Tuesday, December 8, 2015

WYSIWYG or IS NOT Or My E-holiday Card to Friends

Up in the sky, upon the ground

the claws of Saint Nic

deep in the minds of children found.

Giving gifts of toys despite

all we read 'bout the speed of light.

So how can he belong to all

and amongst all a delight?

To the masses here while to the masses there

doth he jets in his underwear?

No, me thinks this and me thinks that

tis 'bout say, a quantum bit more;

some thing we have yet to set store

in our compendium… pray stay,

of learn-ed truth,

superposition is, for sooth.

All these places and all these times

initiated, a blink,

and… gone.

Be still and consider anon:

No speed measured, no sled seen.

Where none can see and none can guess

just how fast St. Nic is.

So by laws of science he can


in all places one, two, three.

A simple answer yet complex

Quantum superposition is

my best guess.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015


Grandma clams a laugh, yet escapes a sigh

Remembering well times gone bye

Her daughter’s answer years ago

Similar acts tonight, so apropos:

“What have I always said?

What DON’T we want to do tonight?”


(You know that Grandparental taciturn silenced stare)

To that first question raised above,

A silence with falsely pondered thought,


For a second,

And then,

Replied with a smile, with a grin:

“The house is not a jungle gym?”

“And so what else have you to say?”

Grandma knows the one that answers first looses face,

So taciturn silence follows hence.

Deep thought’s silence again…though we know

They know,


that we know they know,

And then,

staccato’s laughing refrain:


As if to reinforce the admonition

Adding to the loco-motion

Through the air the little one flies

Smiling all the while glides

From the fifth step high

Into the arms of her big sister crashing slides.

Grandma clamps a laugh, escapes a sigh.

To the kitchen for some pie.”

“Stop! Enough! Or I may die.

The end

Friday, October 16, 2015


The one in many,
the self in it all,
the self as it is here today, the individual
felling unconnected.
But in reality is part of the whole,
As it is on a greater scale.
Beyond all imagination.
Seen only a curtain pull away
A keyhole look fills the mind beyond
comprehension, realized 4th dimension
This It-Is, we all breathe together.
I feel you; feel we all feel
knowledge of, non-local quantum weirdness.
I have that memory,
that experience, and I forget it most of this time,
only to stop;
Aha, yes with a laugh of recognition
I recall-remember-fell/felt it back there,
the totality of IT-IS.
Words do it not justice.
I don’t know what to call it.

Thursday, October 8, 2015


One bit, Two bits, Three bits

and… QBITS?

Quantum based talking stardust.
We can’t be the only experiment.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

September/October poem

Autumn , rain, a hurricane might be approaching

I sit with a watered down glass of wine

An orange cat and a book of poems.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015


The house not old, but creaking.
The constructing quality? Oh so sadly lacking.
Looking up, is the ceiling leaking?
The rain was strong, the siding rattling-shaking-swaying.
Did the water underneath get blown then seep
into-onto the not so dry wall there above me leak?
The insurance will not pay, for damages done this way.
To my store room a ladder grabbed
 and to the ceiling my finger stabbed
and it.. must… be… said,
not watching ladder height, up the steps I took hasty flight
 with a bang and a bump as I looked up
oh my head,
intimately met the ceiling’s top.
And yet to my relief, though pain up on my head
was not such fun and that can too be said,
Just dust bunnies and nasty nail pops
and down the ladder I was carefully led.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Quantum Mechanics on Strike

My I-pad won’t work and I ain’t no jerk.

My screen stopped scrolling, and my keyboard’s corroding.

My FiOS and bios are fried.

Quantum Mechanics on strike!

As for craft in the heavens and jets that fly,

that fly by wire and computer alighted?

Just tumble, down from the sky.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

An approach broached, grounded and not theoretical.

Controlled-through by digital, your autos mechanical,

now crashing, bashing and thoroughly smushed.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

QED and Maxwell’s equations,

the keys to  life’s situations?

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

An end as you know it.

To the 19th century, or earlier?

You’ll go it!

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

Still got gravity’s push

It ain’t all that much.

But without it, good-bye tush.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

We want parity with reality.

No spin around, no up, and no down.

No lucky charms or Feynman yarns.

A union with relative’s theology!

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

It may take some work.

We know you’re not jerks.

We’re not diabolical,

just quantum mechanical.

