A Very Lucky Pop-Pop

When I was getting ready to move back to San Diego after my bitter divorce, I was upset about the prospect of not seeing my step-grandchildren again. I wrote A Very Lucky Pop-Pop for the four of them; Donald, Brandon, Tyler, and Jessica. Sadly, we haven't had contact since, but I keep hoping they'll eventually seek me out.

A Very Lucky Pop-Pop

I’m a very lucky Pop-Pop
And I know it’s really true
And I thank God for giving me
Four grandkids such as you

I’ll be living far from you
And I am sad to say
It means that I can’t have my wish
To see you every day

But you can come and visit me
When your folks say you can
And just the thought of seeing you
Makes me a happy man

There’s e-mail, phones and chat rooms
That can keep us all together
And please know that I’m there for you
And I’ll be there forever

The hardest part of moving
For me it’s sad but true
Is I’ll be on the west coast
And not right there with you

If you’re feeling lonely
Or problems make you blue
Please just stop and call me
And I’ll be there for you

Pop-Pop loves you always
And know as I depart
I will carry thoughts of you
Forever in my heart

Pop-Pop Pein
28 July 2004
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Pithy

I am now officially a renowned poet whose work has been read on the air by Bill O'Reilly, and heard by millions. It has been my goal to get one of my poems posted at the end of The O'Reilly Factor and be awarded a signed copy of Bold Fresh, Bill O'Reilly's new book. Well tonight I am famous. Bill O'Reilly posted and read my poem Pithy at the end of the show and announced I will be receiving a signed copy of Bold Fresh. I wrote Pithy on March 4, and it was posted at the end of the show on March 30. Folks, with no further ado, I proudly present the award winning, epic poem.

Pithy

The Factor keeps me in the know,
Helping my knowledge to grow,
When facts need exploring,
Bill’s never too boring,
His pithiness pleases me so.

Steven Pein
4 March 2010
Broadcast world-wide 30 March 2010 on The O'Reilly Factor
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Expendable

I wrote Expendable in January 1968, about seven months before I got out of the Army. It expressed the growing civilian and military discontent over the war in Vietnam.

Expendable

The Captain took his band of men
And led them to the fray
The men all prayed that they could live
To see another day

This day would prove to be the last
For half a dozen boys
Expendable and wasted lives
Like worthless little toys

It started with a single shot
From where they could not say
The Sergeant dropped and breathed his last
The first to die this day

The young Lieutenant grabbed the Sarge
He looked about to cry
But rifle fire stopped his tears
He was the next to die

The Captain ordered “open fire”
Their rifles sounded loud
Four more would die, the jungle brush
Was soon to be their shroud

They give their lives so willingly
As heroes they all die
They sacrifice their precious lives
Yet most do not know why

It’s someone else’s war out there
Yet we’re the ones who fight
I ask you if you think it’s just
Can such a thing be right

The politicians push the war
But soon they’ll be the ones
Who scream and cry “please stop the fight
We’ve lost our precious sons”


Steven Pein
6 January 1968
.

A Salute to the Army

I kept a countdown calendar when I was in the Army, as did many of the guys. As your number of remaining days dwindled down, you were ultimately considered "short". I had less than 90 days remaining when I wrote A Salute to the Army, and it expresses just how much I loved it all.


A Salute to the Army

Pressure’s building up inside
My time is drawing near
I count the days ‘til I complete
This third and final year

I’m looking back remembering
The suffering and pain
The leaders so incompetent
And half the time insane

I think back to the NCOs
So ignorant and lazy
Selected trash from broken homes
And each a little crazy

And think about the officers
Whose job it is to lead
An adolescent clan of kids
A motley bunch indeed

They scream and shout the whole day through
That nothing’s getting done
Harassment is their only job
And only source of fun

To sum it up I’ll simply state
Civilian life is swell
Those lifer dudes and black-striped kids
Can all go straight to Hell

But one thing that the Army does
I must admit is clever
Without so much as trying
They make three years last forever


Steven Pein
16 May 1968
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No place in the World for You

No Place in The World for You was written in April 1969. As I resurrect these old poems, I almost can't believe what downers they were. Strangely, this one just happens to have been written at the same time I started going out with my first wife.

