words of a people aligned in their perfect order
Sunday,
for a change I am not writing about a death,
if one has happened I am unaware of it.
Early Morning – Chicago
I have trouble recognizing
daffodils on mornings
full of river hyacinth;
or rusted wheel barrows
with flattened tires
on mornings of daffodils.
– Hoc Scripsi
Euthanasia: from the encyclopedia Britinica: also called mercy killing act or practice of painlessly putting to death persons suffering from painful and incurable disease or incapacitating physical disorder or allowing them to die by withholding treatment or withdrawing artificial life-support measures. Because there is no specific provision for it in most legal systems, it is usually regarded as either suicide (if performed by the patient himself) or murder (if performed by another). A physician may, however, lawfully decide not to prolong life in cases of extreme suffering; and he may administer drugs to relieve pain, even if this shortens the patient’s life. In the late 20th century, several European countries had special provisions in their criminal codes for lenient sentencing and the consideration of extenuating circumstances in prosecutions for euthanasia.
1935 in England saw the first lobbying group to form for the purpose of legalizing human euthanasia – not the tyrannical fascist dictator kind but the kind borne of kindness and letting go. America saw the same thing in 1938 – both called ‘the Euthanasia Society.’ one of America the other doesn’t state it’s country as it started there. Finally in 2001, in the Netherlands, a law was passed legalizing/decriminalizing the right to end your own life in pain (see definitions above). Belgium in 2002. Oregon has a law allowing physician-assisted suicide. Why do I post all this today?
Well, it was today in 2001 that the Netherlands leagalized it.
I only wish that a post from a few days ago didn’t contain the poem that it did – it’s perfect for today – here is a link. Disambiguation – Wednesday morning 3:21
today we have a altogether different thing:
(sipping coffee) I just don’t know what that is yet.
listening Pachelbel’s Canon – and concentrating on the harpsichord in the distance – it foreshadows the build, and calm – like a great poem or play there are distant clues which I had not heard in this recording until today.
(sipping coffee) this is related to everything today. This was written before we moved to this great house and now no longer have a freezing basement where I think the pipes might give way at anymoment.
gravity
there’s a certain
affection for being a pariah;
black sheep goes better
with vodka & olives
than whisky & water.
I have an infatuation for
television personalities and
watch their shows love sick
with longing & heartbroken;
going through the same motions
everyone does while
waiting for the nude scene &
drinking bad housewife coffee.
but this is not enough.
there is no exception to
the rule of mortal law
as there is no exception to
the gravitational effect on drunkenness.
and so I sit here at
the typewriter in a
freezing basement
waiting for the phone to ring
or the pipes to burst.
– Hoc Scripsi
The RoadKill zen Journal still has the issue up which contains the poem Togethercoloured.
Theater Underground has stated that they are going to be putting up accepted poem number two soon. I will make you aware.
Theater Underground and I were in talks for me to perform a reading during the intermission to their upcoming (this weekend, next weekend). I had thought everything was a go but have not heard from them since I last did when things were undecided. Well, it’s opening night, I’ve kicked Narcotics or I am kicking them so there are now pain and withdraw issues to contend with and of course, it is too late for me to get ready for such a thing; even if they were going to ask which it is now painfully obvious that they in fact are not.
those be the noonish updates today, do not expect these everyday. Today I wanted to bring attention to RKzJ and to this: I hate when a submission goes out and there is no response. I hate it when people believe it is better to ignore an issue than deal with the problem.
here’s what it looks like when I write the poison pen letters.
morning came more quickly than I imagined. Hard time falling off to sleep, woke up a few times to wander aimlessly around the house, and a hard time awakening finally. Yesterday, after the second post I had found my way in and wrote eight poems, all 10 lines or under for a specific submission but I was proud of them all.
I need to thank Troy Ygnacio Soriano. Thank you, I apparently needed what you said, stole part of it and turned it into an extension of myself.
here is my tip of the hat.
blue rusted wheelbarrows
a quietness of living space
is required at 5 a.m.
at least around here.
only Jose, who mows the lawn,
is allowed to interrupt.
I have trouble recognizing
daffodils on early mornings.
Mornings so full of cool air
& blue rusted wheelbarrows
with flattened tires.
I think you like me most
when I am tired from
waking early, worn out from
a nights occupations or mornings sight of daffodils.
– Hoc Scripsi
That’s all I got this morning. It fails at being much but succeeds at being.