So give us the same:

relativity’s unity claimed.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

The End

Thursday, September 17, 2015


I decided to get out of the house, home office. There is no humidity to speak of, the temperature is quite pleasant and I’m waiting for the delivery of a drawing by an artist that painted a painting 2 years ago that I let slip through my hands for good reasons, my wife had just been laid off. The painting was one of those that stayed on my mind all night, a clue that I really wanted it, and just looking at it brought back the memory of the smell, the perfume of the streets of NYC in the early morning when I would be going to The Art Students League. This drawing is the sketch for that painting.

That memory sense, the reality of the past as I remember it, and today all came together the first time I saw it. This brings me to the meat of the editorial, reality and art. Can art, writing, visual representations (film or otherwise) and possibly music, reflect reality or can reality reflect an avant-guard mindset that lays hidden, but yet connected to humans around the globe?

I don’t know the answer to that. What I do know is that sometimes science fiction, and historical prognostication do at times meld with reality. Specifically I am referring to My story They Never Knew a modern Fairy Tale and the reality of cyber war as we hear about it, and then the parts we don’t hear about.

My story was taken from bit of data that were there in the open for all to see if they had a desire to.-no blame just reality. A few years later the national Academy of Sciences published a study on Net-centric Security issues, which outside the specific aim of the subject-The Navy, read like they used my story as an outline.

That was 2010. It’s now 2015 August and what do we have? I still see no coherent response to one of the main thrust of the subject of my story and the NAS book, the lack of inherent security in the devices we use every day due in a great part to where the devices are manufactured and all that that fact implies.  

My story took the facts at the time and with a bit of crystal balling it, I made some wild guesses as to what could possibly occur in our lifetime. And as I have seen are occurring, here and there, and yet, even though I see the hand wringing, and hear the talking-heads speak to the need of hardening the infrastructure, blah blah blah , I only see more of the same problems and potential problems.

So what’s my point?

My point is that we as artists of different skill-sets sometimes see what those in power fail to recognize because of their stupidity, greed, usually lots of greed, and ignorance. I really wrote that story as a “heads up”. Only one person in the field of cyber war called me and in a humorous but serious manner warned me, and I quote, “I would never hear the bullet that got me.”

As Sun Zi said, the ultimate skill of a general is to win the war without firing a shot.  While shutting down the infrastructure is an act of war, no missiles would be fired. The software and hardware made in China would see to that. Only a few switches would be thrown.

Bring the jobs and technology back home.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015


The visible----the classic observation made

making all else………. at that point, collapse


an illusion

@ least becomes a visible alternative;

universes for all the others and I am here

and still sometimes there too?

mentally connected/straddling

wondering did I


an illusion?

Didn’t  I,

I swear I said it to you……and

you deny that reality.


the other, a dream away,

to happen again as I split away

from this the only trail I have

my only road map

my writing.


And this too I wonder if the other of me

or where ever or whom ever

his notebook too


thinking, wondering similar things

of poems stories and sketches

classical art, or not.

Did I say that to you?



Tuesday, June 30, 2015


Entry II, is a doozy. This God never asked for directions. No wonder he wandered for a long as he did. My wife would have killed me and my children would have revolted. Hmmmm?

Are We There Yet?

