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by C.M.A. Weiss-Celley

Will it be
Pearl Harbor?
Dresden? or

...or Peace?

So... Nuclear Winter...!?
A threat looms
as a well-fed man
at a firework promise
set as a threat
with a mini A-bomb
perched on a half-a-world-traveling stick
to show power.
Can it be steered?
Can it ride in the night to a secret target?
Can it rob a nation of health and lives...
And cause a shower of nukes
to radiate ((((...)))) for centuries...?
Leaving the world to be ruled...
by buried bugs....?
Ants and roaches rule...?
while people become relics
burned into dust,
lost... to be nothing
but a future excavation site
for extra-terrestrial documentarians
studying a dead planet.

_________ ( ( ( (...) ) ) )

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AVERT THE DANGER of a Trumped Campaign!

 The danger of taking money from foreign businessmen is “those businessmen” may believe they own the people to whom they offer money and therefore these “businessmen” may take measures to secure their ownership. Plus “these foreign businessmen” know how to manipulate by dangling profit and flattery when needed. HOWEVER, some savvy-businessmen (I guess the Senate is HOPING Donald Trump is actually a “savvy-businessman”) have great integrity and compassion that will not allow stock dividends or threats to create jobless or healthcare situations or wars that could harm large groups of people and these savvy-businessmen know how to play a crowd of other “businessmen”… we hope.

For instance, perhaps the Russian “businessmen” who “donated” money to the Trump campaign hoped to get info from President Trump that would allow Russian businesses to paper the United States with operatives beholding to their “business” interests at all costs via substituting constituents with their own operatives by incorporating identity theft through voter registration procurement. This should NOT be allowed to happen!

Let’s hope President Trump is utilizing his knowledge of these “business-men” to learn their intent and legally maneuver their endeavors to create opportunities for the United States as well as their foreign interests without endangering either constituents, operatives, businesses or any country.

Let’s face it, healthcare needs reform, not repeal, but some premiums cripple and this will mean doctors will not be paid, and some doctors milk the system with double billing or inflated charges while insurance companies pay CEO’s way too much and give salesmen three-quarters of a new customer’s premium for the first year instead of saving that money for health bills. HOW IS THIS FAIR?

There should be price lists for procedures and 24 hour services for all doctor offices who would then hire more people and create more jobs in their second and third shifts. CEO’s should not be paid more than a doctor gets paid for a 40-hour week AND premiums should be more affordable and supplemented by a new federal LOTTO game that offers prizes like POWER-BALL or MEGA-MILLIONS. These jackpot-LOTTO tickets could pay for the extra shifts of doctor offices via vouchers offered to 24 hour offices while also paying for the premiums and the visits (if needed) by those struggling to buy insurance.

There has got to be a way to govern better. Let’s hope President Trump is “savvy” enough.



Trivet of Yoga Poses


Trivet of Yoga Poses
Trivet of Yoga Poses with Felt Backing
POLLEN POEM Coloring Book
Coloring Book with Cartoon Illustrations of Bees
POLLEN POEM Coloring Book of Flower Designs Like This Include Poem and Cartoon Illustrations
Bee Stirring Honey Nectar Maker at Work
sketch of rough draft of poem with cartoon illustrations
Go to and look for CatmajoArtPlus for a new sci-fi story in bookmarker form.

When Something's Lost !
(a prayer to St. Anthony)

St. Anthony, St Anthony, please look around
Somethings been lost and can't be found
Help me find this item I need
so I can move on with what needs to proceed.

(   the underlined part can be changed to:

my somehow lost keys
so work will not miss me, please help me please"

"a job I can do
so bills can be paid as we eat and thrive too"

"my poor lost child
to keep her/him safe from cold and the wild"

"my child's lost toy
so this sadness will change to a small bit of joy"

"a cure for this pain
so life will be fun and I won't feel lame"  

[ NOTE: when a task seems impossible, may be best to include St. Jude in your address for assistance]

(This prayer has worked for me so many times it's surprising. It's like St. Anthony or some great kind power is listening and helps out with whatever unselfish hope is requested. Give it a try when needed. You may be surprised... and it's courteous to thank "St. Anthony" when your "lost item"  "arrives")

________(it helps to rhyme when praying sometimes)________
Brief History on St. Anthony from Wikipedia...

The reason St. Anthony's help is invoked for finding things lost or stolen is traced to an incident that occurred in Bologna. According to the story, Anthony had a book of psalms that was of some importance to him as it contained the notes and comments he had made to use in teaching his students. A novice who had decided to leave took the psalter with him. Prior to the invention of the printing press, any book was an item of value. Upon noticing it was missing, Anthony prayed it would be found or returned. The thief was moved to restore the book to Anthony and return to the Order. The stolen book is said to be preserved in the Franciscan friary in Bologna.[7]

Occasionally he took another post, as a teacher, for instance, at the universities of Montpellier and Toulouse in southern France, but it was as a preacher that Anthony revealed his supreme gift. According to historian Sophronius Clasen, Anthony preached the grandeur of Christianity.[6] His method included allegory and symbolical explanation of Scripture. In 1226, after attending the General Chapter of his order held at Arles, France, and preaching in the French region of Provence, Anthony returned to Italy and was appointed provincial superior of northern Italy. He chose the city of Padua as his location.

In 1228 he served as envoy from the general chapter to Pope Gregory IX. At the Papal court, his preaching was hailed as a "jewel case of the Bible" and he was commissioned to produce his collection of sermons, Sermons for Feast Days (Sermones in Festivitates). Gregory IX himself described him as the "Ark of the Testament"[8] (Doctor Arca testamenti).

Website Maintenance
Postcard with tribute poem to Trinity
Dune Glow From Train

Call To Justice Poem on Coverstock


Bridge to Mist
Errlus: The Time Pirate, novella

(previously titled: "ghost poem") by Bill Shields

I hadn't been home from the Nam for 23 minutes
before a kid my own age stuck his middle finger
in my face & called me asshole
my own sister didn't speak to me for five years
& my mother kept a full tank of gas in her Plymouth
for a one way ride to the VA hospital in Pittsburgh
I let the war lick my guts quietly
& without an audience
but when my daughter died from my exposure to Agent Orange
I bought a typewriter & pounded pure fire
out of its keys till it broke
& I bought another one
I thought if I shared blood with a reader
my goddamn hells would be easier to walk thru barefoot
but they aren't


About the above poem:

It was 1993. We were picking out the poems to be published while sipping coffee at the director's kitchen table. Bill Shields, a veteran, had submitted over 20 pages of 10 to 18 line poems. Each one was labeled: "ghost poem", "ghost poem 1", "ghost poem 2", or some other number. More than one just had the title "ghost poem". Eileen, Janet and myself, the directors of a small poets group in Pennsylvania, wondered how we could publish more than one since the poems we liked most were out of sequence. I suggested we call him about a title change. A few days later I found out he didn't want to change the titles. They were just that: ghost poems. We published one in that issue, then another in the next issue. I wanted to publish them all but our book was a journal of numerous authors. One shouldn't be featured for over half the book. I decided to save some cash and try to publish them myself. (continued below at "Eighty dollars a week")


Overcome this time of mourning, overcome this horrendous war. Believe in the mission of creating a fair society in this and all countries. Sometimes... leaders are wrong. Do not follow blindly. Lead yourself with integrity, search for wisdom, acknowledge the powers there are and assist the earthly ones to realize the errors of their ways.

