Death of Radio

Flipping through the stations

like a radio telescope 

looking for some distant

alien 

noise.

The alien noise is here!

Wrapped in Taylor Swift,

Mouseketeer teen angst, 

or the next American Idol.

Gone are the days

of walking this way,

slow rides in Kashmir

all the while getting

no satisfaction.

Feeling pretty vacant

I look for a free ride

while everyday 

I write the book.

Oh well, 

Pandora it is....

Death of Radio

Flipping through the stations

like a radio telescope 

looking for some distant

alien 

noise.

The alien noise is here!

Wrapped in Taylor Swift,

Mouseketeer teen angst, 

or the next American Idol.

Gone are the days

of walking this way,

slow rides in Kashmir

all the while getting

no satisfaction.

Feeling pretty vacant

I look for a free ride

while everyday 

I write the book.

Oh well, 

Pandora it is....

Round 2

Round 2

has me stuck in memory, 

re-living, past forgotten,

some sort of

psycho analysis,

repressed memory 

therapy.

All these memories,

living just under the surface, 

little friends,

little demons,

little tormentors

scratching under 

the icy surface

of my frozen soul

that is thawing, 

exposing

what I thought drowned.

Danger Thin Ice!

Poetic self help

of a prophecy 

yet unfulfilled. 

Open wounds of

old

scar 

tissue

never healed,

a plastic surgery, 

a Botox injection

to give, once again

an expressionless face 

to pain re-lived,

"Confront your demons!"

I tell myself

while hoping to 

push aside

and get on with it.

Pain never leaves us,

just goes into hiding

until the day we die.

Round 2

Round 2

has me stuck in memory, 

re-living, past forgotten,

some sort of

psycho analysis,

repressed memory 

therapy.

All these memories,

living just under the surface, 

little friends,

little demons,

little tormentors

scratching under 

the icy surface

of my frozen soul

that is thawing, 

exposing

what I thought drowned.

Danger Thin Ice!

Poetic self help

of a prophecy 

yet unfulfilled. 

Open wounds of

old

scar 

tissue

never healed,

a plastic surgery, 

a Botox injection

to give, once again

an expressionless face 

to pain re-lived,

"Confront your demons!"

I tell myself

while hoping to 

push aside

and get on with it.

Pain never leaves us,

just goes into hiding

until the day we die.

Changing the Theme of This

Hi, I am Chuck.

Hi Chuck.

I am a writer, and blogger. I have been very neglectful in my efforts. I have made some changes. I am going to post more, eat less and focus on literary ambitions that have been long dormant.

Welcome to my mind on code.

I leave you with a poem.

Evening in the Hood

Yelling and screaming
from the house
next door.

Ghetto Bird
flying over,
one eye moving
back and forth,
looking for
a thieving rodent,
no doubt.

Turn up the volume,
close the blinds
and pretend
I am
Somewhere else.

Changing the Theme of This

Hi, I am Chuck.

Hi Chuck.

I am a writer, and blogger. I have been very neglectful in my efforts. I have made some changes. I am going to post more, eat less and focus on literary ambitions that have been long dormant.

Welcome to my mind on code.

I leave you with a poem.

Evening in the Hood

Yelling and screaming
from the house
next door.

Ghetto Bird
flying over,
one eye moving
back and forth,
looking for
a thieving rodent,
no doubt.

Turn up the volume,
close the blinds
and pretend
I am
Somewhere else.