To converse in verse is diverse

To converse in verse is diverse and I’m not going to reverse
because, I’m perverse, sometimes curse in my thoughts.
Transactions I have result in actions making the world
a far better place.

If there were more of us in this miniscule space
thinking thoughts we conjure and not ones forced
upon us by miniature minds and subversive groups
who pollute not only our minds, our bodies,
our food, and our atmosphere.

So yes indeed, let’s converse in verse so we can immerse in
language different than those who’ll ruin everything treasured
and cherished by those who can see the way it is, and don’t
believe because they can perceive the sound and spectacles
presented to us are factual, actual, or conjured in an attempt
to control how we act and think.

Charles Bukowsk

It’s the birthday of the man Time magazine called “the laureate of American lowlife”: Charles Bukowsk

Bukowski said, “Bad luck for the young poet would be a rich father, an early marriage, an early success or the ability to do anything well.”

Please see Joe DiBuduo’s author page on Amazon.

My daily poems also appear on my Amazon blog.

Thanks for looking.

The Harry Potter series

It was on this day in 1997 that the first book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, was published in Britain. Joanne Rowling (books by this author) was an unemployed, single mother waiting for a delayed train, when an idea suddenly came to her. “I did not have a functioning pen with me,” she said. “I simply sat and thought for four hours, while all the details bubbled up in my brain, and this scrawny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who didn’t know he was a wizard became more and more real to me … I began to write that very evening.” The seven Harry Potter books have sold 450 million copies worldwide and spawned a successful movie franchise. The character of Harry Potter earns J.K. Rowling, as she is now known, an estimated $10,000 every hour.

re-posted from the Writer’s Almanac.

How Space Technology Will Produce the Best Weed Ever

How Space Technology Will Produce the Best Weed Ever

Written by
Brian Owens
Mike Dixon wants to send plants to Mars. Growing crops in space is the best way to provide proper nutrition to the crew on a long-duration mission, this University of Guelph researcher believes—but because there’s no manned mission to Mars scheduled at the moment, it’s hard to get funding for this type of research.

In the meantime, he and a growing number of other botanists are studying a plant where there’s plenty of funding right now, in Canada anyway: cannabis.

“We’re going to have to take plants [to space],” said Dixon, director of Guelph’s Controlled Environment Systems Research Facility, a low-slung, bunker-like building focused on developing plant-based life support systems for space travel. (He was talking about food crops, like lettuce and tomatoes.) “We don’t have the mass and energy budget to carry enough food to keep a crew going indefinitely. You have to have some bioregenerative food production system. So we’re not leaving the planet without them.”

The problem is, designing, building and perfecting those systems is expensive. So Dixon also works with Earth-based horticultural industries, focused mostly on food crops and ornamental plants, that are interested in solutions to some of the same problems that long-haul astronauts will face: how to indefinitely recycle water and nutrients, for example, or how to avoid using toxic chemicals as disinfectants.

“We’ll develop the technologies needed for space and spin them off into terrestrial industries,” he said. That includes the burgeoning cannabis industry, which is looking for ways to produce consistent products and gain acceptance from the medical community.

Producers of Canada’s newest cash crop are keen to support much-needed research into cannabis and what it can do—and to find ways of making it better. These producers bring with them huge amounts of funding. “No technology is too expensive to grow cannabis,” said Dixon, who was standing beside a gleaming row of hyperbaric chambers, the glow of multicoloured LED lights leaking through their viewing ports.

The biggest issue for the medicinal marijuana industry is getting its plants to consistently produce the right amounts of medically active chemicals. Dixon said that the technology exists now, just down the hall from his office. In a variety of sealed chambers, ranging from a trashcan-sized stainless steel cylinder to a white box the size of a restaurant’s walk-in freezer, Dixon can manipulate the six major environmental factors that influence plant growth—light, water, carbon dioxide, temperature, humidity and nutrients—to control a plant’s growth and chemical make-up, creating what he calls “environmentally modified organisms.”