Above painting is a modified version of a picture from Time magazine that depicted this soldier overcome by the bombing of the U.N. building in Iraq.

About the above poem:

It was 1993. We were picking out the poems to be published while sipping coffee at the director's kitchen table. Bill Shields, a veteran, had submitted over 20 pages of 10 to 18 line poems. Each one was labeled: "ghost poem", "ghost poem 1", "ghost poem 2", or some other number. More than one just had the title "ghost poem". Eileen, Janet and myself, the directors of a small poets group in Pennsylvania, wondered how we could publish more than one since the poems we liked most were out of sequence. I suggested we call him about a title change. A few days later I found out he didn't want to change the titles. They were just that: ghost poems. We published one in that issue, then another in the next issue. I wanted to publish them all but our book was a journal of numerous authors. One shouldn't be featured for over half the book. I decided to save some cash and try to publish them myself.

Eighty dollars a week for groceries and car expenses is not much to save from. That was my budget then, but Bill Shield's work had such strength delivered in the line placement and content, I wanted to make sure other people heard him. It was easy to grasp the sense of abandonment and betrayal he felt from his government and country. Even today when I think of the lines: "...and when my daughter died... from my exposure to agent orange..." a shiver runs through me and I wish I could reach out and change that, make it not be that way. I wish I could be sure that he was fine now.

Last time I contacted Bill Shields, I asked that he let me publish his work on a small press. 100 books in the first printing, then more as they gradually would sell at poetry readings. He said he had already been contacted by another publisher who offered a bigger press run. I was glad for this and asked to buy a book. He told me the name and location of the publisher. He said it wouldn't do any good to send the money for the book to him because he was being evicted and was looking for a place to stay. I asked if he had family near him who could take him in and mentioned how I always fell back on my family when things got difficult. He said he didn't "want to bother them. There's always the YMCA". I felt like screaming inside. How could this be? A man who fought for a goal his country gave him was now homeless in that country. Abandoned after a failed marriage and the death of his child... all of which may have been the result of an illness caused by our country's war efforts. He should be respected and assisted; but in a weeks time, he would not even have a place to get a shower or store his clothes. I told him I wish I could help, that his work deserves attention. I wished him the best and told him if the publishing of the poems falls through, call me collect. I may be able to give him an advance. He never called. I still haven't bought his book. Lost the name of the publisher. Only have a few of the submitted entries he sent our group. Everytime I think of Bill Shields and the ghost poems, there's a dull ache in my heart like I lost someone or something valuable. He was proof that some wars we fight can't be won. He made me realize the price of politics could be that family members become pawns in a game for richer people. He made me see the VietNam war as a mistake. Our boys were used as a police force for greedy landlords taking too much from the country that housed their businesses. Everyday I pray for him and hope that there won't be too many more souls forced into cheap labor for foreign business interests. Bill Shields is a hero to me not because he fought, but because he wrote about the price this fighting cost him. He calmly stated his loss and questioned the motive in such a way, that he opened the eyes of patriotic people who needed to know: "Blind obedience is not honorable. Questions about policy, foreign policy need to be asked more often." I wish Bill Shields the best and wish I could find more of his ghost poems. He is a voice for soldiers who realize, firsthand, the limitations of a powerful country. He, and they, deserve more.


I wrote the above diary insert in 2003. In September of 2006, I looked up ghost poems on Google and found a listing that connected me to an Amazon website that listed a book that had some of his poems in them. I found the poems he sent and others in that book. I was glad he survived his ghosts enough to write more and somewhat disillusioned by the roads he had taken; but if you read his work, you admire him for his honesty and his ability to hammer out his anger in words. The book I found and ordered is titled: The Southeast Asian Book of the Dead.

One of the poems that Bill Shields sent to The Delco Poets in 1993 is shown above. I have never met him but he will always be a person I admire for his ability to inspire a call for better diplomacy rather than war.


"Freedom: Runaway Slave, 410 A.D."

20"x30" print (Sale:$425)  Send orders to: Poetryplus; P.O. Box 563; Glenolden PA 19036 or click on the PayPal button below the painting.


PRAYER      - by C. M. Weiss

Dear sweet Lord,
there's so much
to wonder
at, to dream
of, to hope
for--so much
to love.

Thank You for:
the blue skies,
the green trees,
the grass blades,
the games played,
loves lost and
to come.

Thank You for:
the art forms,
the clothes worn,
the wave's way,
words we say,
eyes to see,
our home.

Have occur
that which You
wish to have
in all life

And please, now,
let it be
that Your plans
are not things
mankind can't
or try.

Let us be
good teachers,
good tools for
troubled souls,
for: sad clowns,
happy fools,
lost lambs.

Help us take
the bad times,
chilling finds
in this world,
ourselves, and
in life.....

And help us,
God, please help,
Guide us now.
Please show how
You meant this
world to be,
to grow....

And cause us
to cause this
world of ours
to be as
Your will, plans,
hopes for man,

((copyright 1988 - C.M. Weiss))



   by:   S.A. Brazille, K.G. Brooks, I.U. China,  M.D. Easton, U.V. Euro, E.N. Africa, and F.B. Isaacs

The task before them seemed immense, magnified by heat.
They mulled around the sun-streaked room deep in thought.
Some knew from rumors: there couldn’t be a better time to meet.
Others motioned to adjourn, their minds were overwrought.

With windows closed for secrecy, this “parliament” now quarrelled, fought;
Old rulers now dispelled, new rules had to be made.
One man cried out “the time for kings will never more be sought!”
Another man agreed but wondered will this motion… fade.

If hard times come and one man of eloquence
Could raid the votes of multitudes with empty words and sincere smiles….
He rose and said, “in this, our constitution, let’s make it clear from hence
no one man can rule the rest with little more than wealth or style!”

“Let’s  guide our country and document a governing by many.
“Let’s write a system, three branches, that check and guide their goals.
“Let’s make it difficult for private interests to puppeteer  with money
“Let’s make our laws build a haven for each and every soul.”

“Then, no one group could make an army for business needs
“And questions raised about taxes would be answered without war.
“And changes could occur to harness power and hinder greed.
“And people could argue carefully for taxes they could afford.”

That was then. But now, computers broke the harness
Power—fueled by greed no longer hindered by intricate laws—
Has made a free nation a haven for foreign thieves whose quest
Is wealth, reaped from their home-lands filled with governing/business flaws.

Upgrades for a country too slowly guard constituents,
Overwhelmed by time and work their voices disappear,
A dragon of a force now fueled by bytes and greedy vigilence,
confronts one senator per million, their words, their only spear.

The dragon, it is merciless, its wings have swept humanity.
It craves a richer diet after feasting on the poor.
Its netlike flight has carved a nation to divide the meal: posterity
Its goal to slice the wealth and reap the benefits of war.

Then it will hide itself in some obscure net-databank
Bury its head in the megabyte world of modern-day terrorism
Secure its feasting grounds while masking its international rank
And drain all nations into third-world sects of feudalism.

All this will be—unless senators multiply their ranks and tasks,
So as to listen to those being robbed and tricked; to secure borders and flights;
So as to monitor banking systems, human resource centers and I.D.s that mask
Black market networks that cause: endless debt and Dark-Age plights.

The senators must be from all countries; must be checked
by laws that protect—each citizen, each woman,
each village, each city—from business interests that
benefit only a few. There should be a world constitution.

