Tuesday, June 5, 2007
On last Friday evening I received an email with bad news from my brother which I'd like to share:
Hello Family,
I hope you all are well. Today we lost our pet Trixie. She was a victim of time. We enjoyed all of the 17 years that she shared her life with ours and brought us all happiness and love. She was indeed an angel of a dog. She was put to sleep this evening after fighting a terminal illness. Her last pictures are in the "Pets" gallery. We share them with you. For all of you that know Trixie, you know why we miss her...
My brother has been a dog lover since he was a small boy, having some kind of dog for as long as I can remember. I first met Trixie when I visited my brother and his family for the Family Reunion '97. When I went to visit him again in 2004 I was shocked to find Trixie was still alive. She took a day to warm up to me but when she did I was lavished with attention, same as before. I've always thought the life expectancy of canines was around 12 years tops. I sit here today amazed that a dog, any dog, could live 17 years. Trixie is nearly as old as my brother's youngest daughter.
This posting is dedicated to Trixie, one of the sweetest pets anyone would ever want. World leaders could have learned a thing or two from that dog. I know she will be missed.
Today's poems:
You Can Be Mortal Now
Daybreak begins as a velveteen morning, but quickly turns into:
-A solemn river of tombstones floating across the border.
-Bell tolls that suddenly resemble a frog's mating call.
-A Dutch dyke scribbling the word "queer" onto wooden shoes.
-Farm boys that learn how to cornball a wolf's cup.
-A sack placed over the head of humanity's embrace.
-Culinary schools mistaken for black birds baked in a pie.
-A derelict part of town mutating into a rusty bicycle chain.
-Sea sickness depicted as a troubled girl with amber hair.
-Garbage that develops wings like a falcon poised for the swoop.
-And sex, treated as if it were just headlines in the morning paper.
Romance, Wearing Orthopedic Shoes
The day we met?
Well, I do recall a few things as if it were yesterday. First off,
I was wearing my favorite orthopedic shoes and she had
on swollen eyes that required pushing back into their
sockets. I distinctly remember a tattooed road map
to babylon and how it stopped to pick mushrooms
along the way, even though they could be
potentially poisonous. My guardian angel
was there to offer-up sheer madness while hers
suggested we take the red booth in the far corner of
the lounge. How the odor of nicotine held a hammer-lock
on the grimmy walls. And the bar stools insisted they were
not accustomed to tipping. The bomb had not been fitted with
a clock yet, so Janis wailed from the jukebox and both the
restrooms had ample time to complain about chronic
unemployment. We tried for ninety minutes to
put our spectator sports into words and even
declared that we'd give our pets elaborate
funerals, but in the end we took
separate commuter trains
home, unaware of the vast numbers
of cranes that dotted the cityscape or the
smooth violet sky that lurked just outside the
train's windows. And for whatever the reason, we
completely ignored the faint vapor of grandiose self-delusion
that whispered, softly, "Replica."
Poems first published: http://sawbuckpoems.blogspot.com/
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
Visit my e-zine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/
and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
Hello Family,
I hope you all are well. Today we lost our pet Trixie. She was a victim of time. We enjoyed all of the 17 years that she shared her life with ours and brought us all happiness and love. She was indeed an angel of a dog. She was put to sleep this evening after fighting a terminal illness. Her last pictures are in the "Pets" gallery. We share them with you. For all of you that know Trixie, you know why we miss her...
My brother has been a dog lover since he was a small boy, having some kind of dog for as long as I can remember. I first met Trixie when I visited my brother and his family for the Family Reunion '97. When I went to visit him again in 2004 I was shocked to find Trixie was still alive. She took a day to warm up to me but when she did I was lavished with attention, same as before. I've always thought the life expectancy of canines was around 12 years tops. I sit here today amazed that a dog, any dog, could live 17 years. Trixie is nearly as old as my brother's youngest daughter.
This posting is dedicated to Trixie, one of the sweetest pets anyone would ever want. World leaders could have learned a thing or two from that dog. I know she will be missed.
