pitchers tuck by buddy don: tursts speakin forn tungs

man hattan is loded with tursts who lack to cum here on a counta everthang is so cheap fer em ever since the dollar tanked ...





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pomes of buddy don: sovereignty

Sovereignty

The problem with these new democracies
Is that they fail to understand their vote
Can make it look as if we would appease
The very folks we never would promote.

How dare Iraqis we gave liberty
Raise questions about our noble intent
Or whine about our gift of sovereignty
When it’s their freedom we helped implement?

Why must their legislature act as though
Allowing our troops to extend their stay
Until we have decided we should go
Should put their sovereignty in disarray?

Our ways are very simple, can’t they see?
By force we’ll make them stand up and be free!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: playin chess in union square park

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waka of budouadana: Horizon

Horizon

At the horizon
Heaven touches lowly earth
With blazing sunsets,
Rain to slake the prairie’s thirst,
Wind-blown snow to robe great peaks.

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pomes of buddy don: The American Dream

(Reflecting on the Democratic Nomination of Barack Obama for President of the United States of America)

The American Dream

Arriving in chains in 1619
To be sold as chattel, fed leftover swill,
To be used as tools to help others fulfill
What grandly is called the American dream –

Stripped of their dignity, their divine right
To keep their own customs, live with their kin,
Or even to speak their own language again –
Forbidden to learn how to read and to write,

They cooked all the meals, they worked in the field,
Bore for their masters more slaves to be sold,
To be broken long before they were old
While keeping their hopes for freedom concealed –

Yet their deepest dreams could not be curtailed,
They not only endured – they finally prevailed.

When given freedom, “emancipation,”
And told they’d receive both land and a mule,
Jim Crow came along with methods so cruel
As to keep them bound in poor desperation

By lynchings and terror and burning crosses,
Through use of the poll tax, strict segregation
And harsh laws against miscegenation,
They were left free to serve the same bosses.

Yet they would not let their struggle die
As they nourished dreams, refused to succumb,
Promised themselves they would overcome
And lift every voice, to sing to the sky,

That their deepest dreams would not be curtailed –
They not only endured – they finally prevailed.

Today we have seen what we never believed
We could see in a land so divided by race
That seemed destined to live with the disgrace
Of ideals long cherished, never achieved.

Yet OUR deepest dreams no one could curtail –
We ALL have endured and begun to prevail!

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waka of budouadana: Childhood Summers

Childhood Summers

We ate hard boiled eggs,
Tied string to a June bug’s leg,
Drank sweet lemonade,
Fielded grounders daddy hit,
Napped through humid afternoons.

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pomes of buddy don: Folly Must Be Wise

Folly Must Be Wise

Once he had left the White House and thus lost
The Talking Points that filled his mouth with “News!”
And written down the Truth at his own cost,
Revealing he was just a tool they used –
He found the Means he’d used for his old Boss
Were turned on him in order to confuse
A Public that has learned to accept loss
Of Truth from those whose words are just a ruse.

So Kill the Messenger! the Wingnuts shout,
For we know that he’s always told the Lies
That our Brave Hero hired him to spout,
The kind of patter he used to disguise
Mere facts that would make Voters tend to doubt
That our Great Leader’s Folly must be Wise.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: worshippin at the eggschange

thays lots of folks that argue bout whuther amurka has a natcherul relijun, witch it mite not be natcherul, but thays a relijun everbidy lacks to practiss, even ifn we dont lack to add mitt tiz our mane relijun: gittin n spendin.

tuther day durin lunch i tuck a lil walk up to the mane cathedrull of that relijun, the new york stock eggschange. thay had dun gatherd a slew of worshippers to watch the show, witch so happend that thay wuz a dance troop doin the hole histry of the eggschange rite thar in frunt of everbidy.



as ye kin see, the altar of that grate amurkin relijun is verr impressive ...


folks cums out to watch the sale-a-brayshun ...


gittin n spendin kin be a hungry bizness, witch thays sum smart folks that knows how that stock eggschange kin be a good place to turn a dollar sellin lunch to folks that cums to worship ...


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eggscuses of buddy don: couldnt git smugmug to uplode fast a nuff

i wuz fixin to show ye sun pitchers it tuck of the new york stock eggschange durin lunch tuther day, but smugmug wuz so slow in lodin em, that they aint reddy yet. i will git em in the mornin.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: whut a differnts a rif makes

heres a cuple pitchers lack them i posted tuther day bout that daily trudge to wurk. mane differnts here is thay wuz a rif of lots of folks that wooda bin in the verr same trudge ifn they hadnt bin let go. mayhap ye kin see a lil more life in the steps of these folks on a counta they know thar lucky to be trudgin to wurk!





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waka of budouadana: Peak

Peak

My aching muscles,
Remind me of the struggle
To climb each mountain,
To rise from hot humid plains
And taste the peak’s cold crisp air.

