Friday, April 29, 2011

Raging Diatribes


Raging diatribes from every corner
Each making less sense then the previous
Lunatics being silent while the sane scream
Loud voices clamoring for attention
Yelling
Hollering
Shouting
Above the very din that they create
TVs full of the rantings
The internet crammed with the ravings
Flowing through our brains
Making us ever angrier
At each other 
Especially the anonymous
How we hate them
Shouting each other down
Sure we’re right
It’s all so important that we call names
Bad ones too
Hoping to be the very loudest
The last one heard
The final word
We
Are 
So 
Screwed my friend
Because none of us can’t shut up
And listen
How can we hear over the roar?

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Urban Promise


Pale and Oaky
Dust is smoky
Cars too loud
Lost in the crowd
Roaring and awake
Love I forsake
Smiling girls
Dances and twirls
A rumba too fast
Over at last
Night still young
Salty tongue
Lights so bright
Awake all night
Eat and drink
Please don’t think
Finally to bed
Beats being dead

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

My Muse


Why does my muse look like Nikita Khruschev?
And not a like a lingerie model?
Why can’t everything be how I wish it were
And not how it is
My wishes and fantasies are infinitely better
Than all those soggy realities I’m stuck with
Day after day
Not to complain too much
You know I love my family
My work
My friends
The usual
It’s just that...
Some of my fantasies are so delicious
And the real substantive things
(like my muse)
Are so...
Soviet Secretary in a suit
Bald guy, even
And not curvaceous and sexy
And accompanying come hither look
I get the aroma of spilled bleach
Instead of perfume
Wouldn’t I be more inspired if it were as I wish?
But
I make do with what I have
Try to be thankful
Go on and on
Let what is be
Let what isn’t alone
Muse don’t leave me
Just please,
Change your appearance
No offense

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

There is Sun


There is sun
Pain
Crying rhythms of lesser worlds
Indigent brothers alone on the prairie
You wander in looking for love
And cry loudly about poems not read
I live for the moments
When you come to me
Playing the love song
Of humans kissing
We share a moon
And a life
And together there is clarity
Long silences are forgiven
Winds send new messages
That are interpreted as answers
To lessons untold
And days of eternal rain
Cuddling 
Everything to each other
And so very much in life
Of love
There is sun
And joy
Full of yesterdays promises
Dissolved to tears
We 
Always

Monday, April 25, 2011

A Miracle a Moment


I got it all wrong
But it ended up all right
Took a peaceful life
And had a fight
Rambled and stumbled
Complained and grumbled
Spit eternity in the eye
Never had the sense to cry
Still I found l love and laughter
And much of what I was after
Was a miracle a moment
Though I’d....
Stomped jumped hollered and ran
Right through your flower bed
You wished me dead
But here I am
God I’m lucky
God I’m happy
God I’m so undeserving
But there it is
And here am I
I can fly
Fly
Look at me
I survived
Drank too much
Thought to little
Except of me me me
Took without asking
But finally learned to say
Thank you
And mean it
A miracle a moment
As I figured it out
Through the help of others
Stuck around and listened
Took it to heart
Fatherhood
Serenity
More than okay now
On to something
Seizing the day
And sharing the gifts
Miracle
Moment

Friday, April 22, 2011

Headlines 21 April 2011


Sixteen die in Pakistan blast
Ozone hole 'has dried Australia'
US flies armed drones over Libya
Restaurant worker guilty of cleaver attack
Blizzard of lawsuits to fix blame over BP spill
A Passion Play Endures as a Seasonal Miracle
iPhone tracking shocked pair who made discovery
Wet, salty cat found in NYC; did it swim from N.J.?
Woman dropped into sea in botched cruise rescue
War in Libya Could Drag On, Military Analysts Say
'Don't Say Gay' Education Bill Advances in Tennessee
Drug violence puts dent in Mexico City's Easter exodus
Gaga's sorry she called Madonna comparisons 'retarded'
Kurds Renew Their Movement for Rights and Respect in Turkey 
Brain illness could have affected Stalin's actions, secret diaries reveal

Thursday, April 21, 2011

The Politics of Virility


The politics of virility
The politics of anger
The politics fueled by testosterone
A country like a bloated teenager
Egotistical and self absorbed
At war with itself
Taking it out on everyone else
Lacking introspection
Seeing reflection as weakness
Hating any sign of weakness
A misogynistic
Violent
Raging
Death machine
Importer of goods and services and destruction
Careening madly through the world
Knocking over whatever it chooses
Yet
Despite all this
Utterly and totally convinced of its own good intentions
Seriously so
Believing fervently in its own good
Paternalistic of all others
Demanding the one thing it cannot really give:
Respect
Oh say can you see
By the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we bombed you
And called it freedom