There should be a world constitution.



They do not cringe
these rich men 
who see the hungry of their land 
and know the envy of these neighbors
could desintegrate
their wealth.

They do not look afraid
when poor people snear at them.
They know to point their fingers 
toward the West [[East]] 
and say
"The culture there 
 destroys your chances 
 at success 
 in this, our desert
[[--in this our industrialized--]] homeland. 
 are your enemy." 

They do not plead or cower. They imply: 
 "My money, my 'business', my lifestyle 
  is not to blame. 
  It is the Western infidels [[the Middle Easterners]] 
  who cause your poverty [[your Trade Center losses]]." 

They offer,
like a decoy from their own greed,
  pittances of cash or favors  
      for "loyalty".

the poor of their kindred people
to sell their lives 
for promises of securities left 
to family
or promises of
a heaven no one truly knows.

Allah [[God]] has become a prodding tool for war. 
As assassins buy contracts on themselves
and blindly send pieces of their bone and flesh 
(like shrapnel) into children, 
into oblivion,
into trashyard graves.
[[as employees blindly shred evidence 
 make accusations,  
 take gratis jobs; 
 as citizens
 work for companies 
 that trick their workers or partners in other countries 
 for profit.]]

And these rich men know to act proud
as they send their would-be murderers
onto faraway sites
and teach these desperate poor, 
these trained bombers,
these war-schooled followers,
[[desperate jobless,
vengeful wounded,
pawn-like soldiers]]
or brainwashed students
[[media-saturated readers of yellow journalism]]
to stop the greed
in other countries
--not in their own.

Allah [[God]]
if we could see his reaction to all this--
we would see him lower his head like a saddened father
looking at his beloved creations
as he is filled with
shame for them:
for those so easily led,
for those who lead so selfishly, 
  so foolishly, 
    in His name.

--Tired of the lies in Allah's [[God's]] name


[EDITOR's NOTE: Some readers have commented that "Allah [[God]]" would not bow His head since He is all powerful, so "NEMO" has agreed to alter the poem to read as above. The word "bow" has been taken out.]

The Following Poems are available as Laminated Plaques $8

Send money order to P.O. Box 563; Glenolden, PA 19036

Order tapes of up to five poems by sending $25 US to:, P.O. Box 563, Glenolden PA 19036. Specify poems to be included.




Glastnost has quelled us./
Bomb shelter fears become /
a silliness, a novelty./

New fears arise /

as 6- & 7-figure salaries /
steal the souls /
of the powerful /

and strings are pulled to make us dance /
a healthcare-packaged sideshow /
while paying for the song /
and praying it continues... somehow. /
No shelter helps now. /
The poisons rise and sift, stir /
the mix of air we breathe— /

Poisons of convenience, luxury: /
    nail polish removers; /
    perm-burn solutions; /
    cyanide compounds for foams /
         and glues /

—Fumes so ingrained into our culture /
    that to boycott the products that cause them /
    seems a paltry gain of air /
    considering the benefits of /
             polished nails, /
             wavy hair, /
             a cushion, /
             or a sticky liquid fastener. /
Spoiled multitudes.

Terrorism need not show its ugly head of destruction: /
We destroy ourselves. /
Doctors note /
their patients talk /
of aching bones /
and pain they thought /
reserved /
for those /
more /
their seniors. /

Children cough and wheeze, /
gasp for air late at night /
for no apparent reason. /

Asthmas on the rise. /
“The luck of the genetic draw”— /
we figure /
as we wade in an ooze of air. /
Herbicides, /
pesticides /
steal our lives /
like an unleashed genocide /
on all races.

Glastnost has freed us to see— /
focus /
on /
the imperceptible /
gases  /
robbing us of /
life. /

Who started this? /

How woven is the world /
when killers are so numerous /
that our jobs and homes /
harbor the deadly? /

Who planted these? /

Society  /
in its yearning for success and glamour /
like a captured monkey, trained /
by generations of corporate greed, /
has chased its golden banana /
off a cliff. /
We tumble into chemical intoxication /
and third world poverty. /

Who can we blame? /

Not our parents alone /
Not our enemies alone /
Not our ancestors or ourselves... alone. /

Perhaps /
their dreams,  our dreams /
have led us to  /
this cesspool of products /
that corrode our health, /
our humanity, /
our —once believed sacred— goals. /

The  American Dream /
(that has become the world’s) /
has caused a pollution /
of land, sea and soul. /

Is there a star, /
a wise man, /
a savior now? /

Or must we each try to be /
these three beings /
to preserve /

to preserve... /
our lessons learned /
so that life, /
in human form, /
can THRIVE  without /
   the annihilation of /
this vaporous ball /
    of molten landscapes /
and oceans pulled by the moon.

.        (author:  -C.M.W.C.)

+++ copyright 1996 - C.M.W.C. +++

8-1/2" x 11", illustrated (flame background), laminated $8
(includes S/H)



A child screamed at his brother //
So his brother hit him, //
His mother scolded him for being loud. //

A child threw a stone to the ground //
So his neighbor shot him. //
His town leaders slapped his hands for throwing stones. //

A child pointed a gun at a border //
So a country sent an army and bombed his home. //
The world told him, “You should not aim a gun!” //
Even though the gun was empty. //

A child killed another child //
And a wave of fear enveloped a nation //
Prompting vigilante zealousness //
To erase a race of people from existence. //

Hitler is born again in the hearts of the descendants //
Of concentration camp survivors. //
Hitler is alive and well in the synogogues of Israel, //
In the minds of the young in Jerusalem. //
Hitler has arisen through the practice of appropriation //
Used by Israeli settlers //
Claiming Palestinian lands. //

When will they hand out six-pointed stars to Arab citizens? //
When will they line them up to be shot? //
When will there be gas chambers for townspeople of Arabian descent to bathe in? //
Or will they just firebomb their businesses //
And impoverish them so they become thieves to survive. //

That has been their way //
To isolate and irradicate by poverty //
By prejudice, by taunts and pointed fingers. //
There may never have been a plan to hinder in this way //
But a bully has held a child by the hair //
For so long //
That the child lashes out //
Anyway he can. //

By: Fiorin Fyre

++++copyright 2000 – Fiorin Fyre++++




Homeland of  Jesus // nurturer of his soul, // resting place of those who witnessed // ... miracles, //

So much has been taught by you, // taught and forgotten // taught again-- // so much to learn: // of human nature, // hatred, // prejudice, // tolerance…. //

So long have you been targeted // in numerous cultures, lands-- // victims of accusations-- // there has been centuries // of living as a people without a country, without a land to own. // You know what it's like // to live on borrowed space, // borrowed times of peace.

Back when the holocaust first became a world-known horror, // when your people were refugees saved from gas camps // but left floating on ships with no destination... // Palestine gave you a home. //

Palestine gave you a home. // You suckled like a hungry babe who grew to nearly devour his mother. // Nurtured once, find a way // to give your one-time nurturers // something back. // Palestine is part of you, but Israel has grown to be more capable of nurturing now. // Consider them... your children // and that of your ancestors. // Traces of family mingled in Arab ties… // the possibilities // make bigotry seem more like self-loathing. //

Brotherhood // should be cherished. //

Your prodigal brothers deserve // your guarded friendship. // May GOD-YAHWEH-ALLAH allow this between your people... // without retribution // at whatever answer they give. // Keep offering…. //

Remember // when your people // were so much like // the people of Palestine. // They should be treated as you would have your children be treated. // A holocaust for TWO nations...// can be prevented. //

Palestine-- // migrant people // of easily-fueled passions--

guide and guard your brothers again...// all of them. //

Brotherhood // should be cherished.