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revues of buddy don: wii fit

this caint be a hole revue on a counta i wonta git my daily yoga in on the wii fit.

but my frien red molly menchunned in a comment that she dint know whut a wii fit even wuz, so i figgerd the lease i could do is say a few wurds bout it n give ye a lank or two.

it cum to pass a while back that them kids wint together to git me a wii fer my birthdy back in januwary. twuz fun fer a while, but i gut a lil bored with it on a counta i couldnt git nobidy to play it with me (tiz much more fun to play thangs together). miz bd wuz willin to play, but never rite then.

so whenever mothers day wuz a'cummin up, them kids gut together agin to pre-order miz bd the wii fit balance bord, witch ifn ye foller that lank ye will see nintendos launch presentayshun.

tiz a lot more fun than inny other video game i have ever played, witch that probly tells ye more bout me than them games. but thisn is so much fun i caint wait to play it.

way it wurks is simple. ye git ye a slab of plastick name of a balance bord, witch it kin weigh ever lil movemint ye make. tiz broke up into four quadrunts n a'usin that it kin show ye whuther yer balance is good or not. tiz a grate thang fer yoga n other extra sizes that require keerful balance. thats grate on a counta otherwise ye mite could thank yer a'doon much bettern ye are. tiz verr hard jes to stand still n balanced in ever die-reckshun (frunt to back n side to side).

taint everbidy that lacks it on a counta it dont sugarcoat nuthin. but tiz lodes of fun!

now i am off to git in at lease 15 mints of yoga.

btw, my muscles is sore everwhar thays a muscle! but tiz a good kinda sore ...

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eggscuses of buddy don: wii fit

fergive me fer not bloggin moren this. miz bd gut a wii fit fer mothers day n i dun spent nigh onto 45 mints this mornin wurkin out. cunsidder this the furst enthusiastick revue of it i have dun writ. i will rite more bout it later on.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: a dancin butterfly on rollerskates

whenver i wuz 11 year ole, i writ a pome, witch i wood give good money fer a copy of it. twuz a life changin eevent fer me on a counta frum that instunt till now, i knew i wonted to be a riter. i probly shoulda stuck to one kinda ritin, but i couldnt do that. i had to try ever kinda ritin thay is: pomes, short stories, novellas, novels, screenplays, stage plays, songs, essays, yew name it, i tride it. i also writ musick n whenever i gut a camra, twuz a nuther way of ritin down whut i seen of the worl, witch thay aint no two fotogruffers that takes the same pitchers.

innywho, todays pitchers frum that dance parade me n miz bd stumbled on tuther day putts me in mind of that pome on a counta twuz about how happiness is lack a butterfly, witch ye caint force it to land on ye, but ifn ye sit still, it mite jes cum by n smile on ye. (i know, tiz a lame metafor, but twuz new to me at the time.)









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pomes of buddy don: Our Country, Right or Wrong

Our Country, Right or Wrong

Why can’t these peace-niks see how well it works
To rough up someone who might know some thing*
That might help us to find the evil jerks
Who might attack us like a bee might sting?

Why do surrender monkeys** all insist
That harshly enhanced methods can’t succeed
In getting scum we’ve captured to assist
In telling us most everything we need?

Why do these agents of the FBI***
Claim to have witnessed some unlawful scenes
Or methods that they claim must go awry
As if the ends don’t justify the means?

Can’t they see our good nation, brave and strong,
Can’t be defined by actions, right or wrong?±

*Roots of US war prisoners' rights run deep

But George Washington and his compatriots took their founding principles quite seriously. On Aug. 11, 1775, Washington sent a blistering letter to a British counterpart, Thomas Gage. He complained about gravely wounded and untreated American soldiers being thrown into a jail with common criminals.

Eight days later, despite threatening to treat British soldiers with equal cruelty, Washington admitted that he could not and would not retaliate in kind, writing: "Not only your Officers, and Soldiers have been treated with a Tenderness due to Fellow Citizens, & Brethren; but even those execrable Parricides [traitors] whose Counsels & Aid have deluged their Country with Blood, have been protected from the Fury of a justly enraged People."

Imagine that; a government on the run fighting a desperate war against a hated enemy and treating captured prisoners with compassion and decency. No doubt many of the captured British troops had intelligence that might have been useful to the Revolutionary cause - still, decent treatment was the norm. In the current war on terror, that would be described as being "soft."

**McCain fights exception to torture ban; Ex-POW assails bid to exempt the CIA

WASHINGTON -- Senator John McCain yesterday warned that a push by the White House to exempt overseas CIA agents from a proposed ban on mistreating prisoners in US custody would exacerbate the problem of detainee abuse by giving interrogators legal authority to torture suspected terrorists.

''I don't see how you could possibly agree to legitimizing an agent of the government engaging in torture," said the Arizona Republican, who survived torture as a prisoner of war in Vietnam. ''No amendment at all would be better than that."

McCain went public with his concerns after published reports yesterday that Vice President Dick Cheney met with him to urge changes to his widely supported proposal to outlaw cruel and degrading treatment of detainees by any US official. Cheney suggested exempting CIA counter-terrorism agents working overseas, but McCain balked.

***Interrogation Tactics Were Challenged at White House

Five years ago, as troubling reports emerged about the treatment of detainees at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, a career lawyer at the Justice Department began a long and relatively lonely campaign to alert top Bush administration officials to a strategy he considered “wrongheaded.”

Bruce C. Swartz, a criminal division deputy in charge of international issues, repeatedly questioned the effectiveness of harsh interrogation tactics at White House meetings of a special group formed to decide detainee matters, with representatives present from the Pentagon, the State Department and the CIA.

