I'm sitting with Hem at the beach
He's sipping a whiskey and water
And I'm delivering a speech
To his British friends and a girl I don't know
He asks if I'm all right
And I say sure why
And he says I don't know, your skin
Looks too tight for your face
And I'm sure the whiskey
Has hit him hard
But I keep giving my speech
And he just stares at me
Sipping and looking
At the waves come in
I'm talking about writing
About his writing and how good it is
Even though i know he hates it when
People praise him to his face...
Then it happens
I look at one of the Brits and
Then back at him
And I realize, he is
Marked for death.
I stop talking and we sit
For a while listening to the ocean
And then he leaves with His friends.
I order a glass of water then take out
My notebook and write until the
Sun flattens out on the sea
Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
My Madcap Wedding Poem
I just attended a like-minded wedding
Except they had no dancing
unless you count the “first dance” by the couple
Which was also the “last dance”
Which is almost the title of a great song by Floyd Cramer
Except his song is entitled Last Date
Which I am sure a lot of people have had their last dance
Together on their last date, so it is not that farfetched to associate the two
Anyways
Danceless weddings should be outlawed
Did you dance at your wedding?
Will you dance at your next wedding?
Will you dance at my next wedding?
Not that I am having another wedding
It’s rhetorical
But the wedding was like-minded
Because I like the people’s minds who got married
They are smart and funny
Respectively
Both too
There are not enough smart and funny people in the world
Just think if everybody were (subjunctive mood) smart and funny
Imagine what a great place this world would be
There would be no more war
Because everybody would be too smart and funny to fight
And that previous line is the entire reason for this poem actually
There would be no poverty because smart people know how to make money
and funny people make people want to give them money
Smart and funny people probably live longer…take Bob Hope, George Burns and Milton Berle, please
Of course, the smartest and funniest man ever was Phil Silvers and he only lived to be 74
Anyways, the wedding was like-minded
Because I like the minds of the smart, funny people who got married
But there were lots of other smart funny people there too
Such as the father and mother of the groom
And the father and mother of the bride
And the people who did the rehearsal dinner
And may I say,
Myself.
I am like-minded too.
Or is it light-minded?
At any rate, go to a wedding soon yourself
And enjoy the dancing
And be there for those who are not so smart or those who have little to laugh about
They probably will not be dancing
And sadly, they may not even be at the wedding, not invited and all
Anyways
This poem is not too smart and it is making me sad
Suddenly I do not feel like dancing or going to a wedding
Especially a danceless wedding (hopefully one day outlawed, at least in Kentucky)
Poetry is supposed to be smart and funny is it not?
No, I guess, just smart, oh well, two out of three ain’t bad
Danceless weddings are okay if the people are smart and funny
Because being a smart and funny person is sort of like always dancing
That previous line is the second reason for this poem
Like some of my friends
I have friends who dance all the time
You have to be smart and funny to do that
Just try it
Someday all the world’s smart and funny people will sit down together
And discuss the future
They are likely to outlaw danceless weddings
And then hopefully they will tackle global warming
The AIDS crisis
World Poverty
What to do about people who are less-than-smart and less-than-funny
And other global problems
Then they will form a line and begin to dance
And their dance will last forever
That, I believe would constitute a like-minded heaven
Because I would like that heaven
I would light that heaven
I would like to light in that heaven
Anyways
Something must happen soon to end this poem
…why certainly, you may have this dance
Except they had no dancing
unless you count the “first dance” by the couple
Which was also the “last dance”
Which is almost the title of a great song by Floyd Cramer
Except his song is entitled Last Date
Which I am sure a lot of people have had their last dance
Together on their last date, so it is not that farfetched to associate the two
Anyways
Danceless weddings should be outlawed
Did you dance at your wedding?
Will you dance at your next wedding?
Will you dance at my next wedding?
Not that I am having another wedding
It’s rhetorical
But the wedding was like-minded
Because I like the people’s minds who got married
They are smart and funny
Respectively
Both too
There are not enough smart and funny people in the world
Just think if everybody were (subjunctive mood) smart and funny
Imagine what a great place this world would be
There would be no more war
Because everybody would be too smart and funny to fight
And that previous line is the entire reason for this poem actually
There would be no poverty because smart people know how to make money
and funny people make people want to give them money
Smart and funny people probably live longer…take Bob Hope, George Burns and Milton Berle, please
Of course, the smartest and funniest man ever was Phil Silvers and he only lived to be 74
Anyways, the wedding was like-minded
Because I like the minds of the smart, funny people who got married
But there were lots of other smart funny people there too
Such as the father and mother of the groom
And the father and mother of the bride
And the people who did the rehearsal dinner
And may I say,
Myself.
I am like-minded too.
Or is it light-minded?
At any rate, go to a wedding soon yourself
And enjoy the dancing
And be there for those who are not so smart or those who have little to laugh about
They probably will not be dancing
And sadly, they may not even be at the wedding, not invited and all
Anyways
This poem is not too smart and it is making me sad
Suddenly I do not feel like dancing or going to a wedding
Especially a danceless wedding (hopefully one day outlawed, at least in Kentucky)
Poetry is supposed to be smart and funny is it not?
No, I guess, just smart, oh well, two out of three ain’t bad
Danceless weddings are okay if the people are smart and funny
Because being a smart and funny person is sort of like always dancing
That previous line is the second reason for this poem
Like some of my friends
I have friends who dance all the time
You have to be smart and funny to do that
Just try it
Someday all the world’s smart and funny people will sit down together
And discuss the future
They are likely to outlaw danceless weddings
And then hopefully they will tackle global warming
The AIDS crisis
World Poverty
What to do about people who are less-than-smart and less-than-funny
And other global problems
Then they will form a line and begin to dance
And their dance will last forever
That, I believe would constitute a like-minded heaven
Because I would like that heaven
I would light that heaven
I would like to light in that heaven
Anyways
Something must happen soon to end this poem
…why certainly, you may have this dance
Tangatopsus
To you who in the love of life draws
Me closer when I need it, laughs
A rainbow; upends my worry cart
Remembers glee, forgets pain
Worries long drives, fights nature
Takes my fish off the hook
Knows a face forever…
Live so you may give life
If that’s what makes you happy
The little purse you took to Natural
Bridge, so far from home
Expecting nothing
Getting that and not much more
Calm down about the pain
Catch your breath
Stop slapping your leg cursing
Ha, just kidding of course
Not that there is anything wrong
With not admitting anything’s wrong
I’ll hush on that…
We got big winter snows back then
And the story goes, you drove
Comets with mirror gear shifts
And let once-important cars
Roll to the bottom of the hill
Those are memories to cherish
Since survival is now certain
Daddy fried chicken for after-church
Round green peas on one side of the plate
Out there where the possum waited
A possum for a daddy
Not exactly fair trade
I want to know what it all looked like
What was said that does not get recalled
Ah but I can guess
Was it similar then to what it became later?
During those story-writing days
What did you talk about?
You were living stories not recalling them
Not sure
None of us are all that sure
Of who we once were
And what it was like
I can’t tell you much more
Of what my life has been like
Than I can yours
It doesn’t all run together
It just may not have happened
Or at least not the way we think
Did you ever walk down to the creek
With your daddy?
Did he ever stroke your hair
Or hand you a cracker
And hold your hand gently
As you took it?
Do you mind my asking?
Why am I so nosey?
Did you believe me when I told you I
Wanted to make the rest of your life better?
Did I even tell you that?
Marilyn Monroe curls of yellow
Easy connections for the locals to make
National star
Public spectacle
Local representation of beauty
Stand in for celebrity
No matter
They made you feel special
In love with your calm
For storms
As am I
Missy see yourself as sister
Protected, an emulator, not an emulatee
No role model for self-pity
No place for it anyway
It’s a matter of hunkering down
Listening to the rain on the porch
Loosely based on:
William Cullen Bryant’s Thanatopsis
Me closer when I need it, laughs
A rainbow; upends my worry cart
Remembers glee, forgets pain
Worries long drives, fights nature
Takes my fish off the hook
Knows a face forever…
Live so you may give life
If that’s what makes you happy
The little purse you took to Natural
Bridge, so far from home
Expecting nothing
Getting that and not much more
Calm down about the pain
Catch your breath
Stop slapping your leg cursing
Ha, just kidding of course
Not that there is anything wrong
With not admitting anything’s wrong
I’ll hush on that…
We got big winter snows back then
And the story goes, you drove
Comets with mirror gear shifts
And let once-important cars
Roll to the bottom of the hill
Those are memories to cherish
Since survival is now certain
Daddy fried chicken for after-church
Round green peas on one side of the plate
Out there where the possum waited
A possum for a daddy
Not exactly fair trade
I want to know what it all looked like
What was said that does not get recalled
Ah but I can guess
Was it similar then to what it became later?
During those story-writing days
What did you talk about?
You were living stories not recalling them
Not sure
None of us are all that sure
Of who we once were
And what it was like
I can’t tell you much more
Of what my life has been like
Than I can yours
It doesn’t all run together
It just may not have happened
Or at least not the way we think
Did you ever walk down to the creek
With your daddy?
Did he ever stroke your hair
Or hand you a cracker
And hold your hand gently
As you took it?
Do you mind my asking?
Why am I so nosey?
Did you believe me when I told you I
Wanted to make the rest of your life better?
Did I even tell you that?
Marilyn Monroe curls of yellow
Easy connections for the locals to make
National star
Public spectacle
Local representation of beauty
Stand in for celebrity
No matter
They made you feel special
In love with your calm
For storms
As am I
Missy see yourself as sister
Protected, an emulator, not an emulatee
No role model for self-pity
No place for it anyway
It’s a matter of hunkering down
Listening to the rain on the porch
Loosely based on:
William Cullen Bryant’s Thanatopsis
A Marriage That Wears Like a Leather Jacket
Have you seen the institution of marriage lately?
...a little run down to say the least.
Couple-by-couple, down the tubes it goes.
Against the rocky shores it's beaten, a notarized piece of paper in a hurricane.
I've seen children drown, women suffocate and men swell up and burst.
And heard, "They served her divorce papers at the public school.
She stayed in the teacher's lounge til 9 o'clock that night." or
"He drove from Maryland to Macon, Georgia
and then he paced in front of her window until the police came,
begging her to not take the kids." or
"She is the product of a broken home
and she lashes out at her high school friends
in ways the school counselor has 'seen so many times before'". or
"He is the young man who cut up a pair of sneakers in the driveway of his father's house
and walked away barefooted."
It's a Sunday ritual for the preacher to cry
and plead for husbands and wives to stop the insanity,
"If not for your sake at least for the children", he'll beg.
And after the service they all have places to be
far enough apart that if you watch the parking lot
you see Smith1 head south, Smith2 west, Smith3 east and Smith4 north.
The only civil words they speak during the week are on a cell phone.
But let's say one of the kids has a bout with leukemia
or a tumor the size of a grapefruit behind his eyes,
then watch the group pull back together.
No one complains about the lumpy mashed potatoes.
No accusations of favoritism.
Mom gives dad a smile and a peck on the cheek
as she comes through and catches him
where just weeks ago "he sat propped up in front of an old ballgame".
Suddenly, it's okay if sis wants to wear your shirt instead of the thousands she owns.
Or let's say mom wrecks the Beemer
over in front of the Mall with Christmas presents strewn all over the intersection
and the jaws of life used
and she is three days in intensive care
and in front of the mirror you cuss yourself
and fan the tears and promise
to never be the cause of another night of worry for her,
...if God will see fit to bring her home.
And you don't forget, for months, years,
nothing is the same since that night the
blue and red lights swirled around the most precious head you know.
(Some marriages are like that mother, trapped in the vehicle,
losing a pint of blood, losing the baby.)
But what do we make of the man who forsaking all others clings only unto one.
Or she who honors and respects him forever.
Perhaps because of the BAD TIMES
they find a way to keep it together through the GOOD TIMES!!
What are these bonds sealed with?
Is it that TV glue where people hang in hardhats
from steel beams high in the air?
Is it a smooth-beaded weld?
Or staying on the subject of TV,
are these the Energizer Bunny marriages?
In these homes, meals are taken together.
Values passed around with the rolls.
Everyone drinks from glasses full of respect.
Respect for emotional attachment, for obligations beyond personal needs,
for unconditional positive regard.
I know of a marriage that wears like a leather jacket.
Lines and cracks are grace and style.
As the years go by, it gets softer, suppler
it's the first choice out of the closet.
You wish the whole world dressed in cowhide.
It stretches with you, it breathes.
From a tiny town in Eastern Kentucky, to tiny bluegrass apartments,
from Winchester Rd, to Olympia Drive, to Walden Drive.
You are there, now. Together with God's precious gifts.
For me, even as close as a brother, it all runs together.
But I know for you the memories are clear
...a montage of hair, chemicals, Dylan, carpet, aerobics, diets, orange Dodge Vans,
dancing hearts, a little blond girl, a young man in a baseball suit,
the sister I love and the man who dreamed it all up.
...a little run down to say the least.
Couple-by-couple, down the tubes it goes.
Against the rocky shores it's beaten, a notarized piece of paper in a hurricane.
I've seen children drown, women suffocate and men swell up and burst.
And heard, "They served her divorce papers at the public school.
She stayed in the teacher's lounge til 9 o'clock that night." or
"He drove from Maryland to Macon, Georgia
and then he paced in front of her window until the police came,
begging her to not take the kids." or
"She is the product of a broken home
and she lashes out at her high school friends
in ways the school counselor has 'seen so many times before'". or
"He is the young man who cut up a pair of sneakers in the driveway of his father's house
and walked away barefooted."
It's a Sunday ritual for the preacher to cry
and plead for husbands and wives to stop the insanity,
"If not for your sake at least for the children", he'll beg.
And after the service they all have places to be
far enough apart that if you watch the parking lot
you see Smith1 head south, Smith2 west, Smith3 east and Smith4 north.
The only civil words they speak during the week are on a cell phone.
But let's say one of the kids has a bout with leukemia
or a tumor the size of a grapefruit behind his eyes,
then watch the group pull back together.