By Fiorin Fyre

Copyright 2000 – Fiorin Fyre



A Wall is needed…//
like China’s, //
like Berlin’s, //
with checkpoints //
built by the U.N. //
Each checkpoint monitored by four representatives, //
two from each side //
and a U.N. staff of two language experts //
with a back-up of six impartial peace-keepers //
(military style).

No part of Israel shood touch Palestine // without a “U.N. partition”. // Palestine shood be free and separate.  // All shared holy places // shood have only U.N. officers //—not Israeli, not Palestinian— // for a two mile radius // of the religious area. // Once peace is established, // both groups should be permitted monitored access… // via metal detectors and check points.  // All trials for war crimes, // should be monitored or commanded // by impartial, U.N. judges.

Trade shood be separate—completely. // Via airplane or helicoptor, // the U.N. shood insure and inspect // delivery of material, // indefinitely. //

Sometimes the hand that throws a bomb to damage Israel // is the hand of an Israeli, //who doesn’t want peace.

Sometimes the hand that throws a bomb to damage Palestine // is that of a Palestinian, // who doesn’t want peace.

Blame is sometimes misplaced. Wariness is wealth.

If Palestinian settlers in Israel // are persecuted // or suspected (without proof) of crimes, // Israel and the U.N. // should give them the fair market value // of their home and business investments // then escort them to peaceful areas // “outside” of the country. // An apology for the need // for prejudice // should be offered.

If Israeli settlers in Palestine // are persecuted // or suspected (without proof) of crimes, // Palestine and the U.N. // should give them the fair market value // of their home and business investments // then escort them to peaceful areas // “outside” of the country. // An apology for the need // for prejudice // should be offered.

A stone wall on sand // is better than constant war, constant fear.

Intense spending and labor now // could prevent greater spending…// could prevent many deaths // in the future.

Peacekeepers should build it.

By  --a friend of Fiorin Fyre

copyright 2000--Global Properties



A family wanted to build a home. //
The land was “free”. //
So they built a home finer than they could afford.  //
Then they were told, //
“The land is not yours, MOVE!” //
It was to be given back to people it was stolen from //
Long ago. //

The family left //
But hovered nearby //
Taunting the new owners //
Teasing the children. //
Coaxing them to fight //
With words, //
With sticks, stones…. //
Even guns. //
They had their words ready, //
Their own guns… ready. //
They just needed a reason //
To justify a fight, //
So they could get their home back again. //
If a nation was destroyed, it did not matter. //
They only wanted their home. //
And if not that, //
Vengence for the thievery they blamed on Palestine, //
A crime that was their own country’s doing. //
Rage rises… //
Due to blind men spending money foolishly: //
Buying trinkets for a borrowed land //
Has cost them a war. //

Wisdom! Give both people light. //
Hope! Come again. //
Power! Generate in generosity… somehow. //
Souls are at stake.

--by Fiorin Fyre


--By "NEMO"

From the seed of a melon, came... The Scathe.

Born to wealth, he sold his soul for the pleasure of breaking a fellow’s legs.  The keg of beer rolled so well down the dorm room stairs.

Bathed in  power, he garbed himself in philanthropy, bought the words and voices of newsmen, And branded anyone who dared speak against his beliefs with rumors that lead to joblessness. Sometimes, he even created elaborate romantic situations to involve his enemies in liasons with diseased, desperate people who would seduce anyone for enough money to survive.

Beware of The Scathe.  It may be his money that pays your child’s doctor bills if you simply say a negative comment about a co-worker. How easily... can your soul... be bought?

Beware of the Scathe in you!

...even a Scathe can change... nothing is worth the price of your soul.

FORSAKEN MOVERS by "NEMO"…. $15 -- book of short stories, poems


The following flyers are now available. Proceeds benefit the authors.


He spoke /
and those passing by paused /
to listen: /
“ Be Warned, People! /
This building contains toxins /
not meant to be outside of concrete. /
They float on air /
in this ill-kept factory. /
They drift into your gardens, /
 into your barbecues. /
They become the dander on your children’s heads!” /
The people he was with /
linked arms against the traffic /
waved signs reading, “ FALLOUT-BEWARE!” /
blocked cars for hours. /

He was the most vocal. /
He seemed the leader. /
He mentioned  how kickbacks and nepotism /
kept places like this open. /

Notes were taken. /
Pictures. /
He was added to a “list”, /
a list like Nixon’s. /

Soon, /
his home would be searched, /
his habits studied, /
his quirks emphasized /
and jobs /
would always be short-term for him /
no matter how skilled he was. /
Clients of the places he would work /
would back out of contracts—go elsewhere— /
due to a “list” someone made long ago, /
a list of people /
whose “offenses” /
were never clearly elaborated upon, /
a list of those condemned /
to suspicion… sometimes poverty. /

“Let’s demand accountability!” /
he said. /
“Let’s demand that skilled, well-paid-  /
hazardous-waste-disposal maintenance crews /
work to upgrade these /
chemical-riddled buildings /
rather than let a politician’s nephew /
hire unsuspecting temporary handi-men /
to put a band-aide /
on an ulcerating problem.” /

The list grows on. /
as our freedoms are sold /
and our leaders are stifled. /

  By: Fiorin Fyre

Copyright 2000 — Fiorin Fyre


                   UNSAID THINGS

Our lives are filled with unsaid things that push /
against our minds and lips and hide in thoughts /
that no words fit and only form in looks /
or moves or gaps where wars for love are fought. /

A time ago I had believed these /
unsaid things were senseless lags in spoken lines /
which showed a lack of thought or cause for chats /
continuing upon a smooth decline. /

I knew of those who felt the same about /
these words that can’t be heard, but we were deaf  /
to life as sound-led bats are blind in light. /
The colored day is lost to them as we /

were lost to feelings felt inside a pause /
or blush, or wave, or change from shame to pride— /
or reasons making hidden fears or loves— /
these things when said have lost some touch with life. /

So if you feel a hate divulging for  /
the lack of normal talking, think back to /
the eyes that speak, and call to come, or wince / 
when leaving: think back to the hand that stutters, /

think back to the smile that sings, remember /
all those times that words had clogged your mind with /
thoughts which slurred your speech which had no meaning. /
Think! and don’t be dumb (and deaf) to words that

some Italian scholars—Greek, Moore, Anglo- /
Saxon too—forgot to install into /
Language long ago when men who knew not /
words from now, said much… with unsaid things. /

Copyright 1977 – C.M. Weiss

8-1/2" x 11", laminated $8
(includes S/H)



(The painting that inspired this poem, according to a 1979 version of Bulfinch’s Mythology, hangs in a museum in Budapest, Hungary.)


Stilled, on a canvas, by Franz von Stuck, /
captured in brush and paint, /
a frozen image of a Sphinx is caught /
in a passionate moment of loveplay /
with a naked, Herculean man.


His neck seems ready to snap

from being arched back so far with her kiss.

Their two heads are profiled — hers above his —

both at the top, left corner.

Her cheek is all that’s seen of her face.

The rest is draped in shadow and hair

that falls to brush his left temple and cheek.