Swartz warned that the abuse of Guantanamo inmates would do “grave damage” to the country’s reputation and to its law enforcement record, according to an investigative audit released earlier this week by the Justice Department’s inspector general. Swartz was joined by a handful of other top Justice and FBI officials who said the abuse would almost certainly taint any legal proceedings against the detainees.

Now their predictions appear to be coming true. A top Pentagon official chose this month to drop charges against a detainee who was roughly interrogated at Guantanamo, and U.S. officials believe it may be difficult to charge him at all. Defense lawyers for a group of alleged Sept. 11 conspirators in U.S. custody have said they plan to raise concerns about harsh techniques used by the CIA and will seek to keep evidence derived from such tactics out of court.

±Matthew 7:15-20

Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: more dance parade ny

thays still a passel of pitchers i aint never gonna have time to putt up fer ye, but heres a few more ...

furst, ye couldnt hardly beat them bolivians fer color ...


heres a native bolivian lookin rite at the camra ...


ye caint hardly have a bunch of dancers without sum belly dancers, witch thisn frum a group name of ASAMED


then ye had to have sum samba, witch this feller wuz decked out in brazilyun green


heres a cuple of tap dancers, proovin ye caint be too yung of ole to tap yer feet ... far as i could tell, they jes joined the parade fer the fun of it n wudnt with no dance troop ceptin thar own...


finely, ye caint have ye no real parade without a flag bein razed, witch this fellers frum luigi, who he was the parade marshall ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: dance parade ny

on saturdy i ast miz bd whuther she mite be reddy to git out fer a stroll on a counta she had bin laid up with a fever fer a few daze, same as i had bin a lil earlier. i had sum errands to run over in man hattan, witch turnt out twuz jes whut she wonted to do since she had sum errands of her own to take keer of.

i brung along the camra lack i generly do n it turnt out to be a lucky thang i dun it on a counta we turnt onto 8th street down in the village sos we could find a place to eat when lo n behold thar cum the furst part of a parade rite at us.

twuz the secunt annual new york dance parade. i tuck a slew of pitchers, witch i figgerd ye mite lack to see a few of em ...

this here dancer wuz part of a troupe that i dint git the name of ... but they wuz dressed up real purty ...


folks of all ages gut into the ack, witch these folks wudnt part of no troupe but jes couldnt reesist the beat, witch look at the lady in the red hat n purpull dress ...


this cuple wuz dancin side by side rite in frunt of me ...


this purty gurl had a holt of her skirt to whar it seemed almos lack she had wings ...


twuz a verr warm day, but the troop of albanians dint keer on a counta thar costumes looked lack they wood make a bidy hot ...


thay wuz a troop of korean dancers, witch they had sum of the purtiest costumes of em all ...


ye kin see how much fun dancin kin be, witch thay wuz a more yunguns dancin than ye could shake a stick at ...


one of the best thangs bout takin pitchers at a parade is how folks will cum to mug fer the camra, witch heres a pitcher of a purty gurl who dun jes that ...


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waka of budouadana: Flame

Flame

Slowly setting sun
Paints the sky orange and red,
The reflected blaze
Scorching the very ocean
That daily drowns its bright flame.

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lame limricks of buddy don: no glitch

“The change you deserve,” is a sales pitch,
To hawk remedies meant to help switch
The depressing thick haze
Of sad days to glad days –
That one party needs it is no glitch!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: the daily trudge to wurk

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: bargun huntin in hells kitchen

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waka of budouadana: Tenses

Tenses

Anger points backwards,
The mind blindly nursing ire –
Worry points forwards
The fearful heart lacking faith –
Flowers bloom in the present.

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pinions of buddy don: mass transit

whenever i deecided to move up here to the new york city area, i had me a few of the reason ye mite eggzpeck: wontin to live in the gratest city in the worl, wontin to have ackcess to all that cultchur, wontin to eggspand my horizons, wontin to live in a cosmopolitun place whar a bidy could meet folks frum ever part of the globe, wontin to here all kinds of langwages bein spoke everday as ye walk round town, etsetra.

but one of the biggest reasons wuz wontin to be able to live without havin a car or a car payment or a insurants payment or maintenunts costs or gas costs or oil to change or air filters to go bad or tires to rebalance or even wear out or encounters with drunk drivers.

i had dun alreddy lived in west germany (germany hadnt been re-united back then) a cuple of times, furst in frankfurt, then in münchen (witch tiz called munich fer sum reason over here). in bof places, i never needed a car even once. i could git to everwhar i needed to go fer jes a lil money by usin publick transportayshun. ifn i wonted to go to a nuther cuntry, twuz easy to git on a train. n twuz easy to walk round town, witch that aint the case in lots of places in the u.s.

so i wonted to live that kinda life fer a bit over here, witch i been a'livin in now fer nigh onto 23 years.

i know thays a passel of folk that thanks havin to take publick transportayshun is a fate wursern death, that they woodnt be safe amid all them other folk, witch tiz a fack that thays ever kind n color n relijun ye kin thank of on the subways n busses of new york n new jersey.

but after i larnt how to find my way around (n all ye have to do is ast innybidy ye see, witch folks up in here is much friendlier than they gits credit fer bein), i gut to lackin it even bettern i dun over in west germany.

