God of my life, thank you for allowing me into another day. I do not ask for my life; I ask only that the life I have left be filled with kindness and respect for others, and that I live each day as my last. Please look upon my family and wonderful friends with kindness and love, especially my sisters, Diana and Kay, and help those who suffer Cancer's dread. PLEASE LET THERE BE PEACE IN THIS WORLD, ESPECIALLY FOR THE CHILDREN. And know that I speak in peace to all.

P.S. today only: Please let the Cardinals, Bears, and Hawkeyes win another championship before I go, (like you did in 1985). Thank you, great person, (Hey, she might do better than the guys can do). Hello? Are you still there? Hellooooo!
Joe

This morning, as I was saying my morning prayer, I spotted a Bird at the very tip of a Tree. I don’t know how they stay there like that. I assume, if it were windy, he couldn’t do that. But, what a view he had of the world around him. Somehow, as I prayed, it gave an extra shove to its meaning. The words came back into me, as if a doubling had happened. An emphatic appreciation of the Nature of it, maybe. I am dwelling good today.
Speaking of Birds, there is a huge Tree across our alley. Thousands, and I mean thousands, of Birds congregate there every morning. The noise of this is incredible. It’s like a big, boisterous, Union meeting. Old Stan Russell came over yesterday and said he was going to see if the city could do anything about it, because the noise is so intense, he can’t sleep. I laughed. He’s a harmless old guy (yeah, even older than me), but you can’t screw with Nature. I told him I didn’t think it was within the city’s province to mess with Bird meetings. He got kind of mad at me for making light of it. We also have a big controversy here about the trains blowing there horns. Big issues like that really get me cranked up. What a town! We’re at the mercy of terrorists; Stan wants to invade the Trees, and we want the trains to stop blowing their damn horns! Isn’t life strange?
Hey wait a minute! Maybe Stan’s onto something! Those Birds–maybe they’re planning something-a terrorist attack, maybe! Oh m’god, maybe they’re going to shit on us!!!! That’s it! The next terrorist attack–a bird shit attack!!!! They’re Bird Al Qaeda!!!! Mohhammad Al Robin, Yusef bin Starling, Joe Cardinal!!!!(How the hell did he get in there?). Jeez, I’m crazy this morning. Maybe it’s the medications, or a combination thereof. Nah, the birds wouldn’t hurtus –or, WOULD THEY?
Maybe it’s the literature I read. I like the Weekly World News. That’s the one with all those goofy stories. I love it. This week the headliner is: “Vampire Cat Captured--bowl of human blood used as bait!”. You gotta love that!
The A story, in my mind however, is the one that says–are you ready? “Alien arrested–and named in a paternity suit!”. Then it goes–“Deadbeat space dad nabbed by sheriff’s deputies.”. How come none of this stuff ever happens anywhere else?
“In the sleepy little town of Murrieta.”–it’s always some, “sleepy little town”. “Sheriff’s deputies saw an individual floating outside a bedroom window.” FLOATING? When Sheriff’s deputies came up him, why didn’t he just “float” away? I think this story is a little ‘fishy’! Apparently this woman, Stacey McCauley had an affair with the ‘floater’. She says: “My son needs a Father to be there for him.” Whoa daddy, she’s freaky!
“Studio buys movie script from Chimp!” Yeah right–studio executives said: “For us, it’s not the writer, but if the script has all the elements to make a good movie.” Yeah sure, I’ll bet it wasn’t that great! This isn’t just sour grapes because my script was rejected, either! I can write circles around that hairy little bastard! And that’s true–he really is illegitimate, you know! His Father was a circus Monkey! Gee, do I sound bitter?
Listen I have to go. I’m going to read about the: “Baby born with button nose.” No really, there’s a picture of a baby with a button nose. You know, a real button! I gotta get more sleep! Hey, have a great morning everybody. I love you guys.
Joe

(To be read with great adoration)

Drip away, my brown, liquid, residue
Pick up my presence and lick me, warm puppy.
Though your cradle becomes discolored,
with age and, you may feel the tinge of neglect;
I crave your loving brew.
Just remember, I love you, deliriously.
The hot steam of your sensuous breath
air-floating, from your heated essence,
does soothe my edged countenance.
Should you be left to grow chilled
from indifferent disregard,
hopefully, all can be forgiven,
for I do, at times, driftly go.
And, at times, I wish you lighter,
and sweeter; it isn’t because
I don’t love you the way you are.
It is because I love you in different ways.
Variety, my dear friend;
it is a seasoning to all of our lives.
You have been with me during
my hangover mornings.
You were my Sancho Panza
whan my babies came from their Mother.
And, you were there the times I was up all night
worried about my children.
You were there to make my morning,
before I walk off to work.
You were there when I got a phone call
saying that I had Cancer!
You were there, with me, my old friend!
You were there for me in my darkest hour of need.
You were always there.
The first thing I wanted, after dying, was you.
Yes, you, my dear old friend.
You have always been there with me.
You were there that rainy day in Korea;
on that hillside where depression lived.
You and me, in the rain, on the hill.
I thought about dying, that Spring day.
I had you there and, somehow we made it!
You spoke none of it; you didn’t argue me;
you didn’t criticize me; you were just with me.
The Sun shines, inevitable, now.
I am at peace with life, and death.
Wherever I go, you will go.
When a man steps to the edge,
he needs only an Angel, and a friend.
She is the one; you are the other.
How could I not be happy.