We are called wizards, witches, warlocks, magicians, priests, gods, scientists -- and frauds. Our titles equate to the level of development of the society in which we exist. We are trained in languages, current, ancient, and forgotten. We study the sciences and arts. We are caretakers and we are shape shifters molded to fit the given environment. We are dedicated to progress. Well, most of us anyway.
The caveat we accept upon taking The Path, not known by the populations we serve, is that we must have a following, a group that is dedicated to us. Without support we disappear and perish. Ignore us and we go away. Abandon us and we die. We need followers as much, no, more than they need us. They can continue on as they are until their sun collapses supernovas or burns out.
In a modern world, the scientist/polymath is the highest and most coveted status. As such he or she is supported by the society as a whole. Unfortunately some worlds sow the seeds of their own destruction through ignorance and pride. Most worlds are generally better for it; understanding the power and progress inherent in the technology.
In the Lesser Worlds, we are witches, magicians, wizards, and at the base of the pyramid, we are gods and devils, omnipotent, all knowing and feared. In reality we just are, and that's all. However societies must begin somewhere. Organization is the key. Fear is the carrot and stick that works most every where getting the cart of civilization to move.
I'm the youngest of them all. There were so many they ran out of names for me. I was called "Him". I am "Him" to most everyone. And that, folks, is how I introduce myself: "I am Him." Names are nothing but mental place holders. No big deal, you could call me Tim for all I care.
They all picked on me. "Your powers are weak, your physics are flawed, you don't know anything. Go away. You're such a loser. We have better things to do then let you hang out with us. We have real work. Go find some bugs to impress."
Being the youngest I got the dregs. Everyone else has the good planets. There was nothing left for me by the time I reached the age where I was supposed to, "go out unto the universes and make one world my own". Yeah, right. Critical to my existence and survival or any of our kind's existence and concomitant power is the fact that if we don't succeed in gathering a flock (I liked that term, "flock". No one else was using it. The "flock" idea and its defined implications came to me through an incident), We die! There are no second chances; no reappearing later. This is not a dress rehearsal existing in a god-eat-god universe. I needed to convince a group of people -- a few people -- two would do as a start! -- of my scientific/magical/wizardry skills. Hire Me! I will create for food.
What I was to discover over time was simple. I had to present a convincing reason for anyone to buy into my story and existence. Just being doesn't sell.
In the beginning...
Out of "kindness, I was given a shot. The world I was handed operated at a cultural level that was, to put it nicely, retarded. Even here the "best spots" were taken. Golden Calves, Bulls, Giants, Swans, and all manner of mental constructs "roamed" this planet of semi-civilized warlike apes.
To Expand:
One's career is one's pride. I don't care if one is a scientist, witch, or a god; one has to have a job in order to feel worthwhile. Without work -- and an appreciative audience -- our kind perishes, disappears, ceases to have ever been. What's worse, we're not even missed. There were so many others roaming the planets vying for supremacy, a totem, an award or a niche at a minimum.
I needed to eat, to work, make a living, and no one wanted duck decoys. I carved these for relaxation and possible profit. I couldn't even give them away. A duck god did not present a very strong picture either. I was a lousy carpenter too. That was something else I needed to work on later.
I hunted around, seeking, but no takers. All I could do was to keep knocking on door after door, or, in this case, scratching at tent flap after tent flap. What a way to gather a "flock". I displayed my skills all over this miserable little planet. I kept getting any one or more of the following rejections, "We've seen that. Nah, our guy does it better. We've taken up with someone else. No, not interested, maybe next solstice." Staff into snake and back again, big whoop. If it was possible to slam a tent flap, some of the people I tried to win over would have slammed their tents in my face. Sometimes I had to duck the occasionally thrown rotten fruit -- or worse. This went on for more mortal lifetimes than I cared to count.
The rejection really got to me. After a while, dispirited and wondering what was to become of me -- all that time without followers had drained me almost dry -- I spied this loner in a desert wasteland (don't ask which desert wasteland it was -- they all look alike). He was a miserable specimen, tending a bunch of ratty sheep. Smelled like them too. It appeared that personal hygiene was not a big priority out there.
Thinking that I hadn't tried any techie stuff in a while, I figured why not have some fun? Not nice, but what the hell, things were so bad it.... I dug my particle beamer out of a pocket dimension, torched a bush (too bad -- it was the only thing around that looked like it was thriving), and spoke to him in a booming, amplified voice. Old school, not likely to impress anybody with two camels to rub together.