i know tiz hard to bleeve a bidy is safe out amung folks without a tun or more of metal n glass round em, but taint the case. the subways carry moren 3 millyun folks everday n tiz a verr rare thang to here bout a sangle one of em havin inny problem with crime. tiz natcherul that they woodnt on a counta tiz jes folks on them trains, beesides witch thays plenty of poe-leece officers to keep thangs under cuntrol.

but the best thang bout it is how ye kin read whilst yer commutin to wurk! thats rite, ye kin git cumpletely inside of yer book without havin to wurry bout drivin.

thay aint no stress frum sittin in traffick, aint no need to wurry bout bein cut off by tuther driver, aint no need to stop to git gas ere ye run out, aint no need to find a parkin place, witch up in here it costs a fortchun to park fer jes one day, as much as it used to cost to fill yer tank ($30 or so). ye also dont have to find a place to park whenever ye git home. n ye aint eggspozed to drunk drivers that mite not notiss whuther thar about to wreck thar car or truck into ye.

i know that ye caint have this kinda life everwhar, that thays verr few places in this grate cuntry with the foresite to build em a publick transportayshun system, but ifn yer local place gits to thankin bout it, ye mite orta support it.

tiz a grate way to git frum here to thar, dont use near as much gas or uther fossil fuels, n aint near as stressful.

now that gas has riz almost to half whut folks pay over in europe, minnys the driver a'cunsidderin the same thang i do: commutin by mass transit. n ifn they caint do that, thar a'buyin smaller cars, witch that aint good fer a deetroit that dont wonta sell em.

sides witch, ye git to read, witch at the moment, i am a'readin Twilight at Monticello by a feller name of Alan Pell Crawford. plane fack is, i never red near as much back whenever i had a car n had to drive to git innywhar.

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pomes of buddy don: God's Words Matter Little

God’s Words Matter Little

Your Rushes, your Newts, your Rudys, your Freds,
And even your straight-shootin’ Saint John McCains,
Have all left their marks in and out of the beds
Of the ladies they loved as they ran their campaigns,
Proclaiming the need to sanctify marriage,
Not by being true to the ones they first married
But by making sure that they loudly disparaged
The wish to be wed by the gay folks they harried
With claims same-sex unions would somehow demean
The same marriage vows they themselves violated,
Pretending their own deeds were not so obscene
Despite the great values that they desecrated!

They know they won’t be called on their phoniness:
God’s words matter little since they own the press!

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waka of budouadana: Reprieve

Reprieve

With each new healing
Comes the faith to live again,
Comes the hope to thrive,
Although life leads straight to death:
Each fresh breath is a reprieve.

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lame limricks of buddy don: three fer a fridy

ye mite could have notissd how i luv to play with wurds n differnt forms of ritin pomes, so today i figgerd i wood give one of the gratest forms of all a shot: the limrick. heres three to git ye off to a grate weekend ...

Chicanery

What should we name such chicanery
(Like locusts on guard at the granary) –
The commons is sold
For a bag full of gold –
Why don’t we rename it “McCainery”?

Business as usual

The benefit was rather fleeting
In that old scandal named after Keating
Those caught in the scheme
Said 'twas nothing extreme
Just business as usual (cheating).

n jes to show i still luv the guy fer all he duz fer us everday ...

Shrubbery

There once was a man named for shrubbery
Whose use of plain facts was quite rubbery
We misunderestimate
Truths he might desecrate
Only to find ourselves blubbery.

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pomes of buddy don: God’s Great Exception

God’s Great Exception

We must accept that we are not the same
As all the rest of the world’s little states,
And that is why we can’t be held to blame
Or forced to obey quaint treaty dictates.

We're also God’s chosen, as history shows,
When God helped us wipe out the natives we found,
For they were to blame since they chose to oppose
Our manifest destiny: This is our ground!

When God gave us slaves to help us to build
A nation of freedom unlike all the rest,
Our glory was simply God’s great plan fulfilled:
When we set them free, we proved we were blessed!

To think we’d do wrong is to fall for deception,
For God made our country His own great exception!

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waka of budouadana: Bulb

Bulb

A bulb buried deep
In fall, frozen in winter,
Will bloom in the spring,
Breaking through barely thawed earth –
So, too, human intentions.

thays a lil bit of irony in how this waka cum to be writ. miz bd tole me she wood lack to see whuther budouadana could rite a waka on the subjeck of intenshuns, witch she even sed, 'cunsidder the request dropped on ye lack a seed.' so miz bd deesevers at lease half the credit fer thisn, witch she duz that fer most everthang i kin do.

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waka of budouadana: Fever

Fever

The burning eyeballs
Ache like red-hot glowing coals
As fever blazes
Throughout the sickened body,
A painful but cleansing purge.

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waka of budouadana: Clouds

Clouds

Rising purple clouds
Concealing blue skies, gold sun,
Swelling to a head,
Burst in rain on parched brown fields,
Repainting them in rich greens.

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waka of budouadana: Froth

Froth

Waves rush in and out,
As singular as humans,
Riding the moon’s tides
In their eternal motion,
Their froth as fleeting as fads.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: garden of dappled lite

everwhar ye look these daze, tiz beeyootifull ...