No one complains about the lumpy mashed potatoes.
No accusations of favoritism.
Mom gives dad a smile and a peck on the cheek
as she comes through and catches him
where just weeks ago "he sat propped up in front of an old ballgame".
Suddenly, it's okay if sis wants to wear your shirt instead of the thousands she owns.
Or let's say mom wrecks the Beemer
over in front of the Mall with Christmas presents strewn all over the intersection
and the jaws of life used
and she is three days in intensive care
and in front of the mirror you cuss yourself
and fan the tears and promise
to never be the cause of another night of worry for her,
...if God will see fit to bring her home.
And you don't forget, for months, years,
nothing is the same since that night the
blue and red lights swirled around the most precious head you know.
(Some marriages are like that mother, trapped in the vehicle,
losing a pint of blood, losing the baby.)
But what do we make of the man who forsaking all others clings only unto one.
Or she who honors and respects him forever.
Perhaps because of the BAD TIMES
they find a way to keep it together through the GOOD TIMES!!
What are these bonds sealed with?
Is it that TV glue where people hang in hardhats
from steel beams high in the air?
Is it a smooth-beaded weld?
Or staying on the subject of TV,
are these the Energizer Bunny marriages?
In these homes, meals are taken together.
Values passed around with the rolls.
Everyone drinks from glasses full of respect.
Respect for emotional attachment, for obligations beyond personal needs,
for unconditional positive regard.
I know of a marriage that wears like a leather jacket.
Lines and cracks are grace and style.
As the years go by, it gets softer, suppler
it's the first choice out of the closet.
You wish the whole world dressed in cowhide.
It stretches with you, it breathes.
From a tiny town in Eastern Kentucky, to tiny bluegrass apartments,
from Winchester Rd, to Olympia Drive, to Walden Drive.
You are there, now. Together with God's precious gifts.
For me, even as close as a brother, it all runs together.
But I know for you the memories are clear
...a montage of hair, chemicals, Dylan, carpet, aerobics, diets, orange Dodge Vans,
dancing hearts, a little blond girl, a young man in a baseball suit,
the sister I love and the man who dreamed it all up.
My Version of Way Down Yonder on the Chatahoochie
Rainbow’s End, Way Down Yonder on the Chattahoochie
Men of means, they tell me…
spurn the heart and listen EF Hutton-like to your Economic Intelligence (E-I)
Never forget the Zen Koan of Old McDonald and his farm…
whyyyy, just look at him now, serving trillions worldwide
E-I, E-I, Oh…
I will dress myself in attractive felt and when the
breeze blows pictures of Jackson and Hamilton my way
these handy bills will stick to me like green on a frog
With enough of them to buy me a wife,
a house and a boat
Then will I take my rowdy friends down on the Chatahoochie, that smoky silver-green
Saturday morning mirror
We who call ourselves the “what goes around comes around” club
Just a few hayseeds who fled first the country and then the city
Harry the Harasser, Otto the Outsourcer, Don the Downsizer,
and of course, me Herman “Racehorse” Menninger
Our careers are past us now…but like we used to say about our customers, by their spots ye shall know them
Suffice it to say, we got quirks
Harry the Harasser buys his lures at a place called “X Marks the Spot” at mile marker 92
Otto the Outsourcer is always asking somebody to take his catch off the hook
Don’t let Don the Downsizer filet your fish if you want any meat left on the bones
And me, well I’m perfectly harmless, just happy to be here, glad to still be in the club…
My little bass boat, a miniature river yacht called Big Cutter
Vibrates out to a spot behind raccoon village, what we call Lazy Island
I choke the engine and the heavy morning throws a thick quilt over us,
silencing everything but the birds…
and the sound of can tops popping, ‘fresh’…
From those roiling black waters we plot our corporeal course
Flannel against my back, Otto shivering, T cap on Don’s head,
Harry casting over top of us all
Imagine if you will Captain Corporate America!!!
Not.
Me and my snake-bitten, beer guzzling, awkward
talking associates
Filling a gallon bucket with scooped up water
Networking our way back to the dock
singing five fine fish for frying
…a half a tank of gas left, just like Zig Ziegler
recommends…fire up the nine dollar K-mart grill, sizzle and swill, I return thanks…
Our heavenly father, forgive us our many sins…Jesus plug up your ears when Harry starts in, God take Otto literally when he says the little ones are not worth worrying about
And father be with Don’s wife as she goes under the surgeon’s knife that will change her (and him) forever
And finally, if I may be a little selfish, help me to use the protein
from these your country river creations to fire up
my economic genius…and
Lord if it be thy will,
when folks across the world hit my old unworthy website, let em see your eternal face and not that sorry excuse for what I call wallpaper…
so I can afford a bigger boat and better buddies,
in the name of Heaven
watch over us
Amen.
Men of means, they tell me…
spurn the heart and listen EF Hutton-like to your Economic Intelligence (E-I)
Never forget the Zen Koan of Old McDonald and his farm…
whyyyy, just look at him now, serving trillions worldwide
E-I, E-I, Oh…
I will dress myself in attractive felt and when the
breeze blows pictures of Jackson and Hamilton my way
these handy bills will stick to me like green on a frog
With enough of them to buy me a wife,
a house and a boat
Then will I take my rowdy friends down on the Chatahoochie, that smoky silver-green
Saturday morning mirror
We who call ourselves the “what goes around comes around” club
Just a few hayseeds who fled first the country and then the city
Harry the Harasser, Otto the Outsourcer, Don the Downsizer,
and of course, me Herman “Racehorse” Menninger
Our careers are past us now…but like we used to say about our customers, by their spots ye shall know them
Suffice it to say, we got quirks
Harry the Harasser buys his lures at a place called “X Marks the Spot” at mile marker 92
Otto the Outsourcer is always asking somebody to take his catch off the hook
Don’t let Don the Downsizer filet your fish if you want any meat left on the bones
And me, well I’m perfectly harmless, just happy to be here, glad to still be in the club…
My little bass boat, a miniature river yacht called Big Cutter
Vibrates out to a spot behind raccoon village, what we call Lazy Island
I choke the engine and the heavy morning throws a thick quilt over us,
silencing everything but the birds…
and the sound of can tops popping, ‘fresh’…
From those roiling black waters we plot our corporeal course
Flannel against my back, Otto shivering, T cap on Don’s head,
Harry casting over top of us all
Imagine if you will Captain Corporate America!!!
Not.
Me and my snake-bitten, beer guzzling, awkward
talking associates
Filling a gallon bucket with scooped up water
Networking our way back to the dock
singing five fine fish for frying
…a half a tank of gas left, just like Zig Ziegler
recommends…fire up the nine dollar K-mart grill, sizzle and swill, I return thanks…
Our heavenly father, forgive us our many sins…Jesus plug up your ears when Harry starts in, God take Otto literally when he says the little ones are not worth worrying about
And father be with Don’s wife as she goes under the surgeon’s knife that will change her (and him) forever
And finally, if I may be a little selfish, help me to use the protein
from these your country river creations to fire up
my economic genius…and
Lord if it be thy will,
when folks across the world hit my old unworthy website, let em see your eternal face and not that sorry excuse for what I call wallpaper…
so I can afford a bigger boat and better buddies,
in the name of Heaven
watch over us
Amen.
Our Days At The Beach
Sunrise on the ocean, tracks in the sand
We felt a skin flattening stiff breeze buffeting our walk
Browsing the balcony I said the sweet smell was marijuana from a perch upwind and you said, so that’s what that smell is?
On Thursday night we bought six dollars of ice cream and sat by King’s Highway as car traffic measured time
From Tuesday to Saturday our hearts and minds tugged first to wrestle free, then cozy up
That mad Christian with chalk reminded us “Jesus Is Risen” at Duke University
And after our visit, we believed
We even had our own resurrection
I wanted you to be a professor while we were there and you wanted me to act like a buddy
Instead you were the hesitant high school junior and I was a tough college administrator, not even a father
But the tour, that precious stroll among money and genes…
Floating over those grounds in a group of other prospects offered insight into life as ideal
The campus met your walking needs, you offered
Ten songs kept us humming in the rented car
And universe influences had us meeting nine-year old acquaintances
But I want to point out mostly one thing
That night at the beach when we lay in our hotel beds talking way into the night
I have done that with you my whole life on some peaceful mythic shore
Eternity is what most people call it
Time, space and matter, strong myths all…but
Such occasions between father and daughter are real
It matters not what we said then
Or on our stroll down the beach-equivalent of a dozen avenues
Even the little snippy exchanges fade
One toe each in the rock-wash cool ocean
Then you off to L.A., the left pond beyond
My five senses
These memories
Love
We felt a skin flattening stiff breeze buffeting our walk
Browsing the balcony I said the sweet smell was marijuana from a perch upwind and you said, so that’s what that smell is?
On Thursday night we bought six dollars of ice cream and sat by King’s Highway as car traffic measured time
From Tuesday to Saturday our hearts and minds tugged first to wrestle free, then cozy up
That mad Christian with chalk reminded us “Jesus Is Risen” at Duke University
And after our visit, we believed
We even had our own resurrection
I wanted you to be a professor while we were there and you wanted me to act like a buddy
Instead you were the hesitant high school junior and I was a tough college administrator, not even a father
But the tour, that precious stroll among money and genes…
Floating over those grounds in a group of other prospects offered insight into life as ideal
The campus met your walking needs, you offered
Ten songs kept us humming in the rented car
And universe influences had us meeting nine-year old acquaintances
But I want to point out mostly one thing
That night at the beach when we lay in our hotel beds talking way into the night
I have done that with you my whole life on some peaceful mythic shore
Eternity is what most people call it
Time, space and matter, strong myths all…but
Such occasions between father and daughter are real
It matters not what we said then
Or on our stroll down the beach-equivalent of a dozen avenues
Even the little snippy exchanges fade
One toe each in the rock-wash cool ocean
Then you off to L.A., the left pond beyond
My five senses
These memories
Love
Jumping From A Plane at Several Thousand Feet
Abundant concrete evidence says life is hard.
But somewhere between the plane and open parachute most make their peace and it's set.
Yet a few start for the rip cord and draw their hand back. Why pull the cord, float to earth and spend the next 40 years wandering in the wilderness?
(After that the old man never really is as convertible)
Preachers' eyes light up like silver dollars at the sight of a contrite preteen
Those who never bother to pull the cord scare the hell out of good Christians
For these brave hearts watch the thrilling rocks and weeds getting larger
and occasionally on the periphery catch a glimpse of a sign that reads when Buddha sits
around the house Buddha sits...or Christ died for your sins, or Mohammed offers Mo
signs that become ironic markers of intentionally private person-ground intersection
Bob Dylan says, "I don't mind leaving but I want it to be my idea."
The problem is, Dylan didn't have a wife, daughter and others he loved.
I'll probably pull the cord at some point and just float along with all the other "saints" (as filthy as the word makes me feel). Please don't accuse me of selling out. I would rather think of it as the ultimate act of generosity.
And on the marker they could say, "He was not selfish, for if he had of been
he would have stuck to his guns and died in sin."
And the headlines will read:
"God's Simple Plan of Salvation, Not So Simple After All?" (Story page B6)
"Friends and relatives rejoiced today at the passing of a saint. But those closest to him said
he chose to live as a "good" man to please those around him. One acquaintance said, 'I think
deep down he was just as attracted to wickedness as all the rest of us. Like a real pro though, he figured out a way to hide it. It wasn't that he was evil, it was just that he did not always agree with public consensus as to what good and evil were.
For example, he thought indifference to the plight of others was a greater evil than love in an elevator. Or that worshipping a deity on Sunday to attract business on Monday was a worse evil than spending the Sabbath privately
contacting one's internal nature to be more focused during the week.'
Graveside, one of the closest friends muttered,
'What is good but evil's evil twin?
Or what is good but the soup of the day?
Today good might be a hearty French Onion,
tomorrow it might be split pea.'
Billy Joel said "I would rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints"
...and of course Jesus liked to talk about how hard it is for rich people to overcome being wealthy, but
if this reporter understands the lesson of today's funeral it would be this:
"It's easier for nicotine-rich smoke to go through the filter of a Camel Cigarette than for
a person with loved ones to go through life without professing faith in what the loved ones have dreamed up as salvation."
The attending nurse said his dying words were, "Let me down easy".
A friend said he knew what that meant.
"All I am going to say is that it has to do with planes and parachutes.
I think he would rather I leave the rest as a little riddle for your readership."
After everyone else had left,
this reporter turned to a remaining "mourner" and
asked if there was anything to be sad about.
She smiled and said, yes one thing,
"Toward the end he was learning to give and receive love
with less concern for the medium or messenger than the message.
It would have been interesting to see if he could have pulled that off."
It is clear to this reporter that this one will not rise from the dead
on the third day or take away anyone else's sins,
but it does seem clear that the man buried today
figured out something during this freefall
from several thousand feet we call life, and it is,
"Faith in life grows only in a community of kindred spirits,
and holding hands with a few of them in this common descent
might just provide enough wind resistance to soften that final blow.
And for those who choose, there is always the option of pulling that cord."
But somewhere between the plane and open parachute most make their peace and it's set.
Yet a few start for the rip cord and draw their hand back. Why pull the cord, float to earth and spend the next 40 years wandering in the wilderness?
(After that the old man never really is as convertible)
Preachers' eyes light up like silver dollars at the sight of a contrite preteen
Those who never bother to pull the cord scare the hell out of good Christians
For these brave hearts watch the thrilling rocks and weeds getting larger
and occasionally on the periphery catch a glimpse of a sign that reads when Buddha sits
around the house Buddha sits...or Christ died for your sins, or Mohammed offers Mo
signs that become ironic markers of intentionally private person-ground intersection
Bob Dylan says, "I don't mind leaving but I want it to be my idea."
The problem is, Dylan didn't have a wife, daughter and others he loved.
I'll probably pull the cord at some point and just float along with all the other "saints" (as filthy as the word makes me feel). Please don't accuse me of selling out. I would rather think of it as the ultimate act of generosity.
And on the marker they could say, "He was not selfish, for if he had of been
he would have stuck to his guns and died in sin."