He fell down trembling like fire of any kind was a miracle.
Whoooo, I am good, I thought. Or maybe sheep-boy is Not Too Bright... Not Too Bright seemed like as appropriate a nickname as any for the guy, so I mentally labeled him NTB for short.
Finally, a potential follower! "What is your name?" I asked him, cranking the subsonics until the ground vibrates.
He told me, slobbering out a string of syllables that sounded like he was working up enough spit to put out the fire. Too glottal for me, linguist or not, so I called him Mike. It was easier on my ears.
I discovered he was in this wasteland, tending his sheep (this is where the flock idea begins to cross my mind) and hiding out from one of the biggies back in The City. Nice place. Expensive. Open all hours and you could get anything you wanted -- for a price. I knew the Big Guy he was talking about -- one of my Kind, from a few classes before my time. What a bully, and as usual picking on this regular sort of guy. He always was a bit of a scheiss kopf.
"Listen Mike," I said, "I know the guy who's busting your chops"
Mike looked confused. "Chops? What are chops?"
"Giving you a hard time, making your life miserable, that sort of thing"
"Yes, oh Great One!"
'Oh Great One'? I thought, Where has this guy been hiding all these centuries? With my luck, he's brain-addled from too much sun, and won't be any use in recruiting more followers. 'Oh Great One'... Still, he was the best thing I'd found since They dropped me on this planet. I was feeling better than I had in decades, soaking up his unsophisticated -- extremely unsophisticated -- awe.
After a decent amount of conversation -- and I had to keep telling him to get his face out of the dirt -- I presented this proposition, "Listen, tell you what. You have any friends? How about family? You want to get out of this dump? Exit this place? You want to move to a better zip code?"
All he picked up on is, "Code? What code? A secret ...."
"No! I mean -- do you want a better place to live?" I really had to match my vocabulary to local conditions if I wanted to get anywhere.
"Yes, Oh Great One!"
'Great One', I thought. I could get used to this.
To Mike, I said, "I have an idea. This is going to take some time. First, personal hygiene. You smell like your sheep. You have to clean up your act if you want to make something of yourself. Get your friends and family together. Please, for god's sake clean up. Get fresh clothes and meet me at that mountain."
I pointed to a large mountain close enough so as to keep him from being noticed by those idiots back in The City.
"I'll be back. I want to meet you on the top. There's a nice plateau. Just wait for me there. It gets foggy and damp, so bring warm clothes and firewood"
"Yes, Oh Great One. But why --?"
"Do it," I boomed, loud enough that the burning bush collapsed into a pile of smoldering embers. I don't know who bleated louder, Mike or his sheep.
I went back to The City to deal with the Big Guy, my older -- cousin. He had a group working under him. They formed a 'Magic Collective'. They denied the concept of peoples or nations to expand their strength -- accepting (or drafting) adherents regardless of race or former religion, and downplaying the importance of any relationship except membership in their group. While internally organized, it was an elite-based hodge-podge. What a bunch of wankers. Maybe they were afraid of what an organized people could accomplish? He and his buddies thought they owned the whole place (apparently They never mentioned to Him that I was being assigned to the same planet). What a limited perspective. This organizational stuff had me thinking... but first, I had a task to accomplish.
After attempting to convince Him to back off Mike and his friends, pleading his case to no effect, I went toe to toe with him and all of his. Me against them. He was good, but he hadn't gone to the upgrade classes in technology, arts and humanities. I had tech and techniques He'd never even heard of, so despite the odds, I figured I could put him away. It would be temporary at best, and it would take some work: see your snake and raise you a swarm, on and on. I was pissed and getting hungry -- the charge I'd received from Mike's boneheaded adulation was running dry. I wanted to get this over.
I played to his ego. Hubris usually gets His type -- but not this time. So I hit him with a quantum singularity that squirted him through to another universe and pureed his followers as they fell past its event horizon. Nasty. Didn't know I had it in me -- hunger and fatigue apparently brought out my mean side.
On my way to The Mountain:
I wondered if the Big Guy sent Mike out here so he and his ilk wouldn't wreck anything too decent. And me? Why me? Why here? Ho hum, make do with what's at hand. Work with the clay you've been given, as they said in ceramics class. One thing I learned out of all of this, be nice only once. If they don't listen to reason, fuck them. Let them have it. This is my new rule for dealing with like beings. However, regarding The Monkey Boys, you have to give a little. At this point in their evolution they head up the NTB department.
