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Friday, July 27, 2007

On the off-beat

The False Decree --an open verse ramble by John R. Evanetski

“I see this old man, he’s watching life pass,
hoping to squeeze a smile out of his ass”

Prolog: It was April 1994, I recall, when I agreed to drive Uncle Max home from his most recent 120 day “visit” at the State of Washington Treatment Center for Behavioral Disorders, near Seattle. I didn’t mind. To me, he was neither dangerous, nor crazy. He did exaggerate a hell of a lot, I thought.
“I’m a victim, sonny. Look at them! There the ones who are sick,” Max protested, pointing to the doctors and staff, leaving the Center for the day, white lab coats slung over arm or shoulder, talking and laughing.
“They look happy Max;” I said. At that, Max scowled a scornful grin through those chapped lips and tobacco-stained teeth, turned his aged face my way and said.
“Let me tell ’ya what the hell they do to ya’ in there, sonny.. Then ya’ be laughin’ out yer’ ass.“ Max snorted.

It didn’t take much to get Max going. So, he starts like this:

….it was time for more coffee. I'm not sure where the day would take me, probably to submit to another involuntary commitment at the local brain-drainer. Yea, it went down just like before..….Ya’ know, I’m getting that “vu j’ia de” feeling all over again……ready…….remember….er last time… when, I was hallucin….all…. strapped on that gurney like a sack of sh…….then they shoved that tub up my….

I was forced to admit to a stress-driven fit,
a flawed mental processes mistakenly identified,
but-quickly justified by Dr. HSN Habib
Aribarhubarb, MD, one of those questionably-educated,
not-professionally-dedicated, definitely-under motivated,
Middle Eastern mind-bending brain-drainers who,
with his scrawled John Hancock sealed my fate
for the next three-mounts to a state-run, no-money-for-fun
stalag for a test-and-rest, did he Habib-Arib, in a move
like a Turkish whirling-dervish, spin-around and beat-feet,
fast-and-neat to a small rurally-rustic north woods backwater
cow-town, to take post at an average-pay cash booty for
a no-sweat cakewalk diagnostic duty, thereby violating a
previous sworn oath to restore educational loan amounts
granted him from government accounts by willingly giving
his medical best to heal their sores, open their clogged pores,
and unlock the doors to a life of rewarding chores for the
inner-city nervous, whom confined through no fault of their
own inhabited those over-populated spaces owned by
over-copulated foreign races packed into tenements amid
the feted slums, the diseased bums, the hardened criminal
scums, and the post-leaning lot of street-walking dumb-dumbs,
to prove Habib did falsely decree, without shame. What a bastard….

“Max, we’re home,” I breath with a sigh. “Thanks a lot, sonny” Max replies in sincerity, like always. He tips his hat, turns his backside full my way, and “Did ya’ get a good laugh out of that, sonny. See, ya’ next time around“ Max smiles. I‘m sure I will.

Epilog: Uncle Max was like a father to Sonny. Without fail he was only one in the family to offer his emotionally trouble nephew a ride home form Sonny’s various commitments for multiple-personality disorder at the State of Washington Treatment….”

Current poems published

These two poems appear not just here, but published as well in the Summer 2007 Issues of Artistry of Life, an online literary magazine. Besides the poems, I produced another essay as part of my regular column in AOL, and wrote the Editor's Message for the summer issue, for which I served as Interim Editor.

Kansas Golden Plains
Decades gone now being nourished
by sweat shed generations ago from
farming families tilling, tending fields
into abundance as Kansas golden plains.

Rise to set, seed to harvest they wrought
America's great bounty fired in the belly
by their honest labor and forged it onto
a larder that could feed the whole world.

Pioneers, pilgrims, proud citizens
persevering as unheralded heroes
they bore misfortune undiminished
with courage, faith, determination.

Noses scent the sweet, ripe grain.
Eyes swept windy ribbon-rows of wheat,
Corn, alfalfa flow in long undulating acres.

To overcome daily toil and strife brought
liberty to their life. They mark success in
humble nobleness. Confirmed heart and soul
in self-control, head held high in stoic reply.

Adversity ignore, faith implore, a reward Divine
honorable legacy enduring, God's Grace inuring
set them a holy place, gazing on His smiling face.

Dakota Buffalo: Evolution
At present...handsome, healthy herds
Bison, North America’s great wooly beast
Restored, revived census now at 600,000.

Graze safe on federal ranges, strong, they feed full
sleep like sheep ‘neath beautiful for spacious skies.

A bridled liberty it be. A once nomadic flow
secured and sequestered by federal mandate.

Surveyed, moves monitored, mating inventoried.
Stand eyes wide open in amber waves of grain.

This Century...laid-waste, freedom lost. L’mort!
Slaughtered down 1,000, a white hunters blood-lust
kill for trophy, severe heads, leave carcass rotting.

Rescued by enlightened men of conscience
apply rules of sciences , enforce legal decrees.

In the beginning...with a big bang
Free-rovers, 60 million, unmolested Prairie Kings
thundered in massive herds over Dakota’s plains.

Pungent their musk of careless, carefree wandering
Rumbling hooves beat out an anthem of freedom.

Revered as life-giving by native American tribes.
Great Spirit’s gift food, clothing, cover,.. and all.

Monday, May 28, 2007

A Memorial Day Poem

This Everlasting Day:
Hymns, Anthems and Tears

By John R. Evanetski
with l'etude lyric, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic

My eyes are red for the tears I shed
listening to hymns and anthems play
on raidowaves for this memoriam day.

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored….”

My ears tuned keen to every patriotic note
Listening to lines poets long ago wrote
Stirred by lyrics drawn from Scriptural quote:

...“I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;“As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel...,

My memory quick recalls verses first read
honoring the brave of Union and Confederate dead
Now said for all soldiers felled by wartime dread.

