The most important rule is to be sure that your storage area is dry and not subject to extreme temperatures, either hot or cold. Moisture and temperature are the enemy.

Even though you may be new to this, you need to have some idea of just what you’re planning to store. If you only plan to collect single postage stamps, your stamp housing should reflect this. If you collect multiples of postage stamps, such as a block of four stamps, large strips, or even complete sheets, you will need to design your housing to accommodate larger, more floppy items. And, if you collect covers - first-day covers, event covers, or inauguration covers - you will need to provide a home that will accommodate the bulk of items that are multiple thicknesses of paper each.

If you have friends or relatives that already collect stamps, look at how they house their collections and ask why a particular approach was taken.

While I don’t want to overplay buying an album or supplies to make your own album, after you begin to shop and notice that it is possible to spend more for an album than for the stamps that go into it, you will need to know why certain types of albums are better or worse for your needs.

Some basic, before-you-start things to consider:

Just what is available on the marketplace? You may spend time designing exactly what you want, only to find out it’s unavailable.

How expensive are various types of albums and album making supplies? If you are not purchasing locally, be sure to figure in shipping costs.

If you want matching album binders across the board, what is available?

How easily can you update your album pages with new issues or varieties of older material? Flexibility is definitely an issue.

Finally, before beginning the housing process, here is a list of things that should be kept away from your stamps and covers. While some of them may seem like a good idea none of these items should be used.

Ballpoint pens. You must press hard to write. Therefore, you will leave an impression in any soft surface under the pen’s point. Don’t write on any stamps or covers with anything. Write on envelopes in which you keep stamps or on slips of paper that you keep with the stamps.

Clear plastic tape. Both the permanent and the removable types of this tape will leave residue behind and even if it is not visible to the naked eye, the acids in the residue can deteriorate the surface it is on. Tape and stamps do not mix.

Masking tape. Although seemingly removable and while it does leave less residue than clear tape, the longer it is attached, the less removable it becomes. Removing old dried-up masking tape from any paper surface is not pretty.

Paper clips. These, along with other metal fasteners, leave creases in your paper items. If left for a long time, paper clips may even rust, indelibly staining the surface they are on.

Photo albums. The “magnetic” pages are adhesive-coated papers that use PVC and acidic adhesives that will cause rapid degradation of stamp paper. Use only acid-free paper in whatever housing you decide to use.

Michael Russell

Your Independent guide to Hobbies

The birthplace of origami is still a mystery. Paper was developed in China in the first century A.D., and Buddhist monks brought it to Japan by the sixth century A.D. However there are not many written records from that time, so it is not known whether origami first began in China or Japan. However, no one will argue that Japan developed origami to a high art form. The word origami is Japanese: oru means “to fold”, and kami means “paper”.

Many grownups remember making origami items as a child. It was often a case of watching as another youngster showed how to make a paper airplane or something similar. After a while, we develop a set of origami instructions in our head, for making several airplanes, boats, animals, water balloons and other toys.

As it turns out, there are only so many ways to fold paper. Developing a “language” of folding helps simplify passing on origami teachings. Terms like “mountain fold” and “valley fold” are used over and over again. Basic fold patterns such as “square base” and “bird base” can be used as starting points for many different origami pieces. From the basic building blocks, an effectively infinite number of origami items can be made.

Special origami kits are available. These contain squares of paper, often colored on one side only. This helps to enhance the three dimensional effect of the item being folded. The paper is also very thin, allowing it to be folded many times. Origami items can also be made from scrap paper, such as standard printer paper. This is often best for paper airplanes, due to its weight and size: larger airplanes (of a given design) generally fly better. True origami is made from one piece of paper without using scissors, glue or decorative items such as markers. However, remember that the goal is to have fun, so use what you like.

The effect of origami as kids is to teach us creativity, patience and following a process. As grownups, paper folding is a great stress reliever and an effective way to bond further with our kids. Whether you’d like to make a simple paper boat or fold an elephant out of a dollar bill, origami is a fun, simple and inexpensive hobby. So get a piece of paper and start folding!