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readin of buddy don: books bout japan

fer the past year or so i bin readin a slew of books on japan, manely them that starts with the tokugawa period, tho i am innerested in the times befor that. heres a list of sum i thank ye mite wonta read yer ownself:

• The Making of Modern Japan by Marius B. Jansen: thisn is long n full of deetail but tiz hepful in gittin ye orientated to how the cultchur thar changed frum feudal to modurn in such a short time.


• The Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World. 1852-1912 by Donald Keene: thisn cuvers the life of the man named fer the restorayshun of the emperor to power in japan. i wonted to read it on a counta the emperor meiji writ moren 100,000 waka (also called tanka these days), but thay wuz heaps more to larn. twuz a truly remarkabull period of histry that saw japan modurneyes itself in a lil over a generayshun.


• Across the Nightingale Floor, Brilliance of the Moon, n Grass for His Pillow by Lian Hearn, together called Tales of the Otori, a trillgy of books bout a place based on feudal japan, witch it gives ye the spirit of the times n teaches a lot bout how stratificayshun of folks into groups lack samurai, farmers, merchants, n eta. ye git a grate feel fer the way folks lived n the constunt battles that wuz fought befor the unificayshun of the shogunate under tokugawa ieyasu followin the battle of sekigahara that wuz follerd by 250 years of peace in japan ere the cuntry wuz 'opened' by the westurn powers.


• Rashomon and 17 Other Stories by Ryunsoku Akutagawa: a fantastick (in ever sense of the wurd) set of tales writ by a grate early 20th centry author. one of the early teckneeks he uses is to take ole historicull tales n give em a lil twist, witch that hepped all tuther readin i dun fit rite in n hepped me git a lot outta thisn.


• goodbye tsugumi by banana yoshimoto: after readin all them other books bout makin japan modurn, i wuz innerested in a book set in modurn japan, witch thisn wuz a grate lil tale. caint say it give me whut i wonted, but tiz a fine piece of ritin by inny standurd ye mite use fer pickin books.


• Narrow Road to the Interior by Matsuo Basho: verr short lil book but one ye kin read time after time n still git more frum it. corse ye caint translate poetry n keep everthang in it, speshly pomes that allude to so minny japanese classicks i aint never had no chants to read, speshly when i caint neethur speak nor read no japanese, but tiz a grate lil book to keep near ye n read when ye git the chants.


• Hiroshima by John Hersey: bein as i cum frum the hills of east tennessee whar they carved out oak ridge fer the manhattan projeck, i have all ways felt a lil twinge of doubt bout droppin them bombs, witch i wunder whuther i wood even be here otherwise on a counta daddy wuz in the pacifick n sined up fer the durayshun. but thisn is a chillin look at whut ye git after a atomick bomb has landed on a city of folks a'goin bout thar lives in a time of war. i should warn ye that this is a wurk of ackshull jurnalism, witch we aint seen a hole lot of that in the past few years. ye mite could be a lil shocked by it.


• Shogun by James Clavell: it tuck me a while to find a copy of thisn, witch ye mite could thank thayd be copies all over the place. i finely found a copy in a used bookstore over in brooklyn fer $2. i reckun thays a good chants minny folks readin this have alreddy either red shogun or at lease seen the miniseries. tiz a great read n gives ye a lot to ponder bout the japanese way of livin on the eve of the battle of sekigahara.


• ifn ye had jes red shogun, ye couldnt pick up no better book to foller it with than Musashi by Eiji Yoshikawa. thisn picks up with the mane careackter, miyamoto musashi, a'lyin amung the injured at the battle of sekigahara. i aint finished it yet, but tiz a great read so fer. the innerduckshun to the book calls it the japanese Gone with the Wind. i am still too ignernt to say whuther thats true or not, but i kin say ye caint hardly find a better read than musashi, speshly ifn ye lacked shogun.

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waka of budouadana: Spirit

Spirit

As the waning moon
Is hidden by passing clouds,
So can one’s spirit
Be covered by tiny doubts
That conceal the light within.

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waka of budouadana: Illness

Illness

A blessed illness
Stimulates one to reflect
On life’s brevity,
While the body’s self-healing
Confirms one’s will to endure.

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dreamin of buddy don: seein the ded in dreams

lack inny big fambly, ifn yer lucky a nuff to live as long as i dun, yer lackly to outlive sum of them thats near n dear to ye. afterds ye suffer frum not seein em agin, lease not in this life n nobidy knows fer sartin bout the next life, ifn thay even is one.

innywho, last nite i dreamt of a verr close departed member of our fambly, witch to splain a bit about how it cum to be that she wuz in the dream, i half to eggsplain a bit bout how she cum to be ded long ere twuz time fer her to have died by natcherul causes.

i bleeve i dun menchunned ('bragged' mite be the rite term fer it) how daddy wuz a marine corps ranger n then a speshul agent of the fbi. as a reesult, he made his livin fer a cuple decades a'carryin a gun. he wuz a sharpshooter n lacked to point out how them thats gut blue eyes is known to be better shots than folks with brown. i couldnt say whuther tiz true or not, but he wuz one damn good shooter.

but he tole us he dint wont us ever to have no guns, lease not till we wuz adults. twerent that he wuz agin the secunt amendmint to the constitushun, witch he figgerd everbidy has a rite to own a gun ifn thats thar choice. but frum all he knew n all he had larnt frum wurkin in the law enforcin bizness, ownin a gun only makes it that much more lackly that ye will git shot with a gun.