And the headlines will read:
"God's Simple Plan of Salvation, Not So Simple After All?" (Story page B6)
"Friends and relatives rejoiced today at the passing of a saint. But those closest to him said
he chose to live as a "good" man to please those around him. One acquaintance said, 'I think
deep down he was just as attracted to wickedness as all the rest of us. Like a real pro though, he figured out a way to hide it. It wasn't that he was evil, it was just that he did not always agree with public consensus as to what good and evil were.
For example, he thought indifference to the plight of others was a greater evil than love in an elevator. Or that worshipping a deity on Sunday to attract business on Monday was a worse evil than spending the Sabbath privately
contacting one's internal nature to be more focused during the week.'
Graveside, one of the closest friends muttered,
'What is good but evil's evil twin?
Or what is good but the soup of the day?
Today good might be a hearty French Onion,
tomorrow it might be split pea.'
Billy Joel said "I would rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints"
...and of course Jesus liked to talk about how hard it is for rich people to overcome being wealthy, but
if this reporter understands the lesson of today's funeral it would be this:
"It's easier for nicotine-rich smoke to go through the filter of a Camel Cigarette than for
a person with loved ones to go through life without professing faith in what the loved ones have dreamed up as salvation."
The attending nurse said his dying words were, "Let me down easy".
A friend said he knew what that meant.
"All I am going to say is that it has to do with planes and parachutes.
I think he would rather I leave the rest as a little riddle for your readership."
After everyone else had left,
this reporter turned to a remaining "mourner" and
asked if there was anything to be sad about.
She smiled and said, yes one thing,
"Toward the end he was learning to give and receive love
with less concern for the medium or messenger than the message.
It would have been interesting to see if he could have pulled that off."
It is clear to this reporter that this one will not rise from the dead
on the third day or take away anyone else's sins,
but it does seem clear that the man buried today
figured out something during this freefall
from several thousand feet we call life, and it is,
"Faith in life grows only in a community of kindred spirits,
and holding hands with a few of them in this common descent
might just provide enough wind resistance to soften that final blow.
And for those who choose, there is always the option of pulling that cord."
How Learning Works
Look for a minute at how learning works.
I pass through a door, indeed sometimes I must beat on it
or even knock it down, but I pass through it.
Then, just inside the door a gale force wind stands me up straight
and a hook goes round my neck and the next thing you know
I am back out the door with a whoosh and a wisk.
The door slams shut and I am once again figuring how to get in.
What is transpiring here?
First of all, learning represents the combination of opportunity and effort.
I arrived at its doorstep, but it was my effort that brought me that far.
I took that class against my own misgivings.
I bought the book and waded 300 pages into the deep end.
I left the TV on learning channel, remarkably fighting the urge
to flip around for a good thirty minutes.
But then, just when I think I have something figured out,
I am inside the door of new knowledge,
I lose the subtle understanding, but maybe importantly
I love my old way of living more than I ever knew
and I am back out on the other side of learning's door.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately) once I get inside the door,
the host(ess) will not allow me to stay
unless I watch a ten minute film, answer a few questions,
read a two page document and sign my name at the bottom.
That is to say, I must live with the new idea in all its implications.
The film shows me the many sides of the notion,
if I watch it with great concentration.
Then the inquiry session that follows gives me a chance
to get a little feedback to make sure I understood the movie.
Next I read the contract document,
which states the rules by which I must abide
if I am to truly lay claim to the learning.
With my signature, the door closes and I am on the inside
now looking for new learning.
I have been permanently changed.
I am to some extent, lost to my old self and my old view of the world.
Learning may contain an element of sadness.
The endearing accent or the flat way I said, "No, I have not ate yet",
are now behind me. It's on to the world of improved grammar and its sisters:
improved thought, better communication, and ultimately
more direct interaction with my world.
Gone are those days of ignorance and perhaps,
and this is truly unfortunate, the egolessness
that goes with not knowing and not caring.
The next door might take me into the area where I figure out something else,
like, that those people who have not passed through the doors I have
are not inferior, they just have passed through other doors.
In fact, the door of understanding that reminds us to be open to others
and to remove barriers that might keep us from truly connecting,
is one of the most important ones to walk through.
So learning has a part that consists of showing us the error of our ways
as well as a component that can be called, commitment to the new way.
If I eat foods which I learn are not good for my body,
but I continue to consume those foods, I have not learned.
I have been exposed to knowledge,
but the wisdom available to me from that knowledge
has not been claimed by me,
because learning is new understanding AND new behavior.
Perhaps this was Thomas Wolf's referent in "You can never go home again".
After you have learned many things,
in the "far off land of new knowledge",
it is impossible to truly go home again,
because the new way of viewing the world
makes you respond to the former environment in an entirely new fashion.
Now, instead of banging your dirty plate against the underside of the table
and hoping the dog runs in
and eats the food off the dining room floor
before your mother sees what happened…
you slide your chair back, pick up your plate
and maybe even your sister’s,
and you march them over to the dishwasher
and you insert them like a good young person.
The folks look at one another, and tell you to stop in your tracks,
spread your legs, lean up against the wall,
and they begin to frisk you
looking for their lost child.
I pass through a door, indeed sometimes I must beat on it
or even knock it down, but I pass through it.
Then, just inside the door a gale force wind stands me up straight
and a hook goes round my neck and the next thing you know
I am back out the door with a whoosh and a wisk.
The door slams shut and I am once again figuring how to get in.
What is transpiring here?
First of all, learning represents the combination of opportunity and effort.
I arrived at its doorstep, but it was my effort that brought me that far.
I took that class against my own misgivings.
I bought the book and waded 300 pages into the deep end.
I left the TV on learning channel, remarkably fighting the urge
to flip around for a good thirty minutes.
But then, just when I think I have something figured out,
I am inside the door of new knowledge,
I lose the subtle understanding, but maybe importantly
I love my old way of living more than I ever knew
and I am back out on the other side of learning's door.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately) once I get inside the door,
the host(ess) will not allow me to stay
unless I watch a ten minute film, answer a few questions,
read a two page document and sign my name at the bottom.
That is to say, I must live with the new idea in all its implications.
The film shows me the many sides of the notion,
if I watch it with great concentration.
Then the inquiry session that follows gives me a chance
to get a little feedback to make sure I understood the movie.
Next I read the contract document,
which states the rules by which I must abide
if I am to truly lay claim to the learning.
With my signature, the door closes and I am on the inside
now looking for new learning.
I have been permanently changed.
I am to some extent, lost to my old self and my old view of the world.
Learning may contain an element of sadness.
The endearing accent or the flat way I said, "No, I have not ate yet",
are now behind me. It's on to the world of improved grammar and its sisters:
improved thought, better communication, and ultimately
more direct interaction with my world.
Gone are those days of ignorance and perhaps,
and this is truly unfortunate, the egolessness
that goes with not knowing and not caring.
The next door might take me into the area where I figure out something else,
like, that those people who have not passed through the doors I have
are not inferior, they just have passed through other doors.
In fact, the door of understanding that reminds us to be open to others
and to remove barriers that might keep us from truly connecting,
is one of the most important ones to walk through.
So learning has a part that consists of showing us the error of our ways
as well as a component that can be called, commitment to the new way.
If I eat foods which I learn are not good for my body,
but I continue to consume those foods, I have not learned.
I have been exposed to knowledge,
but the wisdom available to me from that knowledge
has not been claimed by me,
because learning is new understanding AND new behavior.
Perhaps this was Thomas Wolf's referent in "You can never go home again".
After you have learned many things,
in the "far off land of new knowledge",
it is impossible to truly go home again,
because the new way of viewing the world
makes you respond to the former environment in an entirely new fashion.
Now, instead of banging your dirty plate against the underside of the table
and hoping the dog runs in
and eats the food off the dining room floor
before your mother sees what happened…
you slide your chair back, pick up your plate
and maybe even your sister’s,
and you march them over to the dishwasher
and you insert them like a good young person.
The folks look at one another, and tell you to stop in your tracks,
spread your legs, lean up against the wall,
and they begin to frisk you
looking for their lost child.
The Thing and Its Purpose
I have all my fingernails and toes
And places for them to go
Both of my eyes are here with things to see
Hair remains on my body with something to cover
I have a backbone with something to stand for
The word I get is I am healthy
The pain I feel is just enough for me to verify life
I have no promise of tomorrow, but then
I had no promise of today, did I?
The sky is dark right now with sleeping people to cover
If the sun returns tomorrow, the same people will swarm
And I will be here with something to think about.
And places for them to go
Both of my eyes are here with things to see
Hair remains on my body with something to cover
I have a backbone with something to stand for
The word I get is I am healthy
The pain I feel is just enough for me to verify life
I have no promise of tomorrow, but then
I had no promise of today, did I?
The sky is dark right now with sleeping people to cover
If the sun returns tomorrow, the same people will swarm
And I will be here with something to think about.
Ole What's her Name
Bath and Body Works has everything on her
as beguiling as Delilah to a long-haired boy in denim blue…
Blue-suede shoes are no way to kill roaches behind jail-house rocks
Hand me down my walking shoes, yeah
Now that’s all right mama
Wherefore art thou prime minister of defense?
I’m in charge, here and I say
We get to the nub of the matter.
The lexis of the question,
nexus in nature
The word on the street is that connections are where it’s at
To what end? Why, in other words
Why connections?
If they are not enough in their own right
Let’s think of a reason better than money, whaddya say?
I had this thought the other day
But I mislaid it
The reason is out there in a Chris Carter sort of way
A wise man once said the most important thing we can ever
Have is a task…one we can almost do…
We keep on truckin don’t we?
Out here as we are, in the same rain
I tell you what we do
I’m the man with the plan
Meet me in the morning 56 and Wabishaw
We’ll head out toward the sun
And by the time we’re done looking
You will have figured it out and I’ll be there to
Help you celebrate…
But what shall we call what we are after?
I’ll never forget ole what’s her name.
as beguiling as Delilah to a long-haired boy in denim blue…
Blue-suede shoes are no way to kill roaches behind jail-house rocks
Hand me down my walking shoes, yeah
Now that’s all right mama
Wherefore art thou prime minister of defense?
I’m in charge, here and I say
We get to the nub of the matter.
The lexis of the question,
nexus in nature
The word on the street is that connections are where it’s at
To what end? Why, in other words
Why connections?
If they are not enough in their own right
Let’s think of a reason better than money, whaddya say?
I had this thought the other day
But I mislaid it
The reason is out there in a Chris Carter sort of way
A wise man once said the most important thing we can ever
Have is a task…one we can almost do…
We keep on truckin don’t we?
Out here as we are, in the same rain
I tell you what we do
I’m the man with the plan
Meet me in the morning 56 and Wabishaw
We’ll head out toward the sun
And by the time we’re done looking
You will have figured it out and I’ll be there to
Help you celebrate…
But what shall we call what we are after?
I’ll never forget ole what’s her name.
September 11, 2002
We’ve all seen the pictures
A young fireman
enters the South building
on his way to floors above
later to violently descend with them
Poor bearded religious fellows
sit around eating
the flesh of hillside animals,
cheese and bread
on a blanket
Videotaping their conversation
smiling like the devil
talking about God
Soldiers enter abandoned caves
holding up mortar shells
spitting on the walls
thinking of victory
and revenge, finally as hollow as the hole
they stand in…
The crumbling buildings
A smoking wall
in Washington, one out of five
We’ve heard the answering machine
voices saying, “don’t worry about me”, “let’s roll”
and of Lisa listening to the whole thing
not coping too well these days,
Life is not for the dead
or her kin, hate, revenge, bitterness,
arrogance, smugness, opulence
materialism
Life is for the living
and her close relations, love, forgiveness,
sweetness, humility, modesty,
simple kindness, spirituality
Yes, September 11 will forever more
be for remembering those who died
but it should also be about
finding a way to keep from descending
into the hole with the Taliban
or anyone else whose soul is
diseased and dying
In the end we are all
sometimes guilty of a lack of courage
an inability to see wise
courses of action
for the blood in our eyes
But patriotism that lasts only
as long as we are mad
is as hollow as the hole
where the towers no
longer stand
For the sake of the fallen
our mortal enemy must be death
and her kin
our loyalty must be to the living
and her close relations…
Sew me a flag
that flies for world-wide freedom
that stands for peace across races,
nations, and religions
and I’ll wave that flag
in the face of all its enemies
A young fireman
enters the South building
on his way to floors above
later to violently descend with them
Poor bearded religious fellows
sit around eating
the flesh of hillside animals,
cheese and bread
on a blanket
Videotaping their conversation
smiling like the devil
talking about God
Soldiers enter abandoned caves
holding up mortar shells
spitting on the walls
thinking of victory
and revenge, finally as hollow as the hole
they stand in…
The crumbling buildings
A smoking wall
in Washington, one out of five
We’ve heard the answering machine
voices saying, “don’t worry about me”, “let’s roll”
and of Lisa listening to the whole thing
not coping too well these days,
Life is not for the dead
or her kin, hate, revenge, bitterness,
arrogance, smugness, opulence
materialism
Life is for the living
and her close relations, love, forgiveness,
sweetness, humility, modesty,
simple kindness, spirituality
Yes, September 11 will forever more
be for remembering those who died
but it should also be about
finding a way to keep from descending
into the hole with the Taliban
or anyone else whose soul is
diseased and dying
In the end we are all
sometimes guilty of a lack of courage
an inability to see wise
courses of action
for the blood in our eyes
But patriotism that lasts only
as long as we are mad
is as hollow as the hole
where the towers no
longer stand
For the sake of the fallen
our mortal enemy must be death
and her kin
our loyalty must be to the living
and her close relations…
Sew me a flag
that flies for world-wide freedom
that stands for peace across races,
nations, and religions
and I’ll wave that flag
in the face of all its enemies
Show Me Who I Am
I’m not sure if I’m certain or not
So help me
I will do the same for you
Can you hear me okay?
When I talk is it too loud, too soft or just about right?
Do you discern moodiness with me?
Or would you call me rock steady?
When I am not there and people we both know talk
What do they say about me?
