Thursday, December 27, 2012

Niccolo Machiavelli - Poetry of Economics

  Niccolo 

Why Niccolo, do we weep? 
Your premise tyme, has vowed to keep, 
Our leader men, safe from harm, 
Their children wander, arm in arm.

In thought's absence, rules prevail, 
Mighty ships, set assail, 
While burning shores, the conquered land, 
'Tis no more, justice grand?
Therefore not, conscience suffice, 

Nations vain, take glory thrice, 
While leaders dead, and leaders gone, 
Perform the function, Avalon.

Amid innocence, all admit, 
With witless wonder, we do permit, 
Days of happiness, with no regret, 
Your premise 
tyme, 'tis well kept.

Commentary from a previous web presence - years ago.  
Do we walk the streets without clothing or not tell lies to make the daily fare more palatable? We all know the answer to these questions. What if, for some chance we spoke the truth, or what if others saw us as more than threads we carry? Would we then be able to walk the streets again? Sure we would. Walking is easy. To bare ourselves is something else. Fortunately the mirror of expectation we and others hold reflect nothing like the final outcome. No one knows what the images mean, especially how they fit together. On we go and puppet portions of our lives away to duty and desire, and no matter how badly or valiantly we succeed the outcome is usually the same.  It works. 

11/3/99
My wife refuses to take a shower with a visiting lizard.
She asks me to remove it. The anemic creature hops about and escapes into the bedroom. I have just performed another obligatory spousal act - like fathering children, earning a living and watching tv with friends.
 12/27/12    Today                                              
After years of these behaviors retirement is a reward nailed to the tree of life. 

                           11/16/99
                           My father was 80 years old yesterday.  Today we bury him.  The passing is life's     
                           greatest gift.  What a fitting present for a man who had everything -  because he earned it. 
                           Good bye dad. We love you.
   

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Did you buy a used Mac and can't get in?

This is not a hack.  Anyone can access your computer from anywhere if they know what they are doing.  Computers are not safe.  

Use this link to unlock a Mac computer with Snow Leopard: http://www.macyourself.com/2009/08/03/how-to-reset-your-mac-os-x-password-without-an-installer-disc/

Source: Mac Yourself

If you crack something and it does not break, then break it and put it back together again...


Sunday, December 09, 2012

From the ridiculous to the sublime, the mind traverses topics through thought that no one understands, not even the person who post pictures of apparent whimsy (excuse my self indulgence).

For those of you who have a genuine concern about the bipolar condition, no regrets here.  This is simply a place for thoughts to play.  Their mother lacking dearness is the chemical factory we call the brain. Alas it too has no particular purpose beyond social contract (do not break the law, moral, ethical, etc...).  Yes we are rule based from childhood.  Taught to respond in kind to all that may contact us in a way that is of some benefit to the larger equation, the unforeseen force, the reason for being... Know that there is a rainbow even though a physical illusion that is worth a moment of awe.  We are the sum total of all that impresses or disgust us should we allow attention to focus, duty to guide, security to sway- there is no end.  Only consequence except in a mind that does not mind.  Meet the manic depressive, bipolar person.  Yo, were the fuck have you been?


Saturday, December 08, 2012

Monday, December 03, 2012

A whiter shad of pale - and extremes.


SANTAHOOD IS COMING TO TOWN
a strange and wondrous tale
by charles mistretta




        ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY,
        I GRABBED MY BAG IN SUCH A FURY,
        WANTING TO PLEASE LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS.

        THOSE REINDEER GROANED, AND MUSED WITH RANCOR,
        THEN NEVER WAS HEARD, SUCH SNORTS OF BANTER,
        QUIVERING I FILLED MY SACK WITH TOYS.

        THE NIGHT SO FULL, ANTICIPATING,
        WONDROUS DONATIONS, COMMISERATING,
        DID I DESERVE THIS GIFT TO PLEASE?

        OLD BONES RACKED, WITH ARDOR SENSING,
        AN AWESOME RIDE AHEAD IN FENCING,
        MY CALLING NEVER ENDING, THIS NIGHT OF TEASE.

        THESE WORDS SO STUPEFYING, CONFUSING,
        FIEND REGRET, FOR THE LOSING,
        SO MUCH - SO FEW - HAS GOT TO BE A CRIME.

