February 19, 2011]

Above Average [Today's News Poem, February 19, 2011]

I've reached the other side of average
And I find I've never understood
Youth—more disease than age or bracket.

Distrusting every strong emotion
I was prudent, copied older folks,
Passed through the symptoms sitting, reading.

I'm over average, flipped allegiance,
And I read as always. Someone brash,
Foolish, a ham, declares my time's up.

The parade of genes—parade of written words—
Is the scribe of youthful error, editor:
Type. Delete. Err. Repent. Be born. Die. Learn. Unlearn.

"Young men jubilantly wave national flags and white banners with "peace" written in Arabic and English. Small children bearing roses know nothing of the politics, but they approach Pearl monument with glee, holding hands with proud parents."
—Al Jazeera Online Producer, Al Jazeera, 19 Feb 2011 20:47 GMT
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/2011/02/2011219201753524228.html

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Ready For The Next Nerve [Today's News Poem, February 18, 2011]

Ready For The Next Nerve [Today's News Poem, February 18, 2011]

Press conversation; the world is for you.
Sell your opinion, say 'sharing,' it's sales.
Levitate over the subject as lord,
Clouding the view with hot air and the smog.

Press the advantage, the keyboard awaits—
Trading the options, for ownership, fiefs.
Pressing oppression demands full alert,
Iron your shirt for the camera's teeth.

Trigger—the world's on a trigger I fear—
Nerves—if I feel it's the nerve of the world
Causing my nervousness—show me the mind
Hiding behind every keystroke—I'm ready.

"Hundreds of thousands of Egyptians rallied Friday to celebrate former President Hosni Mubarak's ouster a week earlier and remind the ruling generals that protest organizers can still muster daunting crowds if the military stalls on democratic reforms. "
—CHARLES LEVINSON And MATT BRADLEY The Wall Street Journal, FEBRUARY 19, 2011
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704900004576152013556019684.html

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Heavenly Orbit [Today's News Poem, February 17, 2011]

Heavenly Orbit [Today's News Poem, February 17, 2011]

Watchfulness over the money—count on it.
Count on the yellow to follow currency
Eying the movements with starved intensity.
Eagles in vacuums and dragons orbiting;
Followed by samurais, bears and elephants,
All of them calculate loss and victory
Misunderstanding us, using decimal
Ranks, to enumerate power—nothing else
Matters to stars or to nations, businesses,
Poets—we seek constellation, worshiping,
Hoping for worship to spare us loneliness.

"The chairman of the Federal Reserve said Thursday that the financial system is better off than it was two years ago, and that the central bank has learned the lessons of not providing rigorous enough oversight of banks leading up to the 2008 financial crisis. "
—EDWARD WYATT, The New York Times, Published: February 17, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/18/business/economy/18regulate.html

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In the Hall of the Mountain of the Financial Aid Officer [Today's News Poem, February 16, 2011]

In the Hall of the Mountain of the Financial Aid Officer [Today's News Poem, February 16, 2011]

The yuppie code expels its vitriol,
Coffee breath and twinkled euphemism;
And searches for the worthiest to share
Pity, grant conditions, tsk-tsk sneering.
Obliged and bored but not yet jaded; pleas,
Thanks conform to all the forms of office—
Where clicks from a computer swallow grain,
Bankrupt revolutions, drill and drill and
If you can hope they'll ever feel ashamed
Then you fool, you'll shred the application.

"Are you better off than your parents? Probably not if you're in the middle class."
—Annalyn Censky, CNN, February 16, 2011: 4:30 PM ET
http://money.cnn.com/2011/02/16/news/economy/middle_class/



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We Just Want To Be Free [Today's News Poem, February 15, 2011]

We Just Want To Be Free [Today's News Poem, February 15, 2011]

Dinner has vanquished the evening,
All the dishes oppress the night,
The fridge is the banquet, banker;
Sleep is betrayal—effortless
Allocation—hours to night.
The traffic nibbles the edges:
Days in boxes and yearning for
Revolt as our life disappears.

