Hateful things in human thought Twisted minds this sin have brought Barking dogs pull at the chain Howling shrieks and moans of pain Mothers weep and infants cry Above the gate - ARBEIT MACHT FREI Shuffling feet of broken hearts Pause for families torn apart Wives and children stripped away Screams and cries that cannot sway One by one sent there and here For some the end is very near While others hear the orders barked For brutal labor they were marked The crack of whips and thud of fist The whimpered hope you're on the list Yet labor's toil… Read the rest
Category Archives: Peter’s Writings
Things Peter writes for his own benefit, not necessarily intended for or made available to the general public.
A Rant on Modern Science
When I was a kid, my best friend Zeke (not his real name) was what we all considered “fat.” In addition to being heavier than the rest of us, he had a complexion that would have been described as sallow, had a tendency for profuse sweating, bad teeth, and delayed mental development. He was different, and that made him a target. Aside from Zeke and one or two other kids in my elementary school, I can’t remember a single kid who would be labeled overweight by today’s standards. Fast-forward thirty years, and my experience would infer that Zeke would be … Read the rest
Buried
Bury me not in the cold an dark earth, Where the roots and worms churn the ground. Rather lay me to rest in the folds of your heart, Where your rarest of treasures are found.
Hippochondriac
Harry the zoo hippochondriac was a wonderful pain in the butt. The zookeepers all sat and wondered what went on there inside of his nut. He never went out to enjoy the warm sun, and never would venture to swim, play, or run. He'd moan and he'd groan then flop hard in the hay, convinced some zoo patron had bubonic plague. When spring cottonwoods bloomed and sent tufts on the breeze, he was sure that pneumonia was what made him sneeze. Once a blob of dried mud stuck behind his left ear, convinced him he'd cancer and life's ending was… Read the rest
Leaving
Precise to plans I drew myself, To house my future and my past. Space for children, work, and play, Built strongly - made to last. Connected with community, Deep roots and friends abound. Invested in longevity, We'd planned to stick around. The children learned to love this place, We parents did the same. Now plans have changed, and we must go, A pawn in life's harsh game. In packing up and leaving here, I go as duty calls. With heavy heart and misty eyes, To cope where my lot falls.
Storytime: VICA Nationals
As with any of my stories based in reality, it is true and accurate only to the extent that my memory is correct. This is an account of things as I remember them.
Vica Nationals
When I was in High School, I had a rather patient, kind, and understanding electronics teacher named Ralph Dammann who went out of his way to give me opportunities to explore that subject and “color outside the lines” that conventional educational programs draw. He allowed me to skip other classes to work on projects, supported me as I cooked up various new things, and was … Read the rest
Jolly Green
Middle of nowhere, not a soul is in sight, I'm alone far from help in a terrible fright, Marooned yesterday and all through the night. Weakened and failing, dealt a heavy hard blow, Then a thumping and rumbling rattling low, Creeps through the quiet and steadily grows. Now the feet of a giant appear overhead, With a deafening roar beating down latent dread, Tells me help is at hand, and safety ahead. The jolly green giant called out to assist, Searching the morn' that frost's icy lips kissed, Pararescueman watching ensures nothing's missed. He sees me and motions to show… Read the rest
Why Not Publish?
I was on a flight home recently after an involuntary extension of a business trip, and happened to be seated next to an aspiring author who felt like striking up a conversation. As we talked, he talked about how he had begun writing to deal with the loss of his mother. That revelation led us down a series of wandering paths, along which it came out that I also write as a form of self prescribed therapy. He asked if I had published anything, and seemed shocked when I told him no (other than scholarly/profesional journals) and that I wasn’t … Read the rest
Storytelling: Spring Break
As with any of my stories based in reality, it is true and accurate only to the extent that my memory is correct. This is an account of things as I remember them.
Spring Break
Many years ago I felt a strong desire to break free of school and work in order to spend some time tooling around Southern Utah. I had time off, a small pickup truck, and enough money to pay for gas and any incidental expenses that happened to arise, so I made plans to take a bunch of back-roads through the red-rock country. While I might … Read the rest
Storytelling: Lightning Strikes and Skinny Dipping
As with any of my stories, this is true and accurate only to the extent that my memory is correct. This is an account of things as I remember them.
Lightning Strikes and Skinny Dipping
From as far back as I can remember, I have loved opportunities to escape civilization and make my way into the wilderness. Growing up in Utah, there were plenty of opportunities to do so, ranging from the High Uintah wilderness area a few hours east to some of the emptiest high desert on the continent to the west and south. As a kid, my mother’s … Read the rest