        THEN I, OH CHAMPION A GLEAMING,
        CONTRIBUTE MORE, MY SACK IS TEAMING,
        WITH TOYS FROM LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS.

        WHOSE LIVES NOW QUIETLY ESTEEMING,
        IN DESTITUTION THEY ARE GLEANING,
        FROM MY SIMPLE ACTS OF PEASANT JOY.

        I THE SANTA, TOYS FOR TAKING,
        DESIRE CHARITY, RELISH RAKING,
        NEW CHILDRENS' EYES WILL GLISTEN EVER MORE.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Monday, November 19, 2012

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

There has been a mosquito floating around here for what seems likes weeks. Google reports a life span from two weeks to two months.  The little critter is either not hungry or agressive enough to go for a meal.  In fact I rather enjoy the company.  Will miss him when he is gone, or I get lucky. 


Culicidae "the little fly"

Friday, November 02, 2012


Chuck Mistretta's Poetry Page

Philosophers Are
Children telling truths.
Adults finding persecution.
Are of little faith, but chosen.
 
What It Is

If wisdom is
having outlived
our mistakes.
Then intelligence is
the capacity
to make them.
 
Poet
Want to be a poet?
                                                                     Let people dance
                                                                     on your heart.


                                                                                                                                    Contra Diction

A man without soul
Loves not his woman.
A woman without love
Has not her man.
He who is a child
Is neither, but has both.

Once upon a time ago I built my first web page called the above. Here is some of my stuff. 
1995 Corvette

The car is mine everything else belongs to god.
Frog in a bird feeder.

Eventually this blog will come together and it will acquire a self of its own!
Luke the lizard (iguana) suns himself on the deck after being away for years.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Monday, October 15, 2012

Downtown Tampa Florida


Unreal, a lucky telephoto shot of a carousel.





Real or unreal?   This one is from my brother John who shot the rolling fog outside his window. 



Posing software is not what it seems to be because the result is not real, the rendered picture is digital, at no time is it ever human. 


We see what the mind's eye sees.





Wednesday, October 10, 2012


The Person There-In   


You visit the person there-in, and say to him... 
Don't I know you from some far away place and time? 
Didn't you collaborate in this rhyme?

I don't think so friend, I have better things to do,         
Like muse of the misery of man and his zoo.

We barely speak much, nor chat or chatter,         
I often wonder what's the matter.

Strangers true we are!
Why have you bothered to travel so far?

    I must confess I'm lost without you, 

    and many things have cost me dearly. 

    For lack of talk with you is my most grievous sin, 

    and I repent from afar and from within.

Do not snatch at me with remorse,         
those lost days of foolishness are of course. 
        
I've been here all along,         
and died a thousand deaths in solitude forlorn.

   Just a glimpse, 
        
   Say, look this way today.         

   I'm here,
        
   I'm ready to begin.

   Knowing me is no sin.  

Monday, October 01, 2012

Chuck's Blues





    The Devil

When the devil 
Comes a court’n 
He can hang 
Beauty 
On the threads 
Of a scarecrow 
Take your eyes 
Where they shouldn't go 
And walk you, walk you 
Out your door...

Yes! 

She’s a tempt’n 
N’ain’t no scary crow 
Now c’mon, c’mon 
Where's the door?

 Vanity Is Hell





Wednesday, September 26, 2012






                            Handmade by Eternal Jazz Project 

Lost and hopefully found - reward for return of this guitar

Hear the owner of this instrument here!
Good shot John!

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

House Select Committee on Assassinations

House Select Committee on Assassinations


ABC News: How many shots were fired at Dealey Plaza?
Blakey: What we did is determine that there were in fact four shots. Our scientists looked at a tape we found, and they did a scientific analysis of it, and it indicated four shots in the plaza, three from the depository and one from the grassy knoll. That meant there were two shooters in the plaza, two shooters in the plaza equal a conspiracy.
The first shot from the depository by Lee Harvey Oswald missed. The second shot about 1.6 seconds later, hit the president in the back of the neck. (The bullet exited Kennedy and) hit John Connally. It hit his wrist, hit his leg. Now six seconds from the second shot, we think a shot came from the grassy knoll. It missed the president. The shot from the grassy knoll missed. The X-rays, the autopsy, all of that indicates the president was not hit by a shot from any other direction. Seven-tenths of a second after that, the third shot, fourth in the row, third shot from the depository, hits the president right in the back of the head.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

