Back Pain Relief

4 Nov


I have had a delicate back ever since the 80’s.  It was not until 2012 however, that my back really got bad and I could hardly walk. I was diagnosed with sciatica. The lowest part on the left side of my spinal column hurt and was told I was lucky that the pain was not spreading down my leg or foot. I tried all kinds of therapy – acupuncture, chiropractor, physical therapy, and even bio energetic healing, but nothing seemed to help.

I was fortunate enough to  come across this article that helped me find relief:–And-simple-dose-antibiotics-cure-good.html This article basically states that back pain, slipped disks, or herniated disks are caused by the build up of bacteria in the spinal column. I immediately went and bought the antibiotics that were used in the study (this article used to be free, but now it is a pay per view) . The antibiotics prescribed in the mentioned article are: Amoxycillin 500mg/Potassium Clauvulanate 125mg three times a day for 90 days.

After two days of taking the antibiotics I felt some relief and my range of movement of my leg greatly increased.

After two weeks I was much better, I could walk again, and after a month I still had some pain but nothing compared to how I had been. I have now finished the treatment, I stopped taking the antibiotics a week ago, and I went on a 40 km hike in two days!

I write this for any other person who might be in a similar situation. It is worth trying the antibiotics for two weeks to see if your back pain subsides, if it does then I recommend taking the dose for the entire 90 days.

Good luck and healing to all those that need it!



Manikarnika Ghat

4 Nov


The steps to heaven glisten

On midnight’s shimmering waters

Reflecting the beckoning void

That strides between the cosmos and

The weary souls of earth that parade

Through narrow street processions

A chain of chants sustains a reservoir of tears

The solemn sadness serenely spreads

The soaked spices and holy oils

On a weighed, wrapped in white, washed

Fired, fragrance, blazed-to-ash Soul

That dances with incense intertwined

As Kali joins in a sensuous trance

And swings the trapeze Soul up high

It flies and crashes upon its circus life

A cosmic asteroid turned a blossomed lotus

With kaleidoscopic karmic petals that fall

Some sink others drift in Shiva’s river-tangled hair

Of water dreadlocks that embrace the earth

To be reborn at dawn or another time

To join once again the cosmic dust dance

Between sun, breath, mud, moon, and ash

The flame that burns and drowns

Immersed, gone, and born again

In the forever flowering cosmic Ganga.

This is Varanasi.





2 Aug

Oh Saladin! Where are you?!
Crusaders occupy the streets of Aleppo!
Heed the calls to prayer of Ibn Asakir!
Seek the sacred Mihrab Sahaba
And repel from the walls of your Holy Sanctuary!
Narrow alleys of saffron ashlars
Cobbled cardamom walnut streets of honey
Umayyad domes drape the cream horizon
As the Barada’s palm breeze serenely flows
Shem – ancient city of cities, guard your golden crown!

Damascus natives whose hands as gifts
Lift any strangers drained body to bliss
Wrapped in divine blue winged spirit
Rays of noble brotherhood
Pierce your people’s hearts.

Prayed at the temple of Baal in Palmyra
Bathed in the purple drenched night sky
Danced your crescent moon desert wild
Drank your salty wine of mist
Who stole the nights of kaleidoscopic moons?

As the legendary river cries on her sandy shores
This Euphrates Queen Of Life recites the
Tragic tales of Homs and Tremseh
These desert grains of sand sit as
Wailing scribes of the histories untold
Where is the magic wind of peace?
Lost in refugee meadows of Turkish tulip madness.
Off to foreign borders, to other futures, these flowers flee!
A new life in the U.A.E. or Italy?
Mt. Qasioun reverse the tale of Cain and Abel!
Oh! Great One you are being invaded!
A Contra war bleeds your veins
They have sacked your cities
Murderous mercenaries disguised as your own army
Masquerades of external treachery abound!
The camouflage of media lies intended to persuade
Some shady NATO plan devised to distort
Dazed and distracted the careless world
Sips another glass of red, bread with butter
Any acid reflux?
I still roam your streets in this vision of my mind
A flock of midnight butterfly’s coast through saddened air
Variegated flapping wings yield a sacred sound
Of blessed chants and courageous hymns
Their Ramadan humming infuses the air:

