an old writer and his words

  • INSTAHELL OR METAHELL?

    Some might call us linguistic sadistsand it would be difficult to argue that point.We take a perverse joy in torturing language,as though trying to make it agree with whatwe imagine it should do in our delusional world.And I am willing (and quite able) to lay someof the blame on social media, that baneof modern existence…

    Lou Faber

  • SILENCE?

    You smile when you saythat my voice is muffled,that you cannot understand whatI am trying so hard to tell you.You have taken my tongue, the priceperhaps for saying what youmost do not want to hear.So you may laugh at me, atmy attempts to speak, but youwill never silence me for I canyell, I can write…

    Lou Faber

  • SAD MONOLOGUE

    It is a truly sad momentwhen you first come to realizethat the inner dialog you thoughtyou were having with your psychehas been little more than a monologue,the ramblings of the court jester,or worse, the fool, your psychehaving grown deaf to your complaints,your incessant worries, or worse still,the ever growing fears you bring uponboth of you,…

    Lou Faber

  • NANSEN’S CATS AND COWS

    Why do you seek outmaster upon master,teacher upon teachersearching for a Buddha?What do you expect themto tell you, what magic wordscan they offer you thatwill result in enlightenment.When you walk towarda Temple, when you seea cat or a cow, do yourecognize that theirBuddha-nature exceeds yours? A reflection on Case 69 of the Book of Equanimity…

    Lou Faber

  • TOTALLY UNFAIR

    You realize, of course, that it wasan arbitrary and capricious decisionno matter what you say, making up the rulesas you go, changing them withoutconsulting those of us who are to bemost affected by the changes. Suremy brothers and sisters probably agreed,more for them with me out of the picture,but don’t give me the lecture on…

    Lou Faber

  • OR

    I can safely say I don’t miss the dayswhen they wheeled you into the operating room,smiling you assumed behind the masks,as you shift from gurney to table, your open gownflapping about like some wind driven flag.You would lie there staring up at the massive lightsthankfully were turned on, blinding you, watchedas they placed the mask…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU ODE ME ONE

    I should write an ode to my catbut she claims all of the good oneshave already been written and shewould not settle for less than the best.She says I could write an odeto the television remote or eventhe microwave oven, but I noteto her that an ode is to someone,something worthy, beneficialand she nods in…

    Lou Faber

  • TOCK TICK

    He was an amateur horologist, so time was important to him. And time had left him with nothing but questions because language, poorly used was far less valuable to him, particularly when it touched on his greatest joy. What, he asked, did time do when it left the army and stopped marching? Why couldn’t he…

    Lou Faber

  • FINAL ASSIGNMENT

    It is a rather simple assignment.Take a sheet of notebook paperand, staying within the lines,on one side of the page writea summary of your lifeup to this moment.You may not use extra sheetsnor may you write so smallas to get two or more linesbetween each of the ruled lines.Say what is important, saywhat needs to…

    Lou Faber

  • AMETHYST DREAMS

    He leans on the barin the pose of the Thinkerlost in a reverie of Bourbon,odd bits of foolscapscattered about, coastersfor peanut shells,and the odder jotsof the unbegun epic.In the hazeof another cigarettehe fingers the violetworry beads.“Amethustos,” he muttersas if calling fortha god or a musebut his callgoes unreturnedby the unrepentant grain.He imagines himselfa bishop to…

    Lou Faber