Wednesday, August 15, 2018

From A to Z 2012 'A'

From A to Z in 2012

Of course, when going A to Z you have to pick the best out of what is there. In the six years since the poems were written, nothing major has changed, just different people doing the same stuff. ‘Endless’ war is unabated.


A Call to the Old Marine

By John Kaniecki

Seventeen
Full of rage
Lied about his age
As he signed the page
Became a marine
Same story as before
Yet another war
To kill and die
For a lie
When your naïve
Many lies you’ll believe
So he went through hell
And served his country well?


But there comes a time
When we cannot be oblivious to the crime
How we are manipulated
By war profiteers
Who tell us who must be hated
Exploiting our fears


Stand up, man, be brave
You have America to save
As a youth
You fought for the truth
You’ve seen this act before
Stand up once more
Do not let them deceive
And make us grieve

In more war

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Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Milo and the Missing Socks by John Kaniecki

Milo and the Missing Socks
by John Kaniecki  

          Milo carefully examined the empty cavity of the machine. The scientist was an expert on a variety of highly technological contraptions. He had serviced nuclear power plants, gamma energy generators, proto plasma engine spaceships along with a wide and diverse variety of robots and androids. Today, however, he was looking into a clothes dryer.
          Doctor Milo Myron was meticulous for details. He found this necessity early on in his pursuing the multitudes of various sciences. In fact, in his well-qualified opinion next to mastery of mathematics, close attention to details was a distant second in importance. Milo remembered early in his undergraduate career the frustrations of sloppy notations. The ambitious freshman strove all night to solve a mathematical homework problem. Despite working into three cups of coffee exhaustion, he was humbled by his lack of ability to get the correct answer. Early the next morning in the class the professor with a slight twinge of embarrassment confessed that he had transcribed the equation incorrectly to the blackboard. "I hope I didn't cause any inconvenience" he lightly dismissed his error. But the lesson was learned quite well.
          Milo had a clear list of what his laundry consisted of. He had even gone to the point to tag the various articles of clothes, written on the list there were three jeans, two white dress shirts, one blue dress shirt, three pair of boxer underwear and six black socks. Now however after removing all the articles and carefully folding them into his basket all was there, save one black sock. Undaunted Doctor Myron stuck his head deep into the clothes dryer's empty cylinder.
          It was at this point Doctor Milo Myron's rival Doctor Clarence Thrift came strolling by. He was whistling Dixie though he did not know the origins of his tune and certainly not the implications for Doctor Clarence Thrift was of African origin and overall a pleasant and jovial creature. So when he walked by the common area which contained the washers and dryers it struck him extremely humorous that one of his colleagues had half his body submerged into a clothes dryer. So adhering to his grand philosophy to enjoy life he let out his unique deep laugh.
          Milo heard the pleasant sound very distorted from deep inside the dryer. It served nothing more than to distract him from his mission of searching for his missing sock. In fact, forgetting his relationship in time and space, the good doctor attempted to stand erect. This resulted in the banging of his head. Now being painfully thrust into awareness Milo retracted his upper body from the clothes dryer. Turning around, he glared at the individual who mocked him. Realizing it was none of then his nemesis Doctor Clarence Thrift, Milo gritted his teeth in anger.
 "Good Lord, Doctor Myron," exclaimed Doctor Thrift. Though neither of the scientists would openly talk about it without a doubt, there was a rivalry between the pair. Everyone in the enclave knew it. In fact, it could be scientifically proven that animosity existed between the pair. To do such would involve linguists to analyze conversation coupled with biologists to monitor heartbeat, blood pressure and electronic activity in various locations of the brain. However, it was understood from the fact that the pair never talked to one another despite both being men of many words.
          "Ah, if it none other than, Doctor Clarence Thrift," said Doctor Myron as his mind whirled trying to calculate the exact probability that this appearance was random or coincidental, "How convenient for you to arrive at this exact moment."
          Doctor Clarence Thrift possessing no less than three Ph.D.'s knew an allegation when he heard one. He was nobody's fool, except of course for the defense department, the politicians and an attractive woman wearing tight clothes. "And what exact moment are you referring to my good man?" Thrift desired to know.
 Doctor Milo Myron's research was painstakingly calculated. He had eliminated possibility after possibility from the possible causes that could be responsible for his missing socks. At first, he thought it was his imagination. Why how could the socks be missing? Sure there was an odd number present which was vastly illogical. However, covering any contingency, it was even possible that he had acquired an extra sock. As time progressed, it became apparent that his number of socks was in fact diminishing. Like any good scientist, he wanted to know why.
 It wasn't rocket science a field by the way which Doctor Milo Myron was one of the world's foremost experts if not number one. Ah, there was the rub for coming in at a close second if not on top was none other than Doctor Clarence Thrift. So now in the cool, calculating thoughts of Milo emotions were interjected and he lost the context of his reasoning. Knowing the confusion, he focused upon the prime reason for his consternation. "My sock is missing!" roared Doctor Milo Myron.
          "I am sorry to hear that," replied a baffled Clarence Thrift.
 "Are you," hissed Doctor Myron, "are you really?" The scientist's face which was usually almost as pale as his white jacket was now a vibrant red.
