Oh, my back…




Hostility rises to propagate chaos.

Inflaming the weak and sinewy muscles below the husk.

Unseen strength wreaks havoc on the neighboring tissues and spreads hate.

Burning, expanding and contracting all that fall with its wicked path.

A path of destruction, to be sure.

Crippling any and all defenses.

And the spine falls into inefficiency!

Stunting and hampering even minimal motion.

Still, there is hope, even in this.

Hope that tomorrow will bring about peace and calm.

Soothing comfort from inflammation and fever…

Correcting the course and finding function in goodness…

This is the hope of tomorrow.

This is the prayer of the sufferer.








My dinosaur song… a fun, silly song







I was walking down the street one day

My dinosaur on a leash

Minding my own business, I got harassed by the police

Officer, what have I done to cause you to proceed

Frightening my dinosaur

You also frightened me


He said….

No, no, no you got to go

You can’t walk that dinosaur down this road

I said – why not?

He said – please!  Don’t you even know

Dinosaurs aren’t allowed ‘round here

Now turn around and go home







I was walking down the beach one day

My dinosaur on a leash

He loved run down to the waves

Then run right back to me

I heard a bullhorn crying out – Take that beast away

Dinosaurs aren’t allowed ‘round here

Go somewhere else and play







I was at home with my dinosaur

When he wanted to play fetch

I tossed a ball against the wall

Guess what happened next

Wife came in and fussed at me for playing ball inside

Said, you can’t play that in this house

Why don’t you take a ride

And I said…..





Blessed with family… a song

PJ and Charlotte

(Photo courtesy of The Catania family)



I see you, peekaboo, my little one

Your precious smile it just lights up the room

Heaven surely shone on me when He delivered you

I see you, peekaboo, my baby girl


Once in a while we only see what is before us

Once in a while we get caught up in the race

Once in a while we realize how blessed it is to be

Part of something bigger than just the you and just the me


I see you, peekaboo, my little one

Your precious smile it just lights up the room

Heaven surely shone on me when He delivered you

I see you, peekaboo, my baby girl


I see you, peekaboo, my little one

Your tiny laugh fills me with never ending joy

Heaven surely shone on me when He delivered you

I see you, peekaboo, my baby boy


Sitting on my lap and watching cartoons playing

Up on my shoulders so you see your sister dance

I know there is a heaven every time I see your face

And I thank God for ever giving me a chance, oh oh


I see you, peekaboo, my little one

Your tiny laugh fills me with never ending joy

Heaven surely shone on me when He delivered you

I see you, peekaboo, my baby boy


I see you, peekaboo, you are so tiny

And through the years I know you’ll find your way

But right now Papa’s gonna hold you tightly in his arms

With joyful tears rolling down his face


I see you, peekaboo, my little ones

Your precious smiles they got me through the days

You gave to me the best thing that a man could ever have

I see you, peekaboo

I see you, peekaboo

I see you, peekaboo

I’m on my way….

If you are wondering…

Dear Reader,

If you are wondering what inspired today’s post “Oblique” I must say that I really have nothing to point to other than a random “poem” that I had no direction or idea for writing.  On the plus side… I felt as though it was something so different that it opened my eyes to a different form or writing.  Truly, poetic license was exercised on this one!

Regardless, my son reassured me that this type of poetry is more popular than I might imagine.  Well, as good as I believe my imagination to be I’m not so sure, but…

I hope you enjoyed the “poem,” or you at least got a good head scratch out of it.  Who knows… maybe I’ll hatch another one day!

God bless,


Oblique… a poem?




The counterfeit spy invaded my privacy in a public place while I was alone discussing music composition with the telemarketer drinking coffee at the liquor store inside the car dealership.  Her name was Ed, but she preferred blue over the pickled herring that a grizzly cast off while up on the high wire surfing the web for cocktail dresses called road hazard.  And, no, I don’t recall the question.  Would you mind repeating it?  My door was locked and the batteries for the smoke detector had salami for breakfast after the blitz happened in Egypt during the ice storm.  My moon isn’t the same any longer since they changed the light bulbs into a roundabout.  Yes!  I do prefer the vintage.  Thank you!







My local brewery… a poem



(Written by Kevin D Parish for Brokerage Brewing Company)


I’m going for Brokerage to have a good time

With Corey and Dustin and maybe with Brian

Laura and Stacy sometimes pull the taps

All kinds of flavors for growlers with caps


I’m going for Brokerage to have me a pint

To meet up with friends and neighbors of mine

What is the flavor this week going be

No one will know it’s all up to Corey


I’m going for Brokerage when my day is through

They’re already open what else can I do

Indulge in the latest some bitter some sweet

I’m going for Brokerage please save me a seat

Inspired… a poem


pexels-photo-935964.jpeg              pexels-photo-236214.jpeg


These hands

These hands once had form without cognition of their use

These hands

These hands once held my mother and father through all kinds of weather – and life

These hands

These hands learned to work as tools to feed and accomplish for me

These hands

These hands coordinated with my eyes to write, count, play, touch and pray

These hands

These hands sent shockwaves of marvelous sensations when they first held hers

These hands

These hands gave meaning to life in the sense of touch on her skin

These hands

These hands taught me the worth of self in providing for the ones I love through their work

These hands

These hands were overcome with love in its truest form when holding my newborn child

These hands

These hands understand that feeling of my mother and father when the first time they felt them in theirs

These hands

These hands attempted but could hold back the tears that fell when I lost my parents

These hands

These hands, now wrinkled and misshapen have seen a lifetime of learning and loving

These hands

These hands that now lay neatly folded against my chest have truly lived – These hands.