If you’d like to know more about origami, including how to fold specific items, visit our site at www.origami-instructions.com.

This article may be reprinted if proper credit is given and all links left intact. Copyright©2005 Origami-Instructions.com

Andre is a contributor to
Origami-Instructions.com.

Success or otherwise in your hobby foundry will depend to a large degree on your skills & ability to create simple patterns, i.e.
Patterns that are easy to mould, lift or separate from the sand
mould after a gentle rap.

A pattern that has incorrect draft on vertical surfaces, badly finished corner fillets, or a pattern that has not been finished to an ultra smooth finish will be difficult to work with.

Pattern making is an art in itself, pattern making
apprenticeships take around three or four years to complete, before you are given your “Trade Ticket”.

The average hobby foundry worker most likely won’t have the time, or the patience to get involved with the art of pattern making to that extent.

But the basic skills are worth the effort to learn, because
without them you wont get far with your hobby foundrywork, unless you PAY to have all of your patterns made for you, but that would take all of the fun out of it, and also cost you a sizeable amount of money.

Construction costs of professional pattern making can vary from a few hundred dollars for simple patterns, up to several thousand dollars for complicated pattern designs.

I happen to a know a pattern maker who designs and builds patterns & core boxes to make alloy & cast iron cylinder heads, it is not unusual for pattern & core costs to be around $20,000.00 AU before you even think about melting & pouring any metal.

If you are a legacy of the old tech school system of the sixties
& seventies, there is a good chance that you still remember how to skilfully use woodwork hand tools.

Some of the finest foundry patterns were made using basic hand tools. More than likely you still have a chisel set tucked away in a drawer, or a spoke shave, wood plane & handsaw, plus
a host of other tools that could be used to make excellent patterns in the home hobby shop.

And if they happen to be a bit rusty, then get them out again and bring them back to life, re-grind the cutting edges and hone
them with an oil stone.

Remember what your trade teacher always told you; “sharp tools
give the best results.”

Do the same with the wood plane and any other tools, such as a small set of carving chisels you could use to carve intricate shapes in wood.

You’ll need some good pattern timber or lumber as it’s called in the states… doesn’t matter, it’s all wood isn’t it. There are many types of timber suitable for pattern making, but, you’ll probably be limited to what’s available in your area or region.
Quality pattern timber is expensive to buy, so ask for off cuts at the local timber merchant, which you may get for a considerable discount

You’ll be looking for a soft timber that doesn’t splinter, has a straight grain, is easy to work or carve, and finishes to an ultra smooth finish.

One of the easiest timbers to use is jelutong, this timber comes from the Philippines, I don’t know whether it is from plantation timber, or old growth forests, but it is great to turn on a lathe, or shape and carve with sharp hand tools.

Some of the other pattern timbers in use are cherry wood, mahogany, maple, white pine, and many others.

Quite often a master pattern can be made from timber, and then a replica mould is made using RTV 585 silicone, this is a quick method to remake replica production patterns.The replica patterns can then be mounted onto a match plate along with the runners & gates, this method will enable you to mould & cast multiple parts at the same time.

With a little practise you will soon know enough to make reasonable quality patterns that create good sand moulds.

There is one important pattern making tool that will make you wince when you purchase, but it is an important tool to have if you want to make accurate patterns where shrinkage rates are concerned.

The tool is the “Pattern Makers Rule”, this is a ruler about 500mm (20″)long. Made by Rabone Of England. No B5. And the graduations are marked as: 1/30-1/40-1/60-1/80,

The graduations represent the amount of shrinkage allowance for different types of metals. The pattern makers ruler provides a built in shrinkage percentage, which means you don’t have to calculate the final measurement or size of your pattern, you simply take your measurement from your shrink rule, and transfer the measurement to the pattern being made.

The system is quite clever in the way it’s all been calculated.

For a quick example, the 1/30 scale measurement seems to give
the correct result with patterns used for cast aluminium items.

Machining allowance on specific parts of a given pattern may also need to be considered, generally your own judgement can be used to judge that.