Today's poems:
You Can Be Mortal Now
Daybreak begins as a velveteen morning, but quickly turns into:
-A solemn river of tombstones floating across the border.
-Bell tolls that suddenly resemble a frog's mating call.
-A Dutch dyke scribbling the word "queer" onto wooden shoes.
-Farm boys that learn how to cornball a wolf's cup.
-A sack placed over the head of humanity's embrace.
-Culinary schools mistaken for black birds baked in a pie.
-A derelict part of town mutating into a rusty bicycle chain.
-Sea sickness depicted as a troubled girl with amber hair.
-Garbage that develops wings like a falcon poised for the swoop.
-And sex, treated as if it were just headlines in the morning paper.
Romance, Wearing Orthopedic Shoes
The day we met?
Well, I do recall a few things as if it were yesterday. First off,
I was wearing my favorite orthopedic shoes and she had
on swollen eyes that required pushing back into their
sockets. I distinctly remember a tattooed road map
to babylon and how it stopped to pick mushrooms
along the way, even though they could be
potentially poisonous. My guardian angel
was there to offer-up sheer madness while hers
suggested we take the red booth in the far corner of
the lounge. How the odor of nicotine held a hammer-lock
on the grimmy walls. And the bar stools insisted they were
not accustomed to tipping. The bomb had not been fitted with
a clock yet, so Janis wailed from the jukebox and both the
restrooms had ample time to complain about chronic
unemployment. We tried for ninety minutes to
put our spectator sports into words and even
declared that we'd give our pets elaborate
funerals, but in the end we took
separate commuter trains
home, unaware of the vast numbers
of cranes that dotted the cityscape or the
smooth violet sky that lurked just outside the
train's windows. And for whatever the reason, we
completely ignored the faint vapor of grandiose self-delusion
that whispered, softly, "Replica."
Poems first published: http://sawbuckpoems.blogspot.com/
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
Visit my e-zine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/
and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
Monday, June 4, 2007
Peace Activist Quits
For the past two summers there has been one voice that has been louder than all the other in America's cry against the war in Iraq. I'm spaking about the voice of Cindy Sheehan.
Sheehan, 49, of Vacaville, Calif., lost her 24-year-old son Casey in Iraq on April 4, 2004. As a way of overcoming her greif she emerged as one of the most vocal and high-profile war opponents, drawing international attention nearly two years ago when she camped outside President Bush's Crawford, Texas ranch to protest the war. Last summer, she used her own money to buy land in Crawford to continue the summer protest (and called it Camp Casey after her fallen son), because by then, local lwas had been passed to keep American citizens from protesting along the highway leading to and from Bush's ranch. The small property was bought so that the protesters could have a place to come together without the risk of being arrested (yes Texas is still part of America).
Last Monday, May 29th, the anti-war activist announced she was giving up her role as the "face" of the American anti-war movement. When asked the reason for her change of heart she said it was due in part because of the way the Democrats caved in to george Bush on the Iraq Spending Bill. " I am going to take whatever I have left and go home. I am going to go home and be a mother to my surviving children and try to regain some of what I have lost," she was quoted as saying in one news source. She also said that she is calling it quits because of personal egos that have been put above peace and human life within the peace movement itself. Her statement was released to the liberal blog Daily Kos and was picked up by AP.