"Protesters chanted: “We’re not Sunni. We’re not Shiite. We just want to be free.”"
—MICHAEL SLACKMAN and J. DAVID GOODMAN, The New York Times, Published: February 15, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/16/world/middleeast/16bahrain.html

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Webbing to Bind Them [Today's News Poem, February 14, 2011]

Webbing to Bind Them [Today's News Poem, February 14, 2011]

The fly or the spider, which represents us
In webs of our days? Or maybe the webbing

As symbol is better; anchored to branches
And tied to the doorways, gathering captures:

Dust in our weaving, flies that the spider
Juiced and the shells remain warnings ignored.

Strands represent connections of tendrils,
Mortar; the living tree and the timber.

The fly has sheer numbers, speed and its diet
Of feces, while spiders feed on the living;

And both of them feed on byproducts, tissue:
In use or else past it. Predator preying,

Preyed in its turn; a spider to capture
A fly, and a bird for spiders, a feline

To capture the bird and webbing to bind them.

"Young Egyptian and Tunisian activists brainstormed on the use of technology to evade surveillance, commiserated about torture and traded practical tips on how to stand up to rubber bullets and organize barricades. They fused their secular expertise in social networks with a discipline culled from religious movements and combined the energy of soccer fans with the sophistication of surgeons. Breaking free from older veterans of the Arab political opposition, they relied on tactics of nonviolent resistance channeled from an American scholar through a Serbian youth brigade — but also on marketing tactics borrowed from Silicon Valley. "
—DAVID D. KIRKPATRICK and DAVID E. SANGER, The New York Times, Published: February 13, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/14/world/middleeast/14egypt-tunisia-protests.html

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Anonymous is Legion [Today's News Poem, February 13, 2011]

Anonymous is Legion [Today's News Poem, February 13, 2011]

How did things get so anonymous?
How did the face disappear in crowds?
Lost to the fashion bazaar, to the smoke
Sputtering out of the cigarette

Butts, from the asses of motorcars;
Gasses that seep from the sewer grill
Blessed with the fragrance of piggies on fire:
Embryos far from the factory.

How did we get so anonymous?
Hundreds of armpits in silent trains,
Thousands of anuses walking the street,
Millions of tears, condominiums

Stacked with the snot of the desperate
Snoozing alarms to deflect the days:
Someone must benefit, someone must own,
Know, understand this impersonal cloud.

"Tracing the money is likely to be difficult because business in Egypt was largely conducted in secret among a small group connected to Mr. Mubarak... Estimates of the Mubaraks’ fortune vary wildly, including a widespread rumor that they are worth as much as $70 billion. United States officials say that figure is vastly exaggerated and put the family’s wealth at $2 billion to $3 billion."
—NEIL MacFARQUHAR, DAVID ROHDE and ARAM ROSTON, The New York Times, Published: February 12, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/13/world/middleeast/13wealth.html

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Violent Regenerations [Today's News Poem, February 12, 2011]

Violent Regenerations [Today's News Poem, February 12, 2011]

Did technology save him in winter?
Did the towers transmit his location?
He fell in the snow, made an angel
That froze as impression—a hollow,
Haunting the calendar: Boogeyman Off-Road,
Futile The Frozen, Gentle And Buried now.
Granite for tooth rings will make a strong toddler,
Razors in oatmeal and napalm for ointments
Will cull the unworthy and only the strongest
Will breathe on the trees to ignite them,
Will focus the sun with a lens made of air:
Revenge against seasons, our mother, our earth.

