A space to grow is a rose in bloom. A place where my heart is true to roam The mysteries of wires and all they connect Is a chamber I’ve chosen with utmost respect. A workshop and play land is my home. Of late I do favor Radar Room.
Radar Room is a state of mind, A way of life and sacred ground For a techie detective exploring Ohm’s Law. I’m at home with my soul in the midst of it all. Tinkering tools and passion abound With gadgetry of every kind.
Fried salmon and onions… sea salt and solder… The air is a crispness embracing the dew. The antenna rotates and radiates well. The local oscillator rings like a bell. When something needs fixing, I make it anew. Were it not so, there would be nothing odder.
Frequency surely is the key To aligning the transceiver known as self. What others see on their displays Should alter not my chosen ways. I place all loneliness on an empty shelf Then tune myself to higher ‘me.’
Oh, wondrous Pole!
Hail, glorious Throw!
Science and leisure applaud your facility,
Honor your cause, and respect your ability
To make a thing go
Or withhold its soul.
Rotary, Push Button, Solid State, Toggle…
Variety’s but virtue, and you are the core
Of life’s inner dealings and outer expression
While greeting electrons in rapid succession.
Evolving more complex than ever before,
Many a dissonant mind’s yours to boggle.
Hail, Changing State!
The nub of your being
Is bi-stable bliss for device uncontrolled.
You’re a tidy technique for a thing to behold.
As believing breeds seeing,
You make life great!
As morning peeks Up window pops Under liquid screen where night was spent It says I’ve erred, and by vain intent The Cursor stops
The heart’s techniques
Then my name can’t be writ’ the more usual way? “No Spaces Or Other Such Hanky Panky!” Well, characters were never that special to me, And I’d just as soon see them take flight and be free Of unworthy stages so cluttered and cranky. So, I’ll just change my name. Surely that is OK?