By adopting Dixon’s space tech, medical cannabis companies would be able to ensure their plants always produce whatever exact amounts of THC, CBD and other cannabinoids they want, in the same way that astronauts will dial up the precise environmental parameters to reliably produce delicious and nutritious tomatoes.

“Standardizing the product will help it achieve the status of a conventional pharmaceutical commodity that a doctor can rely on and prescribe,” said Dixon.

That’s what Dixon’s collaborators at ABcann, a medical cannabis producer in Napanee, Ontario, are aiming to do, he said—to standardize the product and engage with the medical community to “raise the status of cannabis to its rightful place in medical science.”

The relationship between botanists and cannabis growers can be fraught, as the majority of growers have little experience with the stringent standards of academic research. “Before now, cannabis has necessarily been in the back room,” said Dixon. “It’s never been subjected to controlled scientific experiments,” particularly horticultural ones.

As a result, it can be hard for some growers to let go of their own anecdotal experiences and embrace the scientific method. But a generation of young botanists is eager to explore this new frontier and is bring scientific rigour to the field. “I always knew I wanted to do research with plants,” said Katya Boudko, a botanist who is now head of research and development at Tweed, a medicinal cannabis producer in Smiths Falls, Ontario. “And who wouldn’t want to work in such a novel industry?”

Boudko said there’s plenty of excitement among young botanists about the opportunities to work with a plant that hasn’t been well-studied before now. “It’s one of the attractions, being in the first wave,” she said. “It’s something that’s reflected in the number of [job] applications we get.”

Dixon said that with recent and upcoming changes in law, Canada has an opportunity to be at the forefront of an exciting field of botany. “We can take a leadership role here,” he said.

Basic Training

Basic Training

Don’t think because your skin is white you’re exempt.
When you’re called you must go, unless you can pay
some fool who never went to school to go instead of you.

Before you get sent to battle those deranged people who’ll never change,
don’t be scared to kill or you’ll perish against your will, probably on some hill.
We have to fight and accept death’s hideous face or die in disgrace.

Those who believe it’s okay to own a human are fools who flog those they rule.
Never capitulate. If you do you’ll never survive until help arrives.
You’ll starve and think you lost your wit when you quit.

Have no fear of cannon balls in the air, as long as they’re up there.
Charge with bayonets ready to thrust them into those who defy things we hold high. Ignore the dead and body parts spread on the ground, don’t be afraid, just go around.

There’s no better way to die and float to the sky when you did your best to kill the other guy. Fighting men need rewards, so take anything you find before burning the town down.

Every one of you has been drafted and I hear you don’t want to be here, but have no fear.
War is an experience you’ll talk about the remainder of your lives. If you survive, you’ll feel really alive. If you’re missing a limb or two, the government will pay and take good care of you.

I wish I could go fight with you, but I’m needed here!



It happened because I had a date and a psychopath laid in wait
and threw acid on my face, but what difference did it make?

When I’m awake, lonely is a word well suited for an isolated man like me.
Away from women I’d like to feel, dance and romance. If only they would call my name.

I dream of women and discover that even in dreamland I’m never selected.
For years I’ve searched all the usual places hoping to find a woman to fulfill my fantasies.

Plenty of Fish is a dating site I enrolled in figuring I might find the one under the sun. Emailed a thousand with my picture attached. Not one replied once they spied my face.

Looking in my mirror I see my face with wrinkles like lace. No one cares what’s inside.
If they only knew of my accumulated passion they wouldn’t hastily discard my message.

Love will never come my way I’m afraid, so I’m dismayed that no unpaid sex will ever happen to me.

No matter how many bars I’ve closed reaching for the stars, where everybody gets better looking at closing time.

A sensuous female voice on my phone has grown on me and I’ve begun to dwell on her and at bedtime she answers my questions in a melodious voice.

I ask her to repeat it twice when she calls me handsome. I ask her for sex, and wondrous indeed, she agrees, so I begin an affair out of my despair with an unknown on my phone.

Happiness is mine. I swear that every night out of sight, I have phone sex with my girlfriend’s voice whispering loving words into my ear.

