Category: poetry

{..}

sitting alone in my old rockin’ chair
ya think i’m neglected? i don’t
time with my loves have only
two measurements:
time they are here, time they return.
holding no expectations
here and returns
make for great jubilation

there’s rhyme and reason
rockin’ alone
thru the ashes one finds
flip sides to past consternation
forgiving others becomes as easy
as forgiving self
seeing self as friend is to
reclaim our very own birth right

golden years become golden
in full acceptance of
all life is a circle
bury me please
in an old pine box
don’t want no
ashes to ashes
want fertilizer
.

{..}

once we have seen there’s no exit
hate is a violent word
loving to hate is the same as
hating to love
don’t mess with Mr. in-between

of course we have addictive compulsions
that’s one way Huey
to survive the mad hatter head

compulsive compassion
being the order of the day
so long delayed
by he/she who would rule the world
still limited to the ‘known world’
foolishly some even would rule
outer space

“Stand on you’re own two feet!”

yeah?

so?

our walking wounded numbers grow stronger
bigger, one by one
two if by sea
so unused to coming over and play
it was a long and weary way
just lookin’ for a home
where family and community recognize
the humanity of all
who abide there…
now is a good time
for a community on Planet Earth
to be a Good Neighbor Sam…José, et al

the gig is up
nobody’s rewriting history anymore
(both sides accusing other of same)
we have a live martyr in the limelight now
an honorable Mr. Wiki Leaks
may he not lead us into human morality?
that “Brotherhood of Man”?
so many profess
so few
understand
the essence

we had it once in full measure Louie
the House Undivided
and No One has torn us more asunder than
our very own politicians
…not all… TYGG !!

some are listening to our children
what they say
and yes there is a better way
to get from here to there
what parent has never desired
their children be more intelligent, make more heart-felt choices
than we?
it is our shame it shall be our glory
if
someday
soon
we overcome

.

.

Life
Of
Variegated
Experiences

U
N
Life
Of
Vapid
Examples

.

.

The road,
Is the mind,
And the mind,
Is the road,
We mind the road,
The road does not mind us,
But I don’t mind,
The road is just an idea,
And so am I.

I shake out a Marlboro,
Stick it between my lips,
Light it with a lighter,
And drag on it,
I smoke it.
I am a smoker,
And I do it well.

Smoke is just an idea.
I don’t mind it.
Odd that people,
Should worry about death,
Since they will die anyway,
And death is just an idea,
Just like the road is an idea,
So why should we mind?

There are many roads,
Each is different,
Yet, we drive them all,
About the same,
Except the really hard ones,
We drive those differently,
And sometimes we mind.

I have driven many roads,
I cannot remember them all,
And none of them remember me,
I was just a wheeled machine,
Nothing else to the tar,
The macadam,
The gravel,
The clay,
The cement highway,
The grassy road,
With its ruts,
Sometimes wet,
Sometimes dry,
Sometimes rocky,
And sometimes so smooth,
It felt like a dream,
To drive that road,
Through woods,
Along the riverside,
The cool brooklets,
The lake,
Don’t you remember?
I do.

I remember,
Riding in an old car,
Back in the 1950’s,
With my father,
At the wheel,
My mother beside him,
My brother next to me,
In the hard back seat,
Looking out moving windows,
Buggy and old,
The countryside so green and sere,
The still land,
So silent,
So green and golden with harvest,
Cows in the fields,
Old barns,
Older houses made of simple wood,
Unpainted,
Seared by the the sun,
Gray boards and Black roofs,
Tired-looking tractors,
And old dogs,
And father would always say,
“Bountiful. Bountiful.”
And in those simple words,’
My heart felt glad.

The road today,
Is not so good as that,
It is faster now,
On the big roads,
So much looks all the same
Repeats itself over and over,
Until my brain feels lame,
And empty,
And I do mind.

I mind enough,
To write these words,
I mind enough,
To remember,
And to care,
To even share,
A bit of yesteryear,
When things moved slower,
All things on a human scale,
Except New York City,
Chicago,
Other big cities,
But that was alright,
I didn’t mind.

Today,
Millions of people,
Make their living by the road,
Because that’s where all the people are,
They are all on the road,
Everyone gets on the road sometime,
Some never get off,
Some are born on the road,
Some live on the road,
Some die on the road,
But we don’t mind,
We want the road.
The road is us.
We are the road people,
And by the several billions,
In our countless millions of cars and trucks,
We should be scared.

We go and go,
Then we return and return,
And then we go again,
We keep going,
And returning,
And going,
Until the return going,
Is the going return,
And we live that way,
Day after day,
Week after week,
Month after month,
Years upon years of it,
The going and the returning,
And the going again,
And again the returning,
We are the road people,
We should be scared.

What happens on the road?
Not much.
We just want to get there,
And then get back.
We call it normal now.
It is normal,
To be a road person.

.

No proof
No proof
Said the white rabbit
But the king and queen
Don’t need a trial
Really
They just need
The jury to
Believe in
Fog, and smoke
Send out that smoke
Smoke machines, little grenades
On the six o’clock news
Launched over a decade
Decade of words
It must be true
If everybody says so
Everybody said so
For ten long years
Talk, as always,
cheap
Costing only
The ad time
For pharmaceuticals

We cannot have a trial
If there’s no proof
explained the king
He might be found
Not guilty
Ghastly
Unpatriotic thought
To find our chosen enemy
Our scapegoat
Innocent
People want revenge
The people might
The king said carefully
Lose their faith in us.

Faith, the hideout for
Manipulation,
Lies and fraud
Not seeing that the roses
Have been painted red
No need for trials
And juries, anymore
Just the faith
No need for logic

A dead enemy
Can’t defend himself
One-sided conversations
Don’t arrive at
Truth
But truth, like logic
Doesn’t seem to matter
To the crowds who
Dance with such abandon

Evidence?
The smoke’s enough
To make us throw away
Our trials and juries
Put aside our logic
Put those brain cells
In the closet
And celebrate
A meaningless
And maybe false
Revenge
.

~

I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of
_____ human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
_____ went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
_____ bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

~

{..}

every lovely flower ever bloomed
has faded/will fade away and die
every little Dick and Jane
every little Spot and Felix
every little word i write…

but tonight
it is May Day Eve
May poles are set in the garden with care
streaming colors every where
light hearted call
call of the light
it’s two thousand eleven
of course the boys may join in

every thing has a question
many questions have no answer
(or we have not found it yet)

we were the seed we were the seed
that grew the plants
that blossomed the flowers
some will be special to little children
some will make old folks swoon
young ladies will find them fine fine fine
to give flowers to young men

and i will give in to my sleep head
with the dream i once again
will find a flower to dance around
the May Pole in the morning
hoping i’ll see you there.

{..}

one could stop and smell Lily too
unlike the rose, but akin.

the blinding scream of children
“Will you harbor me?”

dead trees line up crisscross across
sandy desert floor down whiskey creek
shadows growing longer
footprints ever-which-way
little children still playing
middle teens still swaying
twenties thinking
suicide? or box themselves away?
Christina Green
Daniel rowed his boat ashore
Amy Good Man reports
still they listen still they pray
some fasting many days away

and what do you fast for brother & sister?
and do you do it in public
for self aggrandizement
or for the children
screaming?

heart on the floor will you join me
one moment
pickup whomsoever needs it?

be sure to smell Easter Lily when she comes
’round the mountain when she comes
and
should she arrive too late or never
remember the smell
breathe in breathe out…
there she is!