Joe

Who were we?
In the night, we dumped Tea in Boston harbor.
We were the “citizen soldier” with the lantern in the Church tower;
we were brother Hale hanging in that tree; we were Benedict Arnold
who suffered for his allegiance.
Who were we?
We were the whites of their eyes, with that arrogant southern swagger;
and, Dolly saving what was US, in a frantic, burning, White House;
we were the Banner still flying
Who were we?
We were soldiers; now enemies; still brothers;
we were here; you were there; we fought ourselves before thinking
that war, for us, was the worst in us. The Union was in us.
Who was he?
We were there as the door slipped open through slightest light; wee saw his head.
We hear some laughter in humorless kindness; this is it! He must make this moment his!
he flies open the door
BANG!
“Sic semper tyrannis!”
and, with that, he puts that bullet into the great man’s head!

Who were we?
The world became our marketplace so war became our fortune.
To kill is vacant to our spiritual being, but the power of gold makes us change
so, we kill because we want; and we kill to take; we kill to keep!
Who were we?
We died with that crazy “Bloody Bill” on that back road in Tennessee
and, we rode through night and day and rain to put that letter into another's hand.
We weren’t always bad; but, some were evil; sometimes, we weren’t too proud of who we were
Who were we?
We carved the life from peaceful people turning green Dakota grass bloody red
In morning they walked out to there field, and found nothing of their lives,
of there family, and their culture; Buffalo heads, and the dead were all we left.
“Until they are no more,” Sherman said. Proceed until they all are dead,
or put in chains so they can’t be lead by the greatness of their kind.
"Most of all, brave men, be sure that these savages have no place to dance!"
Who in the hell are we?
In hills, far from home, we fell on black sand, paddies, and mountain land.
Our wealth increases with each event. How does that square with our God’s command?
How do we live through nights unwondered; why would our lives value more than any others?

Who are we?
Conscripted thousands take to the jungles thrashing, killing, killed, they lay,
puffing good shit, and thinking of homes daylight, nigh-time, fear, we think:
“Is this the end? Will I end today?” Thinking deeper, to suspend our reverence.
"No more, on our own, we say: “No more!”
Who are we?
Techno-flash, kill crushed by the thousands; gyro, spinning, lightly touch, the button’s spray.
The certain death without thought, firing, blazing, burning, meaty, the swelling smell of dying,
roasting, crying; they will never hurt too much! We will never feel any of their pain, enough
God, what have we done? We are the dread of all the world;
we do not lead; we take!
Who are we?
I kill, you kill, we kill, they kill; killing has become our frequent skill
Strangle them in angry vengeance; who are you in this world that WE have built?
If we hadn’t come here; who would you be? You would be a silly carpet maker,
maybe you would pour cement, but look at you now? See what we’ve done?
We’ve made you a soldier in an Army of one!
Who are we?
Who in the hell do you think you are; we came here to save you from you!
If we hadn’t come; who would you be? You? We gave you our weapons, our money, our name.
Why do you turn your back on us? You were useless dreadful meat,
and now you think you can rule your own?
Who am I?
In the light I’ve come to wonder, who it is that I’ve become.
I will not kill another to form a tool, or line another’s purse with wealth.
I will be just who I am, and be where it is I am supposed to be.

Who was it?
Such a bright, sunny day it was that morning when the towers came down.
Upon our dream they fell and, hell followed. Into our lives, through the cube, it came,
tubing a curl of smoke and thunder, while our enemies laughed and danced
Who are they?
There was a time when friend was brother, when peace came draped in red, white, and, blue.
Now red seems to be the only color; Cain and Abel have exposed our cover.
We are, indeed, a vengeful few; love, kill, forget, and move on!

So, is this who we are?

Joe

"If they are to fight, they are too few;
if they are to die, they are too many."
Chief Hendrick-Mohawk Nation

"You might as well expect the rivers to run backwards as that any man who is born free be contented to be penned up and denied liberty to go there he pleases."
Chief Joseph- Nes Perc'e Nation

"We are minded to live in peace: If we intend at anytime to make war upon you, we will let you know of it, and Reasons why we make war with you; and if you make us satisfasction for injury done us, for which the war is intended, then we will not make war on you."
Anonymous Indian Nation quote.

Joe