"In a 2007 study of 141 adolescents, published in the journal Development and Psychopathology, 85 percent reported that they’d been slapped or spanked."
—KATHERINE ELLISON, The New York Times, Published: February 11, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/12/opinion/12ellison.html

"It was a story that touched everyday Americans and prompted the biggest search-and-rescue mission in Oregon's history: The disappearance of the Kim family. The Kims went missing on Thanksgiving 2006. Husband James, wife Kati and their two young daughters, Sabine and Penelope, had been on a road trip when a wrong turn left them desperately lost in the Oregon wilderness. "
—ALAN B. GOLDBERG and JAY SCHADLER, ABC News, Feb. 11, 2011
http://abcnews.go.com/2020/kati-kim-tells-heart-wrenching-story-family-ended/story?id=12884927

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Excerpts From the Combatwords Arena 2/11/2011, 11:25pm PST

Combatwords (http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-11-2011-sales.html) started 2/11/2011, 2pm PST. Here's the game so far:

Steven M Grant (February 11, 2011 4:27 PM PST) Dear Object of My Desire,:
"I called her cold
and she responded by
adjusting her caller ID."

Seann McCollum (February 11, 2011 9:20 PM PST) Fiji Mermaid:
"“You’d be so easy to love,” she warbles, but the fact remains
she’s awfully difficult to buy for."

HikiMadwoman (February 11, 2011 10:53 PM PST) committed:
"mom has her knives out
she's grinding them down
their edges stochastic infinities
and her eyes smell like rust
her breath full of religion
from a greased green bottle"

If you think you can write better, prove it. Go to http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-11-2011-sales.html and bring your ink!

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Vise Sales, Vice Sails [CombatWords Poem, February 11, 2011]

Vise Sales, Vice Sails [CombatWords Poem, February 11, 2011]
From http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-11-2011-sales.html

The purchase one dare not speak or name
Has purchased the fullest claim,
All secrets, its blame.

Gilded pussy-pounce:
Cats devour the sea by ounce;
Rubs the pole in buxom dollar bounce.

Speak me so horny, yowl in the heat;
Star in a movie conceit:
Plasma from starbeats.

One's pulse is divided
By molecules blood provided
And needles injected. Sharps. Junk-sided

Sails through the veins to pleasure, pain.
Sales through the brain to leisure, strain.
Sail all our sales; our treasure's slain.

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Savage Disobedience [Combatwords Poem, from February 4, 2011]. Also, Combatwords JUST started.

Savage Disobedience [Combatwords Poem, from February 4, 2011]
From: http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-4-2011-mischief.html
Wanna play? Go here: http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-11-2011-sales.html The game is aggressive or tame, depending on the readers and players.

How does it feel to attract the whole mob?
Web intersections by hand and bike rage
Circles around you. They're calling; you come
Reaching for drivers like you—they've had it.
One of them swings at the crowd with truck door.
Missing, he leaps to the street and flings bikes
Out of the way and the crowd's confused. Pride
Strays to an anger—you call out, "hold hands
Break for the light and the traffic shall pass."
Spirits of violence giggle, slap off
Glasses and push you; they're balling threats, fists.
Shouldn't pedestrians trump their bike ride?
Shouldn't a carefully argued speech sway
Cyclists protesting cars... is it you?

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Devolved Phoenix [Today's News Poem, February 11, 2011]

Devolved Phoenix [Today's News Poem, February 11, 2011]

By match or lighter, someone burned alive
To death in a street: one of the many lives
Squirming for rescue, for the end of nerves.

The ears that lean upon the walls have heard,
They've typed up a eulogy, phoneward bound:
Littlest birds that have delivered sound.

Baskets are flowing and the honey blooms
From jar to the tummy. The birdie croons
And twitters nightly, under office moon.

Rumor transforms what was once flame to spark,
And spark to an image; the whispered dark
Above the keyboard, screenshot bird: a lark.

Bird of pain, bird, my brain,
Phoenix lord—Lord, I'm bored—
Embers flick, trick and fade;
Monitors: glitter blades.