i have dug up the statisticks befor n wont bore ye with em now, but sum of the thangs he pointed out wuz how them that owns guns gits hurt by guns three times as often as those that dont own em. he also sed that them that has guns to perteck themselves has thar own guns used agin em by the evildoers as often as not (his point is that folks that cums to do harm kin pull triggers much quickern them that gits a gun jes in case). he also lacked to claim (i never tested it) that tiz much harder than ye thank to hit sumbidy n speshly to slow that persun down with a handgun in a tite space ere that persun takes the gun frum ye.

whuther them claims is all true or not, i aint a'gone try to deefend rite now. but tuther thang he pointed out has proved true at lease two times too minny, n that is how a gun aint no deefense agin suicide with a gun n that suicide with a gun is by far the mos successful method.

it dont take much maginayshun to know that i dreamt of a persun who had tuck a handgun down into the woods, smoked the last of a pack of cigarettes n then stuck the barrel of that gun into her mouth n pullt on the trigger, takin her out of this life at the age of 33. that wuz nigh on to 15 years ago.

last nite i had my furst dream bout her. oh how it made me ache to see her after all this time. how it hurt to thank whut a waste twuz fer that sangle trigger pull to have tuck such a lovely and wonderful persun frum us ferever.

in the dream, we wuz in a car. the ded wuz sittin in the frunt passenger seat with me in the back n sumbidy i couldnt see a'drivin. i spoke to the ded, a'tellin her how nice twuz to see her agin. i ast her how thangs wuz with her now. the driver (i couldnt never figger who he wuz) sed she couldnt say nuthin. that seemed to hurt moren innythang. i putt my hand on hern n looked into her huge gray eyes, seein tears thru my own tears, n she putt her hand on mine. twuz a moment to cherish, even ifn twuz only a dream.

corse thats the problem. tiz all thats left us, dreams that mite or mite not cum, memries that grow dimmer in times deepenin twilite.

twudnt three years later till we had a nuther suicide by gun in the fambly, witch them thangs dont never git no easier. thisn wuz fer my nephew.

i member cummin home fer that secunt funeral.

i knocked on the door n daddy anserd. fer the furst time in my life, i wuz biggern he wuz. he wuz defeated. i could see it. one of the last thangs we dun together wuz watch tennessee git whipped by florida, fallin behind by 35-0 with 10 minutes left in the secunt quarter. peyton fought hard to brang em back, gittin the score to sound respecktabull at 35-29.

but twuz such a sad thang to sit thru together. not on a counta tennessee losin. whut hurt so much wuz how daddy dint keer no more. two munths later he wuz ded his own self.

thay wudnt no bullet in his bidy, but after losin a daughter and his grandson to suicide (them guns wuz terrbull deefense agin that), he mite swell have been shot in the hart.

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pomes of buddy don: No Need for Pravda Here

No Need for Pravda Here

We don’t need your Pravda in the U S!
We have our ways to get the same job done –
We simply make use of our famous free press
Who question naught our retired guys have spun.

For when a general has to retire
It doesn’t mean his usefulness is through –
Since as a lobbyist he might be hired
And we can help him if he helps us too.

We call them “message force multipliers” –
They help us sell a war that might look mad –
This doesn’t mean that we’re a bunch of liars
Just that the “truth” needs its own launching pad.

Osama was the first we vowed to bring back,
Instead we had to sell our war in Iraq.

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eggsplainayshuns of buddy don: bout the bloggerull below

warnin: i am about to wine bout my life, so ifn ye dont lack readin that kinda self-centerd garbidge ye kin skip this post.

the bloggerull pome that i writ this mornin (nex post) is the reesult of my visit to the newrallgist on mundy. the good news is that they dont thank i gut inny thang seryus a'goin on, witch thats jes one out of too minny blessins to count.

but i couldnt hardly take how the feller treated me. corse, i wuz one of the last two customers he had to deal with ere he could leave on his two week vacayshun, sos ye kin kindly understand how he mite wonta git thru the innervue as quick as he could. miz bd wuz thar n timed im on how long it tuck im to look at them mri films. she sed he dint langer over inny of em moren 7 secunts n thatn only used up 10 secunts of his time. n thay wuz 30 differnt pitchers of my brane on each of them films.

he made a cuple comments to his ownself along the way, thangs lack, 'hmm, that's a vein, a little odd, but usually benign' n 'hmm, that's some black blood, also benign more often than not.' turnt out thay wus a radiallgy report in with the mri, witch i aint shore whuther he red it or not. i dint notiss it till the nex day.

at the end, i felt lack mayhap i am jes a hypocondriack n the pain is all in my hed only it aint real or sumthin, ceptin when it makes me upchuck fer fifteen hours in a row, witch tiz real then i reckun. so i tole im twuz grate that all wuz fine with my hed n ast im bout the dull pain in the left side that wuz a'langerin even then. he sed he figerrd twuz muscle tenshun, witch he had his pad out a'ritin a scrip fer sum more drugs even as he wuz a'sayin it.

i also sed i dint lack all the drugs he had me on then (depakote n topomax bof), so he sed i should taper off on the topomax till i woodnt be takin it no more. i caint seem to git im to here me tellin im that my migraines cum in seasons n we are about to the end of the season, but no matter.