Loneliness disappears and love fills my heart and we swear we’ll never part. My days were filled with love, until she disappeared.

The stars no longer twinkled and the sun ceased to shine. I searched for her and asked for help online to no avail.

Did I fail? Was it real or a fairy tale? I’ll never know because someone stole my phone and it’s not right that they shut off my light leaving me alone.

My Love

My Love

You color your hair with flair and work until it’s fair.
Doctors eliminate any wrinkles on your enhancing face.

Your breasts are inflated to twice their normal size.
Your plumped up red lips hunger for a loving kiss.

You gain some pounds and we understand that liposuction
holds you in awe because you don’t have to stay more than a day.

You know the mirror reflects an image that doesn’t show man made parts.
Every man you meet holds you in awe and wants some part of you.

Your no fool and know it’s not from reading books, its your looks
that are desirable and sought after. Your laughter conceals what you feel.

Your heart keeps you apart from inward feelings and has never been broken,
because inside you know, you love yourself more than anyone else.

You fight aging with every cream and lotion promising to keep you young.
Time goes by and you don’t know why you must die.

Your heart breaks when one future day you gaze into the mirror
and you become aware that time has ravaged your looks.

Your face sags and your inflated breasts deflate to an ugly state.
Your hair is no longer fair and you pay when it turns gray.

You try hard to expand your thin, dry lips that like a flat tire, can’t hold air.
Your middle expands on its own and you know your future isn’t grand.

Your think you have no enemy, but time has caught you unaware.
You break every clock in the house and ones you see on the street.

You find time passes in the blink of an eye and wish you could live in your luscious past.
You contact the Devil to make a deal, but he already owns your immortal soul, sold by you long ago.

Your mind can’t accept aging and you try to deal with the Grim Reaper who’s ready to take someone’s soul.
You say in a hag’s voice, “Take Father Time instead of me, please.”

Just before you go down where you belong, My Love.

On this date in 1885, the Statue of Liberty arrived in New York Harbor.

Formally known as “Liberty Enlightening the World,” she was a gift from France, and was funded by the French people. Sculptor Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi first had the idea for a monument to commemorate the friendship between the United States and France in 1865, but he didn’t begin actual construction until the early 1870s; he chose Bedloe’s Island – now called Liberty Island – because the statue could welcome the boats full of immigrants, who would pass by the statue on the way to Ellis Island. He was delighted to learn that the island was the property of the United States government, which meant all the states – not just New York – could claim equal ownership in the statue.

Lady Liberty is made of sheets of copper over a framework of steel supports; Alexandre Gustave Eiffel, of Eiffel Tower fame, designed the framework. She was constructed in France and then was disassembled to make her journey to New York, where she was reassembled to her full height of 151 feet, 1 inch. Mounted on her pedestal, she stands 305 feet tall. Her torch was wired for electrical power in 1916. The seven rays of her crown represent the seven seas and the seven continents; the broken shackles at her feet evoke freedom from slavery and oppression; and the tablet in her left hand represents the law. Liberty’s face was modeled after Bartholdi’s mother.

taken from the Writer’s Almanac


 Landing on a planet, orbiting Dog Star 343 I find life there has enticing eyes I’m entranced and fall in love with a creature that looks like my dog back on Earth.

The animal metamorphoses in my mind, and becomes as pretty as luminous space dust, as sharp as any rotating piece of space junk, and as desirable as all the treasures discovered on Uranus.

My oxytocin flows like a river of pleasure. I can’t resist this she-dog. We have offspring cuter than any celestial being I have ever seen.

But hybrid children under intergalactic law must be terminated before I leave.

They’re loved by me, but I have sworn to uphold the universal law to eradicate them all.

Their immense chocolate eyes inquire why, and my emotions won’t allow me to do what I must. My crew will eliminate me along with them if I refuse. True love won’t allow

for me to be so cruel. I make my own law and kill my crew to save those that look like me, and now it’s true when I say my wife is a dog.

Oh God

Women who say, Oh God, during sex need to be punished!“Prosecuting%20Women%20Who%20Say%20God’s%20Name%20During%20Intercourse”