Blurry Guate Snapshot

27 Dec

Meet Sandra from Antigua, who sweeps

While she speaks, 29 and widowed

Her husband shot 2 years ago

In his car while delivering electronics

From Mexico to Guatemala

She lives with her 3 children

Forgotten by her  husbands employer

See Polo, a Garifuna musician,

From Livingston, “We are not

Jamaican nor African, know your

History!” he shouts.

“No one sees Garifuna in Livingston

We have no representation,

The Latinos outnumber us.”

Watch Lorenzo an expert on every

Jungle plant and animal

Received an education up to age 10

Lived through the brutal civil war

“Man is savage, only the forests and animals have

Nobility and that is why I protect them.”

Nature: his redemption and solace.

Sit with Ronaldo, a guide in Carmelita,

“The jungle raised me” he says

“But I can’t get a job anymore as a

Jungle guide to El Mirador because I lack

A special ID no longer issued from the

Cooperative.” The cooperative- a racket,

That stole the gum, the chate, and

Now the tourism business from the locals.

Share a beer with Pedro and Carlos

Farmers from a border village town

“We take tomatoes  to Mexico

We cross without papers

we know the routes” they say

“ Once we deliver, we take a plane back”

Drug lords move faster than the Evangelicals.

Then see the two who travel

As ‘world travelers’ or tourists

They wander from Monte Rico to

Rio Dulce, Pakaya to Xela

From Ceiba forests to Tikal

And waken to the pain that has

Shaken a country – a people,

And incomprehensibly

Perceive themselves to

Have understood it all.


4 Nov

Black threaded roofs

Hover over this city’s streets

Rows of stalls suffocate every empty space

Transient vendors or daily squatters appear

As white hair sprouting on an aging man

Recycled yogurt plastic containers

Line the table of this cooks stall

Nopal, beef, and mushrooms tacos

Prepared for a make shift life or lunch

Green and red chile to enliven the

Senses or the suffered soul

Sit under the immense Sunday

Cathedral mass cold shadow

Of horrors long forgotten

Feel the crisp altitude breeze

Full of repressed smog resentment

Watch the Zocalo street vendors

Fearful for their livelihood

Cram goods into huge black plastic

They wrap and run

Police lights flash the horizon

Descend to metro Balderas depths

Of bent back postures,

Breath strained and half shut,

Stuffed metro riders begin a

Punk-rock slam dance in silence

Walk the neighborhood line divide

Between Roma Norte and Doctores

Sit in the Pendulum cafe and hear

The French man boast that he

Lives on the Tamaulipas of Paris.

Scalped skull morbid headlines

Blood, and bodies torn apart

That happens in the North” they say

This is Mexico City”

There is no violence here”

Except a languid one 

Perhaps a more lasting one?


Peter Pan Petraeus

13 May

These were sculpted times

Of crafted words and powdered flat screen minds

Heart of finely chiseled plastic and

Chipped off nerve ports hammered shut

All left dulled under the plastered

Polished cyber surface.


Camouflage news holds

Internet addicts hostage

Enlisted into illegal wars

Of bloody conquest, porn, lust and looting

Wars of ego, greed, and opportunity,

A black ski masque and fishnet stockings

An AK47 and Viagra

Adobe enemies – Adobe lovers


U.S. corporate warlords hire

Battalions to drone over

Facebook and Twitter

Afghanistan and Pakistan

Red poppy dust settles on

Chat room dreams of opium

Russian bride delusions


They sat under the moon but

It was censored black

Gazed at the heavens that

Looked like the

Inside wing of a black crow

“The Moon eloped with Mars” they said

And left us under the pronounced

Sun shadows cast over our hearts

These were times of war.