          "And just what are you implying?" demanded Doctor Thrift.
          "Do I need to spell it out to you?" shot back Milo.
          "Are you accusing me of thieving your sock?"
          By now a couple of other scientists of the enclave were gathering at the door. They had heard the ruckus and curiosity, a basic common element in scientists, had gotten the better of them. The urge to find out what was going on trumped the protocol to be polite.
          "Not just one sock," said Doctor Milo Myron, "but at least seven if not more!"
          "Why that's preposterous," bellowed Doctor Clarence Thrift. "What would I want with your stinky socks?"
          "Hmmff," snorted Milo absorbing the blow. His deeply rooted training kicked in. He would not let this get to be anything other than a scientific endeavor. However, those who were congregating by the door in open rudeness let out a laugh.
          "You impinge my honor sir," Doctor Clarence Thrift laid down the gauntlet.
          "I ask you what are the odds of you coming by at the exact moment when I was searching for my missing sock?" It was a question that demanded an answer.
 "Let's see," mumbled Clarence. "The enclave has about seven hundred scientists all with access to this area. Include another roughly thirteen hundred support personnel. Now the numbers of visitors are an unknown but if we allow one for every three residents why that would-"
          "Pretty damn high isn't it?" Milo's words were piercing.
          "Yes," said the rival scientist, "I cannot deny that mathematical conclusion."
          "Now I have eliminated all other possibilities from my exhaustible list," declared Milo.
          "All?" Clarence questioned.
          "All except gremlins devouring them," Doctor Myron slashed full of sarcasm.
          "Calm down good sir," said Clarence, "there must be some logical conclusion."
 "Okay, for the past month I have counted my socks daily, at noon and night before I retire to go to sleep. Every time I count them it is consistent that all of them are there. Therefore knowing it is a felony to break into a room and furthermore that none of the socks are ever missing, I believe I can safely conclude that nobody is stealing my socks from my private quarters."
          "You have been counting your socks for a month?" whispered Doctor Thrift in disbelief.
          "Now," continued the other incessantly, "whenever I bring the said socks and all my articles down to the laundry room I record and detail the entire inventory." Doctor Milo Myron waved his tally sheet into the air.
 "All right," said Doctor Clarence Thrift beginning to see the severity in the matter. "So I assume that in the time from your room until the time you take them to the wash that no articles are missing."
 "That is correct," replied the irate colleague.
          "Now examine the articles in contention," Milo waved his hand over the laundry basket full of clothes.
 Doctor Clarence Thrift stepped into the laundry room. "Yes, I observe that all the articles are both pinned and that the pins are color-coded with beads."
          "Yes they are," screeched Doctor Milo Myron.
          "And so no items are lost in the washing machine?"
          "Absolutely not."
          "Hmm," said Doctor Thrift stroking his short immaculate beard.
 "So I have narrowed it down to the dryer. However, items only disappear when I leave the dryer unattended for longer than five minutes." Doctor Milo Myron said grandly.
          "I think I know the problem here," said Doctor Clarence Thrift.
          "And that is?"
          "Psychological warfare," the words dropped out of Doctor Thrift's mouth with slow deliberation.
          "Really?" Milo exclaimed in puzzlement.
          "Without a doubt," proclaimed Doctor Clarence Thrift, "or perhaps there is some psychological problem with your brain." The several other scientists gathered murmured.
          "Now I see it," said Milo must unsure. "I am the most brilliant scientist in this enclave-"
          Doctor Clarence Thrift repeatedly coughed each subsequent time the louder.
 "Or rather I am one of the most brilliant scientists in this enclave if not the world." Doctor Milo Myron paused just because he thought those words were so fine. "They needed some way to distract me. Knowing my obsessive history with details, they found a clever and subtle way to attack me."
          "And me coming by at this exact time was pure coincidence," said Doctor Clarence Thrift rather proud of himself.
          Doctor Milo Myron lifted his plastic container full of neatly folded laundry. "Occam's Razor my dear chap Occam's Razor."
          "And what do you mean by that?" asked Clarence.
          "Did you not venture into reading philosophy?"
          "It was not my strong suit if I must be honest."
          Doctor Milo Myron smiled gingerly. "Ah my good friend," there was no attempt to hide the drooling sarcasm. "Occam's Razor tells us to accept the easiest simplest solution. Allow me to explain. Your theory of this top secret enclave being infiltrated while plausible is extremely sophisticated, is it not?"
          "Well yes I'd have to admit so," Doctor Clarence Thrift reluctantly agreed. He was an expert on strategy and knew precisely where this was going.
          "Is it not rather simpler to say that some comrade is having a good time at the expense of the poor doctor?"
 "Why yes, Milo but-"
          "It is Milo to my friends good sir, but to you, it is Doctor Milo Wilberhouse Myron the Third." With his laundry basket tucked under his arm, the scientist abruptly exited the room thrusting himself past Doctor Clarence Thrift and the others.
          Doctor Clarence Thrift now felt supremely embarrassed and inside an agitation was flaming the fires of anger. He too stomped out of the room past the several anonymous scientists.
 As soon as the others were out of sight, the gathered crowd began to buzz about the events that they had witnessed. Without a doubt, the rumor mill was churning, and news of this encounter would spread throughout the entire domain. Finally, they too departed.
          Clicks of the clock passed until finally from behind the dryer a small greenish head full of fur popped up. "I think they're all gone Bert," whispered the minute creature.

