Ohio University
I attended OU for one year.
That was an excellent education money did not buy.
Yet I failed to thank someone for it,
That is,
“outside of a small circle of friends”.
Thank you Phil Ochs.
Tag Archive: discovery
Pandora
He’s an immigrant, a laborer.
Painting my house mending my fence.
Nothing in common, he paints.
Offer a coke I did.
He spoke and taught me.
Pandora’s box.
It opened.
Humbled.
Me.
Thoughts.
They say men think about sex 3 or 4 times an hour.
So when I’m at the bar with three friends.
We have three beers in three hours
That means together we had 48 sexual thoughts.
But sex only came up in conversation 21 times.
What a waste of thoughts.
Blind
.
How do you clarify colors to the blind.
.
E x a m i n e . t h a t . i n t e l l e c t u a l . a c t i v i t y.
.
What
are
you
blind
to?
.
.
Steve
A poet without words,
speaking a language prior generations never heard.
An artist without a brush,
paints a canvas of imagination.
A visionary, with boundaries he cut,
saw a future we could not.
A tycoon of industry,
yet, each customer felt Steve’s touch.
A man that ignored culture’s dogma,
taught us to follow a personal dream.
My parents, Pieter and Ada Pastoor 1939
The Choice of a Nazi
My parents were Dutch,
now that by itself, doesn’t mean much.
They lived in Holland miles from the strand.
During the war, like many, they took a stand.
My parents hid Jews in that little house,
Jews that ate and were quiet as a mouse.
Nazis searching for Jews under all sorts of covers,
even hunted for those Jew lovers.
Can you imaging the fright by all,
as the Nazis marched by so tall.
Complete power and authority,
to put you out of misery
The Nazis knocked on their door one day,
took my father in a brutal way.
Mother and grandmother cried at the door,
one soldier said “go back to your whores”.
That one Nazi gave me a life.
Without his deed I would not have this strife.
This happened a year before I was born,
so now you understand why I’m so torn.
Is this this devil’s one kind deed,
or simply another horrible weed.
I ponder this young man’s thinking,
does he look from above winking.
Oh, that young soldier was not an idol,
my guess is he became suicidal.
The real heroes of that hour,
those two women who changed the act of power.
I’m not sure what they cried or did yell,
but whatever, it rung like a bell.
Maybe it was said with their eyes,
yes, it made one soldier see the lies.
Nesting
What happens when the eagle flies.
When the nest no longer offers rest.
Hunting skills on survival mode
Life plays out under wings so bold.
That’s how it is and was with us.
Labor, now the air beneath our wings.
Hunting skills brought home a meal.
No time to find your inner self.
What would an eagle contemplate,
if the nest allowed his stay.
Eagles now unite and fight?
For things we all should crave.
Would the eagle struggle with the rabbits demise?
Or create a source of power on the rise.
Or question an illness of a fowled friend.
Or fly to unknown streams or bends.
What a joy to allow our nest,
a haven to explore our best.
A spot to view the universe
A home to help those who need a rest.
Creating wealth as humans do, gives a gift.
A gift of time, time to create.
To create a nest from which to zoom.
Listen and obey that call,
It will will help us all, dance at the universal ball.
We are a world of enlightened beings,
watching eagles flight for life.
No gift of time is in their nest.
Yet for us,
Time will be our biggest test.
Self
Is it a crime to lust over you?
Is it a sin to want you near?
I need a touch can you hear?
You do not know my name
But, stains tell the truth
True love I fear.
Thank you hand
Again
Bliss
Tim
So, there she sat alone with her hat
Wondering where he might have been.
She knew not. He was with him.
She knew he craved her hat.
But he thought for him.
She kept waiting.
Time to come
for him.
Tim
Pieter's Poetry and Images 
Starbucks and Me
Starbucks and Me.
I fancy Starbucks.
Such an enchanted place,
full of civil people.
Cooperative staff act as butlers.
A grande skinny cappuccino with 1/2 pack of raw sugar and a light sprinkle of chocolate powder doesn’t raise an eye brow.
The coffee is good.
Not great – but good.
Starbucks informs me of hunger in Africa
I like to buy coffee there because it’s helps those people.
Starbucks is green.
Every cup is made from some thing recycled.
Every cup asks me to recycle.
Clientele cradle their cups while debating in delicate dialog.
Laptops glow with enlightenment to the wi fi set.
Yes, I order my brew while mingling with intellectuals.
You walk away feeling honorable.
A good potion,
guiltless deeds
and all the while sustaining the earth.
I do derive pleasure from Starbucks.
And then,
then I go on with life,
gratified I saved the earth.
Gratified I helped the hungry.
Yet, no one notices
the beggar at the curb.
Why not recycle his life with gentle words and deeds?
Yes, Starbucks is an honorable experience,
but the beggar begs to differ.
Don’t be fooled.
Starbucks caters to the ME in us, not the WE in us.