we lef n i felt lack i had been deefeated. i wuz feelin bad when i wint in, head hurtin, nausea that cums with it n so on. twuz a low moment in life fer me.

miz bd wurks outside the house mundy evenins, so on top of everthang else, i wuz home alone. i tuck the films home with me n sat aroun wastin sum of the prescious time i have on earth feelin sorry fer myself n then figgerd i mayswell go git the scrip filled. i gut sumthin to eat whilst i dun that, cum home, et, n then tuck a look at whut i had bought.

turnt out to be klonopin, tho whenever the docter writ the scrip twuz hidin under a nuther name i dint know. my famblys dun got a terrbull histry with klonopin, witch ifn ye google it ye gone larn taint fer tense muscles. so i dint add a nuther mind-foggin drug to the mix.

innywho, i am a'gone fite back. nex mornin, miz bd tole me to read the radiallgy report, witch i dun n larnt thay wuz a hole lot more a'gone on than that newrallgist seemed to notiss. she had also looked im up to larn his area of expertease wuz back pain. taint lack thays sumthin terrbull in my hed, but thays sum thangs i druther not menchun by name yet. i go fer my fisicull on mundy n orta be able to git a nuther newrallgist then, mayhap one that has branes fer a speshulty.

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pomes of buddy don: You'll Never Live

You’ll Never Live

In our fair land we like to make a profit
From making things like mouse traps, food, or cars –
We’ll even take ill health and make bucks off it
And see our gains rise up into the stars.

And that’s the part that has me up in arms:
Why would the health care business freely choose
To cure those whom it all too often harms
Since real cures cause the bottom line to lose?

Would it not be far better to keep each
Of all the “customers” addicted to
The pills and procedures they like to preach,
Stamped by the FDA, are tried and true?

A pill for this, a pill for that, don’t try to think about it,
The docs got scripts to get you more, you’ll never live without it.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: blushes

Frail cherry blossoms
Reflect in still spring water,
Their blushes doubled,
Before, petal by petal,
They descend to the surface.



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: folks shores luvs thar sprang blossoms

on saturdy i had a ackupunkchur sesshun, witch tiz grate to have a hour of peace frum the pain of whut i bin a'goin thru the past few weeks. i am a'hopin that the doctors kin find out sumthin frum the tests i bin thru n will be a'goin thru this evenin.

whenever that sesshun wuz over, i found miz bd in the waiting room. she had been a'wurkin in the mornin her ownself, so twuz a nice sprize to find her thar.

while i wuz feelin grate durin the ackpunkchur, twudnt long ere thangs wuz back to whar they wuz befor, with that dull ache on the left side of my hed. she sugjested a trip to the brooklyn botanick garden n since i had dun got to the point whar i figgerd i wood be suffern jes as much in one place as a nuther, it sounded lack a good idee to me.

i carry my camra purty much everwhar i go, so i tuck a few pitchers. twuz a verr purty day, the nicest one of the year so far, witch that meant thay wuz way too minny folks thar, but ye couldnt blame nobidy fer wontin to be thar (we wuz amung em!).

miz bd wuz a'tellin me she had seen a episode of martha stewart whar one of the gardners frum the bbg wuz on with sum cuttins of a cherry tree to give her. he eggsplaind how a cherry tree kin live fer round 100 years on its own but only fer bout 50 ifn tiz round a bunch of folks, witch folks luvs em to death, ye mite could say.

this furst pitchers of a magnolia, but ye kin see how folks is more or less luvin it to death ...


them cherry blossoms in the japanese garden blooms furst, so everbidy wuz up in thar almos to whar ye couldnt move, but i wuz able to git a cuple shots to cum out purty good, lack thisn here ...


n of corse, flowers aint thonly purty thangs that ye see at a place lack the bbg ...


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waka of budouadana: kings

Torch

As a blazing torch
Held high in a darkened passage
Shows all the right way,
So is the enlightened man,
Creative, forceful, and bold.

River

As a still river
Digs deep into the landscape,
A man of wisdom learns
The heart and its secret ways,
Salving hot pain with cool balm.

Forms

The eloquent man
Understands the airy world
Of idealized forms,
Can explain to anyone
The complex with plain logic.

Abundance

The practical man
Is deeply rooted in earth’s
Fruitful abundance,
Knowing the secrets of growth
And setting paths to his goals.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: more turtles n koi

today is set to be a verr long day fer me on a counta havin to do a presentayshun to hong kong n tokyo tonite at 9 pm, witch ifn i am lucky i kin git it dun in about a hour n a half. i wuz lookin at this pitcher n thankin bout how we humans lack to thank we are the more add vanced creatchurs, but seems to me lack these turtles n koi have em a better way to spend thar daze ...