Do you get the sense they love me or is it something else?
Since you are older, what were things like before I arrived?
Are things better now?
Would you say I have made a difference?
When I am gone for good, will everything stop?
Will they still eat in their cars at Sonic?
Will McDonald’s keep selling until the sign says
Number served too great to fathom?
Let me push against you and you push back.
Do you feel that?
What does it feel like to you?
So help me
I will do the same for you
Can you hear me okay?
When I talk is it too loud, too soft or just about right?
Do you discern moodiness with me?
Or would you call me rock steady?
When I am not there and people we both know talk
What do they say about me?
Do you get the sense they love me or is it something else?
Since you are older, what were things like before I arrived?
Are things better now?
Would you say I have made a difference?
When I am gone for good, will everything stop?
Will they still eat in their cars at Sonic?
Will McDonald’s keep selling until the sign says
Number served too great to fathom?
Let me push against you and you push back.
Do you feel that?
What does it feel like to you?
Dear Friends (upon the Death of David Conrad)
The news came to our computer last night of a parting
Goodbye will not happen
What will?
Memorials to charities, money for flowers
Words to encourage those who remain
Travel to the place of final rest and burial
Or grief apart
Some will see the news later and reflect
Around 6.7 billion people are alive now
Estimates say 100 billion or so have lived on earth
One person’s death is small news universe-wide
The same for births
Each death or birth is like a penny to a billionaire
No big loss, no big gain
Not something to bend over and pick up
Unless it’s heads and good luck is the idea
Consider the power of human courage and imagination
To construct profound attachment
To a few grains on a wide shore
Who has the largest number of friends on facebook?
Some have hundreds
Even if they track them all
Their knowledge of each will not be intimate
The death of a friend with whom we have lost contact
Is the loss of the possibility of new memories…
Impermanence enhanced
Joy is from this moment alone
The past is not only gone
It is going now
As you mourn
Dear friends
Goodbye will not happen
What will?
Memorials to charities, money for flowers
Words to encourage those who remain
Travel to the place of final rest and burial
Or grief apart
Some will see the news later and reflect
Around 6.7 billion people are alive now
Estimates say 100 billion or so have lived on earth
One person’s death is small news universe-wide
The same for births
Each death or birth is like a penny to a billionaire
No big loss, no big gain
Not something to bend over and pick up
Unless it’s heads and good luck is the idea
Consider the power of human courage and imagination
To construct profound attachment
To a few grains on a wide shore
Who has the largest number of friends on facebook?
Some have hundreds
Even if they track them all
Their knowledge of each will not be intimate
The death of a friend with whom we have lost contact
Is the loss of the possibility of new memories…
Impermanence enhanced
Joy is from this moment alone
The past is not only gone
It is going now
As you mourn
Dear friends
Leadership
One person in a large room
Rocking up and back
In an oversized chair
The sound of rain
Outside the window
Gusty breezes making
High-pitched noises
Human life has gone
Indoors for the approaching evening
On the table is a cup of tea
And on the lap of the person
Is an afghan
In her hands is a book
Occasionally she sips the tea
But mostly she rocks and reads
The room is warm
The windows are tightly sealed
Against the bitter cold
Insulation is several inches thick
The person would need to
Open a door or window to
Even hear the bluster
The lighting is overhead
Supported by a shoulder high floor lamp
A voice from somewhere
Inside the house speaks
“Are you comfortable my dear?”
and the person in the chair
just rocks up and back
and smiles…
“Yes, thank you” is
the soft reply
As we withdraw from
Our close vantage point
Up, up into the clouds
Farther and farther until
We near the edge of earth’s
Atmosphere
Our attention stays
On the spot where the house
Must be
It’s not pangea
Not Africa
Not the middle east
From our distance
We can see a smoke begin
To rise from the area
Where the person with
A book under a blanket
Sat so peacefully
And we wonder
Did something take place there?
Something disruptive?
Are we watching the end of tranquility?
Is our person out of her chair
And into the streets
Calling out to those slumbering
Behind protective walls
“Trouble is at hand?”
Rocking up and back
In an oversized chair
The sound of rain
Outside the window
Gusty breezes making
High-pitched noises
Human life has gone
Indoors for the approaching evening
On the table is a cup of tea
And on the lap of the person
Is an afghan
In her hands is a book
Occasionally she sips the tea
But mostly she rocks and reads
The room is warm
The windows are tightly sealed
Against the bitter cold
Insulation is several inches thick
The person would need to
Open a door or window to
Even hear the bluster
The lighting is overhead
Supported by a shoulder high floor lamp
A voice from somewhere
Inside the house speaks
“Are you comfortable my dear?”
and the person in the chair
just rocks up and back
and smiles…
“Yes, thank you” is
the soft reply
As we withdraw from
Our close vantage point
Up, up into the clouds
Farther and farther until
We near the edge of earth’s
Atmosphere
Our attention stays
On the spot where the house
Must be
It’s not pangea
Not Africa
Not the middle east
From our distance
We can see a smoke begin
To rise from the area
Where the person with
A book under a blanket
Sat so peacefully
And we wonder
Did something take place there?
Something disruptive?
Are we watching the end of tranquility?
Is our person out of her chair
And into the streets
Calling out to those slumbering
Behind protective walls
“Trouble is at hand?”
Imagined Conversation Between Sarah and Bristol Palin in August 2008
Sarah – Where have you been?
Bristol – Riding around with B (her boyfriend)
Sarah – Did you hear the news?
Bristol – Yes, Janie Galloway is also pregnant.
Sarah – No, I was talking about something bigger than that.
Bristol – Bigger than that? What do you mean? Janie is even younger than me. She is sixteen and she is thinking about giving her baby up for adoption, I think that is pretty big if you ask me. Why is your news always more important than mine? Why, why, why…[crying] I am going to my room. I don’t want to hear your big news…
Sarah – Bristol honey, it is good news.
Bristol – I don’t give a $!$!#@ how good it is. I am going to my room.
[A few minutes later…Sarah is sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee and talking on the phone when Bristol walks in…]
Bristol – Mom, oh sorry, [whispering now] I didn’t see your phone
Bristol waits for the few minutes until her mother hangs up with her Lieutenant Governor
Sarah – Yes, honey…
Bristol – Mom, B (her boyfriend) just texted me that you were John McCain’s running mate, that is awesome, sorry I was so short with you earlier
[They Hug]
Sarah – Oh, that’s alright sweetie, I am just glad to see you are feeling better
Bristol – You know what else B texted?
Sarah – No, what?
Bristol – He said if you were VP of the US it would not be a harder job than to be a pretty seventeen year old Christian girl in Alaska.
Sarah – I am glad you are marrying him.
Bristol – Me too.
Bristol – Riding around with B (her boyfriend)
Sarah – Did you hear the news?
Bristol – Yes, Janie Galloway is also pregnant.
Sarah – No, I was talking about something bigger than that.
Bristol – Bigger than that? What do you mean? Janie is even younger than me. She is sixteen and she is thinking about giving her baby up for adoption, I think that is pretty big if you ask me. Why is your news always more important than mine? Why, why, why…[crying] I am going to my room. I don’t want to hear your big news…
Sarah – Bristol honey, it is good news.
Bristol – I don’t give a $!$!#@ how good it is. I am going to my room.
[A few minutes later…Sarah is sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee and talking on the phone when Bristol walks in…]
Bristol – Mom, oh sorry, [whispering now] I didn’t see your phone
Bristol waits for the few minutes until her mother hangs up with her Lieutenant Governor
Sarah – Yes, honey…
Bristol – Mom, B (her boyfriend) just texted me that you were John McCain’s running mate, that is awesome, sorry I was so short with you earlier
[They Hug]
Sarah – Oh, that’s alright sweetie, I am just glad to see you are feeling better
Bristol – You know what else B texted?
Sarah – No, what?
Bristol – He said if you were VP of the US it would not be a harder job than to be a pretty seventeen year old Christian girl in Alaska.
Sarah – I am glad you are marrying him.
Bristol – Me too.
Setting More Prisoners Free
I gotta set some folks free from vicarious prisons this morning
As they leave, I will glad hand them like a preacher seeing his members out
W. and Sarah P. please go and do not come back to the iron bars of ignorance as bliss
Ronald Reagan say goodbye and nevermore return to the island of limited government
Che Guevara escape the myth your disdain for poverty was mistaken
Jesus God flee the cell housing none but you and white US southerners
Bob Dylan go and do not look back or you will be analyzed to death
David Dukes find your way back to your mother’s arms and ask forgiveness
Lamb steal away before the lion awakes
Lion the lamb went that way, wink wink, nod nod
Mr Ploughshare maker, God’s speed and here is another sword for your workshop
Mother eating liver for your health I bid you adieu, put away your fork and eat no more
Dr. and Mr. Spock I set you free from Spock jail, stop departicalizing those kids
Chaos slip out by night I will place your order for you
Irony as you leave remember this, you are a missionary to conservatives
Baby to whom they say drill baby drill, come here, I will adopt you
And you are free nation hungry for oil, sex, more oil and lusty for cliché common sense
As they leave, I will glad hand them like a preacher seeing his members out
W. and Sarah P. please go and do not come back to the iron bars of ignorance as bliss
Ronald Reagan say goodbye and nevermore return to the island of limited government
Che Guevara escape the myth your disdain for poverty was mistaken
Jesus God flee the cell housing none but you and white US southerners
Bob Dylan go and do not look back or you will be analyzed to death
David Dukes find your way back to your mother’s arms and ask forgiveness
Lamb steal away before the lion awakes
Lion the lamb went that way, wink wink, nod nod
Mr Ploughshare maker, God’s speed and here is another sword for your workshop
Mother eating liver for your health I bid you adieu, put away your fork and eat no more
Dr. and Mr. Spock I set you free from Spock jail, stop departicalizing those kids
Chaos slip out by night I will place your order for you
Irony as you leave remember this, you are a missionary to conservatives
Baby to whom they say drill baby drill, come here, I will adopt you
And you are free nation hungry for oil, sex, more oil and lusty for cliché common sense
Coincidences
Given a choice between thinking new
thoughts and covering those of others,
most people take cover
Taking joy from experience
is not the same as being joyful,
beware those selling fun for a fee
As the divine Ms A said,
labor is for animals,
work for survival,
action is where the action is...
I love thinking as much as the next
and I am no stranger to emotion,
but I live for their coincidence
Just a few more things I learned from my father
Happy Late 80th Birthday my late Dad
thoughts and covering those of others,
most people take cover
Taking joy from experience
is not the same as being joyful,
beware those selling fun for a fee
As the divine Ms A said,
labor is for animals,
work for survival,
action is where the action is...
I love thinking as much as the next
and I am no stranger to emotion,
but I live for their coincidence
Just a few more things I learned from my father
Happy Late 80th Birthday my late Dad
Water Tastings
A visit to granny and grandpa McCullough's was like a water tasting.
No bouquet, texture, nothing for the palate.
Granny was blind in a cloth chair beside the bed in the living room.
Grandpa waited on the left arm of the chair beside her.
One request awakened him
A second had him up for a kleenex, a bowl of Rice Krispies, or the pot.
We sat on the other wide arm of her soft chair easier than she did on the bottom.
It was on the right grandchildren sat for pats on the hand or rubs of the cheek.
"Now which one is this?" she asked.
We gave her the right names, Mike or Cathy or Brenda, or this is the baby Earl.
It would not have been any trouble to trick her.
Cathy would have been the one to do that.
Brenda was too good.
I was too busy staring at Granny's wandering eyes.
And Earl too little.
The house smelled of pee and stale cloth furniture
In the middle of the brightest day the house was dark inside.
Boxes of Cheerios and Rice Krispies on the kitchen table
Jars of instant Nescafe coffee on the table.
The remains of a meal on a plate left by a careless visitor.
The linoleum floors gave away my footsteps
I wandered into the kitchen.
Daddy was talking
Then Brenda was helping mom finish a story about one of us.
The kitchen was brighter
And I could breathe okay in there.
Not as much to worry about alone in the kitchen.
There I stood, peering into where they were
Cathy stared, gritting her teeth, motioning for me to come back.
“Put your butt on this chair” she mouthed.
Patting the chair menacingly.
We barely tolerated one another.
Later in the car, she cupped her hand over my ear
"Little brother, you are weird."
I guess it bothered her for me to stand in the bright kitchen
Watching them talk in the dim living room.
Her whispering in my ear bothered me
So I hit her in the middle of the upper back
And it sounded like a bass drum.
Her back was a favorite instrument of mine.
That was plenty enough for me to go with daddy into the bedroom when we got home
for lashes with his long black belt.
Cathy had bawled all the way home,
Reaching around for her back.
Making a fist with her index finger stuck out too far
And the wrist at a sissy angle.
I laughed
And whispered in her ear
"You are going to hell but you will never burn up",
She was not done with my ear either…
"I hope you die in the electric chair".
Before we had left granny and grandpa’s, daddys sister Francis had left with her boys.
They had put their tails on the wide arm of granny's chair
Sprawled all over her, and she knew Tommy from George.
They visited more often.
When they were finally gone - we were leaving too and gave long hugs.
-kissed granny and watched the tears run out of her glassy eyes.
Lined up like a death march.
"Bye Granny, Bye Grandpa".
Grandpa was standing there when I turned away from granny
I hugged him too, his beard scratched my face
I smelled his arm pits and his mildewed clothes.
No bouquet, texture, nothing for the palate.
Granny was blind in a cloth chair beside the bed in the living room.
Grandpa waited on the left arm of the chair beside her.
One request awakened him
A second had him up for a kleenex, a bowl of Rice Krispies, or the pot.
We sat on the other wide arm of her soft chair easier than she did on the bottom.
It was on the right grandchildren sat for pats on the hand or rubs of the cheek.
"Now which one is this?" she asked.
We gave her the right names, Mike or Cathy or Brenda, or this is the baby Earl.
It would not have been any trouble to trick her.
Cathy would have been the one to do that.
Brenda was too good.
I was too busy staring at Granny's wandering eyes.
And Earl too little.
