Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Monday, November 28, 2011


Posted for Open Link Night Number 20 at
which will begin TODAY
Tuesday at 3PM Eastern

I love snow and cold weather—if I can be warm. From earliest memory I was not warm, ever. In early 1960's I had resigned from Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, quit a good restaurant manager job. One moon-full 2 AM I took off for the south, there to be warm and stay drunk for the rest of my life—my goal! (It's kinda chilly tonight—and I don't drink—thanks to AA)...

Understand, in Miami, thousands of roofs are painted white to stave off sun's heat. OK. Please read my experience:




Well—just knowing
it's snowing
wherever I going.

High in the sky,
year 1965
over Flo-ree-da
one moonlight night:
way down
on ground,
blotches of white!
there. NO!

Tears began to roll
years taken toll
getting old
fingers cold

My God, I'm age forty
I play a violin...and
that's not good when
my hands are blued, where
ten-finger-icicles protrude

Cold water will drop
through 'f'-holes
dampening sensitive
sound-post and board.
Negativity soared

Rusty strings
damp bow hair,
other things...

Now flying low
over white roof,
proof of my goof!

Snow in Miami?
How can this be?
Yearning to drown myself
in Atlantic—or alcoholic sea
or both! (That's me!)

Plane door opens
first in line
balmy breeze
fullest moon over Miami
shining through
lacing palm leaves

But...but my eyes,
from high in those skies
(picture my delight!)
were seeing house-tops
all painted WHITE!

Scene: 1964-1965
Written: 11/29/11

Google Images

Sunday, November 27, 2011

A True Story of "Death by Drunk"


Takes plug
out of jug
--no mug
for this ole man
with shaking hand

His illness
will not go 'way.
Neither abates
that which liquor
no longer sates

There he sits,
man with no hat
nor hair--
no chair

Nice curb, though!
God is Good:
provider of
fireplug to
lay his head.
Coming lots of snow,”
weather-man had said.

Near-empty jug
without plug
held in shaky hand of
dear sick old bald man

needs no mug

What's that sound
coming from round
near corner...
through fogginess
of storming snow?

Stentorian--like running
thousands pairs of
cleated feet.

...as the feet beat
another old cold man
driving snowplow
wishes for summer again
and his hot haymow.

Grind, grinding
sound. THUMP!
Good grief!”, he said.
The snow, the snow!
She's coloring all red!”

Not hot haymow
'neath huge snowplow.

It's that man
with shaking hand,
a corker with a
corkless bottle

No hat
no hair
no stool
no chair

no breathing


Fifty years after I still see clearly everything as pictured above. It happened in early morning...3 AM.

I'm sorry, old man. I was a shivering, shaking drunk like you, except younger. I feared being locked up if I called police or ambulance. Snowplow operator didn't even know he had killed you, old man.

A “death-by-snowplow” was mentioned the next day in the Enquirer,
page 4 of the newspaper's “Police Beat”.....

 Image from DeviantArt
snowplow by twelve41-d2xvfpd2

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Posted for Open Link Night Number 19 at

which will begin TODAY
Tuesday at 3PM Eastern 

The Blind shall see,

and the Deaf made to hear!

Totally sightless from age 3 or 4,
he was totally deaf from age (+/-) 50

How sad.
How sad?
Read on to see.
Let yourself be
and listen--
inner voice—

I'm bad
leading you on like this:

He led life of normalcy
lived life of blindness with ease

He loved to fish
loved to hunt--
I'd fire the gun
He felt he'd won!

His true love of nature
animals, children
more genuine than
poet, painter
music maker.

He was midwife
to all who birthed
from kitten to cow
in field or hay mow

First he'd kneel.
After, he'd heal.
His smile was forever

I'm just a tad...bad!

Did I write his life was
one of normality?

Well, it happened. Deaf
struck with finality
set him in chaos—abyss

Once he realized
God did not punish
but simply
assigned a role,
all he had to do
was play the part.

This, then, he did in
award-worthy style
and died still.
Still with that smile.

Did I begin 
How sad?”
Now--to let you know,
I'm so glad
he's my Dad.


Deaf And Blind by w1zzy 
 @ DevaintArt

Monday, November 14, 2011

Acrobats of the 4th Dimension

 No, these birds are not on that 'high wire' but I absolutely fell in love with this picture:
Two_birds__by_superlukie on DeviantArt


They were there, two
on that wire so high
standing close
so close...

And I saw them up there
those two--

Two by god sent,
now bent
their bodies together
in that kiss...
and on and on

under nature's tent.
Surrounded by friends,
deciding all
which direction to go.
Meanwhile the kissing—and I

sitting on two wheels
faced a light so red
it yelled “STOP!”
(traffic stopped, but not
high-wire kissing!)

Octane smells smothering--
yet I observed Peeps so
busy, busy, busy
in vehicle lineups
this wonderful display
(now they again kissing
each's neck-feathers!)

And oh! accompanying
most tender sweet kissing,
(I'm glad the red light stayed on)
even sweeter music, birdsong!

I listened to their tweeted tunes,
seeming to me from another world:

The greatest thing
you'll ever learn
is just to love
and be loved....
in return.”


(Quote taken from last lines of song “Nature Boy”)

6:30 AM. On my scooter this morning--stopped at a busy intersection
I looked up to see on a power line many singing birds—way up! I ogled two of them kissing and 'necking' as lovers. (They were!) So I felt inspired to write it down and

Post for Open Link Night Number 18 at
which will begin TODAY
Tuesday at 3PM Eastern