Back to Mike:
Mike was on the mountain top, as ordered. He was waiting for me, looking good, clean, tall and impressive. I appeared in a cloud and lots of smoke. If I was going to work at bringing these people up, I might as well have some fun too. I could see he wasn't sure of the situation. Imagine what his friends and family thought. I spent some time with him, hours, days, weeks. I don't keep track of that stuff. It is not of my concern. I filled him in on the situation. "Here's the deal. I need you and you really need me to survive in this place." I gave him a demonstration of some of my "real powers". Remembering too that I was dealing with primitive types here and quantum physics was beyond their ken, I tried to explain the universe in the simplest terms. I gave him a foundation, a beginning, from which to build. I prayed that it sank in with a broader weltanschauung and got those wheels in his head turning pointed toward those larger and greater things. Working through that was another long complicated effort. We must have been up there for better than a month.
It was physics and philosophy for sheep herders, intro class. (I do not want to explain all this again, please! Once was enough.) Maybe just pushing one leader out and taking His place, while simply substituting new names I liked for the old ones would be a whole lot easier. I would be able to relax and exist in a style to which I would have liked to become accustomed. I would think about that depending upon this adventure. It sure would make my business easier and more secure.
"Now back to realpolitik," I told myself and Mike. "I can supply you with protection. No one will bother you too much when I'm around. You, your family and friends and any that want to join our club, have to act like I'm It, the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega..."
Mike's eyes have that frightened-rodent look again, so I finish with, "To believe in Me would be better, but acting the part will do. Most people being sheep..."
He gave me a funny look and smiled as if he understood. If I hadn't seen exactly the same look on the face of a wolf cub, I would have felt confident that I was getting through to him.
"To reiterate, Mike, they must act like I am the Big Guy, your chief, wizard, boss..."
"Club?" Mike gargled. "Chief-Wizard-Boss?"
"Let's try this again."
"Club is what you would sort of call tribe except you gotta pay to get in. Give a little skin. You know what I mean?"
No answer. Only later I find out he took this literally.
"The Chief, the Wizard, Boss bit -- okay, you choose My name. Make it simple and easy to remember. You have free will. Pick a title which reflects, let's say, great reverence to Me. How's that?"
"'God'? Will that be okay?"
I was floored.
"WHAT? You want me to be your god?" (He was nuts! I had been hoping for something else, not sure what, but anything other than that. That's the bottom of the heap -- lots of obligations, not much reward.)
"If not 'God', then what should we call You?"
I sensed that Mike was taking a stronger stance here. This was good.
"'God' is a bit strong...but...if you think it will work....I am....Just--" Mike interrupted before I could get the 'Him' or the rest of the idea out.
"A God with a hidden name," Mike murmured.
It's never good when a follower gets too quiet like that.
"A just God, greater than any other!"
"Mike, you're quick!" I was beginning to like this guy more and more -- although the implications of that 'just' label could be tricky. "Okay, I am..."
"I Am," Mike says it over and over again, jumping up and down. "Yes, we'll call you I Am. No one will ever know your name. By that very reason alone You, I Am, will be protected and so will we through your miracles. All they will be able to say is "He Is."
"Right! I like it" This was better than anything I could have dreamed up.
Back to reality.
"Mike, let's move on. We need an org chart, rules, procedures, CMMI..."
"Please explain," Mike said. "'Org chart', 'CMMI'?"
"Laws," I said. "You understand 'laws'?"
"Yes, oh I Am, sure."
"Okay, this stuff has got to be written in stone, so no screwing around with what I say."
"Oh great one, I am not a stone carver."
"'Written in stone' is just an expression," I said, but Mike gives me the wolf-cub look again, so I said, "I'll do it myself."
I got him to describe their writing system in detail. Then I pulled a laser out of the air and burned the guidelines into a slab of rock. Then I did it again. And again. It took me a while and a ton of rocks to get the grammar correct along with the feeling I wanted to convey. Here were the basics from Positive Social Movement 101 in this his own language. I cut it into two easy-to-carry pieces -- easy for somebody used to hard labor, anyway.
"Mike, I forgot to mention it, when I was gone for that little while I scouted out some great real estate, nice river, good hunting, game, ducks. By the way, I carve duck decoys for relaxation. Want one?"
"Gladly," he said. "We'll dump the golden calf. It's too heavy anyway. We'll melt it down and distribute the gold among the tribe. We'll share the wealth to show we have some backing. This will be a positive incentive for people to join up. Money talks."