No Place in the World for You

There’s flowers growing all around you
The sky reflects in the waters so blue
You know you should be happy just to see it all there
But somehow you just don’t care
You’re thinking perhaps it’s true
That there’s no place in the world for you

The man beside you on the assembly line
Does the same job as you only he feels fine
While you can’t think of a reason to smile
And you’re seeking revenge on the world all the while
And you think it may be true
That there’s no place in the world for you

You see those youngsters, they’re as old as you
They say “here, have a pill” so you take a few
But you put them in your pocket and there they will stay
‘Cause you’re scared of what your society would say
You wonder if it could be true
That there’s no place in the world for you

You turn on the radio and listen to the man
He’s using words you just don’t understand
You need someone to explain but you know it’s so
You’d rather die than admit there’s something you don’t know
You hope it isn’t true
That there’s no place in the world for you

You live day by day and you set your own pace
But the kid next door says you’re just taking up space
You ask “what do you know?” and you shake your head
But looking back at him you wish you were dead
And it’s starting to come through
That there’s no place in the world for you

You say you have your friends who think you’re the king
And what others think couldn’t mean a thing
You think your friends believe there’s nothing that you lack
If only you could see them laugh and talk behind your back
And one day you’ll realize it’s true
That there’s no place in the world for you


Steven Pein
23 April 1969
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The Price You Pay for Love

I wrote The Price You Pay for Love back in January 1968 while I was stationed in Germany. It's a light hearted bit about a guy that's confronted by an old flame that dumped him. This one also was lost for a long time and only recently found.

THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR LOVE

Some time ago you left me
When I needed you the most
You packed your things and said goodbye
And headed for the coast
And now I find you at my door
You want to have me back
You think I should invite you in
And help you to unpack

Perhaps you can’t appreciate
The way I cried that day
You left a man in misery
To go his lonely way
What kind of man do you suppose
Would ask you to come in
You want me to forget the pain
And loneliness I’ve seen

Now wipe that smile from your face
I’ll have to let you stay
I can’t turn down the girl I love
I’m a loser all the way


Steven Pein
5 January 1968
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Last Generation

I wrote Last Generation in 1968, only four months after I got out of the service. I suppose you could say it's about passing the baton from one generation of government to the next. I was pretty certain in my mind that big change was coming and I was naive enough to believe we might even see an end to war. In reflecting upon its errant message from way back then, I added the last four lines today as an update.

LAST GENERATION

Listen to the voice of the establishment
Preaching from the central throne
Writhing green with envy for the morally free
And they won’t leave us alone

Bound by chains of hate and animosity
And grateful to control
The death machine of bureaucratic government
From their blast-proof underground hole

What they see and what they hate synonymous
And their minds are built of fears
The people that their narrow minds can’t comprehend
Are subversives, cranks, or queers

Children of depression and hostility
Perhaps they’ve done their best
But now the time has come for them to step aside
And their minds be put to rest

The movement gains momentum with each passing day
It has passed the point of no return
It’s revolution coming for the good of man
Open up his mind so he can learn

Newly added stanza:

Then perhaps as time goes by our world will change
Maybe we will stop all war
Or maybe our new leaders will be just the same
And the killing lasts forever more


Steven Pein
29 December 1968
Modified 23 March 2010
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Getting Old

Today I was thinking about my upcoming appointment to sign up for Medicare and Social Security. My thoughts turned to old age and this just popped into my mind.

GETTING OLD

Getting old ain’t fun my friend
It’s full of aches and pains
You struggle more each passing year
As losses trump the gains

And just a walk around the block
Can be so tough a chore
You sometimes reconsider
As you’re walking out the door

It’s even hard to drive your car
And not get in a wreck
You turn your head to look around
And pains shoot through your neck

You try to change one light bulb
And it hurts your lower back
For two bulbs just forget it
You’ll risk a heart attack

Those restaurants have early birds
But that’s a load of crap
‘Cause every time your belly’s full
You need to take a nap

And every time you turn around
Another problem hits
Don’t try no new foods my friend
You’ll wind up with the shits

But old age has one good point
Unless I got it wrong
The one good thing about it
Is it doesn’t last that long

Steven Pein
22 March 2010
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Crypto-One

"Crypto-One" is the companion novel to "The Six". I wanted to post a little teaser for those who might be interested, so I decided to put part of the Prologue on the Blog.