“In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;While God is marching on”

My mouth wide opens echoing fateful words
set forever to mark this everlasting day.
It all just takes my breath away!

“Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on...”

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

High on the oxygen

Evans Blogs Again: nice hat, no pants!

What a SAP I am!

SAP is a self-diagnosed condition I call Seasonally Affected Person. I developed this definition to describe the various moods
I experience when the seasons change.

Now I realize it makes a perfect excuse
for not keeping up my numerous blogs.

Until today, that is

A recent long stretch of wonderfully fresh, clean, Lilac-scented Spring air currently blanketing our area is just intoxicating and renders me lethargic. Motivation to do anything ebbs.

It’s flowing today due to a cold front that moved in last night creating cool, wet conditions, but not dismal enough to leave me subdued or testy. Hot, humid summers tend to depress all my physical and mental faculties. Sunny, cool and moderate Autumn weather invigorates me; long, cold winters evoke a "survival" mode.

Survival is an operative word today, specifically the future of the Buffalo Sabers, my favored NHL team for this years Stanley Cup. Tonight the Sabers begin the monumental task of having to beat the Ottawa Senators and win the remaining four games to win the conference championship and move on to the Stanley Cup

Ottawa has taken it away from Buffalo, which has the best record in the NHL this year, winning the first three games, including a double overtime 4-3 nail-biter on Saturday, and a painfully tactical 1-0 win on Monday. Sweeping play-off series seems to be Ottawa's calling card. The Sens, as Ottawatonians call them, swept past the Pittsburgh Penguins in the first playoff round.

No matter what happens tonight, I’ll be putting away my puck and picking up on my social calendar this weekend.

Music in the Park starts its summer series of live Friday and Saturday music concerts this weekend. A reunion is set for Saturday night of the key members long-dormant and almost defunct Warren Bacchus Society, a private wine-tasting group ex-Ellen and I joined a number of years ago. Sunday is the monthly potluck supper for residents in my apartment complex. My offering this month is Shrimp & Mushroom Risotto.

Speaking of ex-Ellen, she sent me an “FYI” email this week saying that she is planning a visit to Warren this weekend and proposes a visit for us. Not sure how I can work that into my schedule.

Well, that’s my agenda for the near future. I’ll stop here and see if I have the energy to do a weekend blog review for next week. What’s in your wallet?

In other business: a new essay of mine written for the Spring issue of Artistry of Life, an online literary magazine which I write for and help edit, is posted at An audio edition I recorded of the same essay can be heard at

Also, with regards to my creative writing, I'm setting into type soon two new poetry folders for a number of poems I've written on specific themes. I'll post a blog notice when the folders, an innovative new format I developed for displaying poems, are ready for distribution.

Friday, April 13, 2007

I Know I've Been Tardy!

Okay, so I’ve neglected updating my various blogs for some time now. There are several excuses I can offer, but no good reasons for being so tardy.

Actually, most days of my days and nights are full of activity from the routine to the esoteric. Today, I’ll iron the shirts and pants I washed Thursday just after returning from Erie where I had a follow-up consultation with a new neurologist, Dr. James DeMatteis. He main focus here is to find some way to better manage the medications I take for Parkinson’s. I’m also undergoing preliminary screening to determine whether I would benefit from surgery to implant electrodes in my brain, which are attached to a battery embedded in the chest, to stimulate that part of my brain the creates the Parkinson’s symptoms. I should know be the end of May whether a deep brain stimulation is practical and worthwhile..

I will also begin today the line edits for the Spring 2007 issue of Artistry of Life, a task that is the main function of my new position as the magazine's assistant editor and technical advisor. Artistry of Life is an online literary magazine founded by my good friend Cassandra Robison, a professor of English, American Literature, and Creative Writing at Central Florida Community Collage.

Along with having editorial and technical responsibilities, I write, and produce an audio recording, for a featured column for every issue. I have contributed poems and essays for AOL for the past year, You can find it at . There are link in the header of this page for all AOL, and all my other weblogs.

In between, I’ll be watching NHL playoff games with a favored eye on the Buffalo Sabers, a team I’ve been following for the past ten years. On Sunday, there is another pot luck super here, which draws a good turnout of residents. My offering will be sausage & peppers with penne pasta.

Friday, February 16, 2007

How About A Little Music

CLICK for: EvansMusic

An audio-only web log of my favorite music

Monday, January 29, 2007

Evans as Podcaster!

Hear Me & See Me

Adding video to my personal web log journal
was inevitable, especially since I received many complements about my audio website. I call it:

My 45-second Slice of Life

CLICK & watch: Evans on the Lamb, My Green Zone

I “shot” the first episode Saturday night with the simple "home movie" capabilities available with the digital camera I have. Using the highest quality setting only yeilds only 45 seconds of recording time.

So, Lights! Camera! Action!

New episodes coming soon!
"Johnny Guitar" "The Big Chair"

Sunday, January 21, 2007

A Breakfast Poem!

Eggs & bread

golden yolks burst on the hot skillet

exploding like a thousand solar flares

three altogether scrambling in a vortex

of rapid clockwise fork strokes

a tang of cheddar blended-in to finish.

fresh bread erupts its metal-pan confines

sweet smelling yeast -yielded manna

quick the knife true smooth and clean

slices even and equal toasted lightly

a spread of butter jam seals its fate

a cup of joe java coffee

brewed hot and hearty drunk black

the nose tastes the aroma of vigor

on the tongue a scent of confidence

ah! this vital sustenance this breakfast

good morning noon or night

et in terra pax homnibus

CLICK to hear audio poem!