Category: Uncategorized

bein’ the hardest acting challenge i can imagine
the playing of the direct opposite of self
you share, you must, muss’ent you,(?)
some created gene with/from and before
Charlie Chaplain etc.
(dare not i should miss any of ’em all)

in these days of Climate Change
you gift us with memorable moments
of serious silliness
till the curtain falls on 30 Rock
once again and to be continued…

thanks and praises

silent night
holy crap
round yon virgin
heavy with child
innocent victim
ain’t we all?

“Thou shalt not
bulldoze olive trees
nor disgrace fig trees’ leaves
as clothing
for my hairless monkeys!”

get off the sides of left and right
join the mix
of ideas
shared
respected
debated honestly
with the good of we the people
foremost
in our minds and decisions
of how we shall proceed.

let us hear more often
our true leaders
who have earned our trust
the list is long enough
to keep Countdown alive
for as long as it has
with an open mike.

(..}

May this new year be unlike anyone we’ve seen preceding
There I was getting ready to write…something…and
The opening line was, “Tobacco was my sacrifice”
when you with your Cheshire grin appeared
and i am lost to giggles

don’t you just love it when kin show sensibility?

my off springs are staying in their casas tonight
well and er, were not New Year’s Parties for singles
lordy i remember my first one
spinning the bottle and
the one i wanted to kiss wanted to kiss another
and another wanted to kiss me i didn’t want
still lots of fun and laughs

the only other one remarkable enough to spell was
Mexico, beach, campfire, singing
camped out with a lover, the embers of said fire
still glowing, when he picked up my tobacco
and rolled himself a cig and i
felt guilty for starting him again i
picked up my Bugler, took off the lid
and emptied the tobacco on the embers

well that lasted about six weeks
and this is not about regrets it is
wanting my fellow tobacco kin
and all my fellow kin to think

nah
i went over the cliff with my country tonight
in the last hours of this old year…

the last person i expect to see was my daughter
the last person i spoke to on the phone was my other daughter
the last person i expect to write to is my amazing daisy

with four hours and seven minutes left of 2010
i’ll bid you adieu
till
next

i’m not thankful for split families
both the predators and the prey
wagers of wars and recipients
closest to my home
conscious objectors still in Canada
afraid their US of A had lied again

i’m not thankful for
the loss of comprehension
Every Meal Is A Feast

i am thankful for
friends and family
here and gone
who
miles or clouds away
still touch my heart
with gifts
that keep on giving.

when next i am to sleep again
will you be there with sheepish grin
i will not brush nor turn away
see you not in yesterday
again we make the figure 8

bells go tingling in the night
books unwritten taking flight
candles dim but light is longer

midnight come and we will go now
dawn
noon
dusk

the nightmare came strongly to a him repulsive kiss
before he half collapsed
his arm over her shoulder her arm around his waist
she would find him a hospital bed medical help
white nurse offensive
fat lady without compassion
phones had secret codes
who were patients non discernibile
over an hour she supported him
walking thru a maze of hallways
once she woke and remembered
all her nightmares took place in hospitals
falling back asleep she was there
still seeking hospital bed and help
“ok” her self said, “wake up”

coffeed and tobaccoed

the hopes and fears thru all the years
rest in autumn peace
the struggle with no resolution
put to rest
in it’s own halls of circularity
as piano man ‘splained
“too much mercy is wasteful,
too lightening bolt heavy is non justice.”

and Jesus said to Moses,
“What the crap happened
to Abraham’s children?”

justice lives not only in the now
sometimes it’s waiting in some halfway house
between the blood-letting and the peace
found
only with justice

what will reflect the blood on distant hands
that fashioned the knife
that foresaw the bomb
that Jack and Jill built?
that support the men
who light the fires
that scream the women
that scars the child.
does he hang down his head
Tom Dooley
or does he just look away
and dulled his senses
to no sense.

Is their hope Hooey?
Ah, Louie,
paint them a picture
from May to December
of eleven year old children or so
then when they remember if they remember they’ll
follow
follow
follow
(you know)
their heart.

my dressed turned blue/red
somebody turned my ride to pumpkin pie
and i ain’t gonna make it home tonight

…

Dear Abraham,
you offered my body to the Pharaoh
hoping for more bread, instead
he chased us out of Egypt
(at least he knew the moral wrongness of it-
calling your wife your sister)
we told our children God sent all those plagues
before the Pharaoh would set us free

Yrs, Sarah

Dear Sarah,
It was you who banished Ishmael and his slave mother
now all our great great great + grandchildren
are slaughtering one another.
We have to be the worst parents ever born.

Yrs., Abraham

came so close
did he wanna come home
strings from the near past
no longer cast in iron
stretching back to early child
is he having fun yet, again?
find him find him
find him and try to remember
what was that nickname you never once complained about
but shed somewhere around teen
it’s like my Jim boy said,
“it’s one thing to learn in your head –
much harder to learn in your heart”
“letting go lives,
day by day,”

his sister sighs