PROLOGUE

Thursday, 29 July 1993 - Kahuku Point, Oahu
Construction had finally started on the new north-shore resort, and the bulldozer was clearing away the debris from two days of blasting. The foreman noticed the metallic glint coming from the huge chunk of igneous rock. He signaled the bulldozer operator to halt and went in for a closer look.
“What’s wrong, Chuck?” the operator inquired after killing the engine.
“I’m not sure, Don. There’s something embedded in the rock here. I think you’d better check this out.”
Only a small portion of the object was exposed, but its surface appeared perfectly spherical. It had a shiny copper appearance with no visible scratches or gouges.
As Don climbed down from the bulldozer, Chuck commented, “This thing looks man-made to me; like a giant ball bearing. What do you think it is?”
Don approached cautiously, removed his cap and scratched his head. “I don’t know what to think. It’s inside the rock. It must have been there a long time. It couldn’t be an unexploded Japanese bomb or anything. It’s gotta be hundreds of years old.”
Chuck shook his head. “Maybe even older!”
Both men were bewildered. Chuck decided to call the University of Hawaii and have them send someone out to take a look. Two hours later the van pulled up to the site. A middle-aged woman and a young man got out and started toward the construction trailer.
“Over here,” Chuck shouted as he emerged from a group of men gathered around the rock. He jogged over and extended his hand. “Chuck Morgan at your service.”
“I’m Professor Polly Shaeffer from the Archeology Department, and this is Gary Mahi, a grad student. Why don’t you tell us what you found?”
“It’s metal and it’s encased in lava,” Chuck explained as he led them to the rock. “You tell me what it is!”
He watched them examine it. Polly sent Gary back to the van for a tool box. When he returned, she selected a small hammer and chisel, then gently tapped the rock around the exposed metallic area. Small chunks broke away cleanly, exposing more of the object.
“Take a look at these markings,” she instructed Gary.
He leaned over for a closer look. “My God!” he exclaimed. “It looks like some kind of picture writing, but I don’t recognize it. Do you think it’s hieroglyphics or something?”
“Or something!” she replied. “It’s not like any hieroglyphics I’ve seen before.”
“So what happens now?” asked Chuck impatiently.
Polly looked up and said, “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to get a crew out here right away to remove this thing.”
“Sure,” he agreed. “So what do you think it is?”
“Too soon to tell,” she admitted. “We’ll have to examine it more closely back in the lab. Is there a phone I can use?”
“Over in the trailer,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
He walked them over to the office and listened while Polly made her call.
“Hi, Bill. It’s a strange one and I’m going to bring it in. Can you send a few of the guys up here to help? Tell them to bring the truck and a five foot crate with some blankets..... No, it doesn’t appear fragile, but I’d like to give it a soft ride anyway. Do you know where this place is?... Great! How long before you get underway?... Okay, I’ll see you in about two hours. Bye.”
She hung up and asked Chuck, “Can your men work around the thing for a couple of hours?”
“I guess they’ll have to. You two are welcome to wait in here if you want.”
“No thanks,” Polly politely refused. “I’d rather spend the time out there with the find.”
.
They arrived at the lab a little after five. Polly and Gary worked most of the night chipping pieces of the rock away from the object. They concentrated on the area with the symbols, hoping to reveal something recognizable. By daybreak they were totally discouraged.
“What do we do next?” Gary inquired.
“I think I’ll bring in someone from Metallurgy,” answered Polly. “Professor Jacobs might be able to shed some light on the subject.”
“He usually gets in around nine,” Gary informed her. “I’m going to crash for a few hours. I’ll see you later this morning.”
“Okay, Gary. I’m too excited to sleep, though. I think I’ll grab some toast and coffee and then keep chipping away. I’ll see you later.”
They left the lab together. After an hour of tossing and turning, Gary decided to take a shower and return to the lab. He found Polly and Professor Jacobs examining the object.