                   The 2nd mortgage, the first boat ride. Terrific!
Destroyer Class Star Ship

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Monday, August 13, 2012

You can't imagine

Source: Wiki
 Increasingly concerned about the potential danger to humanity arising from scientific discoveries, Oppenheimer joined with Albert EinsteinBertrand RussellJoseph Rotblat and other eminent scientists and academics to establish what would eventually become the World Academy of Art and Science in 1960

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

                                       
 Be patient. Dreams come true.
                                                        

Saturday, August 04, 2012

For 50 years I smoked.  Now I just complain when the smell of chemical laced tobacco burns away.  Wow, what a rancid stench.  Smokers don't know their clothes stink, their breath reeks, and if hell had a perfume it wood be Marlboro.  Loved it while it lasted but can't stand it now - Fickle.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

In every way there is a wonder in the midst of thee
In every way there is a season just to set it free
In ways no one will know there is a land of free
In days God only knows my name He'll take from me.


Blogging was suggested by a brother with the hopes I would stop pounding him and the others with email.  Writing is my way of escaping from unwanted thoughts and in a creative way venting my desire and ability to be creative.  



Friday, July 20, 2012

Cuba



Story


There is no beginning to a story, nor is there and ending.  Story lives before you, with you and is here long after you're gone.  If your foolish enough to capture some of what went on, then you have a fragment of what went on, nothing more. The story is never fully, or accurately retold.  Story only reveals itself once.
Can a story tell itself?  Well, lets see.

You start with what you know.  That in itself is a story.  Logic will take you to places, people and things that mean something to you.  If you think you know something, the real world demands an explanation, or for better, proof by action.  This usually produces a tangible book, invention or idea that reduces the strife of mankind.  The movies are a form of mental edification…  an expensive production to entertain by appealing to one's wants, desires, and most important of all, our fantasies, whims, delusions, and vanities.  Oooh, the sacrosanct never appears unless it is called a documentary.  This must certainly lend credence to its credentials. But not always.  Because no one knows all the facts.  Logic won't reveal the facts.  Perception is not a reality that is friendly with facts.  So story is born, the imitation of life that we pay for, or if inclined, write about. 

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

The Age of Reason



When comes the age of reason,
Blessed be the rightful season,
Bow to unearned knowledge new.
Give back only your just due.

Less fortunate you say,
Didn't life look your way?
Amen to brothers all,
Bright the light before the fall. 

Friday, June 01, 2012


Tricyclic Antidepressants

A drug may be classified by the chemical type of the active ingredient or by the way it is used to treat a particular condition. Each drug can be classified into one or more drug classes.
Tricyclic antidepressants (TCAs) act by inhibiting reuptake of norepinephrine and serotonin by blocking the transporters responsible for reuptake of these neurotransmitters. This inhibition elevates the concentration of neurotransmitters in the synapses and triggers further neurotransmission.
Tricyclic antidepressants are used to treat depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder and other mood disorders. They are also effective as analgesics so are used to treat chronic pain and used for migraine prophylaxis.
Source: drugs.com

Friday, May 25, 2012

Shot in an Atlanta restaurant.  One of my favorites.  I term this picture, "The Apostle."  His concentration on something unknown is appropriate for a man of faith who has spirit but struggles to understand the  answers.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Normally I write my siblings.  This blog is were ideas should go to.  It can be the rant and rage page for people with special needs, or disillusioned outlooks.  The purpose for this page is an outlet for creative ideas. The title of this blog is my cross to bear.  If you find this comment self serving, then you are fortunate.  A beautiful mind can be a terrible thing, or a transient joy. 

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Cynical cycle of the scythe. Next?

Life is not over until the last page is read. Like it or not someone wrote those words. Another's fiction or not, the words tell a story. And there are no happy endings.

Alzheimer's and dementia are kind folk. Insanity sits you in a corner and makes you watch, listen and remember.

Growing old is a bitch, the she dog of humanity who brings us into the world of male dogs who nip at our heels until the day we die. In the end, if your not an animal, you've become one.