          "Oh thank God," said a voice of a second gremlin, "for a moment there I thought we were done!"

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From A to Z in 2012

From A to Z in 2012


Here we go with something new. For the next twenty-six days plus I am going to present to you poems written in the year of 2012. They will be in alphabetical order. We are going to start with a number. Please check out my poetry books for some great stuff. Be sure to subscribe to my blog via your email so you won't miss anything. 

This first one is entitled '152.' I recall writing it on the plane ride down to Grenada with my wife Sylvia sitting next to me. 152 was an extension of the 'Book of Psalms' in the Bible. 

152

By John Kaniecki

Sleep
Rest
May the Lord keep you
Secure and blessed
Quiet
Hush
The world with its riot of rush
Let it pass, let it go
Be confident and know
In this very hour
The Lord in His power
Is watching from above
With eyes of Love

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Monday, August 13, 2018

A Very Important Question



I have something very important to say today. We are all involved in a struggle. Some of us suffer more than others. As one who suffers from mental illness, I am acutely aware of the challenges of everyday life. I have done years of ministerial work trying to help all people including the downtrodden.


I was searching for something to post today and I came across this poem. 

In The Sight Of The Lord

Hustling home in frosty rain
On the street I gaze upon a woman
Huddled over a grate
Seeking warmth to comfort
Her weary soul, her tired body
As drops of water drip down her gray hair, she shudders
Rain falling echoes in my ear
As the words of the Lord ring loud and clear
"Whatever ye have done unto least of them"
"You have done unto me"
This woman, this stranger
Somebody’s daughter, perhaps a mother
In most desperate need
Beloved in the sight
Of the Lord

The question I ask you

What are we to do?


It is a poem that I wrote six years ago that was part of a submission to be rejected. I wanted something to say and I stumbled across it. Perhaps some of you have never experienced New York City. If you haven’t let me assure you that the scene you see in the poem is real.

In Manhattan, some of the richest people in the world will walk by some of the poorest. The richest pay millions of dollars for their penthouse with a view, while the poorest have only the clothes on their back and the scant possessions they can carry. The poem ends with a call to action.

