Posted: December 31, 2014 in Poetry
Bass rumbles and rolls at 30 Hz
Snare cracks and guitar roars
Coiled like a spring
I leap in to the pit
Blood and sweat
Muscle and bone
Where no one is picked last
Posted: May 26, 2014 in In Memorium, Ramblings
When does patriotism become merely another version of fandom? Do we diminish the value of service by branding it with empty nationalism?
Today is Memorial Day in the United States. We have set this day aside to remember and pay tribute to our war dead. Many also memorialize family and friends who have passed.
As I’m wont to do, I begin to ponder things on days like this.
I feel a sense of solemnity on Memorial Day. Sure, it’s the start of Summer and a nice three day weekend that lends itself to the beach, pool and cook outs, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with those things.
Somewhere in the number of 1.3 million American troops have died in war during our country’s history. That’s a pretty staggering number. That’s a lot of graves, not all of which are on U.S. soil.
Not really sure I have much of a point beyond that number. 1.3 million. How many more before we’re done?
Shot, stabbed, decapitated, disemboweled, burned alive, drowned – all the the horrible ways you can die…
We wrap it up in ceremony and parades. Do we do this to salve our consciences? Wouldn’t no more war be a better memorial?
Posted: May 23, 2014 in Running
I ran a half marathon this Sunday past. It was my third. I recorded a PR. That’s Personal Record for you civilians. The course was hillier than I anticipated, but I was largely undaunted. I struggled a bit with the final two miles, which included the dreaded “Hospital Hill”.
I haven’t run at all this week. In part to rest and in part out of fear that I can’t run anymore. Strange.
This morning, a day off work, I feel good – legs feel rested and recovered. And yet, I kind of dread lacing up and heading out for a run.
Why? I have no idea.
It’s going to be a beautiful day for a run…
Posted: October 28, 2013 in Poetry
It’s dark and cold
I’m surrounded by mewling and yipping beasts
some even dare the pretense of a roar
the herd lurches on
an undead thing soon to rise