Copyright Paranoia


Has anyone ever had an idea come to them – for a poem, in my case – and it’s so easy to write the thing that you worry that you are somehow unknowingly plagiarizing someone else’s work?  That you heard it before and your sub-conscious stored it away. Or that no way could it be original, and another person has already put the exact same words on paper/internet….. and that sooner or later they will come proverbially knocking down your door, righteously screaming that they wrote that poem first….. even if there’s no way you could have known that, or known they existed, or that they were writing poems, or that somehow you both wrote the exact same thing?!  Because writing has a reputation for being hard, editing and revising until you want to tear the thing up, takes days to write even a short poem, or else the writing either sucks or isn’t original………

I’m having all those doubts about the poem I wrote this evening, which will be posted tomorrow.  It was too easy.  It either sucks or  I accidentally stole it from some other author.  And then they will find out and sue or arrest me or something, even though it wasn’t my fault!

Urrgh…. paranoia……

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Untitled Poem


he sits and stares
at the rose he took
plucked from

the bush in his
lover’s garden when he
arrived and she

stands at the
griddle her head bent as
she scrambles eggs

he squeezes lemons
for fresh lemonade and
thinks of how she

took the flower
from his hands and smiled
called him a hopeless

romantic she put
it in her best vase
and though she knew

it was from her own
front yard he could tell she was
pleased with it

they eat in content
silence happy to be simply
near each other

then the couple
finishes and stands up
goes over to the

next room and gently
waltzes to the low murmur
of the news on

the radio as
they twirl around the worn
couch his hand warm

on her waist she grips
the plastic of his other
hand and softly smiles

Blank Minds


A sterile room

With white walls

A black-speckled tile floor

Like in an industrial kitchen

With rusty flaking spots all over

Door after identical door

Where to go?

No one but her knows

Yet she won’t whisper a word

Completely still in her seat

She throws a ball against the wall and then

Catches it.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Again and again.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

She doesn’t stop.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

Then

Nothing.

 

Conflict


“You’re saying that just because a death is quick… that that makes it humane?”

“It’s humane if they don’t feel pain.  Would you rather I drew it out?”

“It’s never humane to kill someone!”

“These deaths will save many lives.”

“What about the lives you are taking?”

“It is worth it.”

“Have you even thought about how these people have homes, families, friends, lovers, jobs, everything that you and I have?”

“Sometimes you have to get rid of thought to do what is right.”

“If you had any thought, you’d see this can’t be right!”

“Who decides what is right and wrong?”

“When did you decide that you have the right to take a life?”

“It’s God’s will.”

“You can’t play God!  And I doubt you had a conversation and He gave you permission.”

“You are being unreasonable.  What are these lives to the hundreds of thousands, even millions, that will be saved?”

“How can you value one human over another?”

“If you were to think scientifically, statistically, reasonably, for a moment, you’d see the numbers.”

“How can you be so calm about this?  Don’t you have a heart, a bit of a conscience?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“How? I’m not the one about to kill!”

“Have you seen the numbers?”

“And what do the numbers say?!”

“That for every life lost at least a thousand will be saved.”

She pressed the button.

Fascinating Bones


What is it about dinosaurs that kids love so much, anyway?  Is it the way the colors?  The dinosaur movies and Dragon Tales?  The masculinity associated with the big dumpster trucks and strong scary t-rexs?  But then girls like dinos, too.  Is it the mystery of life long ago, and the strange creatures that just capture the imagination?

Follow your dreams is such an overused cliche.

Why do people like crime shows?  They can be so bloody and gory, like Bones.  Is it the mystery of trying to find out “whodunnit”?  Is it the nice idea that the bad guys are always caught that attracts us?

Two slices of bread lightly toasted cut across the middle so that four triangles are formed, spread with peanut butter and melted in the microwave for ten seconds, with a glass of milk and Oreos = best. invention. ever. Well, besides indoor plumbing.  And cars.  And the radio.  And…. um… I’ll just stop.  It’s still pretty awesome, though.

Otters are cute.

Rain boots are so multipurpose, you can wear them in any weather, use them as a vase for your flowers, use them as a pot for your flowers, store office supplies in them (though admittedly retrieving the office supplies that get pushed into the toes isn’t the easiest task), write phone messages on them with a sharpie (though don’t let random strangers write down long lost Aunt Susie’s phone number when you dig the stapler out of your boot, put it in your sneaker, and trudge past in the phone-book-boots through the rain),  even eat soup out of them.  (Warning: the sanitary conditions of said rain boots are questionable.  Eating soup out of them may result in the spread of viruses, or at least finding stray bits of corn in between your toes from last night’s dinner.)

What is the difference between TiVo and DVR?

At the end of YouTube videos, why do people say “I love you guys, bye!” and wave?  I don’t know you!  You can’t love me, because I DON’T KNOW YOU!

My post by e-mail worked!  Oh yeah! I don’t know why I’m so excited about that.

This was on the headboard when I stayed at a hotel.

This was in a nice, respected hotel, like a Hilton or Hampton or something.  I had clean sheets!  I felt like royalty.