There are no easy answers but a step towards kindness to one another is an obvious and easy first step. “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

Please share this post if it has meaning to you.

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Sunday, August 12, 2018

100 Books In !00 Days

100 Books In 100 Days

 This is the greatest send-off since the Peloponnesian Wars! And then again, sadly I must admit that it is not. But hey it is still something to get, very excited about! There will be no blood and gore, except that of fictional creation. That’s right I’m trying to sell my books.

Prizes! We are going to have some great prizes. Free copies of books, audio recordings of books, personal poems and a secretive grand prize that is something money can’t buy, or perhaps to be honest something that you would need a lot of money to buy. But it something that is very special, unique and wonderful, that I guarantee.

So how does this work? If you make a purchase simply make a comment on my page with the name of the book or books that you bought. It will be on the honor system but I can check my sales. Once your purchase is recorded your name will go on a long list. Then at certain predetermined intervals, prizes will be awarded.

Every writer would love to focus solely on the art. I am doing this as a matter of survival. It is one step above begging which I refuse to do. I believe that my books are good or even great and that the reader would benefit from reading them. I write poetry, prose and song lyrics, which includes horror, science fiction, and fantasy. But let me start off by introducing myself.

“More Than The Madness” is my memoirs. It talks about my early years and the period of time where I rode the seas full of tumultuous waves of manic depression. All in all, despite my mental illness it shows that there is “More Than The Madness.” That despite being bipolar that I am fully a human being. 

Some events include my wild fraternity days in college, my hitchhiking across the United States, my night in jail and my experiences with mental illness of course. 

So besides an interesting and exciting story what does “More Than The Madness” give you? The book will give you insights into the life of the mentally ill. If you are a caregiver it would give you an intimate look into the illness. If you suffer from the ailment you will find some common chords struck that you can relate to, that you are not alone. And finally, if you are just curious it will provide answers.

Laced into my story is my coming to the Christian faith. It is a secondary story, while prominent, it does not dominate. As one reviewer stated, “It is not bait and switch.”  Still, my coming to a relationship with Jesus Christ is a very important aspect of my life. The book is far from preachy but an honest exploration of my faith. 

So please investigate “More Than The Madness” and buy yourself a copy. If you do so please put your name in the comments saying that you did. This will put you in the race for the great prizes that are forthcoming. If I can only sell one hundred books in one hundred days I will feel that I can make it as a writer. It is far from the end but it is a beginning.





Tuesday, August 7, 2018

"Dusk Of Humanity" by M.K. Dawn








Dusk of Humanity
The Decay of Humanity Series: Book 1
by M.K. Dawn
Genre: SciFi Thriller, Horror

An asteroid brought about the destruction of the world…in a way no one thought possible.

After the death of her parents, Sloan Egan left their Montana ranch determined to make a difference in the world. Now a prominent surgeon with an exceptional career in her future, life has turned out exactly as she expected. Until a government summons arrives with an order to report to Fort Hood for a top-secret weekend retreat.

Major Lee Archer’s reassignment as head of military operations at The Bunker felt more like a prison sentence than a promotion. To make matters worse, he’s been assigned to babysitting detail, as a group of the country’s most brilliant young minds come together to test the vitality of the cutting-edge fallout shelter he commands.

But the retreat was nothing more than a ploy. One devised to safeguard the future of humanity, as a catastrophic event renders the world above uninhabitable.

Or so they’ve been led to believe.

Those in charge have a secret. One so horrifying they would do anything to keep it concealed. Because what lurks beyond The Bunker is deadlier than anyone could have ever imagined.

And it’s only a matter of time before it finds a way in.







About the Author
As a lifetime reader, M.K. Dawn always dreamed about becoming a writer. Then one day an idea came to her and then a story; so she started to write. And when she started to write, she couldn't stop. Not only does she love to write fantasy, paranormal and dystopia books she can almost always be found with her nose buried deep in them as well.
M.K. lives in South Texas with her husband and two children. When she isn't writing, she is reading, watching her favorite TV shows or dreaming about sitting on a beach somewhere.