Cindy has fought a temendous fight. I can only imagine the enomous physical and emotional strain her anti-war activites must have been on her, especially with her mother ill from cancer for the past few years. I just wish I could personally thank her for the energy and effort she has poured into trying to stop this carnage of innocent human beings on both sides. I praise her for carrying continuing the struggle for what is right even after her life has been threated my times. Let's hope she will change her mind. All that is certain is that after being hospitalized for more than a month from "Peace Fasting", and being convicted of trepassing after an attempt at delivering an Anti-War Petition to the U.N. she desires time out. Find out more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cindy_sheehan
Sheehan, 49, of Vacaville, Calif., lost her 24-year-old son Casey in Iraq on April 4, 2004. As a way of overcoming her greif she emerged as one of the most vocal and high-profile war opponents, drawing international attention nearly two years ago when she camped outside President Bush's Crawford, Texas ranch to protest the war. Last summer, she used her own money to buy land in Crawford to continue the summer protest (and called it Camp Casey after her fallen son), because by then, local lwas had been passed to keep American citizens from protesting along the highway leading to and from Bush's ranch. The small property was bought so that the protesters could have a place to come together without the risk of being arrested (yes Texas is still part of America).
Last Monday, May 29th, the anti-war activist announced she was giving up her role as the "face" of the American anti-war movement. When asked the reason for her change of heart she said it was due in part because of the way the Democrats caved in to george Bush on the Iraq Spending Bill. " I am going to take whatever I have left and go home. I am going to go home and be a mother to my surviving children and try to regain some of what I have lost," she was quoted as saying in one news source. She also said that she is calling it quits because of personal egos that have been put above peace and human life within the peace movement itself. Her statement was released to the liberal blog Daily Kos and was picked up by AP.
Cindy has fought a temendous fight. I can only imagine the enomous physical and emotional strain her anti-war activites must have been on her, especially with her mother ill from cancer for the past few years. I just wish I could personally thank her for the energy and effort she has poured into trying to stop this carnage of innocent human beings on both sides. I praise her for carrying continuing the struggle for what is right even after her life has been threated my times. Let's hope she will change her mind. All that is certain is that after being hospitalized for more than a month from "Peace Fasting", and being convicted of trepassing after an attempt at delivering an Anti-War Petition to the U.N. she desires time out. Find out more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cindy_sheehan
And here's a "peace" poem:
Coincidences, Aiming To Participate
Coincidences, Aiming To Participate
That's my dog grinning for the camera.
You can see the ice cream truck parked at the
curb and even passersby as they mill around the
car accident. The chubby kid with six hands is
car accident. The chubby kid with six hands is
my brother and that hazy glow at the top of the
picture is sunlight whistling through smog.
* * * * * *
The right-side side of the photograph is determined
to be politically correct but never even learned how
to tie its shoes. There's a stoplight at the corner
recently back from re-hab and the bird on the wire
thinks its my sister. Trees wear raspberry berets.
* * * * * *
The '56 Chevy is memory trying to open the door,
but someone swallowed the key. What else. The
picket-fence may appear to be white but is really
cleaning fluid, and rumor has it that the sidewalk
hates snow. Oh, the mailbox at the driveway once
had a red flag but our doorbell ate it.
And the world still turns at a carousel's speed.
This Poem first published online at: http://www.litchaos.com/
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
Visit my e-zine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/
and Music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
Friday, June 1, 2007
A Portrait Of Jack Kevorkian
Jack Kevorkian was born on May 20, 1928 to Armenian-American parents in Pontiac, MI. As a young boy he quit Sunday school because he did not believe in Armenian Orthodox teachings. He taught himself German and Japanese in high school during World war II. He graduated with honors in 1945 at 17.
He attended the University of Michigan from where he graduated from Medical school in 1952. He completed an internship in Pathology at Henry Ford hospital in Detroit, during which period he had an epiphany when he saw a woman who was dying of cancer. It was then that he began to think of ways to alleviate suffering in his patients. In 1953 he got his medical license for Michighan state. He then did a 15 month stint in Korea as an Army Medical Officer during the Korean War. He returned and completed his residency at Pontiac General Hospital, Michigan. He got his nickname 'Dr. Death' in 1956 when he started photographing the retinas of patients at the moment of death to differentiate between coma and death.
