Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Eat Me Poetry

I want to read poetry
I want to write poetry
I want to eat poetry
I want to be eaten by poetry
I want to laugh
But not the cackle of the crazy man on this bus
I want to laugh with joyous reason
At the poetry that I eat
And at the poetry that eats me
Surrounding myself with
Immersed in
Devoured by
Laughing among

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Sorry Mom

So sorry
About your insanity
Not your fault I know
I missed out on having a regular mom
I suffered some for it
Years and years of therapy
Constantly questioning my own sanity
Did I inherit your mad genes I wondered
Tortured memories of a childhood all wrong
But now I think of you
And what you missed
Like a good life
Like appreciating your sons growing up
Missing out on the loving marriage you had
Missing out on being grandma
You missed it all you poor woman
For you we're trapped in your crazy brain
You were surrounded and suffocated by your own paranoia
And you didn't even know it
I weep for you
Love you mom

Friday, November 22, 2013


I see your anger percolating and I don’t like it
There’s no place for your simmering rage here
Leave it at home next time you come to work
Stow it shove it under the door don’t bring round here
We are the essential
The quintessential
The reverential
We work as we not as you
And your wild and unruly ego
Flopping around knocking us about
Don’t you dare shout
Keep it cool
We are us not you
We are a team
Not your scream
We are we will be we want
We can do it just as well
Absent your anger

(Author’s note: the day after I wrote this the subject of the poem was fired.)

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

The Rearview Mirror of My Soul

I embrace my regrets
I caress them
They are a part of me
They are my reminders
Of what I never was
What I wanted to be
Of that mad young man
Who took wrong turns
Of that crazy time
When I erred so badly
My regrets are mine
You can’t have them
They define who I could have been
What I could have done
Where I could have gone
I love my regrets
They possess the power of hindsight
They are the rearview mirrors to my soul
They are how I see what I am not
So I can better understand
What I am
No regrets about that
I appended inronically

Friday, November 15, 2013

What is Your Deal?

What is your deal 60ish pony tailed sallow man in plaid work shirt and jeans and sandals slurping coffee? Why do you look so plain? Why aren’t you more cynical? Why do you bore people so? Why can’t you think originally?

What is your deal short overweight Mexican woman of some 36 years riding the bus to your menial job? Why do you look so downcast? Why do you talk into your cell phone as if all alone? Why are you so unhappy and not unhappy about being so unhappy?

What is your deal serious middle aged man in a nice new suit pouring over legal documents on the subway train? Why are so occupied with your job? Why are you so oblivious to the world around you? Why are serious?

What is your deal teenaged girl who is texting while sitting next to a living human being who is your friend and is texting also? Why don’t you talk to each other? Why are you so alone together? Why don’t you talk and write and listen and read? Why is your world in short abbreviated messages?

What is your deal angry young black man? Why do you play your music so loud? Why do you curse so publicly? Why do you disdain society? Why do you not question instead of reflexively hating? Why don’t you try other avenues?

What is your deal Mr. President? Why do you let drones kill innocent civilians in faraway places? Are their lives so less significant than American lives? Why are you not more concerned about them being blown to pieces or having limbs explode? Why don’t you live up to your Nobel Peace Prize?

What is your deal America? Why have you forgotten your poor? Why do you let so many go so hungry in a land of plenty? Why do you care so much about celebrity trivia and so little about human suffering? Why America do you let a precious few become super rich ten times over while so many others have nothing?

What is your deal?

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Artist

I feel the ravages of forced rhyme
The cold hurt of poetic crime
I’m slammed by the pain of awful prose
When the words are repeated and the mind slows
It’s borne of anger caressing my soul
It’s flamed by resentment taking its toll
I feel the hurt of sad lies told
Of once new ideas that now feel old
I am resisting the pull of madness and hate
I want to be free of sorrow before it’s too late
Look for the angels that bring the light
Dance with them into the starry night
Insist that the best come from your heart
Sacrifice sacrifice in the name of your art

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Sad Middle Aged Lady

Sad middle aged lady
Alone and plain
Nothing to say
Living off simple pleasures
Enjoying that sandwich well out of proportion
To how good it is
You are a good worker
You are a good citizen
You are unfailingly polite
And helpful when you can be
You ask little
Expect little
Wish (deep inside) for a lot
You know (you do know) it will never come
That fact faces you everyday
You wear that on your sad face
Your loneliness is oppressive
It seeps out of your pores
Your sorrow is overt and ugly
You poor dear
You are so hard to feel sorry for
But you’ll never jump

Monday, November 11, 2013

Have I become less or am I more

Where is that blessed boy I once was
Where is the long haired happy lad sporting the big grin
Where did he go and what did he do
How can he be me now
What has happened to the years
What did he do with them
What did I do with them
Am doing
Have done
Were they squandered
Were they wasted
Who am I surely not the same fellow from the picture
Who am I know that I was before
Have I become less or am I more
I was a picture of happy youth
I am I was I are to be
The verb to be
The past tense: was
Yet I still will be
Eternal youth and terminal age
That is me I am all the rage
So I rage on angry at not being what I was to be
But what I am
Happy with that
After all what else is there but love