The house smelled of pee and stale cloth furniture
In the middle of the brightest day the house was dark inside.
Boxes of Cheerios and Rice Krispies on the kitchen table
Jars of instant Nescafe coffee on the table.
The remains of a meal on a plate left by a careless visitor.
The linoleum floors gave away my footsteps
I wandered into the kitchen.
Daddy was talking
Then Brenda was helping mom finish a story about one of us.
The kitchen was brighter
And I could breathe okay in there.
Not as much to worry about alone in the kitchen.
There I stood, peering into where they were
Cathy stared, gritting her teeth, motioning for me to come back.
“Put your butt on this chair” she mouthed.
Patting the chair menacingly.
We barely tolerated one another.
Later in the car, she cupped her hand over my ear
"Little brother, you are weird."
I guess it bothered her for me to stand in the bright kitchen
Watching them talk in the dim living room.
Her whispering in my ear bothered me
So I hit her in the middle of the upper back
And it sounded like a bass drum.
Her back was a favorite instrument of mine.
That was plenty enough for me to go with daddy into the bedroom when we got home
for lashes with his long black belt.
Cathy had bawled all the way home,
Reaching around for her back.
Making a fist with her index finger stuck out too far
And the wrist at a sissy angle.
I laughed
And whispered in her ear
"You are going to hell but you will never burn up",
She was not done with my ear either…
"I hope you die in the electric chair".
Before we had left granny and grandpa’s, daddys sister Francis had left with her boys.
They had put their tails on the wide arm of granny's chair
Sprawled all over her, and she knew Tommy from George.
They visited more often.
When they were finally gone - we were leaving too and gave long hugs.
-kissed granny and watched the tears run out of her glassy eyes.
Lined up like a death march.
"Bye Granny, Bye Grandpa".
Grandpa was standing there when I turned away from granny
I hugged him too, his beard scratched my face
I smelled his arm pits and his mildewed clothes.
Thought of the Future
What did we expect?
To get out alive?
That the promised land was a literal place?
What did you make of saviors pointing?
Can a man save another man (or woman)?
Should we be glad to not have held our breath to see?
Did the buffet not look more lavish from a distance?
How was yours?
Did we do a few things in vain?
Did we not love the thought of the future?
Do we not still?
To get out alive?
That the promised land was a literal place?
What did you make of saviors pointing?
Can a man save another man (or woman)?
Should we be glad to not have held our breath to see?
Did the buffet not look more lavish from a distance?
How was yours?
Did we do a few things in vain?
Did we not love the thought of the future?
Do we not still?
It's What I Want Even More
How did you know that I needed that?
That there beau chapeau, that most handsome hat?
You give premo gifts, you know you do, you two
Now what do you suppose it is I can do for you?
It will take me a short while to learn how to savor
Those little scenes where they come currying favor
Being up from the bottom in the manner that I am
There was once a time I could not even get spam
That sharp-dressed couple requests from me action
To help get them off for their little tiny infraction
Slowly but surely I’m developing this grand theory
Although it’s a bit bleak and just a tad dreary
Somebody has a camera and they’re watching me flaunt
Figuring out with great care all the things I might want
Like a jewel-encrusted mother-of-pearl bone-handled knife
The sort of thing they give in exchange for no strife
You turn your head to our spurious and nefarious deeds
And we’ll apply a tourniquet when your artery bleeds
Quick now, my brightest of friends you must get with the program
Don’t listen to those naysayers who call our plan a pogrom
See my son I hear you’ve been down on your luck of late
In sack cloth and ashes, thrashing outside the gate
Well your worrying days have ended they’re now all but over
We won’t stop working for you ‘til you’re pushing up clover
You say you have need of our help- we’re there in a flash
We’ll stand watch for you, even help guard your stash
And in return we only ask you to run us this number
After that we swear your time we will not encumber
How do you say politique, how do you say pouvoir?
With a hand over your eyes open your mouth and say ah
I’m going down to the street festival with my favorite clown
And when we get back I hope you’re done with that frown
It’s called the big swap or sometimes the great compromise
We launder your money and supply you with lies
Then when the time comes for our day in the court
We feel certain you will have nothing but good news to report
Three card monte, five card stud and Russian roulette
Ante up for us now and in the future you’re set
This is not a racchetta, why it’s nothing but a parlor game
When everything is over you will be glorious with fame
We know you have read the Prince by Machiavelli
And spent a few nights checking CSI on the teli
So for you the thing we’re asking should be nothing new
No great surprise, real shock or something out of the blue
Keep a straight poker face and don’t let them see you sweat
And for sure don’t parade around if your pants you should wet
When you recall it’s your future on this that is riding
We’re sure you will be successful at this little bit of hiding
There’s an old expression the folks used back home
No matter where you wander or where you should roam
Good things always come to those who can wait
So bother not for your fortune or worry for your fate
Figure out as a young person the fine art of the deal
When you must lay and when you probably should peel
The world is full of card sharks, all these unseemly folk
Trust me when I say to you, their games are no joke
The order of life is politics, the essence of living is power
Cooperate with the main man or woman of the hour
To enter this club where serious business is fun
You must have an ID that says you’re over twenty-one
Go down Moses, As I Lay Dying, my son Absalom
There’s heat in the Delta it’s downright hot where I’m from
The comforts of home, judgment day and the enduring chill
Steel your magnolias, zip up your fly and for sure take that pill
It started in Sicily, spread to Athens and then Rome
Pouring out of the river bottoms and onto the loam
Like lava from a volcano it poured down the valley
All through the street and especially into the alley
If they vote you to congress or in the White House you wind up
You can bet your sweet bippy with motley folk you will sup
I’m not saying they are mean or that they aren’t a saint
And as smart as you are, I know you’re not saying I ain’t
There’s a fine line between fair dealing and what they call graft
One blows your face and the other well, it blows your aft
So keep your eyes on the starboard and a mirror on the port
Or the messes you get in may just be too much to sort
You ask a lot of life; holidays, vacations, family resorts
Las Vegas casinos, late-night dancing and extreme sports
For these you will pay dearly, for these you will cough up
Especially if it’s with high rollers that you share a cup
Now where is that couple with the nice hat to give?
Are they somewhere nearby or slipped down through the sieve?
I had a few things to ask them before I took their bribe
Such as could they talk turkey or with me could they jibe
So I’m better off not asking, better off not having learned?
Their offer is withdrawn and my deal they have spurned?
Well what do you know and what do you say?
I could have sworn that slick dyad was here for more than a day.
Oh, I see, they’ve gone to the inside, the jailhouse, the slammer
And it’s now me the authorities are just itching to hammer?
Hand me down my walking cane and everybody out of my way
One more cup of coffee to go, for round here I can’t stay
They say the keeper Saint Peter is a kindly old gent
Since his get up and go, done got up and went
I have a story that’s straight and a pretty good line
So I’m betting the house I’ll drink that heavenly wine.
If you like yard sales and swap meets this is where it’s at?
Eating cake with the devil until you are soooo phat
Can you say what you want from this golden shore?
Well, if that’s what you want, it’s what I want even more
That there beau chapeau, that most handsome hat?
You give premo gifts, you know you do, you two
Now what do you suppose it is I can do for you?
It will take me a short while to learn how to savor
Those little scenes where they come currying favor
Being up from the bottom in the manner that I am
There was once a time I could not even get spam
That sharp-dressed couple requests from me action
To help get them off for their little tiny infraction
Slowly but surely I’m developing this grand theory
Although it’s a bit bleak and just a tad dreary
Somebody has a camera and they’re watching me flaunt
Figuring out with great care all the things I might want
Like a jewel-encrusted mother-of-pearl bone-handled knife
The sort of thing they give in exchange for no strife
You turn your head to our spurious and nefarious deeds
And we’ll apply a tourniquet when your artery bleeds
Quick now, my brightest of friends you must get with the program
Don’t listen to those naysayers who call our plan a pogrom
See my son I hear you’ve been down on your luck of late
In sack cloth and ashes, thrashing outside the gate
Well your worrying days have ended they’re now all but over
We won’t stop working for you ‘til you’re pushing up clover
You say you have need of our help- we’re there in a flash
We’ll stand watch for you, even help guard your stash
And in return we only ask you to run us this number
After that we swear your time we will not encumber
How do you say politique, how do you say pouvoir?
With a hand over your eyes open your mouth and say ah
I’m going down to the street festival with my favorite clown
And when we get back I hope you’re done with that frown
It’s called the big swap or sometimes the great compromise
We launder your money and supply you with lies
Then when the time comes for our day in the court
We feel certain you will have nothing but good news to report
Three card monte, five card stud and Russian roulette
Ante up for us now and in the future you’re set
This is not a racchetta, why it’s nothing but a parlor game
When everything is over you will be glorious with fame
We know you have read the Prince by Machiavelli
And spent a few nights checking CSI on the teli
So for you the thing we’re asking should be nothing new
No great surprise, real shock or something out of the blue
Keep a straight poker face and don’t let them see you sweat
And for sure don’t parade around if your pants you should wet
When you recall it’s your future on this that is riding
We’re sure you will be successful at this little bit of hiding
There’s an old expression the folks used back home
No matter where you wander or where you should roam
Good things always come to those who can wait
So bother not for your fortune or worry for your fate
Figure out as a young person the fine art of the deal
When you must lay and when you probably should peel
The world is full of card sharks, all these unseemly folk
Trust me when I say to you, their games are no joke
The order of life is politics, the essence of living is power
Cooperate with the main man or woman of the hour
To enter this club where serious business is fun
You must have an ID that says you’re over twenty-one
Go down Moses, As I Lay Dying, my son Absalom
There’s heat in the Delta it’s downright hot where I’m from
The comforts of home, judgment day and the enduring chill
Steel your magnolias, zip up your fly and for sure take that pill
It started in Sicily, spread to Athens and then Rome
Pouring out of the river bottoms and onto the loam
Like lava from a volcano it poured down the valley
All through the street and especially into the alley
If they vote you to congress or in the White House you wind up
You can bet your sweet bippy with motley folk you will sup
I’m not saying they are mean or that they aren’t a saint
And as smart as you are, I know you’re not saying I ain’t
There’s a fine line between fair dealing and what they call graft
One blows your face and the other well, it blows your aft
So keep your eyes on the starboard and a mirror on the port
Or the messes you get in may just be too much to sort
You ask a lot of life; holidays, vacations, family resorts
Las Vegas casinos, late-night dancing and extreme sports
For these you will pay dearly, for these you will cough up
Especially if it’s with high rollers that you share a cup
Now where is that couple with the nice hat to give?
Are they somewhere nearby or slipped down through the sieve?
I had a few things to ask them before I took their bribe
Such as could they talk turkey or with me could they jibe
So I’m better off not asking, better off not having learned?
Their offer is withdrawn and my deal they have spurned?
Well what do you know and what do you say?
I could have sworn that slick dyad was here for more than a day.
Oh, I see, they’ve gone to the inside, the jailhouse, the slammer
And it’s now me the authorities are just itching to hammer?
Hand me down my walking cane and everybody out of my way
One more cup of coffee to go, for round here I can’t stay
They say the keeper Saint Peter is a kindly old gent
Since his get up and go, done got up and went
I have a story that’s straight and a pretty good line
So I’m betting the house I’ll drink that heavenly wine.
If you like yard sales and swap meets this is where it’s at?
Eating cake with the devil until you are soooo phat
Can you say what you want from this golden shore?
Well, if that’s what you want, it’s what I want even more
It is I Who Have Made My Friends
It is I who have made my friends
And I who will lose them
Losing friends is an art I have perfected
Not a lost art
Let’s see, over there is one I will tick off
Nearby her is someone I will mysteriously stop seeing
Yes, and as always, there are those who leave
Or it may be I who is gone
In the time it takes you to read this
I will be down another friend
Let’s not explore this anymore
Think happy thoughts
No, glorious thoughts
It is I who have made them all
…in mine image
oops...er uh
Ba bye
And I who will lose them
Losing friends is an art I have perfected
Not a lost art
Let’s see, over there is one I will tick off
Nearby her is someone I will mysteriously stop seeing
Yes, and as always, there are those who leave
Or it may be I who is gone
In the time it takes you to read this
I will be down another friend
Let’s not explore this anymore
Think happy thoughts
No, glorious thoughts
It is I who have made them all
…in mine image
oops...er uh
Ba bye
Forty Years of Kentucky Basketball
Rupp: wily winning wiseacre
Stamper: big-boned boarding Beattyvillian
Issel: big blonde beautiful basketmaker
Parker: long lefty Ledford loved
Hall: Cynthiana’s singing square
Grevey: light left-handed leather
Givens: left Lexington loud
Robey: likeable Louisiana load
Macy: modest matinee maestro
Bowie: beloved brittle baller
Turpin: shook Stokely Center
Walker: jamming Georgia jumper
Sutton: defense determination dedication dereliction
Chapman: white willowy wow
Pitino: consummate cat coach
Mashburn: jute jive jump joy
Delk: bashful Brownsville bomber
Smith: steady staring son starter
Sheppard: darling Duke defeater
Prince: left Lexington lord
Hayes: hearty hellbent hunk
Meeks: point producing puzzle
Patterson: glorious graceful gumption
Gillispie: promise push pout pack
Stamper: big-boned boarding Beattyvillian
Issel: big blonde beautiful basketmaker
Parker: long lefty Ledford loved
Hall: Cynthiana’s singing square
Grevey: light left-handed leather
Givens: left Lexington loud
Robey: likeable Louisiana load
Macy: modest matinee maestro
Bowie: beloved brittle baller
Turpin: shook Stokely Center
Walker: jamming Georgia jumper
Sutton: defense determination dedication dereliction
Chapman: white willowy wow
Pitino: consummate cat coach
Mashburn: jute jive jump joy
Delk: bashful Brownsville bomber
Smith: steady staring son starter
Sheppard: darling Duke defeater
Prince: left Lexington lord
Hayes: hearty hellbent hunk
Meeks: point producing puzzle
Patterson: glorious graceful gumption
Gillispie: promise push pout pack
Secondary Smoke
Listen to me when I say
Trust no one over 30
who has not been fired from
a job
…and while you’re at it, mull this over too
what a different country this would be if Richard Nixon
had just followed Steve Martin’s advice and learned
to strum the banjo
Remember what Lloyd Bentsen said and I quote
“The smoking man was a friend of mine and sir
you are no [bleeping] smoking man” [A little X files humor there]
Speaking of smoking
my uncle was a chain smoker, [but around me it was just his cigs hardy har har har]
I remember one time, now in the dim, maybe then too
he puffed out a circle, a ring if you will, that lofted its way around a lit light bulb
and I jumped up and down, all clapping and all, and down, [oops I
already said down],
not exactly an ABC winter Olympic moment, but we had each other
or at least he had me
there I was swinging from his bicep kicking up a breeze with my spider legs
That old Uncle Paul of mine, and me a dangling from his strong arm, unfiltered Camel
tight between his teeth
Oh and did I say he taught me to whistle
[I’m whistling now, I sometimes have a need to whistle]
I guess you might say he was the first person to offer me
secondary smoke…don’t make me draw you a picture
we bonded, okay? I was gasping for breath from kicking in the smoky
air and from puckering so much to learn whistling, couldn’t hardly breath you know…
then I seldom saw him after I was 11 (years old), but
at that time, on the day of the smoke ring,
I just told you about [now I get uh out of breath uh from the absence of smoke uh, does that make sense uh?]