Pattern making can be quite a challenge for the hobby foundry worker, but once you learn the basics and develop your skills, with a little practice your patterns will get better and so will the overall casting quality.

If you intend on making lots of patterns, the investment in a shrink rule is well worth the money.

And while you’re at it buy a good book on pattern making, it deserves a study all on it’s own, but it forms an integral part of foundry work, and because you’re the boss of your own workshop, you have to learn to wear the hat of the pattern maker & that of the sand moulder & founder.

Sounds like a whole lot of work doesn’t it, but you’ll soon learn what will work best for you. Spend the time to learn all you can, and you’ll be rewarded with encouraging results.

Col Croucher.

To find out more about hobby metal crafts and how you can employ
the methods & techniques to build & create your own unique projects, visit our web site http://www.myhomefoundry.com to download a free ebook to begin your understanding of foundry metal craft. This article is available for ezine publishing as long as reference is given to the source.

Are you one of those people who have a valuable gun, china, or doll collection? You know the type: You visit a home and find an amazing selection of items laying around the house or stored in a display area for accessible viewing. It may be the collection began innocently enough, perhaps with a long-ago birthday gift or holiday present. That item became particularly special to its owner, who relished it so much that he decided to start collecting similar pieces to multiply the joy coming from ownership of the prized possession.

It takes many years for most people to build up a sizable collection of objects. As they do, though, it may be tempting to put them on display for others’ pleasure, too. But if the collectible pieces are valuable, and especially if they are breakable, the owner would be prudent to take important steps in protecting the expensive collection.

1. Check the authenticity of each piece you plan to purchase for your collection. Unless you are buying from a trusted or approved dealer, you will want to make sure that you are getting the genuine article. Many collectibles come with verification certificates, so if yours doesn’t, have it checked out by a professional to be sure it’s what you think it is and not a substitute.

2. Keep track of your collection. Don’t let anyone borrow from it, or if they do, fill out a card with the person’s name and contact information, along with the date it was borrowed and when it should be returned. Describe or number the piece to make it easy to track.

3. Store all items together if possible. Keeping them in the same area or room will make it easier to detect when one goes missing or gets broken. Keep them in an area that is less traveled than others. It should be orderly and neat to help protect collectibles from breakage if someone should stumble or trip or something on the floor or sticking out from a shelf or table.

4. Keep your collection clean. Learn how to take care of collectibles to keep them free of dust, lint, stains, or other potential problems due to mishandling them or sitting a long time in the same place. You may have to buy special polish for jewelry, silverware, or guns, for example, and learn the correct way of keeping them clean.

5. Guide visitors’ perusal of the collection. Store the pieces in a locked glass case if you don’t want anyone to touch them. You can leave them out in the open, on the other hand, and instruct guests about how to handle or otherwise touch each item.

Keep the container or storage case clean, as well, Prevent kids and pets from playing in the general area of your collection, to avoid possible breakage or damage.

Learn more about this fun hobby by visiting The Collectible Spot at
http://www.collectiblespot.com

In the universe, the one that surrounds the world (perhaps the mind as well)someone once threw a ballI do believesomewhere, and it exploded, somewhat: which slowed everything down a bit, and its thrust (its push, in all directions) is still keeping it airborne: carried by the push that was set in motion (so very long ago); hence, when it loses its momentum, it will crash, I do suppose, and all that is will be the ball (its substance: what is hanging on to it, in it): that is all that will be left, everything else just waves, just waves in nothingness what that one person, once made thrust out of; as a result, nothingness and all that it created will come to some kind of a standstill (I repeat)it has to: for what will carry it? Save, that someone does not create something else out of some kind of new anything. It’s how it was, how it had to be, how else could it have been: come about to surround the world, with all its t’s crossed, and i’s dotted. We normally don’t think this way, lest we want the mind to become mad.

I heard a voice in this dream of my mind, it said, “I am immortal, I sit behind the suns, and I watch epitaphs of all, all the living things, then I open up their lips, an endless task it seems at times, the zenith of life comes from nothingnessand I hear their dying wish, to remain, to be something; eyeless faces, that is what you all were once, but by My graces: so you became, and they becomemore.