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Conversation


I thought we had a deal
An understanding
An arrangement
An agreement
I thought we understood one another
I thought we had agreed
We said from day one....
Are you going back on your word
I never said that
That’s not what I meant
I don’t know where you’re coming from
This doesn’t sound like you
Why are you doing this
What’s really going on
At least I’m not the one who....
I can’t believe you said that
I never said that
No such conversation ever took place
That’s impossible
You’re twisting my words
That’s not what I meant
What are you saying
Fine just leave it
Drop it
It’s over
Let’s forget all about it
Let’s move on
Forget it ever happened
It’s not important anyway
I’m sorry I brought it up
You’ve twisted everything I’ve said
This is so unlike you
This is crazy
I never said you were crazy
Maybe you need help
I’m not the one who...
But....
Why would you even think that
I’m confused
This is so out of the blue
I’m willing to work things out
You now I care about you
You
Me
Same person 
It was me all along
I hate talking to myself like this
I feel so used
That’s your problem
That is, mine
Ours
Us
Whoever we are
We’re in this together
Stuck in this tiny brain
I want to get out
I guess there’s just no escaping reality
Unless you just plunge ever deeper into your own mind
That’s now what I’m saying at all
Don’t get smug with me
I am not
You’re the one who....

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Happy Days


"How good to be in a body--even this old beat-up carcass--that still has warm blood and live semen and rich marrow and wholesome flesh! The scowling youths on the corner see him as a dodderer.” From the novel A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood.
Tall beautiful Asian woman 
Sits across from me on the bus
She’s carrying three little shopping bags
One from Victoria Secret
Oh my
I think of something quite inappropriate
I’m old enough to be her --
She’s so poised
Hair long and lustrous
Spotted me peaking at her
I look away
Then at my book
I can’t read for thinking of her
And that Victoria Secrets bag
I’m ashamed
(Not really)
I am, after all, a man
She’s not underage
I’m happy really
Because I’ve already married
The love of my life
If I were young and single
Oh the pressure to meet this woman
The torture of the faint possibility
That her and I could actually --
Needn’t worry about that now
Just make discreet glances
And let my imagination play
As it does
With her
Mmmmmm

Monday, April 18, 2011

Flying Business Class


You’ll be just as dead when you die
Despite all your wealth
You’re just as naked unclothed
Despite your fancy suits
You’re just as hungry when you don’t eat
Despite your sanctimony
You smell just as bad when you don’t bathe
Despite your oversized ego
All your words
All your calculations
All your lies
Don’t make you any more special
Then the homeless man begging
You are flesh and blood too
You are only really filled with empty promises
You overflow with deceptions
You abound with cheating schemes
To bilk more out of the already needy
You top all this off with the nerve to rail against us
For class warfare
Yes there’s a war all right
On your total lack of class
Go on
Go protect your rich brethren
Defend your oppressive moral code
But remember you get sick too
You fall down too
You have pulsating pimples
And itchy rashes
You are not special
You are nothing

Friday, April 15, 2011

Recovery


I am so happy that I can cry
Now that I am human
I’m so glad to be among the living
Not cast away among the soulless
How joyous to feel pain
To suffer gladly
Because it means life
Courses through my veins and soul
So close to now, to the eternal
But actually getting to live
On the journey
How joyous these days
Spent as a conscience being
How sad for the many
Who are walking dead
Not living just breathing
I once was with them
Drowning myself in the mundane
And the liquid
Pretending it was all important
The details
The liquid
When it is us who are important
I’m glad I can see life
For it’s beauty and its pain
To live it on its terms
With the help of others
People learning to swim life's waters
Daily
Thank you

(While this poem is about surviving alcohol abuse, the first two lines  were spoken by a Holocaust survivor.)

Dedicated to my friend Kevin L.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Come Back


I can hear your invisibility in the rain
The quiet of your absence is tinkling across the meadows
Of long yesterdays and the angels that bear your weeping soul
I who loved you know only empty embraces
In these days of resolute sorrow
I cling desperately to shadows sent from moons long eclipsed
There is majesty in the waves of love that die at my feet
But you who were always have never in your heart
And the meditation that I see is lost in drowning pools of doubt 
For you are gone and I’m weak with hunger for your essence
Come back

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Little Man Lost


Little man lost
At such a cost
Gone astray
Lost his way
Needed back now
Find him, don’t care how
Hurry along
Something is wrong
Little man lost
At such a cost
He’s important you see
To you and to me
He must be found
Safe and sound
Little man lost
At such a cost
He was just here
It started with a beer
He had one then many
Shouldn’t have had any
Little man lost
At such a cost
On a binge no doubt
Help him out