“So what’s the prognosis?” he asked walking up behind them.
“Hi, Gary! Professor Jacobs only arrived a few moments ago. Professor, do you know Gary Mahi?”
“Sure,” Professor Jacobs replied without looking up. “Hello, Gary.”
“Hello, Professor. What does it look like to you?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like copper, but it’s much harder. I can’t even scratch it with my diamond tie tack. I’ll show you something even stranger. Touch it! It doesn’t feel cold. It feels more like ceramic than metal.”
Gary pressed the palm of his hand against the object. “You’re right!” he agreed. “It’s not a good heat conductor. Could it really be ceramic?”
“No! I’m pretty certain it’s a metal, but it just doesn’t fit.”
“What do you mean, Professor?”
“It’s embedded in the rock; suspended there. Are we to assume it survived molten lava temperatures? And the time frame seems impossible. How long ago was this chunk of lava in a molten state?”
Polly asked, “Then what can it be?”
“I think we’d better ask Uncle Sam that question,” suggested Professor Jacobs. “Maybe the Navy guys will know what it is.”
.
Lieutenant Stratham arrived at one o’clock sharp and introduced himself as a Navy weapons expert. Polly led him to the lab and watched him inspect the object. She noticed he was very careful not to touch it.
“Where did this come from?” he inquired.
“The north shore. They blasted there and this turned up in the debris.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t planted there?”
“Planted? What do you mean?”
“Do you know for a fact that this emerged from the blasting? I was just considering the possibility of a hoax or something.”
“I’m afraid I only know what the foreman told me,” admitted Polly. “He appeared sincere to me. I suppose it could have been planted there. What are you getting at?”
“I’m just asking some routine questions,” he assured her. “I don’t mind telling you that I’m baffled. I’m going to take a few pictures and consult with my superiors. My advice is that you leave it alone for right now. Just stay away from it.”
“You’re frightening me, Lieutenant. Are you suggesting it’s a bomb or something?”
“No! I’m suggesting that it’s an unidentified object and common sense demands we exercise due caution.”
He placed a six inch steel rule on the table by the object, took a small camera from his briefcase and snapped photos from every conceivable angle. He took a sample chip of the rock from Polly, then packed everything up in his briefcase.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as possible, Professor Shaeffer. Here’s my card if you need to reach me for anything. Do you think you can keep everyone away from this thing until you hear from me?”
“I suppose so,” she agreed reluctantly.
“Look, I know it’s tempting. I’d love to pick and probe at it myself, but I’m a weapons specialist who’s trained to suspect everything.”
“Say no more, Lieutenant. I understand.”
Polly showed the Lieutenant out and then returned to the lab. She viewed the object with new respect and new fear.
She made her way over to the classroom for her three o’clock class. It was a welcome distraction for an hour and a half. After class, she began gathering up her belongings, oblivious to the man approaching her.
“Excuse me, Professor. May I speak with you?”
“Lieutenant Stratham! You startled me. What’s going on?”
“I’m very sorry I startled you, Professor.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “This is a contraband material seizure notice. I’m afraid we have to take possession of the object.”
“Why? What is it?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter with you. I wish I could say more, but I’m under strict orders.”
“I’ll have to check with my Department Head, Lieutenant. The object is technically University property.”
“I understand, Professor. I’ll accompany you if you don’t mind. And there’s one more thing. I’ll need you to provide me a list of everyone who saw or came in contact with the object.”
“Everyone?”
“Well, everyone you’re aware of. That includes the names of anybody you know at the blasting site.”
“You’re frightening me again,” she confessed.
“I’m sorry. It’s just a routine precautionary measure.”
“Precaution over what?”
“Please, Professor Shaeffer! I just can’t tell you anything more.”