"President Hosni Mubarak told the Egyptian people on Thursday that he would delegate authority to Vice President Omar Suleiman but that he would not resign, enraging hundreds of thousands gathered to hail his departure and setting in motion a volatile new stage in the three-week uprising. "
—ANTHONY SHADID and DAVID D. KIRKPATRICK, The New York Times, Published: February 11, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/12/world/middleeast/12egypt.html

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Thoughts on Poetry (Reposted from Twitter)

How to fake a poem: 1) Remove prepositions 2) Adjective as verb or noun 3) Sex that shit up 4) End on a pointless, but sweet image.

Objective signs of shit-ass verse: 1) Tries metrical schema & fails 2) Tries rhyming & fails 3) Symbolism is nonsensical 4) Narrative is nonsensical 5) Removing the linebreaks yields poorly written prose 6) Can be summarized in fewer words than the poem 7) Repetitious symbolism 8) Repetitious vocab 9) Incomplete thoughts 10) Incoherent thoughts

Violence against women is bad:


Violence against jackasses is good:


Hmm, further investigation reveals that this was an idiot-on-idiot crime:


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Mother of Fog of War [Today's News Poem, February 10, 2011]

Mother of Fog of War [Today's News Poem, February 10, 2011]

Bring the majority unit.
Speak, let the gasses cohere
Misting the windows with promise.
Cadres in uniform blow
Fog of all—mother of warfare
Into the room. She invents
Shackles for fingers and eyelids,
Vises for arteries, veins;
Clamps for the lungs and the heartbeat;
Stencils to color the thoughts
Squeezed out of blemishes, pimples.

"Under pressure to make deeper spending cuts and blindsided by embarrassing floor defeats, House Republican leaders are quickly discovering the limits of control over their ideologically driven and independent-minded new majority."
—CARL HULSE, The New York Times, Published: February 9, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/10/us/politics/10congress.html

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Boardwalk Desire [Today's News Poem, February 9, 2011]

Boardwalk Desire [Today's News Poem, February 9, 2011]

Chase that balloon; chase is our fullness,
Lifting us near red in the blueness.
Buoyant, the winds blow us together;
Higher than gulls, carousels, popcorn.
Neon and waves clash on the beaches;
Thrilled with chase, tugging at people.
Only the chase offers completion.
Boardwalk desire: lap up the candy
Sold by the cone, pink like arousal.
Escalate, cast darts for a trophy,
Aim for the fixed center, for winning
Isn't the goal: chase is our fullness.

"Representative Chris Lee of New York, caught in the midst of a scandal involving a shirtless photo he reportedly e-mailed to a woman, has stepped down, according to a senior Congressional official. "
—RAYMOND HERNANDEZ, The New York Times, February 9, 2011, 6:15 pm
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/02/09/new-york-congressman-resigns-over-shirtless-photo/

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Media Pie [Today's News Poem, February 8, 2011]

Media Pie [Today's News Poem, February 8, 2011]

Nobody cares for the topic, they care for the tone.
Everything's easy—as tasty as pie—just as healthy.
Sugar and blindness? Not sweets, it's the eye. Blame the eye,
Blame the inadequate tongue, not dessert nor the baker.
Even the arteries carry some blame—they are weak.
Butter's ambitious and no, it's not deadly, the body
Dies and is deadly, but butter's from udders, not Death.
Likewise the heart seems to fail the best pastries and dinners,
Grateful for seizure, and buried—dessert for a shroud.



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Work Ethic (or: 'Be More Like Ariana Huffington') [Today's News Poem, February 7, 2011]

Work Ethic (or: 'Be More Like Ariana Huffington') [Today's News Poem, February 7, 2011]

It's greed that has brought us together.
Greed shall define us.
While ethics and competence matter,
Our greed shall define us.

A gravity draws with charisma,
Repels with a phone-call,
And pulls in its orbit the slowest;
Parries with phone-calls.

A mastermind lacking the genius:
Drawn to the chances
Of winning, then rages at losses
Incurred with the chances.

Mass such as this can even eclipse
Stars at a distance, sun in the day,
Words from our keyboards, breath from our songs,
Plans for our tongues, for decimal sense.