we pretty much became buds, but [and as he would say, it’s a big butt, hee hee]
if you take the EXACT opposite of me and my uncle
you get the following in the vernacular of a gasping non nephew [Uncle Paul died]
…to where that to this day uh
I get cold, cold chills uh when a shiny faced uh
I mean white-faced uh, executive (just an archetype I mean) making 417 times more uh
than his average “coworker” uh
fingers floury from never touching a cancer stick uh
skin soft as a boll of cotton uh
and certainly with no Steve Martin banjo on his knee uh [and not from Alabamee, haw haw] looks at me and says uh
boy you got potential [uh]
Trust no one over 30
who has not been fired from
a job
…and while you’re at it, mull this over too
what a different country this would be if Richard Nixon
had just followed Steve Martin’s advice and learned
to strum the banjo
Remember what Lloyd Bentsen said and I quote
“The smoking man was a friend of mine and sir
you are no [bleeping] smoking man” [A little X files humor there]
Speaking of smoking
my uncle was a chain smoker, [but around me it was just his cigs hardy har har har]
I remember one time, now in the dim, maybe then too
he puffed out a circle, a ring if you will, that lofted its way around a lit light bulb
and I jumped up and down, all clapping and all, and down, [oops I
already said down],
not exactly an ABC winter Olympic moment, but we had each other
or at least he had me
there I was swinging from his bicep kicking up a breeze with my spider legs
That old Uncle Paul of mine, and me a dangling from his strong arm, unfiltered Camel
tight between his teeth
Oh and did I say he taught me to whistle
[I’m whistling now, I sometimes have a need to whistle]
I guess you might say he was the first person to offer me
secondary smoke…don’t make me draw you a picture
we bonded, okay? I was gasping for breath from kicking in the smoky
air and from puckering so much to learn whistling, couldn’t hardly breath you know…
then I seldom saw him after I was 11 (years old), but
at that time, on the day of the smoke ring,
I just told you about [now I get uh out of breath uh from the absence of smoke uh, does that make sense uh?]
we pretty much became buds, but [and as he would say, it’s a big butt, hee hee]
if you take the EXACT opposite of me and my uncle
you get the following in the vernacular of a gasping non nephew [Uncle Paul died]
…to where that to this day uh
I get cold, cold chills uh when a shiny faced uh
I mean white-faced uh, executive (just an archetype I mean) making 417 times more uh
than his average “coworker” uh
fingers floury from never touching a cancer stick uh
skin soft as a boll of cotton uh
and certainly with no Steve Martin banjo on his knee uh [and not from Alabamee, haw haw] looks at me and says uh
boy you got potential [uh]
The Gentle Gardener
Feed the soil
It will yield
Bio-icons
Techno-tubers
Juniper trees to sit under
Sticky holly
Diverse radishes
And weeds, yes weeds
Enter the gardener
Alas the gentle gardener
No white gloves
But green
Or brown
Lean forward
Or better kneel
Comb the earth
Clothe the seeds
Caress the plants
Cut the food
From the skin
The flower
from the stem
Bring it to the table
Let it be a center piece
Or the main course
Let me be that
Gentle Gardener
It will yield
Bio-icons
Techno-tubers
Juniper trees to sit under
Sticky holly
Diverse radishes
And weeds, yes weeds
Enter the gardener
Alas the gentle gardener
No white gloves
But green
Or brown
Lean forward
Or better kneel
Comb the earth
Clothe the seeds
Caress the plants
Cut the food
From the skin
The flower
from the stem
Bring it to the table
Let it be a center piece
Or the main course
Let me be that
Gentle Gardener
The Dream
I dreamed of time and space
sleep's answer to Einstein's puzzles
of where we are going in time
where we have been in space
Apparently time is the closest thing to heaven I'll ever see
as near to a certainty as it gets
Space is the closest thing to hell I hope I ever feel
for the fact of the matter is, for all practical purposes nothing is relative
But picture this, in my dream there was me and there was this object of my affection
and it was this object that substituted for eternity and the universe
for a moment
and it was clear that the difference between fifteen minutes and 150 years does not exist
and the difference between that street our there and the farthest black hole is nothing
but the difference between the fleshiness of that aforementioned
object and my dreamy visions
represents my world...
it's as good as any other reason to live...
it makes all the difference to me.
sleep's answer to Einstein's puzzles
of where we are going in time
where we have been in space
Apparently time is the closest thing to heaven I'll ever see
as near to a certainty as it gets
Space is the closest thing to hell I hope I ever feel
for the fact of the matter is, for all practical purposes nothing is relative
But picture this, in my dream there was me and there was this object of my affection
and it was this object that substituted for eternity and the universe
for a moment
and it was clear that the difference between fifteen minutes and 150 years does not exist
and the difference between that street our there and the farthest black hole is nothing
but the difference between the fleshiness of that aforementioned
object and my dreamy visions
represents my world...
it's as good as any other reason to live...
it makes all the difference to me.
Then The Levy Breaks
So you want to be great
Revered
And have it said
“How does he accomplish so much?”
Money comes in
And praise
proportionate to effort
Criticism, jealousy, envy,
Competition
Visit others
Not you
But
Then the levee breaks…
If I were not so busy
I would say more
Revered
And have it said
“How does he accomplish so much?”
Money comes in
And praise
proportionate to effort
Criticism, jealousy, envy,
Competition
Visit others
Not you
But
Then the levee breaks…
If I were not so busy
I would say more
My Daughter The Poet
Oh, how I love the poet…
squinting at the sun, at me
not bowing to pray…
but somehow in a state of prayer
Her heart a few paces ahead
tender as duck down
head to one side she talks
part profile, lest either of you
forget other dimensions…
forward with a shoulder
on the door
it slowly gives way
she’s gone
leaving one main thing…
hope for her return.
What keeps you going?
her silky image.
What keeps her going?
Simplicity.
squinting at the sun, at me
not bowing to pray…
but somehow in a state of prayer
Her heart a few paces ahead
tender as duck down
head to one side she talks
part profile, lest either of you
forget other dimensions…
forward with a shoulder
on the door
it slowly gives way
she’s gone
leaving one main thing…
hope for her return.
What keeps you going?
her silky image.
What keeps her going?
Simplicity.
Trinity
Life, liberty, pursuit of happiness
Father, son and holy ghost
Peter, Paul and Mary
Body, mind, and soul
Beginning, middle, end
Larry, Curly and Moe
Lha, nyen and lu
On and on and on
Nature loves three
Birth, life, death
You, your momma, them
Here, there, everywhere
It is morning and the sun is out
It will pass overhead
Then sink beyond the western horizon
We will eat three meals again today
Go out, be somewhere a while and return
Thoughts arise, are appraised, then selected
Lives ascend, peak, descend
Eternity - bang, thrive, cease - repeat
Time, matter, space
Belief - heaven, earth, hell
Lines, circles, shapes
Cup of tea - hot water, sunk tea, drunk broth
Take out bag, rinse cup, put in cabinet
Joy - anticipate, celebrate, radiate
One world religion - worship number three
Learning, doing, relaxing
Remember yesterday, respect today, dream of tomorrow
I am a breathing stick vertically mapped onto a horizontal surface
I am a lit match with the flaming end burning hot with thought
I am a dotted I
I find the fetal position seductive
It gives me time off
Roundness of mother’s womb
Forces stretch straight
Arm out to the side
Paint me
I am a crossed T
Start with this understanding
Compose a coherent existence
Anticipate, actualize, assess
Roll up in a ball
What a marvelous time I had becoming me
Loving the breath I took
Grateful for the little moments
I could not have done it without you
It’s eerie, a lifetime award
With so much living to do
Deals for my head
Dreams for my heart
Deeds for my hands
Father, son and holy ghost
Peter, Paul and Mary
Body, mind, and soul
Beginning, middle, end
Larry, Curly and Moe
Lha, nyen and lu
On and on and on
Nature loves three
Birth, life, death
You, your momma, them
Here, there, everywhere
It is morning and the sun is out
It will pass overhead
Then sink beyond the western horizon
We will eat three meals again today
Go out, be somewhere a while and return
Thoughts arise, are appraised, then selected
Lives ascend, peak, descend
Eternity - bang, thrive, cease - repeat
Time, matter, space
Belief - heaven, earth, hell
Lines, circles, shapes
Cup of tea - hot water, sunk tea, drunk broth
Take out bag, rinse cup, put in cabinet
Joy - anticipate, celebrate, radiate
One world religion - worship number three
Learning, doing, relaxing
Remember yesterday, respect today, dream of tomorrow
I am a breathing stick vertically mapped onto a horizontal surface
I am a lit match with the flaming end burning hot with thought
I am a dotted I
I find the fetal position seductive
It gives me time off
Roundness of mother’s womb
Forces stretch straight
Arm out to the side
Paint me
I am a crossed T
Start with this understanding
Compose a coherent existence
Anticipate, actualize, assess
Roll up in a ball
What a marvelous time I had becoming me
Loving the breath I took
Grateful for the little moments
I could not have done it without you
It’s eerie, a lifetime award
With so much living to do
Deals for my head
Dreams for my heart
Deeds for my hands
My Advice On the Dead
People are no fun once they die
Take my dad (please) (not really)...budump bump
He totally changed after he died
Well not totally maybe
He did not like green peas or butter before
-that did not change
But he lost his taste for almost everything else
He even lost his appetite for kidding me about
This, that and the other
So, my advice on the dead is this…
If you want to have fun with someone
Don’t wait until they die
After that, all they want to do is sleep
To say they are stiffs
may be understating it
Take my dad (please) (not really)...budump bump
He totally changed after he died
Well not totally maybe
He did not like green peas or butter before
-that did not change
But he lost his taste for almost everything else
He even lost his appetite for kidding me about
This, that and the other
So, my advice on the dead is this…
If you want to have fun with someone
Don’t wait until they die
After that, all they want to do is sleep
To say they are stiffs
may be understating it
Economy of One
Consider the company of 10,000
Not that many Merchant Maniacs
Or ten times Amos’ Oceans
But real live peeps
Each one with an agenda
Not for meetings, that too maybe
But for a life
For a future of finds
The hand may be invisible
Guiding fortunes and ships
But I see two hands here
And all they touch I feel
You may be too weird for my taste
Blowing yourself up to get revenge
Or thinking of me as frozen parts
To snack on later
No matter any of that
You have us all in you
So many cells like ours
So curious when you look
Ask any of the many
Why they work so hard
You will conclude with me
We are an economy of one
From the leader we hear
Of nations and money to make
I’m not trying to hear that
My Jones is the Jones I know
The only exception at all
Might be in matters of the heart
For the time you are reading this
We can be a universe of two
Not that many Merchant Maniacs
Or ten times Amos’ Oceans
But real live peeps
Each one with an agenda
Not for meetings, that too maybe
But for a life
For a future of finds
The hand may be invisible
Guiding fortunes and ships
But I see two hands here
And all they touch I feel
You may be too weird for my taste
Blowing yourself up to get revenge
Or thinking of me as frozen parts
To snack on later
No matter any of that
You have us all in you
So many cells like ours
So curious when you look
Ask any of the many
Why they work so hard
You will conclude with me
We are an economy of one
From the leader we hear
Of nations and money to make
I’m not trying to hear that
My Jones is the Jones I know
The only exception at all
Might be in matters of the heart
For the time you are reading this
We can be a universe of two
Timing
Timing is everything
Unless the gift is late
Then it’s the thought that counts
A stitch in time saves nine
lives of cats…
clouds to which we go
with hearts of joy
Timing turns the strange comedic
Embarrassment to entertainment
The quirky to appropriate
The right words are often late
But jump on the opportunity
And those in the audience
are in awe…
you thought on your feet
Blinking and swallowing
Don’t have the same effect
-A reason to be centered
Focused on your game
available when opportunity knocks
You could write a poem
Of clichés
(This is a good start)
As cliches are expressions
whose time has past
over-the-hill phrases
which in their day
inspired thought
Gave glee
brought laughter
caused the utterer to imagine herself
quoted in Bartlett’s book
Style is timing
Knowing the latest
What’s in circulation
What’s going on…
Take a three-week trip to Paris
And upon your return
folks at home
may be singing new jingles
talking new computing
You need a refresher course
no matter how rich the culture you visited
Consider my daughter
Who arrived the last days of ‘81
Reagan was shot that year
Lennon the year before
Mount St. Helens blew the year before
Who knows where Halley’s comet was
Or the number of Apollo launched
Fogelberg sang Run for the Roses
and the Leader of the Band
Jordan was poised to go swoosh
Mario Cuomo would make his two-cities
speech in a couple of years
The 1982 World’s Fair
migrated to Knoxville, Tennessee
It was 6:18 Eastern Standard Time
Wednesday, December 30, 1981
She arrived
With Mamaw and me waiting
wheeled out under glass
like a dark pheasant
with eyes surveying
the white cotton surface
belly button injured
skin pink like balsam wood
I picked her up like tissue paper
Two hands one too much
The yellow-tinted pictures
Of me holding her
who took those pictures?
kindly hospital staff?