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updates of buddy don: eggsplainayshuns bout health

whenever i moved up in here to the new york city metro area, i gut into the habit of givin mama a call ever sundy mornin. i figgerd twood be a good way to keep in touch with the fambly, witch that it has.

so twuz last sundy that i tride to brang her up to date on my last visit with the newrallgist, but by the time she gut dun splainin it to my bruthers, twuz all kindly all turnt round sumhow. so let me splain it fer ye, deespite the navel gazin.

i been havin sum new simptums whar fer sum reason my sense of smell will git strongern it ever wuz befor in my hole life.

last saturdy fer instunts me n miz bd wuz sittin in a restrunt over at port authorty name of metro marché. i had dun orderd me a omlet with shrimp n avocado, witch aint hardly nuthin kin beat a avocado in my mind (this feller woodnt agree, but everbidys gut thar own taste).

innywho, way acrost the room a waitress sprayd sumthin on a table to clean it n the smell wuz so strong i nearly upchucked. i ast miz bd could she smell it n she ast me whut did i mean. ere i could anser, i gut a verr sharp pane in the left side of my hed, rite above the ear, witch it made me putt my hed down till it let up a bit, n then the hole side of my hed wuz numb fer a spell. she never smelt it tho she normally has a better sniffer than i gut.

that kinda thangs bin a'happenin here lately, witch i eggsplaind it to the newrallgist n told him i knew it sounded a lil crazed.

i also told im a nuther kindly crazed simptum whar i feel kindly lack i aint quite in my bidy or whar i am a tiny lil part of it.

turnt out them simptums is commun ifn ye are havin temporull lobe seezures.

he dint sound verr alarmd bout it, so i dint git upset. he skeduled a mri with contrast fer thursdy after gittin me to go fer a blood test to make shore my kidneys is up to flushin out the die they injeck into ye sos the contrast kin take effeck. then on mundy i go back fer a eeg sos they kin git a look at my brane waves. ifn that dont show nuthin the plan is to send me home with the eeg machine sos i kin whar it fer two daze.

he also added topomax to the mix of medicayshun i am a'takin, witch i bleeve he is reeplacin depakote but has to ween me offn the one to reeplace it with tuther.

sounds purty simple, dont it?

by the time the story made it frum mama to brew n frum him to a email that he sent me to ast whut wuz a'gone on with me, twuz a brane cancer that had dun spread to my hart!

taint nuthin lack that n aint even lackly to be nuthin lack that.

oh how mama luvs drama!

as it happens, last nite miz bd run into a lady that wurks in newrallgy her ownself, who she splaind how the most lackly thang they wood find is sum tiny blood vessles thats gittin blocked n havin spasms ... n that sounds almos eggzackly lack whut the newrallgist told me ... n almost eggzackly lack whut i told mama.

aint thar a nuff drama in life alreddy without assumin the wurst or makin thangs up?

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waka of budouadana: queens

Rivers

Such an attractive
Woman, she glides through her life,
Blessing all she sees
With her presence and kindness,
As rivers nourish valleys.

Depth

She follows her heart
Trusting quiet compassion
As her sole logic,
Never speaking a cruel word,
Her depths unfathomable.

Dewdrops

She discerns the truth
And cannot be fooled by art,
Even of high form –
Her vision penetrates all
As sunlight bejewels dewdrops.

Bounty

She never hurries
But does everything on time,
Feeding the hungry,
Healing the sick, offering
The bounty of earth to all.

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waka of budouadana: knights

Irresistible

A man so charming,
Almost irresistible,
Both brave and cocky,
Earns praise for his leadership,
Blame for lack of steadfastness.

Visions

The fine young poet
Inflames imagination
With wondrous visions,
Yet without strong roots in earth
His dreams float like stray balloons.

Scalpels

He employs logic
As surgeons wield sharp scalpels,
Dissecting all problems
Without respect to feelings,
Defending the cruelest deeds.

Mule

He never wavers,
Never lets a promise go
Without fulfillment,
Yet no stiff-necked mule could more
Stubbornly refuse to change.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: aint no need to be 'koi'

i aint been able to rite nuthin here the past cuple daze on a counta havin migraines that wont quit n wurk i had to do innyway. i am to the point whar i kin wurk (more or less) thru the pain long as i dont half to vomit or feel lack i do.

the furst three daze of this week i wuz in a class name of ITIL fundamentals, witch it aint much fun, but i bleeve twill be fer the best ifn everbidy kin agree on usin it.

innywho, heres a pitcher showin ye how fat n brave fish kin git in that thar japanese garden, witch thar koi all rite ceptin thay aint coy ...



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: sakura, in wurds n a pitcher

Blossoms

The cherry blossoms
Crowning hardwoods announce Spring
With rich pink splendor
Till humble May winds loose them,
Drop them, scatter them to green.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: sittin in the sun over at union square

tuther day me n miz bd wuz a'walkin round town. corse i had the camra with me, witch thats how i tuck these pitchers of folks sittin in the sun on a chilly day ...







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mizry of buddy don: deescribed in 3 waka by budouadana

Sickle

Head between pillows,
An arcing sickle of pain
From left eye to ear,
A nauseated sternum,
One more day of life lopped off.

Cringe

The headache’s dupe seeks
Fetal peace in barren womb
Of warm soft blankets,
With no birth to celebrate,
Only the slow dying day.

Ice Pick

If a hot ice pick
Had been thrust through the left eye
As far as the ear,
The cruel pain would make some sense,
Unlike migraine’s cold logic.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: that thar orchid show

i menchunned tuther day how me n miz bd gut to the ny botanical garden orchid show. heres a few pitchers i tuck of them amazin creachurs, witch ifn ye click on them pitchers ye kin see em git a lot bigger:

















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