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

People are All Right


Was a woman in a housecoat
Living quietly on an old boat
Next door a guy sang sea songs
While his wife tried out new thongs
Was a fella in another boat
Had a face like a dirty goat
He liked to fish for striped bass
He was forever passing gas
Was a guy rode a dingy
When alone played with his thingy
They’s a gal sits on the dock
All she ever does is talk talk
Was a woman in a housecoat
Living quiet on an old boat
She saw people for what they was
Don’t know why just cause
Next door a guy sang sea songs
While his wife tried out new thongs
He was pretty smart knew a lot
A good education he had got
Was a fella in another boat
Had a face like a dirty goat
This guy liked to write some verse
Few were better most were worse
Was a guy rode a dingy
When alone played with his thingy
He as always doing good deeds
Looking after others needs
They’s a gal sits on the dock
All she ever does is talk talk
She is honest and she’s true
Always upbeat never feels blue
People are better when you get to know em
Give half a chance and they’ll show em

Monday, April 11, 2011

Origin Story


We were like two ships colliding in the night
We sank quickly to the bottom 
All hands drowned
No survivors
A disaster
Total and absolute
Only shattered shards of what had been 
Washed ashore
No collectors interested in the remnants
Still we married
Dragged our sodden corpses to the altar
I kissed the bride
She kissed back
We’re still together
Occasionally re-visiting the sea floor
Nostalgic for our collision
The thunderous roar that lit the night
Wiping us all out
And beginning the end that we live today

Friday, April 8, 2011

Olden Days


Long waited I on a midnight moor spying sights as yet unseen
Releasing now the hungry hounds to ravage hands unclean
Upon a wasted wicked knoll were hopes so sadly dashed
As my heart and mind was filled with memories I had stashed
No more would ‘ere look upon those long forgotten hills
Nor never more could I entertain such God forsaken thrills
And lo the gentle creeping was of seas I had not sailed
Which brought to mind the hopeless cries that recently I’ve wailed
The end draws nearer set upon its mean and weighty course
But I stand here firm not yielding to useless pondering and remorse
So my tale is finished though mostly yet untold
You see I still await to see what else will unfold
More to come more trials and triumphs surely do await
I will goad them on using pride and prejudice as my tempting bait

Thursday, April 7, 2011

When I Wondered


When I was young and left to wonder
Many times I would blunder
Wrong choices I would often make
Then the blues I could not shake
Thus I’d drink trying to forget
And go home with the first girl I met
The morning next brought sad remorse
And a vow to try another course
So I’d contemplate how to improve
Determined to find the proper groove
This would leave me again to wonder
And thus of course again to blunder
Thus the cycle began anew
Sadly this whole tale is largely true

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Greedy Teachers


Teachers, you greedy bastards
Not enough that you own a modest house
And a humble car
That you have health care
And can afford clothes for your children
No that’s not enough for you
You want to keep it too
You have the nerve to want to maintain your benefits
Keep the same pay
Negotiate as a union
And really what is the importance of your job
Do you run a bank?
No
Do you own a business?
No
Are you a corporate CEO?
No
All you do is educate and inspire
Illuminate and explain
Make sense of letters, numbers, elements, history
Lazy gits

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

A Good Friend


The best of friends are hard to find
Someone who knows your faults and doesn’t mind
It’s great to have a pal who likes to chat
About important matters or just this and that
Your buddy will always be on your side
They are not in and out like the tide
A good friend will listen and nod
Not make pronouncements as if a God
A real chum always has your back
Whether you’re prospering or just got the sack
A good friend is as rare as gold
And should be hung on to till you are old
So keep your amigos very near
Their importance should be entirely clear

Monday, April 4, 2011

When My Time Comes


My condition is stable
Not changed much
Vital signs are okay
Nothing to brag about
I’ll pull through
Only to die later
Keep me alive 
So I’m still here
When my time comes
I want to go on forever
Not have to face never
But that’s not the way
It goes
And it goes on 
And on
No matter how I am
Or you, dear
We’ve little choice in the matter
But it’s all alright
Just ask the angels
The ghosts
And God
They’ll tell you the same
Keep the home fires burning
Within your soul
Persist in life
Resist death
Then let go
But not sooner
Wait till your time
Comes

Friday, April 1, 2011

Old Timer


He was a nice old fellow
Really he was
Took his causal strolls each day
Never said much but smiled at intervals
Had a soft low voice
Authoritative but kind sounding
If you know what I mean
Never came to the block parties
But that was his right
Paid his bills
Read his newspapers
Tended his garden
Voted
Never bothered a soul
Made punctual donations to charity
Visited family on the occasional weekends
Dressed quite nicely
Even took to using a walking stick
Wore a nice hat, perhaps a homburg
Occasionally took tea at a local cafe
Would munch on a muffin
Left a nice tip
Browsed at the bookstore some eves
Like I say, kept to himself most of the time
But that was okay
He was a nice old fellow
Would always stoop to pet dogs
Wave at children
But we didn’t know him
Didn’t ask much of him
He asked nothing of us
Of course it was a shock when he died
Even though he was
Like I said
Old
He’d become something of a fixture
Always seemed he’d be there forever
Now he’s gone
Ambulance took him away
They were in no hurry
Why rush with the dead, after all
The house will doubtless be up for sale
Goodness knows who’ll replace him
He was a nice old fellow
What the deuce was his name?