Show my glasses wider than her body
With ear pieces the girth
Of little fingers
Being small as an infant
is no point of pride
It’s routine
What’s special is the reduced
average of two
Looking at a newborn
is like being present at your own birth
So similar are first arrivals
A new person on the planet
The heavens released
Light shone in the Eastern sky…
But wise men made no trek
Instead Uncles Roger, Benny and JR
Spent the weekend
We drove to Gatlinburg
bought an infant-sized T-shirt
spray painted pink with the title, Stephanie
Just after Christmas
thirty hours on the clock
until the next year
tax break secured
Three weeks after Christmas vacation began
Two weeks before the next quarter
Tanga got an A for Timing
Unless the gift is late
Then it’s the thought that counts
A stitch in time saves nine
lives of cats…
clouds to which we go
with hearts of joy
Timing turns the strange comedic
Embarrassment to entertainment
The quirky to appropriate
The right words are often late
But jump on the opportunity
And those in the audience
are in awe…
you thought on your feet
Blinking and swallowing
Don’t have the same effect
-A reason to be centered
Focused on your game
available when opportunity knocks
You could write a poem
Of clichés
(This is a good start)
As cliches are expressions
whose time has past
over-the-hill phrases
which in their day
inspired thought
Gave glee
brought laughter
caused the utterer to imagine herself
quoted in Bartlett’s book
Style is timing
Knowing the latest
What’s in circulation
What’s going on…
Take a three-week trip to Paris
And upon your return
folks at home
may be singing new jingles
talking new computing
You need a refresher course
no matter how rich the culture you visited
Consider my daughter
Who arrived the last days of ‘81
Reagan was shot that year
Lennon the year before
Mount St. Helens blew the year before
Who knows where Halley’s comet was
Or the number of Apollo launched
Fogelberg sang Run for the Roses
and the Leader of the Band
Jordan was poised to go swoosh
Mario Cuomo would make his two-cities
speech in a couple of years
The 1982 World’s Fair
migrated to Knoxville, Tennessee
It was 6:18 Eastern Standard Time
Wednesday, December 30, 1981
She arrived
With Mamaw and me waiting
wheeled out under glass
like a dark pheasant
with eyes surveying
the white cotton surface
belly button injured
skin pink like balsam wood
I picked her up like tissue paper
Two hands one too much
The yellow-tinted pictures
Of me holding her
who took those pictures?
kindly hospital staff?
Show my glasses wider than her body
With ear pieces the girth
Of little fingers
Being small as an infant
is no point of pride
It’s routine
What’s special is the reduced
average of two
Looking at a newborn
is like being present at your own birth
So similar are first arrivals
A new person on the planet
The heavens released
Light shone in the Eastern sky…
But wise men made no trek
Instead Uncles Roger, Benny and JR
Spent the weekend
We drove to Gatlinburg
bought an infant-sized T-shirt
spray painted pink with the title, Stephanie
Just after Christmas
thirty hours on the clock
until the next year
tax break secured
Three weeks after Christmas vacation began
Two weeks before the next quarter
Tanga got an A for Timing
Satisfaction
If Mick Jagger can’t get any
What hope is there for me?
Hygienes bring it
Motivators make it stay
Its gravity influences even altruism
The road to satisfaction twists and turns
A straight line will not get you there
Like a city on a hill
we see it in the distance
but the path there winds
through valleys around hills
the lights go in
and out of view
Moses did not get to the promised land
after all his sacrificial leadership
He only got a peek
This manmade account of fate
Reminds us there are no shortcuts
Smiting rocks might only make it worse
Say you do…
get some that is
You only want more
and different
I wanted soft, blue, grainy
There I have it
Might I get
Hard, red and smooth?
Four goals on our compass
High-country north
Jelly-roll south
Bright new west
Homey old east
How bout you meet
Me in St. Louis?
Tiger Woods finally gets his Ph.D.
After finding a cure for cancer
On his trip to Mars
Where he met the holy trinity
You chide Tiger
While I goad him
Let’s wake him up
To all the possibilities
Exercise is good for me
And tiring
The chair looks better
After a few squats
If I sit too long
Squats are harder
Spend your improved health
Doing nothing in particular
Don’t check on yourself
It’s not a matter of move and measure
Move and measure
The pitiful lives of others
Sometimes bring me to tears
Hod carriers in the noonday sun
The perfect wall
Is not walking through that door
Brick-laying enlightenment
May well be sacrificed
On the alter of survival
When they fire you the price
And ask for more bids
Sit on your hands
Keep your head still
Make no commitment
Sometimes the money
Talks and says
I make promises
I don’t keep
But we should all
Be betrayed by
Such sweet nothings
When I judge others
It’s on my terms
Your inspiration
Amuses me
Another’s commitment
My distraction
She is pathetic
He despicable
The other inspiring
This one frightening
When it comes to living
We are all alone
Not the most satisfying conclusion?
Believe me
I know
What hope is there for me?
Hygienes bring it
Motivators make it stay
Its gravity influences even altruism
The road to satisfaction twists and turns
A straight line will not get you there
Like a city on a hill
we see it in the distance
but the path there winds
through valleys around hills
the lights go in
and out of view
Moses did not get to the promised land
after all his sacrificial leadership
He only got a peek
This manmade account of fate
Reminds us there are no shortcuts
Smiting rocks might only make it worse
Say you do…
get some that is
You only want more
and different
I wanted soft, blue, grainy
There I have it
Might I get
Hard, red and smooth?
Four goals on our compass
High-country north
Jelly-roll south
Bright new west
Homey old east
How bout you meet
Me in St. Louis?
Tiger Woods finally gets his Ph.D.
After finding a cure for cancer
On his trip to Mars
Where he met the holy trinity
You chide Tiger
While I goad him
Let’s wake him up
To all the possibilities
Exercise is good for me
And tiring
The chair looks better
After a few squats
If I sit too long
Squats are harder
Spend your improved health
Doing nothing in particular
Don’t check on yourself
It’s not a matter of move and measure
Move and measure
The pitiful lives of others
Sometimes bring me to tears
Hod carriers in the noonday sun
The perfect wall
Is not walking through that door
Brick-laying enlightenment
May well be sacrificed
On the alter of survival
When they fire you the price
And ask for more bids
Sit on your hands
Keep your head still
Make no commitment
Sometimes the money
Talks and says
I make promises
I don’t keep
But we should all
Be betrayed by
Such sweet nothings
When I judge others
It’s on my terms
Your inspiration
Amuses me
Another’s commitment
My distraction
She is pathetic
He despicable
The other inspiring
This one frightening
When it comes to living
We are all alone
Not the most satisfying conclusion?
Believe me
I know
Options
How free are we?
What a seductive question
There is less to it than you might think
The question is an intellectual tease
At first, the news appears spectacularly good
Ask of the human condition are your options unlimited?
The answer seems to come back, yes, unlimited
No observable boundaries
Since nothing has transpired
Nothing has been ruled out
But then make the first move
And you are changed forever
You have learned something of means and tools
With that move, and subsequent ones
Options drop off precipitously
When I chose my topic, options
I strapped myself into a harness
Fixed myself in place as it were
I would be true to my intention
But the word options limited me
That is how our options lop off
Only certain actions are permitted
Given our means and tools
And with these we reach a destination
Which we revise as our chosen one
But the matter is not entirely about me
And where I find myself now
Actions have fairly predictable outcomes
And these results
Constrain subsequent actions
Suppose a person of poverty wakes up
Determined to find a job that day
Grooms herself nicely and heads out
Vowing not to give up
Till her name is on a work contract
Her first stop is McDonald’s
She spends her last three dollars on breakfast
Browses the newspaper want ads
Borrows a pen from the counter clerk
Circles exactly three local jobs
The three companies are spread over the city
So distance to travel would come to 20 miles
Which means, if she walks to each place
She will not be able to get to all that day
And complete applications
Taking a bus is an option
If she is willing to bum bus money off someone
Even at that
She will need a copy of the bus schedule
To plan her circuit of visits
By the time she scrapes the bus money together
Walks to the station
Picks up the bus schedule
Maps out her itinerary
Her confidence is waning
She determines she needs three more dollars
For something to eat midday
It is 10:30 in the morning
The day is getting away
See how her options erode?
Meanwhile across town
A rich girl awakens refreshed
Ready for another day of activity
She showers, has a splendid breakfast
Slips into the car
Hits the cell phone
Books meetings and opportunities to last the day
For fourteen splendid hours she considers only options
Never obstacles
Forgive her if she is deluded
She comes to believe in her own freedom
Indeed that all the world is free
So if money does not buy happiness
I guess from the above
We might say it at least buys options
Indeed, money is just one form of capital
Capital is anything that increases our options
Knowledge can open doors,
As can extortion, coercion, bribery,
Good looks, luck, practice
Is there a useful conclusion to be reached?
I think so, and it’s this
If as we live out our lives
We learn how to consistently
Do what our means and tools suggest
We can keep our list of options as long as possible
It will never be infinite
For perhaps no single word better defines
The human condition than the word finite
This logic is a simplifier
A simplifier with wisdom and it is this…
If I do what “must be done” today
Tomorrow looks much brighter
If I do not
Tomorrow’s options are diminished
And with that in mind
I believe what “must be done”
By me, right now
Is to share a prose poem
With hope for us as its inspiration
What a seductive question
There is less to it than you might think
The question is an intellectual tease
At first, the news appears spectacularly good
Ask of the human condition are your options unlimited?
The answer seems to come back, yes, unlimited
No observable boundaries
Since nothing has transpired
Nothing has been ruled out
But then make the first move
And you are changed forever
You have learned something of means and tools
With that move, and subsequent ones
Options drop off precipitously
When I chose my topic, options
I strapped myself into a harness
Fixed myself in place as it were
I would be true to my intention
But the word options limited me
That is how our options lop off
Only certain actions are permitted
Given our means and tools
And with these we reach a destination
Which we revise as our chosen one
But the matter is not entirely about me
And where I find myself now
Actions have fairly predictable outcomes
And these results
Constrain subsequent actions
Suppose a person of poverty wakes up
Determined to find a job that day
Grooms herself nicely and heads out
Vowing not to give up
Till her name is on a work contract
Her first stop is McDonald’s
She spends her last three dollars on breakfast
Browses the newspaper want ads
Borrows a pen from the counter clerk
Circles exactly three local jobs
The three companies are spread over the city
So distance to travel would come to 20 miles
Which means, if she walks to each place
She will not be able to get to all that day
And complete applications
Taking a bus is an option
If she is willing to bum bus money off someone
Even at that
She will need a copy of the bus schedule
To plan her circuit of visits
By the time she scrapes the bus money together
Walks to the station
Picks up the bus schedule
Maps out her itinerary
Her confidence is waning
She determines she needs three more dollars
For something to eat midday
It is 10:30 in the morning
The day is getting away
See how her options erode?
Meanwhile across town
A rich girl awakens refreshed
Ready for another day of activity
She showers, has a splendid breakfast
Slips into the car
Hits the cell phone
Books meetings and opportunities to last the day
For fourteen splendid hours she considers only options
Never obstacles
Forgive her if she is deluded
She comes to believe in her own freedom
Indeed that all the world is free
So if money does not buy happiness
I guess from the above
We might say it at least buys options
Indeed, money is just one form of capital
Capital is anything that increases our options
Knowledge can open doors,
As can extortion, coercion, bribery,
Good looks, luck, practice
Is there a useful conclusion to be reached?
I think so, and it’s this
If as we live out our lives
We learn how to consistently
Do what our means and tools suggest
We can keep our list of options as long as possible
It will never be infinite
For perhaps no single word better defines
The human condition than the word finite
This logic is a simplifier
A simplifier with wisdom and it is this…
If I do what “must be done” today
Tomorrow looks much brighter
If I do not
Tomorrow’s options are diminished
And with that in mind
I believe what “must be done”
By me, right now
Is to share a prose poem
With hope for us as its inspiration
Is There a Notary in the House?
Are you going to the summary review?
Oh, but I suspect you are
As it’s not optional
A command performance and all
One where we all judge and are judged
Jesus’ protestations to the contrary
And where the audience of your audience
Observes same of mine
I had a friend who divorced
And for the remainder of her life
Searched without ceasing for a court
To air her damage claims
We need groups to convene in our cases
To read depositions
Perhaps juries of our peers
Assessment panels for our egos
You pay attention to me
Another watches you
A third party reviews her
And so on it goes
I’ll be darned if I can figure
Who will get the last word
Who will be the final arbiter
Have you thought of this?
Who evaluates evaluators?
Signs the final document
Files it and turns out the lights
Is there a notary public in the house?
Oh, but I suspect you are
As it’s not optional
A command performance and all
One where we all judge and are judged
Jesus’ protestations to the contrary
And where the audience of your audience
Observes same of mine
I had a friend who divorced
And for the remainder of her life
Searched without ceasing for a court
To air her damage claims
We need groups to convene in our cases
To read depositions
Perhaps juries of our peers
Assessment panels for our egos
You pay attention to me
Another watches you
A third party reviews her
And so on it goes
I’ll be darned if I can figure
Who will get the last word
Who will be the final arbiter
Have you thought of this?
Who evaluates evaluators?
Signs the final document
Files it and turns out the lights
Is there a notary public in the house?
Waiting For Friends
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of the importance of now
Zen and other masters poo poo time
The past is best left that way
The future cannot be held in advance
There is only this moment
And it is not a point
The movement of life is analog
Not digital, nothing is discrete
There are no elements
There is no form
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of the threeness of things
The valley stretches within limit
The crest rises as transition
The mountain looms in its authority
Some occasions are singular
Forcing anticipation in us
Like an approaching weather front
Ridges of high pressure dominate
Then they are swept away
Sometimes in violence
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of temporariness
We have locked arms to walk together
Buried fathers and mothers
Even brothers and sisters
Groaned under the weight of personal finance
Consumed as our society is wont to do
Celebrated successes and absorbed failures
Bold nature holds us up
Suspends us in our own wave
We head for the shore
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of the future
Joyful “we just got heres”
How was the traffic?