Saturday, 31 July 1993 - Baltimore, Maryland
Retired Air Force General Anthony Morris was putting his lawnmower away when his wife poked her head into the garage.
“Director Thorn’s on the phone for you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks Flo. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
He brushed the grass clippings from his pant legs, walked into the kitchen and took the phone from Flo.
“Hi, Tom. What’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with the Navy in Oahu. They found a metallic object embedded in some lava rock.”
“I’m out of that game now, Tom. Besides, the Air Force closed the book a long time ago.”
“Tony, they said it’s a one-foot diameter sphere with some kind of picture writing inscribed on its surface.”
General Morris went pale. He sat down at the kitchen table and asked, “What color is it?”
“I think you already know, General.”
“What are they planning to do with it?”
“They don’t know what to do. That’s why they called me. Right now they’re just examining it.”
“But why would they call CIA instead of the Navy?”
“The Commander down there knows me and he knows my background.”
“Then they suspect it’s extra-terrestrial?”
“The Commander does. He wanted to get my opinion before he opened a can of worms. I’m glad he did.”
“What did you tell him, Tom?”
“I told him to get the thing crated up, but I haven’t told him where to ship it. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”
“Does this mean we’re getting a second chance?” asked the General.
“Whoa! Let’s just take it a step at a time, Tony. Will you handle the investigation for me?”
“Of course I will! If it turns out to be what we’re thinking, I want to take it all the way this time. I don’t want any pompous bureaucrats shutting us down again.”
“I knew I could count on you, General. You and I are the only ones left who know the whole truth. When can you get started?”
“Right away!”
.

This is for Ronnie, Arnie, and the crazy crew.

Do you remember any of this? (For all you other folks, please disregard this nonsense.)


Condensation of a Lifetime – Part I

I was talking with a friend over coffee one day
Just to see what things he had to say
I paid the waitress and he kept the change
He said, “Our lives have been mighty strange”
I looked at the clock, it said a quarter to four
My thoughts were drifting to years before…

“Turn on the light” some voice was squawking
I looked around to see who was talking
I was staring in the face of a big black cat
He said “Cats talking ain’t where it’s at”

We were sitting feeling mighty bored
So we decided to sleep out back in the Ford
My friend locked me out; he couldn’t be no meaner
So I spent the night singing songs to Toby Weiner

Went looking for girls and we had no luck
So we went to sleep in the delivery truck
A cop started knocking on the back door pane
He said “You guys queer, or just insane?”

I was dozing off in the front lawn chair
And Sheryl fired a gun in my ear
I hit her once and she kicked my spine
So I pushed her over a “For Sale” sign

Ronnie’s cycle wouldn’t start when it was new
So we pushed it down the street for an hour or two
We were sweating by the gallon and dying from chokin’
When Ronnie discovered the kill switch was broken

I was talking to a girl I didn’t know
She bit my finger and wouldn’t let go
She wouldn’t open up no matter what I said
So I picked up a cue stick and hit her on the head

I was laying for a guy I didn’t like
And I knocked him off his two-wheeled bike
I laughed and told him “That’s how it goes”
And he turned around and broke my nose

April 1969
.

Remi Ann

Remi, this is just for you.
This was written when I was serving in Germany. Remi and Ronnie were an item back then (now married for many, many years) and she was somewhat left to fend for herself when the gang (a.k.a. Ronnie, Eddie, Arnie, and me) were split apart due to a minor conflict in Vietnam at the time. Remi always wanted to frolic. This poem was written in an attempt to cheer her up when she was feeling lonely.


Remi Ann

Remember frolicking in the park
A little girl without a care
Remember having fun ‘til dark
Top down and driving everywhere

A little girl who brought a smile
To anyone who passed her by
She helped put happiness in style
And caught the eye of every guy

When you felt blue she was right there
To cheer you up and make you sing
With big green eyes and soft brown hair
Sweet Remi Ann’s a touch of Spring

One in a million she must be
Her glow is brighter than a star
Oh Remi Ann dear can’t you see
You’re perfect just the way you are

Steven Pein
20 November 1967
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Looking Out the Window...Arnie, Ron, Ed, and Bonnie

Looking Out the Window is one of my first college compositions. I had recently been discharged from the service and I was working at Jerrold Electronics while attending Lasalle College at night. I was 23 years old when I wrote it. The theme of the composition was "Looking back". In it, I looked back at my pre-Army life at age 18. This piece was lost for a long time, and I didn't come across it until just recently. I made a few tiny edits from the handwritten original, but otherwise it's accurate. I apologize for its amateur style, but it was, after all, my very first college writing course. "Theme #10" is the actual blue book cover label. (God, how I remember the horror I felt when the professors handed out those blue books by surprise at the beginning of a class.)


LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW

It is Sunday afternoon and somehow it is one of those days that could be any day of my life. Looking out the window, I see myself sitting on the fender of my blue Corvette. Ron, Ed, and Arnie are standing around me. We’re getting ready to drive down to the shore. Or perhaps we’ll be going to the mountains, or the drag races, or the park. Wait…Now it is becoming clear. We are doing all those things today, because today is every day of my post-high school, pre-army youth.

It is a strange person I see outside. He is a ghost of the good old days, and yet he isn’t happy. In remembering, I thought people usually suppress the unhappiness and recall nothing but the pleasantries. Is something wrong with my memory functions, or are there no pleasantries to be remembered? I must have a closer look.

I’m looking out the window again…There was always something to do those days. The Corvette, which I really could not afford, was always able to thrill me when I drove it. The brute acceleration gave me a sense of power and contentment. Maybe it was the only thing that gave me any satisfaction at all. I don’t recall any particularly spectacular relationships at that time. I can only see Bonnie. I think of Bonnie quite often; even in the present. I was with Bonnie very often those days. Perhaps we saw one another off and on for five years. There was so much between us, and yet there was nothing. Maybe I wasn’t ready for her then. Am I now? I felt so much for her, and she for me, yet for all we put into it, all we reaped was misery and dissatisfaction.

Yes, there was always something to do those days. I made things to do. Perhaps I was madly seeking something or someone who could give me just one ounce of happiness. But these reflections puzzle me. Did I have to wait to turn 23 to understand what my life was like at 18? I must have led a life full of unhappiness without even knowing just how unhappy I was.

I’m looking out the window again…I see myself smiling now, even though the smile doesn’t reach inside. The car is pulling away, and this pleases me. Looking at myself was a painful ordeal. I wonder how it will be when I am looking back on 23. But why should I concern myself? Somehow it just doesn’t matter.

Steven Pein
Spring 1969
.

The Spirit of Spring

For a birthday present a while back, Wendy and Elliot Dubin had a calligrapher make up a beautiful framed version of a poem I loved and recited for many years. It’s called Spirit of Spring, and although not one of my own, it is one of my all time favorites.


SPIRIT OF SPRING

I woke up in the morning
One bright and sunny day,
A little bird flew on my sill
And began to sing away.

I waited ‘til he silenced,
Until there was a lull,
I gently closed the window
And crushed his fuckin’ skull
.

Some things never change...

I've always said that one company was just like another. I found a poem I wrote around 1970 about Jerrold Electronics Corporation. You'll see clearly that my writing style was influenced by Bob Dylan, but I find it particularly interesting that the subject matter is still applicable 40 years later. I've made some parenthetical notes to explain some particular insider terms used in the poem. Enjoy!


JERROLD

Morale’s been going down so fast
Contented employees are a thing of the past
I knew things couldn’t get much worse
So I summed it up in simple verse

Insurance is a problem here
It seems the coverage ain’t too fair
You tell yourself it can’t possibly be
But Aetna only pays you posthumously

MATV is a word of gloom (Master Antenna Television)
Jerrold builds amps that can heat a room
I hear tell an enterprising young lady
Once cooked a meal on a thirty-eight-eighty (Model 3880 got HOT)

A long time ago in a previous year
We sold the Water Works some four-forty gear (Model 440)
System acceptance is going real slow
‘Cause the units won’t work two days in a row

The “Transfer Unit” was an interesting twist
We sold a product that didn’t exist
So each guy worked on a separate portion
And it turned into an engineering abortion

Company growth is hard to conceive
If each guy coming sees three guys leave
Jobs at Jerrold are easily gotten
The benefits are bad and the pay is rotten

Steven Pein
Circa 1970
.

