The Roseman's Poetry and Musings

I found this picture of Michelle Trachtenberg.  (I was a big fan of "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer")  She's so beautiful, and her face seemed to lend itself to my art.  I picked a picture out, this one:

I Kansas City, 7 people sing Hallelujah, and a choir of angels joins in with instruments and countless voices including a new stanza never heard before.


  Hallelujah,
 hallelujah....

 Hallelujah, ringing all across the land
 Everybody's singing at the Lord's command
 All the saints and the angels up in glory wait to hear the news
 of Jesus and his children as they're coming through

 
 Hallelujah,
 hallelujah...

Here's some pictures of the latest rugs I've designed and got finished.

A work of art, of compassion, of love.

I'm always out and about, cracking jokes, engaging people (strangers) in conversation.  I look for the opportunity to make someone smile, to make someone laugh.  It brightens my own day as well.  A few people here in Ontario actually comment back, and most interestingly, the common question is, "Where are you from?"  I tell them I live in Ontario now, but I was raised on the West Coast.  They latch onto that, "Oh, the West Coast..." they exclaim, "People are much more open and friendly on the West Coast."  I wonder if that's true?  I'm just being myself and trying to engage people, flirting with the girls, challenging the people around me to think it might not be a "bad" day.   A few people don't appreciate my humor, my "odd" behavior, and they'll scowl at me or walk away.  LOL  I even got a "Tch..." from a woman yesterday.  I won't change what I do though.  Like I said, it makes my day to see someone else smile, to hear a giggle or laughter.  If that means I'm weird or "from somewhere else..." then so be it.   What have you done today?

I was asked recently on Facebook, what my superhero outfit would look like. Here is my response:

Hmmm... I'm thinking a dark green cape, bright red tights, and a rose (red) between my teeth... My power, as usual, shall be the pen (keyboard), which we all know is mightier than the sword. You can support your local "Super Commenter Man!" by buying his books... hint.hint. ;D

He's so fast... he's even fast asleep! Able to leap to conclusions ... in a single leap. Willing to voice his opinion, no matter how unpopular he thinks it might be... He's "Super Commenter Man!" (coming soon to a webblog/Twitter/Facebook/website near you.)

Legal: opinions and views express by the "Super Commenter Man!" may not be those of the author.

Opinions:

God, for Him
Religion, pretty much against it. (figure that out!)
Abortion, against. (but, as I'm told lately, I'm a guy and my opinion doesn't count.)
Eating meat, for. (for now...)
Sex, after marriage (ya, right...)
Homosexuality, (against the act, not the person.)
Work/labor, relax until the feeling passes.

I reserve the right to add to this list as I see fit.

Comments WELCOME!!!

arbitrary picture of something cute/funny/controversial... see below.

My latest book release:

I found this job offer by reading a Twitter entry from a friend, Diana Adams @adamsconsulting
adamsconsulting

It was the summer of 1993, in Victoria, British Columbia on Vancouver Island where I found my first bike. A beautiful black 750 Honda Shadow in mint condition, being "given" away by a disgruntled and newly divorced woman while her ex was away on "business". She had a sign on the bike asking for $3000 or best offer. I looked at the bike while she stood nearby, then, jokingly offered her the contents of my wallet to drive it away then-and-now. I couldn't believe my ears when she said one word... "Sold." I pulled out my wallet, opened it wide so she could see the contents. One $20 bill. She laughed. I thought, "...well, so much for that idea." but then she surprised me again. She held out her hand, and I passed her the $20. She had a glint in her eye as she said, "Perfect, just one more thing." SO now I'm wondering what's up. She gets the insurance and transfer papers from inside her apartment, along with a receipt book that makes copies. She writes out a receipt for $20 and we both sign it. She clearly prints 750 Honda Shadow on the receipt stub, and closes the book. I glance at the cover and see a man's name there, and grin at her. "His book...?" I ask. She nods and walks away, leaving me the bike and the keys.
The next week, I get my Riders Permit and take a quick motorcycle riding course to get my street license. Previously, I'd only ridden dirt bikes on the farm where I grew up. I ride that bike everywhere that summer and fall. It was a great bike. Then my brother-in-law tells me a friend of his wants the bike and is offering $500 for it. "Sold." I say.
I miss my bike.

1. Twittering while I have guests over. (and quoting to them funny tweets that I see online.)

2. Watching Miley Cyrus music video's, and following the news about her.  It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion... strangely similar to watching Lindsay Lohan's career.  I worry about her.

Wish You Were Here, a story of life on the edge of reason.

Click here for a preview:

Another talented writer in the family. This is from my niece, Misha.

emotionless monster

Yesterday at 7:24pm
She walks with no stumble in her steps while her world crumbles around her... As she walks they glare at her with envy or pity....because she shows no emotion at all. How does she control the pain? Does she even know what emotion means? She walks with no stumble in her steps only showing her apathy as she walks through chaos. She is known as the emotionless monster, nothing makes her fall... Until the day she knows what pain is.....

What I Seek!
You put a smile upon my face,.... You light my path and protect me from the cold.....You show me love, when I have done you wrong.......You move me every time you speak or murmur a word........ Your eye cut me too my soul, and you see who I really am.........

I saw this wonderful art in Mexico the last time I was in P.V.! Check it out, Brent.