Which way did you come?
Is it going to rain?
When do we go to bed?
Good morning old friend
Attack the days don’t just seize them
Till the taillights fade down the lane
And we return to our recliners
I am reminded of the importance of now
Zen and other masters poo poo time
The past is best left that way
The future cannot be held in advance
There is only this moment
And it is not a point
The movement of life is analog
Not digital, nothing is discrete
There are no elements
There is no form
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of the threeness of things
The valley stretches within limit
The crest rises as transition
The mountain looms in its authority
Some occasions are singular
Forcing anticipation in us
Like an approaching weather front
Ridges of high pressure dominate
Then they are swept away
Sometimes in violence
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of temporariness
We have locked arms to walk together
Buried fathers and mothers
Even brothers and sisters
Groaned under the weight of personal finance
Consumed as our society is wont to do
Celebrated successes and absorbed failures
Bold nature holds us up
Suspends us in our own wave
We head for the shore
As I sit here awaiting friends to arrive
I am reminded of the future
Joyful “we just got heres”
How was the traffic?
Which way did you come?
Is it going to rain?
When do we go to bed?
Good morning old friend
Attack the days don’t just seize them
Till the taillights fade down the lane
And we return to our recliners
Jeopardy
Elephants in the room for $100
Death
What is the source of all fears?
Elephants in the room for $200
Sex
What is at the same time the greatest motivator and distracter?
Elephants in the room for $300
God
What is the reason for so many “true” religions?
Elephants in the room for $400
Conflict, war and violence
What are unnecessary complications of living?
Elephants in the room for $500
Death, Sex and God
What are the three great confusions causing conflict, war and violence?
Death
What is the source of all fears?
Elephants in the room for $200
Sex
What is at the same time the greatest motivator and distracter?
Elephants in the room for $300
God
What is the reason for so many “true” religions?
Elephants in the room for $400
Conflict, war and violence
What are unnecessary complications of living?
Elephants in the room for $500
Death, Sex and God
What are the three great confusions causing conflict, war and violence?
After Outpatient Surgery
Pensive for days
Pens and needles
Procedure behind
Pain averted
Medicine high
Just we two
Stay-at-home hope
Sleep-in opportunity
Life of the fortunate
Those with good news
Mindful of others
Facing cold reality
Deserving…
We think
A few hours
Of…
Freedom…
Drifting off…
Into…
Churchill’s sleep of the saved
Pens and needles
Procedure behind
Pain averted
Medicine high
Just we two
Stay-at-home hope
Sleep-in opportunity
Life of the fortunate
Those with good news
Mindful of others
Facing cold reality
Deserving…
We think
A few hours
Of…
Freedom…
Drifting off…
Into…
Churchill’s sleep of the saved
Walking Mom's Dog
The dog is little even for a dog
Too light
Intensity in fur
Absorber of fears
Reflector of purpose
I take the leash
My brother follows
We leave the warm apartment
Behind our mom’s current baby
Outside…
Squats, hikes and scratches
We joke
Too human for such instinct
My brother chuckles behind me
His eyes on my movement
Remembering decades, I bet
Of being together and then not
Of hard times dreaming
Of someday having enough
For endless Ale-8s and bags of cashews
One short late fall day we have together
Out with our canine sibling
Mom’s current recipient of
Coo coos and there theres
He laughs too loud at anything I say
Any way I turn
That’s how brothers say I love you
More than two men
And a tiny friend
We both knew
You just do
Too light
Intensity in fur
Absorber of fears
Reflector of purpose
I take the leash
My brother follows
We leave the warm apartment
Behind our mom’s current baby
Outside…
Squats, hikes and scratches
We joke
Too human for such instinct
My brother chuckles behind me
His eyes on my movement
Remembering decades, I bet
Of being together and then not
Of hard times dreaming
Of someday having enough
For endless Ale-8s and bags of cashews
One short late fall day we have together
Out with our canine sibling
Mom’s current recipient of
Coo coos and there theres
He laughs too loud at anything I say
Any way I turn
That’s how brothers say I love you
More than two men
And a tiny friend
We both knew
You just do
A 28th Birthday Sonnet with a French Twist
These lines are to you my daughter of two score years and eight
As we balance the state of Tennessee like orbs on a dumbbell
This Wednesday reminds me of the one you today commemorate
I am so sorry not to be there but will call later to wish you well
You are still young, some say in the prime of your physical life
As loved as you were the day your mother bit my finger in pain
How glorious to tell the world you are my daughter and she my wife
Each holiday season the thrill waxes for me when for others it may wane
I hope today is as special or as ordinary as you would like it to be
May your memories and dreams be warm and exciting, respectively
Serious thoughts on a year-ending birthday must be hard to flee
But after so much practice you probably do it instinctively
Revel in your physical prime with joy de vie, or if you wish, just plain joy
Dance with the other angels to the purpose of how do you say je ne sais quois
As we balance the state of Tennessee like orbs on a dumbbell
This Wednesday reminds me of the one you today commemorate
I am so sorry not to be there but will call later to wish you well
You are still young, some say in the prime of your physical life
As loved as you were the day your mother bit my finger in pain
How glorious to tell the world you are my daughter and she my wife
Each holiday season the thrill waxes for me when for others it may wane
I hope today is as special or as ordinary as you would like it to be
May your memories and dreams be warm and exciting, respectively
Serious thoughts on a year-ending birthday must be hard to flee
But after so much practice you probably do it instinctively
Revel in your physical prime with joy de vie, or if you wish, just plain joy
Dance with the other angels to the purpose of how do you say je ne sais quois
I'll Run For Joy
Before we all head for the kiss-proof world
A few things need saying
I have loved me some late nights
And mornings with friends
Does anything else but such love
Last forever?
I have run for those who could not
Mary Nelle crumpled in a car near Lexington, TN
My father in the hospital in Lexington, KY
Margrethe off a Nebraska roof
Terry Fox ran with one leg
I struggle with two
Bannister: the human spirit is indomitable
Me: time is the runner behind us
Joy: named by a prophet, and although pain follows Joy
Remember please: The greatest Joy follows pain
You smile and teach us more
Joy ten, Sadness four
You can be the breeze at my back
You can be the wind this time
The kiss-proof world will wait
We’ll huddle just this side the gate
And as eager friends linger
Till the sun breaks through
Then with the light another chance
And this time, I’ll run for Joy
A few things need saying
I have loved me some late nights
And mornings with friends
Does anything else but such love
Last forever?
I have run for those who could not
Mary Nelle crumpled in a car near Lexington, TN
My father in the hospital in Lexington, KY
Margrethe off a Nebraska roof
Terry Fox ran with one leg
I struggle with two
Bannister: the human spirit is indomitable
Me: time is the runner behind us
Joy: named by a prophet, and although pain follows Joy
Remember please: The greatest Joy follows pain
You smile and teach us more
Joy ten, Sadness four
You can be the breeze at my back
You can be the wind this time
The kiss-proof world will wait
We’ll huddle just this side the gate
And as eager friends linger
Till the sun breaks through
Then with the light another chance
And this time, I’ll run for Joy
Grendel's Mother
If anxiety is Grendel,
death is Grendel’s mother
the great anxiety,
that shows the way…
Suppose you had no TV, radio or magazines
to bring news of slaughters around the globe
or even of someone falling from a horse in the next county.
Explore nature, drink from creeks, imitate birds,
bleed or break a bone, things can get worse.
Like first love, sex, or kindergarten,
one becomes aware of death for the first time
only once.
It is a greater mystery than rainbows,
Than the color of the sky,
Than the Bermuda Triangle.
And the source of the life urge.
Wren, the architect of St. Paul’s Cathedral
and other great buildings of London
exhorted the city to destroy
much built prior to the fire of 1666.
He was never suspected to have burnt the city,
but he would help it start anew,
to do better.
Death and destruction lay all around
where he thought and worked.
He lived to be 91, not that longevity is the best test
but he survived the fire, the Great Plague
and the religious psychosis that pervaded the era
(leading to witch-hunting, crusades, inquisitions).
Wren said, “If you want to know my legacy, look around you.”
It is not a requirement of living to seek greatness
nobility or a lasting legacy.
Most who have achieved
have done so not out of ambition
but from the fear of death
choked into a love of life
to serve as a generator
of electricity to power deeds.
Existential individualism can leave you lonely
too dopamine-deprived to make good
on skills inherited, tricks learned.
You rush to the arms of lovers, to a community,
seek solace in the bottle
Still, the best chemical is the wedding of death to life.
Fritz Perls said:
“Lose your mind and come to your senses.”
Commune with ideas
And mix this interaction with the real.
When the notion of death comes to mind,
And links with your authentic person…
Then you can feel
Then you can live.
death is Grendel’s mother
the great anxiety,
that shows the way…
Suppose you had no TV, radio or magazines
to bring news of slaughters around the globe
or even of someone falling from a horse in the next county.
Explore nature, drink from creeks, imitate birds,
bleed or break a bone, things can get worse.
Like first love, sex, or kindergarten,
one becomes aware of death for the first time
only once.
It is a greater mystery than rainbows,
Than the color of the sky,
Than the Bermuda Triangle.
And the source of the life urge.
Wren, the architect of St. Paul’s Cathedral
and other great buildings of London
exhorted the city to destroy
much built prior to the fire of 1666.
He was never suspected to have burnt the city,
but he would help it start anew,
to do better.
Death and destruction lay all around
where he thought and worked.
He lived to be 91, not that longevity is the best test
but he survived the fire, the Great Plague
and the religious psychosis that pervaded the era
(leading to witch-hunting, crusades, inquisitions).
Wren said, “If you want to know my legacy, look around you.”
It is not a requirement of living to seek greatness
nobility or a lasting legacy.
Most who have achieved
have done so not out of ambition
but from the fear of death
choked into a love of life
to serve as a generator
of electricity to power deeds.
Existential individualism can leave you lonely
too dopamine-deprived to make good
on skills inherited, tricks learned.
You rush to the arms of lovers, to a community,
seek solace in the bottle
Still, the best chemical is the wedding of death to life.
Fritz Perls said:
“Lose your mind and come to your senses.”
Commune with ideas
And mix this interaction with the real.
When the notion of death comes to mind,
And links with your authentic person…
Then you can feel
Then you can live.
Love The Poem
Love - the substitute of the 20th century
A song of commitment?
Call it love…
Friendship?
Same
Devotion?
Ditto
Deep emotion?
Ibid.
Rock and Roll
In search of a reason to be
--rescued by love
Country music may twang
But it speaks of misery
Loss
Drinking
Trains
And not just love…
You can fall in love with yourself
And never recover
Or love can be your job
Your career
A form of artistic expression
It can help you move beyond
Love unites mind, body and emotion
But it can fool like false gold
As a young man I cruised the street
Stomach rolling to see certain cars
Oh the proxies for love…
It can mean nothing
It can be a 24-hour virus
It can be over abundant
Or like a currency
That buys less and less
A form of inflation
With a rich history
sublime manifestations (agape)
friendship (philia)
corporeal (eros)
Two wrapped-up people
Are said to “make love”
As if love came from
Sweat and gyration
For it sounds bad
To say they: “make pleasure”
No word is euphemized more than love
Aristotle spoke of friendship
Of the utilitarian, using the other
To the selfless,
Each seeking the best for the other
Which brings us to trust
The biggest thorn
In the side of love…
It comes down to one
Risking all for the other
With no certainty of reaction
Love, the great gamble
Which at its freest
Throws self to the wind
Past better judgment
A dive into the deep
The story of Romeo and Juliet
Is more defiance than love…
Since love is not pathetic
But of clear purpose, strength of will
Under its influence the two
Are attracted, yes,
But even more,
They are enthralled
By the thought of living
The impulse of love is life
The impulse of loyalty is fear
A clash between words and worlds
A lover will die to protect the loved
But not to possess
Romeo and Juliet remind us
Love can be ruled by madness
Yet love is the highest emotion
And at its Zenith is pure passion
And though the two sleep poorly together
Passion is affirming, not debilitating
And mindful love?
Life itself
A song of commitment?
Call it love…
Friendship?
Same
Devotion?
Ditto
Deep emotion?
Ibid.
Rock and Roll
In search of a reason to be
--rescued by love
Country music may twang
But it speaks of misery
Loss
Drinking
Trains
And not just love…
You can fall in love with yourself
And never recover
Or love can be your job
Your career
A form of artistic expression
It can help you move beyond
Love unites mind, body and emotion
But it can fool like false gold
As a young man I cruised the street
Stomach rolling to see certain cars
Oh the proxies for love…
It can mean nothing
It can be a 24-hour virus
It can be over abundant
Or like a currency
That buys less and less
A form of inflation
With a rich history
sublime manifestations (agape)
friendship (philia)
corporeal (eros)
Two wrapped-up people
Are said to “make love”
As if love came from
Sweat and gyration
For it sounds bad
To say they: “make pleasure”
No word is euphemized more than love
Aristotle spoke of friendship
Of the utilitarian, using the other
To the selfless,
Each seeking the best for the other
Which brings us to trust
The biggest thorn
In the side of love…
It comes down to one
Risking all for the other
With no certainty of reaction
Love, the great gamble
Which at its freest
Throws self to the wind
Past better judgment
A dive into the deep
The story of Romeo and Juliet
Is more defiance than love…
Since love is not pathetic
But of clear purpose, strength of will
Under its influence the two
Are attracted, yes,
But even more,
They are enthralled
By the thought of living
The impulse of love is life
The impulse of loyalty is fear
A clash between words and worlds
A lover will die to protect the loved
But not to possess
Romeo and Juliet remind us
Love can be ruled by madness
Yet love is the highest emotion
And at its Zenith is pure passion
And though the two sleep poorly together
Passion is affirming, not debilitating
And mindful love?
Life itself
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)