His eyes are shut; his brow lifted;

he seems to revel in the sensation of their closeness

as if he were "inside"

as well as "against" her naked form,

engaged in filling her with flittering seed.

The back of him is most of what’s seen.

Her left breast—round, full—

seductively lies upon his right shoulder.

The other breast — unseen — seems pressed

against his throat.

His left hand, blackened like he’d worked the earth,

holds her to him,

pressing behind her neck and shoulder,

but, as in a moment of sudden pain,

his right arm reaches out toward the sky,

his fingers, taut

and splayed.

Beneath them the dorsal, hind leg of a lion stands

where a woman's thigh and calf should be.

She is above him,

leaning over his upright, kneeling body,

flushed against him.

His groin is directly below hers

and pressed above his muscular buttocks,

in the shadow of the paint,

her feline claws hold him

while lightly penetrating his skin:

a readily lethal grasp,

sadistically enticing him

to satisfy his captor.

For hundreds of lifetimes,

from when that first sketch was drafted,

they’ve held this Elysian pose:

this godlike man of masculine beauty

and this seductive, deadly sphinx — half woman,

half lioness.

He reaches out forever

in a moment of lust, ecstasy, pain..., and horror,

and she eternally lures him in

with her mouth and womb

as his last breath

is lapped up by her tongue:

a perennial death

and kiss.

. (author:  -C.M.W.C.)

+++ copyright 1991 - C.M.W.C. +++

8-1/2" x 11", illustrated, laminated $12 (includes S/H)



Serbia, Dear Serbia, / Once crowded land of now murdered neighbors: / Will your children's children know / Of the people now erased from history? / Will their ghosts haunt them / In books or graves, / In burned out shells of homes?


Will these children be them? / ...Be the reincarnated souls of those killed? / An eradicated race arisen in the bodies of their killers’ offspring? / Will nightmares flash them back to the time / When they were gunned-down in a past life / By the people, now, their grandparents or leaders?

Serbia, Oh Serbia, / Where will the souls of the killers be / In their next lives? / Will they see poverty? / Will they see prejudice? / Will they be born in deserts / Or swamplands prone to disease / Or floods. / Will armies of men come to their homes / And kill.

Serbia, Oh Serbia, / You will live and thrive again / You will sow and reap, and revel: / And in a generations time, / The price of all selfishness / May be levied to each person / Through a future life / In a place / That can’t be controlled.

Offset this with fairness. / Offset this with shared wealth, / Shared education, food, tools, crafts…. / Shared with races far and near… / So that all children born / Will have less chance / Of seeing their country / Torn / By selfish men / at war.

.        -(author: Fiorin Fyre)

+++ copyright 2000 - Fiorin Fyre +++

8-1/2" x 11" laminated $8 (includes shipping & handling)



Here at the end

of our mythology

we stand, waiting,

watching the sky

for a sign

of a sequel

to God's "Revelations,"

hoping for

Michelangelo's cloud-people to appear...

but nothing.

Scanning the dull horizon,

we wade through the air,

choking (air so thick... so heavy).

Each stifling breath is filled

with question marks;

they rise and swirl

with every exhalation,

and the clouds

take no form at all.

(author: -Kate White)

+++ copyright 1991 - Kate White +++

8-1/2" x 11" illustrated, laminated $8 (includes shipping & handling)


Poets come and go.  Great poets speak a few lines to small audiences and fade to obscurity in a decade or less.  This site is a chance for poets to share their chapbooks and single poem flyers with a larger audience and hopefully, via exposure and sales, enrich their lives financially enough that they can afford to keep on writing.

To post your poems, send up to 10 pages of submissions along with a $10 reading fee to, P.O. Box 563 Glenolden, PA 19036. After your email is verified, and your work considered, you'll receive notice of its acceptance or suggestions on revisions.

Here, Poems shall be listed with the email addresses of the senders so that they can be contacted for sale of their work. All work belongs to the original creator of it. Copyright remains theirs. and its affiliates will not be responsible for plagiarized work. If accepted submissions are published and are not the work of the sender, the email address of the sender of the "plagiarized" poetry will be posted and available to the proper authorities.

If you wish to become a sponsoring member of, email A donation of $25 will entitle a sponsoring member to receive a print of "Freedom: Runaway Slave-410 A.D." and will be permitted to submit 5 pages of work to be considered for publication on the site. Photos and art are also accepted. Please be sure to copyright all work prior to submission.


              copyright 2000 C. M. A. W. Celley


Into the war zone he goes…
Where even the innocent seem guilty.
A broken tail light seems routine.
Easy call: just a warning.
But when asked for a license,
The black man says he’s a license to carry a gun.
The cop takes this as a threat
And shoots three to five times
As the woman in the car streams the conflict on facebook
And a four-year old looks on in horror
And the cop hoarsely states “he went for a gun”;
And the woman explains calmly, collectively, 
“No, he was getting his license
You asked him to get his license.”
The other cops calm him down
And treat her like a criminal
while an ambulance takes 15 minutes and no one tends
To the man who…
Died almost instantly from his wounds.
At the station, the young black woman
is separated from her child.
Later she rants how they didn’t even give her water.
Cop should have just had the man exit the car, then
Have him frisked with his hands up but
Procedures allow him to draw his gun
At a car with a child inside.
Procedures for broken tail-lights are way wrong.
Just take the license plate number down
And mail a ticket.
Why pull a car over for a broken taillight?
Cops are not trained well in diplomacy.
Should be.
They just should be.
Philando Castile was the black man’s name.
His fiancée’s name was “Lavish Reynolds”.
She spoke like a leader.
She spoke like she should be a senator some day…
If ever she could get over her anger enough
To not be prejudiced herself,
Once she grieves for a man
Taken from her by prejudice
And a cop’s skittish way
Of perceiving a reach for a license
He thought was a gun.
Ms. Reynolds said:
“Black lives matter but it’s not just that: All lives matter.”
All lives matter.
How do you train cops with war zone fears
Caused by inner city gang hits and domestic violence calls
where shots are fired?
How do you train someone who has
post-traumatic stress syndrome from their job—
To handle broken taillights in bad neighborhoods…?
They’re suffering from a mental condition.
They shouldn’t be allowed to handle a gun.
Why do officers 
that give tickets for broken headlights
need guns?
New uniforms should be issued to cops that
just handle traffic and car maintenance problems and
Broken taillight tickets can be issued via
intersection snapshots of cars.
Guns drawn for a taillight….UGGGHhhh!
Nervous cops fearing for their lives
Are like firecrackers lit like matches:
One stroke of friction… and there’s fire.
Need more training.
Vehicle maintenance officers
 should not have guns.

-- by "Another black-listed voice"

Minions Overlooked 

When rich men juggle newspapers for mostly their own profit, laborers are forced into subsets that eventually defeat even a rich man's goal. How many children volunteer for military obligations just to get an education to secure a job that will enable them to be self-supporting? How much of the military is used as a market for big business? Does big business perpetuate its market by advertising through the media--more the reasons to go to war than the reasons to promote peace? Why doesn't big business, all the military groups, stock market investors look for ways to convert atmosphere's of mostly methane into oxygen and nitrogen? Why aren't businesses focusing on colonizing submarine cities or islands with depressurization chambers  created to allow islanders to wait out tidal waves? If methane or triatomic oxygen could be infused with hydrogen and sparked to create more oxygen, can fuel, oxygen, and water be acquired from the methane giants in our galaxy so that those planets can support life as we know it?