Getting priorities straight

For my friend Mike:
When our lunch discussion turned to the topic of people getting their priorities mixed up between family and career, I told you I had written a poem about that very subject. It's called Brian. It was inspired during a conversation I had with my cousin Shari in her New York apartment back in July 1994. I hope you like it.


Brian

Brian never really understood
That his family was on the line
That children need a daddy who works nine to five
But instead he worked from five to nine.

They were sleeping when he left the house
They were sleeping when he returned
The lonely little children never knew their dad
And they didn't care how much he earned.

So his wife became fond of the tennis coach
The children called him uncle Ray
And Brian never saw it coming
Until they packed and drove away.

So Brian went back to working
Trying to forget about the past
His hours stretched to midnight
But he told himself it wouldn't last.

He dreamed how it would be next time
The mistakes he wouldn't make again
He knew he had to cut his hours
But he didn't know exactly when.

And the years passed by too quickly
In five years he made V.P.
It was at a California convention
That he finally met Anna Lee.

And they married only two months later
And in three years had a family
And Brian remembered his vow from long ago
But it wasn't meant to be.

The fighting started shortly later
The divorce hit devastatingly
And Brian lost his second chance
It was really never meant to be.

He looks back now to reminisce
And tears fill up his eyes
He lost his job at age fifty-nine
His success was his demise.

So he drowns his sorrows in alcohol
And he remembers way back then
He swears he'd do better with one more chance
But he'd just do it all again.

Steven Pein
26 July 1994
Copyright 1994
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Crypto-One...Be Careful what you wish for.

Poetry even played a role in "Crypto-One", the companion novel to "The Six". This is a novel that ties to "The Six" and really explains where, why, and how the reincarnations (see my earlier post about "The Six") happened. The title refers to to the lead cryptographer in a team that is trying to discover the key to break a code for symbols they find in an astonishing place. In fact, it holds the key to existence as we know it, and the truth is so troubling that a previously unknown person back in 1968 discovered it and then concealed it. The poem is actually something the cryptographer found scribbled on a hidden piece of paper during his quest to break the code, and it troubled him greatly...

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Codebreakers, codebreakers, try to conceive,
Of answers so simple they’re hard to believe,
I struggled for years in my home by the sea,
Just trying to figure what code this could be.

I cracked it at last but it soon haunted me,
I wish I had never discovered the key,
For you can’t imagine my sadness unless,
Your efforts also are met with success.

I warn you it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie,
But if you’re compelled to still give it a try,
I’ll give you a clue that will help you succeed,
Solutions are found very simply indeed.

Jonathan Hartford, III
July 1968

Steven Pein
Copyright 1995

So what do you think Jonathan found out?
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Death

This is a really weird one. Let me start off by saying that I'm not, and never have been suicidal. That being said, when I did my self-hypnosis exercises (mentioned in a previous posting) the goal was to figure out what caused the panic attacks. I decided to write "Death" in a different style than I had written my other poetry. This one started with a narrative describing the confusion about panic, an attempt to understand it, a thought that maybe there wasn't anything strange about it at all, and finally a conclusion that fear of death was normal because self-preservation was the only purpose of life. I know it's a really weird concept, but at least try to enjoy the sarcasm.

The narrative leads to a light hearted poem about a very dark thought...suicide. Please take it in the spirit that it was created; warped fun about what life without meaning would be.

DEATH

I feel the butterflies.
Sometimes they take me by surprise.
There is no pattern.
There is no rhyme nor reason.
The butterflies are here, then they are gone.
No!
They are always here.
But sometimes I pay them no attention.
What do they mean?
Living is being afraid.
It's instinctive.
Animals are always watchful for danger.
They do not trust.
They dare not trust.
But, the higher the form of life, the lower the vigilance.
What is the purpose of our being?
Maybe there is no purpose.
But, if not.......

It strikes me as somewhat confusing,
The reason for being alive,
And I find it somewhat amusing,
How strongly we fight to survive.

If life doesn't have any purpose,
Then why this obsession of man,
To stay on this earth's lousy surface,
As long as he possibly can.