Author Links




Excerpt 1
Sloan turned her attention to the news. She caught the tail-end of a headline that read something about a virus, which wasn’t too much of a concern in her eyes. Every year there was always talk about viruses; most didn’t cause too much damage and only needed to run their course, but they were news nonetheless.
Several anchors were deep in discussion—about what, she couldn’t decipher—and the remote was nowhere in sight. A video of a man who displayed symptoms similar to those of the man brought into the ER this morning played in the background. Sloan stood to turn up the sound on the TV itself when the screen went black.
“News,” a man said. “Can’t believe a damn thing those bastards say. Always blowing shit way out of proportion.”
Sloan pivoted around. “Do you know what they were discussing?”
“Nothing that pertains to us.” He crossed the room. “Lee Archer, but everybody calls me Archer. You must be Dr. Sloan Egan.”
She shook the man’s hand. “I am.”
“Glad you could make it, Dr. Egan.”
He wasn’t quite what she expected. With his light brown crew-cut hair, green eyes, and fair skin, he looked more like a movie version of a soldier than the men who escorted her from the airport. “Please, call me Sloan.”
“This the only bag you brought?” He motioned to her small carry-on.
“That and the one I’m holding.” She patted the bag slung across her chest.
“You know there’s a cocktail party the last night?”
“I’m aware and packed for the occasion.”
“That must be one hell of a dress.”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what that means.”
A mischievous grin spread across Archer’s face. “To fit a dress into that tiny suitcase, it must be short. Short equals hot which makes it one hell of a dress.”
Sloan stood there flabbergasted at the borderline inappropriate remark. If this was the standard set for employee behavior within The Bunker, this weekend would be more dreadful than she’d imagined.


Excerpt 2

The room fell silent. President Edward Patterson sat behind a small desk in a make-shift office with an unnatural stillness. An American Flag hung on the cavern wall behind him. It took Sloan a moment to realize he too was in The Bunker.
His expression was grave and his normal youthful demeanor was replaced with an unsmiling, unfocused stare that could only mean one thing: the announcement wasn’t good.
“My fellow Americans,” President Patterson began, “first, on behalf of our great country, I would like to personally thank every one of you for joining us this weekend.” He dropped his head and swallowed so hard the sound echoed off his microphone. When he raised his head, his eyes were wet and bloodshot. “Secondly, I owe each of you an apology. I’ve always considered myself an honorable man. My word is as important to me as the air I breathe.” Another extended pause. “It’s with a heavy heart I share with you my deception.”
The sound of Sloan’s heartbeat thrashed in her ears.
“We brought you here under false pretenses, not out of malice but out of fear. Fear that without each of you the world as we know it would be lost. I will spare you the tedious details and get straight to the point.” He lifted his wrist to check the time. “Approximately five minutes ago, an asteroid close to six miles wide struck the earth. An asteroid this size is known as a global killer. Over the course of the next few months, billions of lives will be lost, as will most of the animals and vegetation.”
The room erupted in a mixture of cries and gasps. Sloan couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening.
The room fell silent. President Edward Patterson sat behind a small desk in a make-shift office with an unnatural stillness. An American Flag hung on the cavern wall behind him. It took Sloan a moment to realize he too was in The Bunker.
His expression was grave and his normal youthful demeanor was replaced with an unsmiling, unfocused stare that could only mean one thing: the announcement wasn’t good.
“My fellow Americans,” President Patterson began, “first, on behalf of our great country, I would like to personally thank every one of you for joining us this weekend.” He dropped his head and swallowed so hard the sound echoed off his microphone. When he raised his head, his eyes were wet and bloodshot. “Secondly, I owe each of you an apology. I’ve always considered myself an honorable man. My word is as important to me as the air I breathe.” Another extended pause. “It’s with a heavy heart I share with you my deception.”
The sound of Sloan’s heartbeat thrashed in her ears.
“We brought you here under false pretenses, not out of malice but out of fear. Fear that without each of you the world as we know it would be lost. I will spare you the tedious details and get straight to the point.” He lifted his wrist to check the time. “Approximately five minutes ago, an asteroid close to six miles wide struck the earth. An asteroid this size is known as a global killer. Over the course of the next few months, billions of lives will be lost, as will most of the animals and vegetation.”
The room erupted in a mixture of cries and gasps. Sloan couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening.



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