It's time to use defense systems to habitate planets and redirect comets rather than secure fuel and goods for an isolated few. Instead, rich men and even rich religious leaders chase the immediate profit via stock investments in bombs and guns. It's time for a change now before a global hoarding prevents the science available today of finding ways to create enough resources for all people via colonizing our oceans, our skies, and our universe.

--Excerpt of email from "Dogmajii" sent 10-7-10

Bush Administration Set Obama up for Failure

                                                              Like his father tried to do to Clinton

After George Bush [�Senior�] lost to Bill Clinton, he had over two months to set Clinton up for failure. He tried to do this with three new wars: Bosnia, Rwanda, and Somalia. Luckily, Clinton�s team was smart enough to change America from having a huge deficit to having a surplus. He was re-elected till he could not run anymore due to the term limits and due to a slander campaign orchestrated by a law team hired by Republicans.

 After George W. Bush lost to Obama, he had over two months to set Obama up for failure. It seems Bush {or actually his party�s network} attempted to do this by establishing rumors and by advertising the losses of desperate banks who finally admitted their losses rather than re-label them as prospective business investments. NOTE: THERE WAS A SURPLUS LEFT BY CLINTON�S ADMINISTRATION. That was gone�partly due to 9-11 and George W�s war against Saddam. At the end of �W�s� reign, the surplus was spent and the deficit larger than it ever had been. The Bailout was all set up in the two months after Bush lost. Again, the Republican Party seems to have set up their opponent�the next president of the United States�for failure.
 The Bailout was started by the Bush administration not the Obama administration. Do we want to elect more republican candidates that set up our government for failure with wars, debt, and joblessness? It�s time for America to realize�it�s being played more by the republican party and their �more money for the well connected� program than by the democratic party and their attempts to make sure that all humanity �in� and �outside� the U.S. borders are able attain a fair wage for a day�s work as well as a helping hand when all they need is a lift to the next step toward self-reliance. Voting for Democratic candidates is a move to teach self-reliance rather than steal from the mis-informed as the Republican Party tends to do.  

[NOTE: �Joblessness� is actually more like �Jobs for Slaves only� since most jobs available offer only enough money to buy food and some clothes�in other words: slave wages. Forget housing or medical insurance: these �slaves� can�t afford private apartments; they live in dormitory style apartments with three to four bunk beds in a room or they are shuffled from empty motel room to empty motel room without much more than a suitcase or plastic bag. These jobs go to foreign workers who allow themselves to be treated like slaves temporarily so that later they can live like richer men in their own countries. If these �slaves� get sick or abused, our hospital system takes a loss that burdens our economy more. This is partly because these �slaves� (i.e.: migrant workers, sales clerks) do not get paid health insurance so a type of Welfare kicks in to pay some bills (thank God for some humanity here). Minimum wage needs to be higher and these �slaves� in the U.S. should be given some citizen rights. Anyone making minimum wage only, should not have their income taxed unless minimum wage is raised to $11 an hour. Anyone making the present minimum wage: $7.25 an hour or lower should be allowed access to free legal aide paid for by the government that recoups its expenses after fining an employer who hires a person who must live in �slave� conditions due to low wages. In other words, employers should find ways to keep their employees in moderately respectable homes with comprehensive healthcare rather than hire young people farmed out by travel agents or unscrupulous contracting companies. Most businesses need to invest more in their own Human Relations departments rather than pass off the investigation of skills and background checks to fly-by-night contractors. A badly set-up and under-staffed H.R. department usually means a contracting company can set-up underpaid, under-skilled people in positions that compromise the integrity and productivity of a business which then is more susceptible to having its market sold to high bidding competitors or even terrorists.]

  (above is an email sent by: [Eyes Pried Open])


 TidalWave Woes


A hundred-mile-wide iceberg that�s 1/2 as high as the Empire State building is slowly but unstoppably moving south. If it does not get lodged on a land mass, it could barrel down on oil rigs, fishing rigs, islands, ocean cruisers if they happen to be in the way.

Why doesn�t Poland Spring Water, Evian, or Nestle send expeditions to mine that goldmine of fresh water? Water is almost as valuable as oil in many parts of the world.

Can�t the U.N. use a few well-trained peace-keeping troops and a few airline carriers to send crews to chisel that berg into floating chunks that can be towed to facilities that can market that resource? Tow chiseled chunks of ice down the Nile, cool the Sahara a little or ship water to Vegas and start a boat village for rich gamblers with yachts.

Who knows, maybe a dinosaur or mammoth is encapsulated in that berg and could be the next great discovery for our time.

This thing could be an ominous tragedy in the making, but technology�when used wisely�allowed us to see Mars. Couldn�t it help us laser-beam chunks of the iceberg into floating units of ice that can be pulled by tow boats? Of course most of the ships for the expedition should figure on chiseling the iceberg from the area in back of the direction it�s moving.

What a challenge! What a chance to change climates in deserts or give poorer nations more irrigation!

Someone should sell bottled, melted iceberg as a way to fund further chiseling. Seems the opportunity is worth a few good tries. Let�s hope someone out there has the equipment, the man-power, the funding and the tenacity to make a profit from this slow moving, frozen tidal wave.


--Ice Berg Watcher

FOR PIX OF ONE 100 mile Iceberg click the following link:


Before shutting off that cap, shouldn't pipe for a huge pipeline be set in place and a connecting cap designed to link the present cap with the pipeline. This should be readied so that the oil can be directed to tanks-on-land or rigs-in-a-shallower-part-of-the-ocean so that collection of oil can be done even in a hurricane.

For now, just continue to use giant hoses connected to tankards to collect that oil, but a pipeline designed to hold oil should be set in place at the ocean floor soon since containment at the present location is like trying to stop a series of bullets in motion and hurricane season is going to soon cause unmappable thrusts of current in all directions.

It appears, shutting off that pipeline now in its present location--with a mile of ocean pressing down on the ocean floor that now contains it--is just asking for an explosion.




In cases of environmental disasters, a state of emergency is imposed if not martial law. Since BP has not been able to control the disaster it caused, shouldn't martial law be imposed on the rig that is causing the problem? And shouldn't any oil contained during this crisis be utilized to pay for the crisis to be controlled? Then, once all caps are working and retribution paid to those affected by damaged tourism or fishing habitats and businesses, then, the rig could be handed back to BP with instructions on how to maintain their rig safely.



       A branch of the military should be created that is responsible for maintaining energy standards, securing technological records, and discovering new ways to obtain fuel for the government and consumers.


       We already have the Army Corps of Engineers; that�s a start. But they need more power to invest in the study of oil rigs and piping developments that withstand ocean depths of a mile or more. Why can�t the military be in charge of building, maintaining and profiting from its own rigs?


       If we�re counting on oil companies for supplying knowledge that they �lost� or �hide� for some political or irresponsible reason, then it�s time to not depend on them anymore. Our government should allow the military to have its own energy/oil division that can profit from a rig as much as B.P., Exxon, or any oil company ever in existence. A division that could become as knowledgeable as N.A.S.A. should be created within the military so it will not be subject to the fickle loyalties of Corporate tycoons who depend on knowledge left after they downsized their good engineers out of jobs so that squeaky-wheel business departments could get their budget allocations.