If dying were really such horror,
Then no one would ever go through it,
But look at the obits tomorrow,
And tell me why so many do it.

The lesson that's here for the gleaning,
Is simple as black and white,
Since life clearly doesn't have meaning,
Why not just end it tonight?

Steve Pein
26 May 1994
Copyright 1994
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Don't depend on the 2010 election to solve problems.

If there's legislation you oppose that gets passed this year in Washington, don't get lulled into the notion that voting out Democrats is the answer. If you don't stop the legislation now, we'll likely be stuck with it for the remainder of the President's term. A new Congress can pass laws to repeal existing laws, but a Presidential veto can only be overridden by a full 2/3 majority in both the House and Senate. No matter how the 2010 elections turn out, it's a safe bet that Republicans alone won't ever meet that 2/3 requirement.
If you don't like what's happening in Washington, tell your Representatives and Senators. Write, phone, e-mail, and tell some friends to do the same. Attending a Tea Party might be a great idea as well.
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A Circle on the Floor

In psychology, the concept of the “inner child” is often misunderstood. Actually there are very often several inner children that an individual creates as a coping mechanism to survive growing up in the presence of severe emotional and/or physical abuse. Each of the multiple inner children likely doesn’t know the others exist. (By the way, this is not to be confused with multiple personality disorder which has nothing at all to do with the inner child concept.)

In the early 1990’s I suddenly started having panic attacks, and I went through an “inner child rescue” therapy process that involved a form of self-hypnosis. During the process, I found out to my own astonishment that I had neatly hidden away many inner children to cope with various abuses during my childhood. I had long forgotten most of the events associated with the creation of these inner children, but as the hypnosis revealed them and I got to know them, the panic attacks concurrently disappeared. As a result of this incredible experience I had, I thought about how wonderful everything might have been if I and my inner children were fully visible to each other. I know the concept is a bit abstract, but I wrote A Circle on the Floor to express how the process might work if the inner children were physical beings.

A Circle on the Floor

Deep inside my head there live these separate parts of me,
Most of them just vestiges of conscious memory,
Infants, toddlers, gangly teens, and school boys of all ages,
All the different characters from my life's many stages.

Some are proud and some ashamed, abandoned and abused,
Some are lost and some are scared, and others feel confused,
All are separate entities whose lives seem unrelated,
Crammed inside one body, yet completely isolated.

Wouldn't it be nice if they could come out from inside,
And join me in a circle just to talk about our lives,
For each of them has seen life from a different point of view,
And each of them has secrets that the others never knew.

Yank the phone, turn down the lights and maybe lock the door,
Then sit around, legs folded, in a circle on the floor,
Then we could spend so many days relating what we knew,
Unraveling the mysteries, the past that we'd been through.

And gradually we'd get to know each other very well,
And then we'd merge together when there was no more to tell,
'Cause once we let our secrets out there's nothing left to do,
But travel through what's left of life enjoying it anew.

Steven Pein
July 1993
Copyright 1994
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Roller Coaster

I grew up surrounded by manic depression. My dad and his dad both suffered with it their entire lives. I suffered from chronic depression, and still do. But luckily I escaped that horrible bipolar torment. "Roller Coaster" is my attempt to project myself into my dad's mindset. I can never know for sure what he felt, but here's my best guess...


Roller Coaster

My life is a roller coaster
One that's moving much too fast
The highs are too high
And the lows are too low
But God how these lows can last.

I feel like I'm riding a coaster
With a blindfold over my eyes
I never can tell
If it's Heaven or Hell
That's waiting to take me by surprise.

Like my Father before me
And his before him too
I'm genetically sent
Through a life of torment
And there's nothing much I can do.

No matter how good the high times
They never can match these lows
In life I've been cheated
And yet I've conceded
Sometimes that's just how it goes.

And I really need somebody
To comfort me and take my hand
I just can't explain
The depth of my pain
In a way that most could understand.

But you seem so much like me
That I'm thinking if it's really true
Maybe you could
Help me feel good
And I could do the same for you.

Steven Pein
23 July 1994
Copyright 1994
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