Orion’s illumed by my side, showers Me like a rainbow with its gasses, breathless orchard: it is the magnificent mocker of the universe: perhaps you would call it such, perchance: Baudelaire’s fantasy; or Poe’s Twilight; or Clark A. Smith’s perilous deep orchards; George Sterling’s musical images, ghostly lights; Dennis Siluk’s murmur, bemused silence; Ellis’ epigrammatic flight of the imagination. I touch, only touch (lest I destroy my own makings): only touch beyond its burning drums, into the winds of nothingnesswhat I created it all from. The horse head: it roars like a volcano, a moat around me; the Universe is like a squeezing viper, a sacrificial rip in all the proportions I’ve carved out of the thrust, as you call it, from the push: I fixed it for you: the watcher from earth.”

#1366 6/5/2006

Comment by the Author: “Here is a cosmic poem of sorts, which I hope you enjoy; I do trust this briefly and vividly will exposes the element of suggestiveness of the beauty of God’s vast universe.”

It’s the way it is, it’s the way it has always been

Spring thaw, brings spring mud, ripples, birds
It’s the way it is, the way it’s always been,
Ever since: who knows when, when I was a kid.

Strange, my blood runs wild in me today
That I should dream of faces so far away
I’m sitting dimly far from Minnesota’s horizon
And hear voices, echoes, rivers, from afar.

The clouds are clear on high, endless blue
The spring sounds awaken memories, renewed
Winter stars are gone with winter snows
Birds begin to nest in trees and meadows.

Spring winds will bring some spring storms
Enough to tease Minnesota’s willow trees
With many ripples on its 10,000-lakes
Around its millions of Pines and Evergreens.

It’s the way it is, the way it has always been
Spring thaw, brings spring mud, ripples, birds
It’s the way it is, the way it’s always been,

Ever since: who knows when, when I was a kid.

I’m in Peru, as spring opens up in my home city of St. Paul, Minnesota; I know its every breath and light, when its character becomes boyish; when mother-nature bends her knees. My friends tell me the winter snows are almost gone now, they were heavy just a month ago, when I was there. I can feel the doting weather gain, romping winds, emerald green woods blossoming with life, ripe for horsing around, trekking its pathways. The fish jumping up and down, breast first diving deep into the clear lakes. I must give it a tragic kiss, for I will miss her spring, but I remember so many of them, it is like Minnesota is present, alive within my dreams, it’s the way it has always been. [#1311 4/11/06]

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

“New Orleans, Mad City”

New Orleans, mad city

What have yea for your pence?

I see the shackles in your keep

Have opened doors to the sheep
Yea! And souls of many!

New Orleans, mad city

What thieves shall you invite?

An old woman, your youth is done,

Will the torches flare tonight?
Now shadows come: the shadows go
Yea! And the souls of many!

New Orleans, mad city

With no blood in the face!

That toiled for gold and fame;

The blood upon your thin pen
Gave only free servitude:
Yea! To the souls of many!

#844 9/10/05

Note by the author [brief commentary]: “Perhaps New Orleans will survive as it struggles to rise from beneath the iron waters of the tyrant storm. When the future of the South sees this city bearable for women and children to live in again that is; thus, it depends on them and the pride and integrity and forbearance of this willing nation (white and black alike) to reach out and help: stop trying to push through the crowd, do what needs to be done, right! Or perhaps, it is simply too late.”

A Halo for Hell

The Vampire bat, wide-eyed Orange and cold:
From out of his crypt At twilight, he comes to collect
The venom in their blood And the marrow in their bones;
Brings it back to Hell at night Down the Rivers Hades
To the docks alone Thus, perfume for the horde of demon
And a halo for the groom! Nothing for the goblin or witch
And for the Vampire BatA vacation from his crypt!…

#845 9/2005

Poet, Dennis Siluk writes,and lives in Peru, and Minnesota you can see his books at any internet book site

81) Silence Falls on Uruk’s walls: An ode to Uruk

If it had not been for the temple harlot, goddess of Uruk, Shamhat, there would not have been an Epic of Gilgamesh, for she it was that brought back to the Great City of Uruk, the Sumerian Capital, the prize Gilgamesh had been longing for; for she had seduced Enkidu, Gilgamesh’s equal, whom she instructed thereafter on the fineries of civilization, for he was a man-beast in the woods; she brought him a lover, as in time, after the death of Enkidu, Gilgamesh would marry and have a son, and Shamhat would bear a child. The year is 2700 BC. In the poem you are about to read, Huwawa is a giant, who guards the Cedar Forest, Enkidu lives in the forest like a beast.