       Knowledge is being lost by business departments skimming budgets from technology departments for profits and bonuses that go to those who only know glorified accounting and advertising. It looks like B.P. has a brain-drain that emptied itself out and the big-wigs that are left are baffled that there is no one left to blame or from whom to demand a solution. If they had an adequate engineering department that had any balls left, this leak wouldn�t have happened� unless it was planned this way� to make a certain administration look bad. This touches on treason.


       If the military had its own Energy Division, there would be five major segments: Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and the Fuel Division.

       Why subject ourselves to the allegiances of rich men whose greed destroys their own infrastructure? Obama and Congress should set in motion a branch of the military that can secure technology and its development without outside business interests holding purse strings while pretending to be the �Experts�. Temporarily nationalize that rig, reap the profits while fixing a problem that the leaders of British Petroleum �act like� they never saw coming.


--Black-Beach Blogger


If BP tries to tap and seal the pipe prior to breakage, they should test their idea on a similarly constructed pipe (at a similar ocean depth) and use pumped sea water to simulate the problem.

They should also be certain that hoses and tankards that are connected to the tap, are secured before they even attempt to cut into any part of the damaged pipe.

--Sent in by a former draftsman 5-30-10


Is BP Trying to cover the entire ocean with oil?
Someone STOP BP from trying to lessen the pressure by inserting a valve in a line that cannot yet be tapped.
Why hasn't anyone tried to create a cylinder out of cement blocks
that fit together like Leggo pieces?
Build a cylinder from a radius of 10 feet from the pipe that's leaking
and build as high as possible to create a fountain out of the leak
and utilize the five-foot-deep tarp encircling-2-miles-of-oil idea (described below)
to  pool oil as it pools above the cylinder.

To avoid currents and their damage,
the cylinder should have a pyramid
or cone base
that eventually will--upon completion--
have a 30-degree angle made out of inter-locking blocks
on all sides from the surface of the 20-foot in diameter cylinder
to the ocean bottom (at that 30-degree angle).

This foundation will be an inter-locking cement block pyramid
that will look like a giant cone-shaped "sand bar"
with a fountain.

Then the collection of the oil should be done as fast as it escapes
with a huge series of wide hoses attached to tankards.

After the initial construction,
 Once the base of the cylinder reaches 10-feet,
the pyramid should be built to support the rest of the cylinder
that is placed at a 10-foot radius from the leak's center.

Use the following method in addition to the above cylinder to pool and collect the oil.

     Encircle 2 miles in diameter of oil rig with
Giant Floating-Weighted Tarps
Then pump it out and contain newly spewed oil in tankards

        Can large plastic (or cloth) tarps�that are 3 to 5 feet deep [as deep as the ocean around the oil leak], and that have floatation devices sewn into the top and weights or sand bags (ready to unravel it) sewn into the bottom of the tarp�be circled around the spill to create a giant cylinder (let�s say a mile or two in diameter) that would loosely contain most of the newly leaked oil? This tarp could be tied together via robots or divers on respirators. Tow-Boats could be tied to a grasp bar placed on flotation devices every 50 feet so that the tarp could maintain 2-miles for its diameter even during windy or wild-current days. Radio frequencies for these tow boats should allow for constant communication with hourly checks on connections.
        Then, is it possible to have a series of boats nearby that contain tanks to hold the oil so that hoses can be used to siphon and eventually utilize the oil that is spewing from the broken pipe that would then be filling the make-shift tarp tank? (Ocean water may need to be pumped in from the bottom to equalize the height of the contained area with the height of ocean depth outside the contained oil as it is pumped into the boats. A few well-placed hoses connected to the tarp's sea-bottom side and other hoses hooked over the top flotation devices [every 50 feet] may allow for an equalized level via an Artesian-well principal.)
         This would allow some of the oil to still be salvaged as well as lessen further damage to coastlines.
          Perhaps the Army Corps of Engineers could be assigned to oversee this job with the help of the coastguard since BP seems tied up in bad contracts with impractical contractors. (It's like they lost their engineering files). Perhaps Exxon--or other oil conglomerates--could be contacted for their expertise and temporary territories of ocean assigned to those deemed skilled enough by the Army Corps of Engineers to collect the oil within their assigned territory. 
           Payment would be a large percentage of the oil they accumulate within their assigned territory.

C.M.A.W. Celley

Cosmic Bomb Shelter

 In case the Mayan 2012 happens
where earthquakes churn all surfaces
and volcanoes spew dust clouds for years,
portable Scrubbers are needed
that use sea water
to filter a dust-laden atmosphere
and extract large amounts
of breathable air.
from the extracted dust
could be used for farms
that utilize artificial sunlight
created from the piston action of
waves and currents.
This would allow submarines
to store air
when they surface
in a dust-filled atmosphere.
This would allow renewable soil
to be available
if a comet hits
or volcanoes go wild.
may be the safest shelter.

 Copyright 2010 C.M.A.W. Celley

Beware of Soda!

(Message from the Future)


It all seemed harmless: flavored, bubbly colors in a bottle,

Flavors that� seemed to have a personality of their own;


They got tired of working from the inside.

They wanted mobility.

Bottles were changed to allow this.

The first bottles with arms and legs were deemed �cute��

A clever ploy.

Everyone applauded them walking on their own

(drinkable, replenishable toys).

Unknown to humans, factories were being bought,

Factories to make bigger bottles,

Factories to process� the unthinkable.

Soda had grown a taste for� bones,

Human bones.

They started with morgues to acquire their: food product;

Then hospitals.

Then people started disappearing.

It wasn�t unusual to see them sitting on tables by the Riviera,

At local clubs dancing,

On boats, at countryclubs.

Soda bottles everywhere

Feasting on human bones.

It was bad enough when they worked on the inside.

When humanity became game for them,

The streets became unsafe.

People would topple over.

Crumpled knees eaten away by years of soda nibbling

Gave way to gravity.

Vans run by soda mobs reaped the profit

Taking the remains of the fallen to their factories

While they were still alive, extractions began.

The population of flavors was multiplying.

They had to be fed.

Some still didn�t know they existed.

Don�t allow them to have legs.

Don�t give soda arms!


Your bones aren�t safe.


(Sent via email from: �OhWhereOhWhereHaveMyBonesGone�)



To power engine in outer-space without fuel


A four-inch thick rubber ball with a three-inch air chamber (11� diameter) which is attached to an aluminum arm that wraps around the ball and is molded into the middle of the circumference like a tight ring could be set-up to act as a piston that powers generators in space via a chamber that houses this ball and allows it to slide toward an opening which separates the chamber from the vacuum of space.


A spring set on an aperture just before this opening should be strong enough to take the recurrent impact of the ball as it is sucked toward the outside of the spacecraft.


A door which is triggered by the arm holding the �ball� should slide shut (via small wheels) and seal the opening of the chamber just before the ball gets to the spring so the ball will easily be propelled back, thus opening the door again and causing the ball to repeat the same motion thus powering a generator like a piston powers a car.


This perpetual motion could be used to recharge batteries or propel and steer a spacecraft, etc.


--Copyright 2010

    (Sent in by a contributor 3-7-10)


To:       Bob Carter, Vice President,
            Engineering Department for Toyota
From:   (New car owner)

FAX: 310-468-7814

Dear Vice President Carter:

     People I have talked to say that the pedal and the rugs have nothing to do with the problem that causes some of these accidents. It seems the electrical system that saves on gas may need to be more adequately separated from the electrical system that runs the car.