From 1956-57 he did research in West Germany. In 1957 he obtained his California medical license. In 1958 he presented a paper on 'Capital Punishment or Capital Gain' at the American Association for the Advancement of Science' at Washington, DC. He suggested the harvesting of organs from death row prisoners. By 1960 he was licensed in Pathological Anatomy and in 1965 in Clinical Pathology. In April 1960 he testified before a Joint Judicial Committee in Columbus, Ohio to revise the death penalty and to legalize medical experimentation on condemned inmates. In 1976 he moved to Los Angeles, California where he changed jobs frequently.
Between 1982 to 86 he mainly did his writing and research. In 1988, even the pro-suicide Hemlock Society founder, Derek humphry rebuffed his methods as "too perilous and risky". In 1989 after reading about a patient who had asked for euthanasia he began working on a lethal-injection machine that would be able to do the task at the 'flip of a switch'. It was called the Thanatron (and later Mercitron). He got a lot of publicity because of this.
On June 4, 1990 he performed the first of his 'medicides' as he liked to call physician-assisted suicide. His 'client' was a 54 year old woman suffering from Alzheimer's. She had contacted him herself after reading his ads in the papers. It was performed in the back of his VW van. She received sodium pentothal (an anesthetic) and potassium chloride (to stop the heart). By the time of this 3rd medicide his medical licemse was revoked for violating Michigan state laws regarding euthanasia. One of his 'clients' was even found on autopsy not to have any major pathology. He continued to do his medicides by giving his clients carbon-monoxide. There were reports that one patient had asked her mask to be removed twice (maybe a change of mind) but Kevorkian had continued with his task.
On August 17, 1993 he was formally charged with violating the law. By then he had already helped 20 clients to their peaceful deaths. He was jailed first in November 1993 and then again in December 1993. Kevorkian went on a liquid only fast for 18 days and was acquitted in May 1994. By now he had even gained several supporters in the general community. By 1998 he had committed over 100 medicides. Relatives of some of his clients claimed that he had continued despite protests from his 'victims'. He was now charged with 2nd degree murder. During his trial he was defended by the flamboyant lawyer Geoffrey Fieger. In March 1999 Dr. Kevorkian was sentenced by a Michigan jury to 10-25 years for his crime.
In a recent interview with ABC News, his lawyer stated that Kevorkian was terminally ill with Hepatitis C, which he contracted while doing research on blood transfusions and perhaps because of this, Kevorkian application for a pardon, parole, or commutation by the parole board and Governor Jennifer Granholm, was granted on December 13, 2006. He was paroled on June 1, 2007.
I live in the only state in America where a right-to-die resolution has passed by state legislators and assisted suicide is legal. How do you feel about this issue. Should terminal ill patients have the right to decide when to end their life? Let me know how you feel by leaving a comment!
While you decide, here's a poem to read:
Almost, But Not Quite
I live in the only state in America where a right-to-die resolution has passed by state legislators and assisted suicide is legal. How do you feel about this issue. Should terminal ill patients have the right to decide when to end their life? Let me know how you feel by leaving a comment!
While you decide, here's a poem to read:
Almost, But Not Quite
She says her sewing machine is a genius.
I say whenever I see the blue lights flashing in my rear-view
mirror I wish I'd taken a taxi instead. Both of us are
shop-a-holics. Our dream is to go to Paris on a
weekend shopping spree. Are police allowed
to carry guns in France? We have a pair
of handcuffs of the bedpost. She
misplaced the key and I
guess I lost interest.
My DUI cost a fortune
and there went the trip to
Paris. For a whole month I was
able to practice my jailhouse Spanish
and learn the intricacies of breaking & entering.
Things are going well for me now. The string of bad
luck has painstakingly had every pearl unattached. All it
takes to cheer me up is a wallet lined with money. And she'd
settle for a weekend shopping spree at Singer's if it means having a
head-turning spring wardrobe.
This poem first published at: http://www.kritya.in/
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
Visit my e-zine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/
and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
This poem first published at: http://www.kritya.in/
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
Visit my e-zine: http://www.concelebratory.blogspot.com/
and music blog: http://www.medleymakersant.blogspot.com/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