"The Huffington Post soon blossomed into a tribe with a roster of mostly unpaid bloggers that grew from 500 to 9,000 over the course of five years, all creating a site that manufactured much of its own content and liberally borrowed much of the rest. "
—DAVID CARR and JEREMY W. PETERS, The New York Times, Published: February 7, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/08/business/media/08huffington.html

"After Levin's death in 2004, she called him "the big love of my life... The couple divorced in 1997, and in 1998 Michael Huffington revealed that he was bisexual. he financial terms of their divorce agreement remain undisclosed... Huffington was accused of plagiarism for copying material for her book Maria Callas (1981); the claims were settled out of court in 1981, with Callas biographer Gerald Fitzgerald being paid "in the low five figures."[27][28][29]
Lydia Gasman, an art history professor at the University of Virginia, claimed that Huffington’s 1988 biography of Pablo Picasso, Picasso: Creator and Destroyer, included themes similar to those in her unpublished four-volume Ph.D. thesis. "What she did was steal twenty years of my work," Gasman told Maureen Orth in 1994. Gasman did not file suit.[30]
Maureen Orth also reported that Huffington "borrowed heavily for her 1993 book, The Gods of Greece."[31]"
—Wikipedia, 9:17pm PST, 2/7/2011
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ariana_Huffington

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Weekend Warriors Admire Boys of Leisure [Today's News Poem, February 6, 2011]

Weekend Warriors Admire Boys of Leisure [Today's News Poem, February 6, 2011]

Aluminum wreckage, cans at salute—
Miasma of anus, sweat and a cheer—
Defeat chips and plastic, tackle the Sunday.
Go watch, drink and fart as men are supposed to
While watching the boys of the jersey catch footballs:
Your weekend their workday; their workday, your envy.

"In Super Bowl XLV, there will almost certainly come a moment when Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers looks out over the Pittsburgh Steelers defense and is utterly bewildered."
—Mark Sappenfield, / Staff writer / February 5, 2011
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Sports/2011/0205/Super-Bowl-2011-forecast-60-minutes-of-chaos

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Candle in the Attic [Today's News Poem, February 5, 2011]

Candle in the Attic [Today's News Poem, February 5, 2011]

It's too late for us loves.
Yes, our cobwebs are thick,
But the candle has dripped
And it bridged with our net
And the flame has begun
To expand. Here's its slide,
And it opens its jaws.
So our world is inferno
And our clutches consumed.

"An Egyptian plant that carries natural gas to Israel exploded in the northern Sinai desert, the state-run Middle East News Agency reported. It said that “subversive elements” were behind the explosion."
—Nayla Razzouk, Bloomberg, Feb 5, 2011 12:37 AM PT
http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-02-05/egypt-gas-pipeline-feeding-israel-explodes-in-sinai-desert-arabiya-says.html

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Get Your Stalkers, Sluts and Sociopaths in CombatWords, February 4, 2011: Mischief

http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-4-2011-mischief.html

Started at 1:53 PM PST, 2/4/2011:

Steven M Grant February 4, 2011 3:12 PM, PST: "The days that followed were so magical and painful for me. Every morning on my way to work I would walk past Pete’s hoping to catch a glimpse of her. “If she sees you just smile at her, don’t be such a pussy” Sometimes I would see her through the window but she was always busy behind the counter. I really started to get a sense of who she was. She was kind of shy like me, not a lot of friends and she rarely went anywhere after work except straight home. I was pretty sure that she really had been flirting with me that Thursday evening because she did not have a boyfriend. She never went out at night and she never got cards or letters from any men."

Roxi Xmas aka Misti Rainwater-Lites, February 4, 2011 7:33 PM, PST:
"I'm all about dick
he spews CUNT
I hiss pusSsSy"

And I wrote something too. See you there: http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2011/02/combatwords-february-4-2011-mischief.html

Vlad, please escort them to the next exhibit:

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