Silence falls on Uruk’s walls
While a demigod rules the lands;
A raging wind from the Cedar Forest
Comes with the rattling of Huwawa.
And with the harlot Shamhat,
So follows Enkidu, the beast-man.

* * *

Eldritch stars fall on Uruk’s walls
As the red moon’s light fades in;
The granite walls are hinged in gray,
And Gilgamesh’s mind is bent
He weaves a web to hold his city,
Sumer, king of all Sumerians.

* * *

Shamhat laced her web
By baring her pulsing loins;
Her beauty glimmered in the woods
To the one by the shadowy pond.
The beast-man Enkidu, now doomed,
As she woos….

* * *

The city is joyous with star-dust,
For Gilgamesh has found his equal;
No more boys, virgins or wives,
No more rages like flying equals,
No more building tower-steeples,
Peace and harmony is now at hand.

* * *

Silence falls on Uruk’s walls
For Enkidu killed Huwawa:
Gilgamesh killed the Bull from Heaven,
And the netherworld cursed the land;
Shamhat died when the temples fell,
And Gilgamesh died in bed.

82) The Mind’s Eye

Life: it is fact, it is written,
It is part dream and part reality?
I never woke up
And I never went to sleep.

I wasn’t scarred by bullets;
And I didn’t write my dreams.
I never looked for reality within them,
I can take or leave them.

In them I roamed aimlessly,
In all seasons of the year
I can dream all this or live it;
Beyond my mind’s sight.

Inspired by Yuli Daniel, June 27 2004 [#320]

Atlantean Poems
[Poems 83 to 98]

The Archnight’s Scrolls: Codex Atlanteanus

Standing upon Terceira’s soil
Rising above the Atlantic,
I muse on Atlantean glory:
A time past, no longer to be.
For, in those distant days of old
Sunken now, in the depthless seas,
Reside the Grand Archnight’s scrolls
Now remnants, of slime and sodden ashes
At the bottom of a tireless sea.

Within these gardens of Poseidon
The poet Anases’ spirit roams,
Looking for ‘la Tour d’yvoire.’

And, should he find the crown scrolls,
What shall happen to legends told?

Note: An Atlanteon poem, 6/27/04; #319

The Princess Ais and the Poet-Hippokamp

As the great ship sailed the eastern expanse,
Princess Ais, looking westward to Atlantis,
Sangfarewell, farewell, thrice farewell,
To Yllipha, in northern Iffrikonn.
Then, listening to the moon-foamed stories of Aon,
Of the river Amphus, and its delta,
She dreamt of its grand and famous Archkingdom,
Of its strange, spellbound, and renowned obelisks,
Of Atlantis’ metropolitan streets.

Aonpoetic eyes of green, shoaling seas,
A mane of mystic, sea-bright hair;
Ais, eyes of blue and night-black hair:

With Atlantean lyre and harp, strings of silver,
The Hippokamp seduced the princess Ais.

Iffrikonn an island country; Aon, the Hippokamp: seahorse

Aon, the Hippokamp

The sound of the lyre came, sweet and clear,
Ferrying poetic notes of the Hippokamp,
In the far, dark waters of Atlantis
Archkingdom of every land and sea.

With dying breath, and horse-like chest,
To death, and oblivion that sneer
His last breath he took, with nothing of tears,
And died in splendor, amongst his peers.