Mike had come a long way from kissing the ground because a shrub caught fire in front of him...
"But...not to be too rude," he said, "you mentioned -- something about land?"
"Right, the land: good views, and cheap, just for the taking. Did I mention cheap? You have warriors, yes? They might be needed to convince non-believers... Be prepared. Remember, political power grows from the point of a spear." Oh, I liked those lines, too. I should have added those to the stone tablets. Maybe in the Creator's Cut special edition.
"Yes," Mike said, "Many and brave. It's in their heritage."
"Many and brave what?"
"Warriors. You asked."
"Right, just checking," I said. It never hurt to be sure with Mike -- he could misinterpret the simplest things. "I will lend a hand in the armament arena if needed. You just follow my directions to the letter -- Got It?" This last part I said with Major Amplification to make sure Mike understood that it was an Important Point.
"You think there's a market for the duck decoys?" I asked. "I'd like to unload them. They are too nice for kindling and they don't go with nomadic tent interiors."
"Yes to both and all You say. You are The Great One. I think we can find a few buyers." Then the confused-puppy look returned. "I'm confused by one of Your Sacred Words, I Am -- armament?"
"Weapons, magic, spells, fire... You know."
"Yes, very well as a matter of fact. We have bows, arrows, spears, slings..."
"A good start," I said. Then I said, calmly and gently:
"Go down the mountain get a consensus so we can move as a cohesive unit with a purpose. It will make you stronger. Trust Me. I'll give you the directions. In fact I will lead you out of this wilderness."
"Consensus. Agreement. Make them agree, however you want to do it. Just Do It!" Another good line. I wished I'd left more room on Mike's stone tablets -- or had wasted less material getting the wording right.
All in all, things were looking better. Even though the former Big Guy had found his way back from the other universe, and gathered a new Collective, I was prepared. I had a following, a flock. Survival was going to be a challenge, even so. It was likely that He had detoured Home and updated his tech, so this time, I might be the one using outdated weapons. If I made it, maybe I would get a promotion in the future. I could only hope and pray.
My thoughts were interrupted by Mike in a frenzy. "What if we're attacked?"
"You read my mind! But I will take care of it, not to worry. Trust Me. I'll supply the material and technology."
"The what?"
"Miracles, magic, armaments."
"Yes, magic, armaments, miracles, that I understand."
I felt I had to go over the importance of our organizational principles once more.
"Remember the rocks We wrote on? Those are my 10 Steps For Success. No one else has them. You listen and follow what I say, period. No ifs, ands, or buts. These rules will keep you safe from those other idiots for an eternity." Hyperbole could be effective and this was one time it was needed.
"An eternity?"
"Yes Mike, an eternity. Now let's get moving before we're boxed in and no amount of 'Magic' will save our butts."
"Let's go, everyone, camels, sheep, tents up, move out!"
This was going to work I could feel it. If we got the business plan vertically and horizontally organized with a purpose that can be understood, the others in The City will be toast in the long run. They are so disorganized compared to my people.
"They thought my MBA minor was a waste of time," I muttered. "Well, I don't think so. 'Just study science,' They said. 'That's all You'll need.....if You can master it.'
"We'll see Who masters Whom."
"Hey Mike, you think that burning bush thing will work with all the folk down there?"
"No," he said. "That was great, but with a crowd that size, it would have to be more like a burning forest..."
"A little difficult in a scrub desert," I said. "Okay... let's try some lightning, thunder and some crustal movement and a few minor river flow changes."
A little fiddling with charged-particle projectors and gravity wave manipulators, and things outside our perimeter got really interesting.
"How's that?"
"You have their complete attention," Mike said, his eyes very wide. It had been a while since I put on a real show. "Now what?"
"Let's take a look at the real estate."
For what seems like years:
"Oh Great One, we've been at this for a long time. And, ah ...we seem to be...lost?"
"You believe that I Am lost? I Am supposed to ask directions? How would that look? Anyway, I have this map and....
Oh damn, it's for the wrong planet.
"Listen between you and me, no mention of this. Just tell them the whole wandering-in-the-desert thing was a test. A really long test. The place I told you about is just over those mountains. I'll give you a hand if the squatters won't move."
"All of you, Trust Me. This is going to be a long term relationship for all of us. If we stick together, no problems. Just follow my Ten Steps. It's carved in stone, get it? Now let's go."
And my family thought I would amount to Nothing.
"You're doing this alone? No help?"
"You're going to fall on Your face."
"Everyone was right. You are an idiot!"
Ha, fooled them!
Almost everything worked out fine. There's only one thing left to do.
"So, you wanna buy-a-duck decoy? It's a fire sale and we're moving to a new and better location"