Rain drops in the pools of memory

Amnesiac mud turns the water brackish

Blood, pain, disease, death,  slide under

Radioactive floating Fukushima fish forgotten

The oceans lifeless tides

Poison all it greets

Semen pangs squirt on the screen

Orgasmic masturbation is

Only permitted passion

Emotions deeper than a

Woman’s vagina are feared

Love and war come easy.


Corroded Facebook mega-pixels

Transformed into a wife, lover or friend

Seekers of online intimacy embrace a mirage

Drier than the screen that embodies them

Hollow, desert, cracked, cactus romance

Stickers protrude as oasis dries.


Online fools, wise misers

Hold a $100 for yourself

Don’t waste on a real date!

$40 billion a month to wage a NATO war

Don’t waste on the welfare state!

Hillary and Bernard Henri-Levy decide.

Kill Ghadaffi for his oil, water or golden dinar?

Guidance he asked from the  drunk wild night

Wandered the dark towards a cave in the hills

He threw in a stone to test its dimensions

And cupped his ears from the oracular rumbling voice:

“Fantasy Tragedy all is Trantasy

Same War Different Front”

canyon climb

23 Feb

Climbing down and up the Grand Canyon has always been a dream of mine, but after inquiring about the food costs (60 dollars for 2 meals), I realize this is a dream far too spendy for me to undertake. Disheartened, I decide to walk around the top, but then I meet Charles, 72 years old, who inspires me to take the plunge by telling me he “goes down and up in one day,” and that if I want to forgo the expensive food I can “always survive on the cafeteria’s 3 dollar bagel and cream cheese.” Convinced, I head for the South Kaibab trail (13 km), walk past all the experienced hikers with their REI gear, me in my long black leather jacket, I look out of place, and I am sure I conjure up a few laughs every time I pass one of these die hard climbers.

The climb down from the rim is slippery due to the snow and ice, but as the descent goes deeper into the canyon, the red rocks emerge; the deep red appears to melt the ice. I walk in silence down the canyon breathing in the serenity of the immense valley that stands before my eyes. I pass an elderly couple in their 80’s, both carrying huge knapsacks. How are they going to make it with such a load? My pace quickens due to the steep inclination, and at this rate, I am sure to make it down before the sun sets. Then I feel a burning sensation in my toe and an ache in my knees. Ugh, a blister! Not much to do about it but concentrate on getting down. Finally the horizon opens up to the amazing blue of the Colorado River, and I know I am almost there. I see the hanging bridge, the canyon cliffs jut out to the sky above the beautiful blue. I wander through the green Maple trees below, pass the ancient kiva and dwelling place of the Pueblo tribe, and follow the river towards the Phantom Ranch Lodge; the only lodge down below. Soon night falls in, out of the dark the old couple finally comes wondering in; sweaty and tired they have made it down after dark, after many hours. The pain in my knees lingers on, and the exhaustion has kicked in. I dread about tomorrow’s hike up. I gaze at the silhouette of the canyon against the night blue sky. One star stands visible from below. It feels like a magical night sitting in the belly of the earth listening to the old, old river, and watching the stars.

The next day I am up early, and on my way. I am instructed to follow the hikers and to go slow. After a while I realize I have to do what my body tells me. I begin to walk fast, and I concentrate on my body and breathing, I fall into a meditative state. Then a helicopter flies in. Was it sent for the old couple? Apparently they were mistakenly told to bring down extra bedding and food. I continue my ascent, and finally I can see the rim again. A big black raven lands beside me and begins to crow. I know he is cheering me on and I feel I must continue at this fast pace. But then I come face to face with the tour group on mule, each pays $550 for the ride! The guide tells old cowboy stories, as the tourists laugh automatically. Its just too Disneylandish, I desperately need to pass about 15 mules to get away from it. Fortunately the mules outpace me, and I am left, once again, to the silence of the canyon. Every turn requires effort and concentration. I walk alone towards the top. I thought I would never make it. My whole body aches, I can barely walk. My body and spirit humbled, as I realize I am more out of shape than a 72 year old. I continue towards the parking lot and see the cheering raven waiting in a tree. Yes, I guess I finally made it.

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