Here's a video from MaryMaxim about how to do Latchhooking:

An excerpt from pp. 57-59 volume 2, The Roseman's Poetry and Musings.
Adventures in Taxi’s 3

It was a cool and clear summer night as I drove the taxi I was assigned to back into town after dropping a fare off in the countryside. On the edge of town was a four way stop and then a bridge over the river. I stopped and looked around, I was first at the intersection. I rolled forward to cross the bridge, when I was suddenly cut off by a black tow truck that sped through the stop sign from my right and then swerved recklessly onto the bridge ahead of me. I sped up to follow, looking for a license plate to jot down the numbers and ease my angst at being so rudely cut off. Suddenly the tow truck slammed to a stop in front of me, so I swerved to his passenger side to avoid hitting him and to inquire what was going on. The driver of the truck opened his passenger window and glared at me as I asked if there was a problem. He then gunned his motor and cranked his steering to ram the side of my cab. I was a bit put off by this time, and didn’t want the taxi damaged further, so I hit the gas and shot ahead down the road. The next instant, the tow truck rammed me from behind. I spun the car across the railroad tracks and onto another road past a line of other taxi’s parked in front of the town’s busiest bar. The tow truck rammed me again, and continued to chase me as I swerved again and managed to raise dispatch on the radio. Dispatch told me to head for the police station, saying the police were on the phone and waiting for me to show up. I turned onto the road leading to the police station with the tow truck in hot pursuit. He rammed me again and began pushing me through the center of town, faster and faster. I stayed off the brakes and concentrated on steering straight down the deserted nighttime roads. A few blocks from the police station, a truck pulled out of a side road in front of us. I leaned on the taxi’s horn, warning the driver ahead to clear the way. Then at that instant, the tow truck pushing me from behind suddenly back off. I slammed on the brakes and slid into the police station parking lot, nearly running down the officers coming out the front door of the station. They asked me where the tow truck was… as it hadn’t passed yet. Then suddenly with a roar the tow truck appeared from behind the hedges and buildings and raced down the road past the police station with half a dozen other taxi’s in hot pursuit. My car shuddered and died in the parking lot of the police station, so I stayed put, but I heard the rest of the story later. The taxi’s in pursuit cornered the tow truck in a cul-de-sac and where in the process of being rammed by the angry tow truck driver as he attempted to force his way out when the police arrived.

What I learned later… The taxi I was driving was written off, it had a bent frame and severe damage underneath and in the drive train from being rammed and pushed.

The driver of the tow truck was known as a troublemaker to police. His nickname was “Spider Williams“. The night he came across me, he had been out with a girl who wasn’t his wife, and getting drunk and stoned. He cut me off at the 4 way stop because he was rude, and in a hurry to get to the next party. When I pulled up alongside of him, he thought I saw the girl in the truck with him, and would tell his wife. He got mad. Apparently, when he went for my fenders and I sped away, I inadvertently sprayed his truck with gravel from the side of the road… which only served to enrage him further. His wife found out about the girl, but not from me. It was in the police report. His wife then proceeded to sleep with another guy, which “Spider” discovered. He then thought it would be fun to flip his wife’s car on it’s roof and drag it down the highway, trailing a stream of sparks. He was given more time to serve in jail for this stunt, on top of the time he was serving for trying to kill me. After he got out (again), he was doing some repairs and welding on the bottom of his pride and joy, the aforementioned black tow truck. His truck caught fire and burned to the ground. I heard it was a total loss. In his attempt to put out the fire, he was injured and ended up in a wheelchair, and shortly after that he was killed - but I don’t know the details of his death. Some of the older natives from the reserve who I had as regular passengers in the taxi told me that they had heard of my adventure and put a hex on the “spider” and his black truck.

A linguistics professor was lecturing to his class one day. "In
English," he said, "a double negative forms a positive. In some
languages though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a
negative. However," he pointed out, "there is no language wherein
a double positive can form a negative."

A voice from the back of the room piped up, "Yeah, right."

Nakedness

Today at 3:34am
Nakedness... is when you are at your worst and at the same time your best, it rids you of that husk we all call are selves and revels a much different bring... this is when you truly wear your heart on your sleeve.... these moments make and break the fabric of a relationships and are the test of morality and love... the question is why do we cover are selves....is it to change us..... to create a false image ..... to become someone we're not..... to be on noticed ....to fade into the background of everyday life...... why do we wear these masks..... if we strip off these mask are we vulnerable and helpless ......... or is nakedness the state that we become are true self, is this the true face under the mask or but another layer of our protective network that allows us to block out the sunlight of the real world and the people that inhabit it? What is nakedness really?

These are the unedited ramblings of my 18 yr old nephew, Zach.

Some words of Wisdom from my 18 year old nephew, Zach. note: spelling and grammar are his...but I still think the kid is a genius.


LOVE?

Is love derived from the soul..... Or is this a chemical reaction ...are relationships a memorable accumulation of heart break........ Or do they amass into something that defines you as a person..... Does love leave you out in the rain......or does it take an umbrella and shelter you from the wet........ Does love create a sickness in your stomach... or does it make you float.... is infatuation your love or.....is love your infatuation??? ...


MOVEMENT OF A CLOCK

My soul is my clock.... time has stop! I stand their unable to breath, staring at myself in the eyes, as the world moves around me; i stand there in pause..... in thought....... in segregation from the world around me...... I am my own clock...... it is my choice to tick constant with normality, or change the rhythmical beat that the world imposes on me....



BLACK BLISS

....laying in bed and stareing into the pitch black and getting lost in though, my mind is a matrix of chemical expositions, and those blast waves dance like a rave in my head.....moving to alien beat,..... this music booms through the darkness, i don't understand the darkness but i embrace it ,.... it is my clarity..... the blackness is my pit of thought,..... the medical medium that moves my heart and crushes it as well.....it is my friend,...yet dangerous thing lurk in inside it,.... it is my control.....and my rage......