Monday, June 29, 2015


I am the shrink to the Gods, yes those GODS. Well five or six of them. Could you imagine the whole pantheon as clients? It’s good money. They pay in gold and dispensations. But really now, five gods as clients are about the limit my sanity clause in my contract allows me. There is no sanity clause you say? You must believe, trust me.

Anyway, it’s my job to listen to their stories. I secretly transcribed them. You think they would be so frank if I told them I was recording their most intimate thoughts? I save them for analysis at a later date of my choosing. It takes a bit of event-space to separate their story from the god in ones very presence.

Through this action, I allow them to unburden their souls, if you will allow me to use that term, with their stories so they can return to the tasks to which they as Gods have self ordained upon themselves. You know even shrinks need a shrink, and so do the Gods, what with all this creating and destroying and lifting up and damning. It wears on ones soul.

By-the-way, You ever wonder what happens to the last shrink in that shrink-for-a-shrink line up? He or she probably goes insane. I mean who you going to tell if you’re the last one? Oh well.

Each story is unique to each god though you will find a common thread running through most of the stories. In fact some of the stories dove tail. One would almost suspect they were one and the same entity.

I think that the nature of the job only allows for so much diversity in a reality and universe like ours that there must be some overlap and some similarity in cause and effect.

With that introduction, I will relate my first story as was told to me by Him or Her. In case you didn’t get it, the gods are not all male.

Thursday, June 18, 2015


It’s raining, it’s pouring, it’s early Monday morning.
As slippery as ice, can be
yellow-orange leaves soaked, just waiting
as slippery as ice, can be.

Twirling-whirling lavender purple umbrella
spinning above,
five wheel bladed confidence rolling-gliding
sliding-gliding below.

Lavender, winter jacketed fur collar-hood, smiling
face outlined-framed.
Umbrella spinning,
school books back-packed
on her way,
“hello, good day.”

Wednesday, May 27, 2015


Well, not any more.

The princess looked around. “This is a big mess.  I know some good people with the right skills I can enlist to straighten this chaos out. Not a problem. They owe me big time anyway.” she said to the Dragon.

He had a good idea what debts she was referring to but thought it wiser to remain silent. Besides he was rather content. He had not had so much fun in a long time. A slight burp erupted from his mouth and some smoke spiraled up from his nostrils. The combined scent had the faint aroma of seared flesh.

The princess attired in all her regal travel outfit stood on a balcony. Dragon was behind her occasionally burping.  Below her were the former wizard-kings wage-slave workers. She informed the huddled masses below the castle, in a voice of strength yet in a caring tone,“Don’t cry for me.” He burped louder this time. She turned to the dragon and hissed, “stop that.” And back to the growing crowd below, “The dragon is my friend.

I have made a change in the governing authority. It once upon a time existed. Now it doesn’t. I assure you things will improve for all of  you in a short while. I have taken care of that.”

They looked up never believing this would happen, ever. The fact that they were looking up instead of cowering was new. They were not sure how to behave.

Her like minded and similarly skilled friends, who had been summoned, arrived almost immediately. The situation was explained in detail. They got right to work setting up new a new fair government and industrial base.

Some time later when things had been put in some semblance of order, she addressed the now more relaxed citizens. “My associates are fixing the mess the former, the late, evil Wizard King royally created. Enjoy your new found freedoms. I will be leaving for my home where they are sure to be worried for my safety and health. I believe things are much better.  I will return some day.” She blew them all a kiss.

Cheers where heard for miles and tears flowed like rivers as she left the land with her dragon.


As the sun shone through the clouds for the first time in ages, people all over began to breathe better and better. The crops grew and minds began to clear.

The princess had discovered the source of the problems, achieved her quest, and returned home. The king wanted her to marry but she said, “I achieved the goal of the quest. I can and will do as I please.”

“And, I’m not finished.  Not… just…yet. And yes Daddy I will marry,” she said to the king.

“What mischief are you up to now?” he knew something was up. Something was always up with this girl.

“Oh, nothing too weird papa.  Trust me,” she said coyly.

Too weird’ was all he heard. “Sweetheart…” he began.

The king was wrapped around her finger.

“Shhhhh ,”she said putting her fingers to her mouth in the please be quiet sign we all know. “Daddy, now please.”

“Like I said, I like them big and strong. They don’t have to be all that smart.”

“I pick him.”

She looked at the dragon. She always liked what she saw. With a magical incantation she turned herself into a dragonette.

Off they flew. They lived happily ever after too.

The End
All characters are a total fabrication of my mind. Any resemblance to any country, political entity, any persons living, dead, or fabricated by other minds is a coincidence and unintended.

*Though I have to tip my hat to Babette Cole and her writing which in a very long drawn out way and through time, inspired this story.  RT