#323

The Purple Robes of Atlantis

Now resting on the ocean floor,
Atlantis’ kings in ocean graves
Could neither keep nor save her.
Thus will be no glittering sun,
No hands to open ancient vaults
Or treasures stars once guarded,
Treasures stars will guard no more.

O gentlest bard, sing sweet, sing sweet,
For the poets lost in ancient times…

II

The king, the king, I saw you crowned
With jewels and gems, hemmed within,
Within your murex-dyed and gilded robes…
While the world paced and stored your glory,
And the god-king sat, deep his eyes
Looking at gold and cyclopean stone,
With a lion’s face, upon his throne,

Deep within the starless sea,
Patiently he waits, he waits.

Note: in a vision in l983, I saw one of the kings of Atlantis, in his purple robs.

The Lovely and Dreadful Fountain of Ddath

16,501 BC: on the island of Atlantis, the hymn of the maiden from Noom of At-Tho-Then (brother and sister) is played out in the following poem.

“Lailis, O Lailismy love, my love,”
(sings and plays the minstrel Ampara)
“I love you so much, even in dust,
Of Poaphus, in fair Atlantis.”
(And loves were lost for many years.)
Both were sundered by duty and lyre
(and loves were lost for many years).
But it came to pass Atlas Naorthris
Had Ampara sing within his court;

Whereupon both Lailis and Ampara
Rediscovered their long-lost love

At which the wandering minstrel
And goddess ran off, ran off,
To the far shores of the sea,

To the seaport of Allodium
To the fountain of Ddath:
And drank death away.…

[#327; 6/30/04]

Xilvaa, The Shepherdess

(13,500 BC)

Within the heartland of Atlantis,
Resides the Eiphlox Mountains,
And a mountain vale called Quloyx,
Where shepherds with warm hearts
Gaze with blue eyes into the skies:
Thus, lovers met in the midst of delight.

Who was this stranger who took her heart?
The one his father made to part;
Whose love was proven beyond all doubt?

Thus the two lovers grieved, apart,
And turned to salt the mountain lakes,
Until the Archking fixed all things,
Naming his son Lailliquis
Worthy of Xilvaa, for man and wife.

[#330-6/30/04]

How it was in Atlantis
[Parts 1 thru IX]

I: Queen Lillttis (15001 BC)

By the Great Citadel of Poseidon
Rests Queen Consort Lillttis,
Who battled two personalities

Inside her royal chest,
Until she was dead

[#326–6/29/04]

II: Mount Atlantis

Close to the ocean
Resides her great harbor
The Acropolis of Atlantis.

[#328-6/29/04]

III: The Acropolis

O great stones of marble,
Soaring fifteen-hundred feet high
Your life, art, culture touched the skies.

[#3296/29/04]

IV: Astrologers of Atlantis

High upon Mount Atlantis
Resides an observatory,
And once a year upon the dark
During the autumnal equinox,
The astrologer Pharanos
Allows the stars to study him.

#331-6/30/04

V: Atlantis in Winter

And to her north, endless twilight,
Countless fantasies in winter’s snow;
Where lad and lass and unicorn
Play, in ice and snow,
With autumn leaves of old:
Orange, red and gold.

#335-7/01/04

VI: Southern Atlantis

Marble steps along her shores,
With a tropical glow from the sun,
Antarctic breezes to cool the skin,
And help those off shore, sailing.

Gigantic flowers are everywhere,
Deep in the Southern Archkingdom.

#332-7/1/04

VII: The Atlantic Squid

Ebbing in the semi-tropic seas,
The giant squids reside within,
Within the volcanoes sub-marine,
Together with the flowers and bees,
So many arch-mysteries to see.

#3347/01/04

VIII: The Obelisks of Atlantis

Her nine-sided ivory tower obelisks,
Atlantis’ thrones for kings and gods,
Are topped with trident crowns.

#325, 6/29-30/04

IX: The Lost Archkingdom Atlantis

Your towers, temples, and turrets,
Your tapestries and treasures of fur,
Fountains, pools and waterfalls,
Your gardens, lilies and poppies,
Your sculptures, palaces, observatories,
Your giant pearls of Yndessoss,
Corals red and white from Mu,
Lemuria’s vast urns and vases
Give glory to you, Archkingdom Atlantis.