     Is it possible that regenerative braking allows there to be a surge of power that backfeeds into the accelerator�s circuit board which causes Toyota�s cars to accelerate? This acceleration may also trigger an anti-lock brake mechanism to be triggered by frantic braking during a surge of power.

     Can the circuitry or circuit boards be separated and divided by capacitors (to contain surges)?

     Also can the regenerative part of the brakes have more wires or paths from its regeneration process to lead any surges of power from its brakes to a storage area (capacitor) not connected to the accelerator�s circuitry or circuit boards? 

     Perhaps a dual battery can be added to store excess charges. One battery would receive all charging from the brakes and the other would run the car. Perhaps a switch can be installed to allow each battery to switch roles for either running the car or re-charging itself with electricity created from the brakes and tires. This should be done in such a way that there is no chance of both batteries being used at the same time for re-charging or running the car.

     Every time I drive down a road, I wonder if one of your vehicles is going to be set-off like a misguided missile. You have a good product. Fix it. Each person I know who has a Toyota, values your product. Please don�t just pretend to fix the problem. Lives are at stake as well as national security. At present, each Toyota car appears to be a potential bomb� due to poor design.  

     Does a team of engineers (from the Army Corp of Engineers) have to inspect every car you "say" you fix before a Toyota owner can again feel safe driving in a new Toyota?

          --Sent via email to for posting


Tables Turned Against Legalized Theft

He did not want to die�But sometimes, you have to call for justice even if you know they will kill you for it.

Festivities set-up to honor the religious holiday brought thousands of visitors to the ancient city. Tables were set-up at all of the places of worship to �assist� the hungry, tired travelers with changing their currency to the acceptable means of trade. Many did not know that the exchange rate was unusually high. The owners of the tables demanded 50% of the value of the money they were given by the pilgrims as their share for the transaction. People who travelled long distances for their religious pilgrimage knew that they would not have enough to return home. They knew they would be unable to afford food or lodging soon. Some knew they would have to �steal� to survive� or work for a slave�s wages.

A young man saw this and realized the gravity of the situation.

He realized that deeply religious people would be made into thieves or slaves because of this. It dawned on him in such a way that rage welled up inside of him. He walked up to the tables yelling about the courtyard�s outside of God�s house not being a place for buying or selling. He turned over their tables and spilled their coins and goods into the courtyard ranting about it not being a place for thieves.

The �bankers� who owned the tables were enraged. It was like �MBNA� or �Citi� or �Capital One� getting �lawyered-up�. This was their best season. They complained to the religious leaders. They complained to the authorities like people now-a-days would go to the party leaders of our time. They arranged to have him arrested. They arranged to have �actors� accuse him of villainous activities. The religious leaders told their pilgrims the man was evil. The �party leaders� arranged for his arrest. He was imprisoned, tried in a makeshift trial held with a half-bought, half-preached-to mob acting as a jury. He was tortured, ridiculed. He was killed �legally�.

His name was Jesus.

Sometimes� society �legally� robs people. Sometimes� society �legally� kills people. A perfect being would not have an ego that would need a �sacrifice� as a payment. A perfect being might allow a horrible thing to happen if this horrible thing could show a misled society how a greedy, powerful part of itself causes poverty and death to people as innocent as Jesus.

God did not demand this; but someone had to show a corrupt society what needed to be changed so as not to corrupt more lives. Jesus did not want to die for us. He wanted to make the world a better place to live. Did he know this would cost his life? I believe he would have turned the tables even if he knew the outcome; but not out of a craving for notoriety. If people did not start seeing the value of impoverished people, if people did not start to realize that some criminals are not �evil�, then demoralization would have been more rampant than it has been for 2006 years. There would be more slaves, and rich people would be fighting each other on a grander scale than they presently are.

The notoriety of Jesus showed us the value of the things overlooked by wealthy people. His life and death showed us the value of declaring that injustice should not be tolerated. He was not a lamb sent to appease God�s wrath. He was a man demanding that businesses treat people fairly. A corrupt government coerced by angry �business men� killed Jesus. It should not have happened, but rather than submitting ourselves to �wearing thorns� or �carrying crosses�, we should be like him and work to change society by demanding that our businesses and our government treat people of all nations with a fair exchange of value.



by Fiorin Fyre

He spoke /
and those passing by paused /
to listen: /
“ Be Warned, People! /
This building contains toxins /
not meant to be outside of concrete. /
They float on air /
in this ill-kept factory. /
They drift into your gardens, /
 into your barbecues. /
They become the dander on your children’s heads!” /
The people he was with /
linked arms against the traffic /
waved signs reading, “ FALLOUT-BEWARE!” /
blocked cars for hours. /

He was the most vocal. /
He seemed the leader. /
He mentioned  how kickbacks and nepotism /
kept places like this open. /

Notes were taken. /
Pictures. /
He was added to a “list”, /
a list like Nixon’s. /

Soon, /
his home would be searched, /
his habits studied, /
his quirks emphasized /
and jobs /
would always be short-term for him /
no matter how skilled he was. /

Clients of the places he would work /
would back out of contracts—go elsewhere— /
due to a “list” someone made long ago, /
a list of people /
whose “offenses” /
were never clearly elaborated upon, /
a list of those condemned /
to suspicion… sometimes poverty. /

“Let’s demand accountability!” /
he said. /
“Let’s demand that skilled, well-paid-  /
hazardous-waste-disposal maintenance crews /
work to upgrade these /
chemical-riddled buildings /
rather than let a politician’s nephew /
hire unsuspecting temporary handi-men /
to put a band-aide /
on an ulcerating problem.” /

The list grows on. /
as our freedoms are sold /
and our leaders are stifled. /

  By: Fiorin Fyre

Copyright 2000 — Fiorin Fyre

The Regency Cafe at 29 N. Lansdowne Avenue, Lansdowne, PA 19050 has invited poets and artists to present their work at the cafe. Dates are above for the featured poets and an open mike follows. Camelia Nocella hosts the event and the coffee is better than Starbucks (in my estmation). Bring your poems on the fourth Sunday of each month (except for July and August) at 1pm and read your favorite work, or talk to Camelia about being a featured poet. She is always looking for more artists to hang their work on the walls of the atmospheric cafe that seats 30 people comfortably.

The caricatures to the right are sketches of each person who read on May 22nd (all but three, I ran out of cards and I didn't sketch myself). A few poets were added from other fourth Sundays. The names of those who read on May 22nd are as follows (Dear poets... forgive the mis-spellings) : Steve Delia, Sibelan Forrester, Judith Kosterman, David P. Kozinski (featured poet and artist- his art is full of color and expression), Ed Krizek, Matt Link, Richard Lord,Camelia Nocella (hosted the event), Allan Rubin and Alice Wootsen.

The recitations offered a variety of style in composition and delivery. Some people have stand-up comedy performance quality without trying. Some people have powerful imagery. Many bought coffee or pasty. Some people brought their laptops.

Every 4th Sunday of the month, poets gather from 2 to 4 pm (except July due to vacations). Bring your favorite poem and join in this fine performance art or just listen and have a great cup of coffee.

Check out other readings listed at the "Mad Poet Society's" website: . This offers many venues and times for open poetry readings available to poets and musicians.

-Catherine Weiss-Celley, editor

Arrangement of page and all poems, photographs, essays and art are copyrighted by the owners of the site.
Each artist who submits to the site retains their own copyright.

Copyright 2007 - C.(K.)M.A.W.-C. and E.W.

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