[#324, 6/29-30/04]

Atlantis

98) April in Atlantis
[Written by the King of Atlantis, while in Hell]

It is April in Atlantisthe bridges are chilled, the vessels and wines are distilled. And down the canal in The Gardens of Poseidon, the pigeons harvest corn; the bronze horses stare; still distant (above waters of peril) rest temple grounds, and uncouth, uncrowned, the lyrist sounds. Yes! Atlantis in April is toxic, with time, with its islands of stone and grandeur’s signs.

Bye, my esteemed friend, Atlantis, this April morning day, with narrow, crowed streets to guided my way, and arches with imprinted golden-carved tales. Good-bye, my spoiled Atlantis, I am bound in Hell.

#342, 7/04

End of the Atlanteon Poems

Part of Legends:

99) The Haunting of Mesa Verde

The Spirit of Mesa Verde: “They know I am coming,” I said, “I will tell the story as you wish.” “So you say,” the voice said, “tell it as you may; come into my grave (I am waiting).” ” What shall I call you,” I asked; “You’ve written it already, ancestor!” he remarked, “You come from a long way to see me, feel me, sense melet it be said I guard the dead….” [30 AD].

I am the haunting Anasazi
Of the Cliff Dwellings of Mesa Verd
And the legends told
With their winds and dearth bones.

I am the enemy’s ancestor
Of this Lost World
Haunted by shadows and cliffs
By me and eagles.

I guard the last kivas
Of Colorado
Whose people through me find rest
The others moved before reckoning.

I am the warrior
Of Mesa Verde
That tried to find reprief
Who found only darkness and stillness.

July 30 2004 #343/Reviesed August

End of the Atlanteon poems
And Legends

Political Macabre

Political Prose Poem

100) The Great Sow

I

It is a funny thing, the huge sow each year, at the State Fair, they put a prize ribbon on the biggest, ugliest, and fattest sow humanity can breed

As the public stares, no-one questions what it ate, how much it ate, how it became so fat and ugly; it’s just glorified as is: pig-flesh, layers of pig-flesh.

Need I say more about this unforgettable sight, which is like the United Nations and its ongoing role with Israel? Where only the United States, the fifteenth member, stood up for Israel?

“Yes,” says someone in the back, one of the fifteen members of the International Court, who condemned the building of the Great Wall of Israel.

“Yes, yes indeed,” he repeats to himself.

II

It is a funny thing to see, at the State Fair, this vast bulk of animal flesh lounge its bellyas does the United Nations International Court lounge its belly, review its International Issuesits eyes grooved in fat, set on a vision of a Blue Ribbon (as is the Court set on the destruction of Israel).

This ancient sow has been around a very long time, it just changes its name when it becomes too obvious.

The farmer whistled, but the barrel of fat is taking a nap; yet it grunts, grunts like Whoopi Goldberg on stage for John Kerry, with her dirty jokes. I ask myself: “What does the grunt mean?” Some one says: “Constraint: it wants to eat more, but is being held back.”

III

The sow has a brain, small as it is, maybeyes, I know for a fact it is thinking, and I know what it is thinking, and I am willing to share it with you: it is like old grease caked on a frying pan, a skillet or whatever, melting away; its tongue tastes displeasure it’s a Jew, the tongue says. Vanity and empty pride, but this is disregarded, triumph and pride prevail. The Jew is still the nigger of years past, the one they hung, the many they hung down in the south.

Now the sow looks at the empty dishes on the table and says: “Bless my soul, nothing left for the Jew,” and gives a glowing smile to the PLO, and gets a big thank you from the sow feeder, Yassir Arafat

The sow now goes back to sleep, snoring. Anyone willing to look down at the sow down through the wooden gates will see a face innocent, peaceful and assured. But try to get into the pen, the beast will sit up abruptly, and the pen cracking beneath him will terrify you….

*Published on the site: useless-knowledge, June, 2004

War Poems

101) Sunday: Vietnam

[l971]

The bugle doesn’t’ blow over here,
no bands or disheveled hymns,
we stand side by side, in groups, pairs,
each to his ownto worship Him.

With dirty faces, hair long, a disgrace,
half-naked with the scorching heat
we stand by our hutches and pray;
life crawls in a war zone, a snails pace.

And across the bay rockets are released
you can hear the whistling sound they make:
coming closer, closer, closerbang!
I move down, over, up around them.

I yearn for my busy Sunday’s home,
Grandpa makingpork-rib stew;
the newspaper: comics, headlines;
a long, calm sleep: with pleasant dreams.

I yearn for lazy-clear afternoons,
with an intelligent book to read;
voices of my mother, brother, grandpa;
the simple things like the birds singing.

[1971]

102) A Gloomful Dusk: South Vietnam

Many nights I see the shadows of the moon,
I never sleep with two eyes shut
In my hutch, on my bed, in the gloom
The gloomful dusk, with death sounds
Morbid sounds of rockets in my sleep;
I hear a cry, ‘rise, rise,’ to your feet
And I grab my helmet and M16
Prepared to meet the enemy,
In the mountains and across the bay.

I look, and look, wait and breathe;
Breathe these nights away, like night and day.
Deadly insect’s swarm in my way
Tomorrow white clouds I pray.
Shrapnel flying like burning glass
Across my faceI breathe and wait.

Note: both poems taken from Journal, l971, revised 8/04 into poetry “Sunday: Vietnam” [#344] and “A Gloomful Dusk: South Vietnam” [#345].

Miscellaneous

104) No Remorse

When askedin future time
What should I say on Judgment day?
For then it will be too late,
Too late to pray [so I hear].

What will we all sayon this day
With cold remorseless brains?
Like shifting sands
Upon the plains.

What shall we all say this day?
With sour tears in ecstasy;
When he says:
“I’ve been listening!”

8/23/04 #347

105) Legend of the Little Ute
[Ancient Mesa Verde]

She came from the 3rd world into the 4th
Through a tunnel it’s been said,
And died in the drought;
The drought that lasted twenty-four years,
In the 11th Century AD, she was a Ute.

Bundled, mummified, in the cliff dwellings
The dwellings of Long House, by a window,
Bundled with a turkey;
A turkey to keep her calm, and company,
On her long, long, very long journey.

Written while at Mesa Verde, #346/8/6/04

106) Grandpa’s Tales

Old Grandpa was a jolly-man,
With tales he told of younger days,
To all the kids around our house
Through heated summer days.

Old grandpa was a liar of course,
So all the grown-up would say;
‘But what the heck, go and listen:
And tell us lateranyway!’

He was a hero of the Great War,
A prize fighter in Japan;
He traveled the seven seas he said
And could out swear any man.

It may be that his tales were true,
Or possible he could have lied;
However, I wrote them down for you,
The day before he died.

6/23/04 #348

107) The Vanishing Giant Tortoise

Sunset ebbing, upon the Isla of Santa Cruz
With the immortal breathing skies of blue,
Of the Galapagos
Sets on the resting tortoises; upon
Their towering glazed shells: some born
During the time of the Civil War

April 23 2004 #350

108) Theft in Trujillo, Peru

So long, so long, so long;
What tears you children bring
For an unsung victim who
Put your father in jailfor stealing.
Yes, stealing, stealingmy money…
Cry a tear, a simple tear, another tear:
Simply, I see what you see
You are sorry for being caught.

April 25 2004, Trujillo, Peru

109) Parqueito’s

The sun is blooming, bright and high
As I rest outdoors in this Café
(El Parquetie, in Lima, Per):
The park is green and flowery;
Streets are full of cars, horns, smog;
People, people, people, all about,
On lazing boulevards (hereabouts).
Here, in slumberous Mirafloras,
On lazing boulevards (all about).

April 7 2004, Lima Peru

110) The Mists of Sorrow

Flee the mists of sorrow,
Find your wings and fly away.
Born is just today, not tomorrow
Sunken sunsets only fade.

April 11 2004, Lima, Peru #349

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com