Noise

Up early (5:15 on the computer clock as I write this)
Everything is quiet in the house
A single bird makes its presence known
through the window to my right
saying will, will, will, will,
in bunches of four to seven
Or is it saying still, still, still, still?
No matter, other birds have joined now
the call and responses are varied…
A plane sends a smooth vibration down
on its way to Jackson’s little airport
The sun will not be up for a few minutes
maybe an hour, I’m not sure
This is what I’m up for…
to register the morning
to treat it with respect
to measure and be mindful of living
to account for another night’s passing.

The only other sounds
Are my fingers clicking the keyboard
and my knee causing the roll-out computer desk to groan
All hell could be breaking loose right now
somewhere in the world
but the peaceful morning has me enthralled
as you sleep in your house somewhere
say over a garage
perhaps doing a technological rant
now a chainsaw,
next a window shade raising
then a Moog synthesizer synthesizing
in your bedroom, out of earshot to me

I wonder how much quieter a house can get
I suppose I will find out someday
But this piece is not about quiet
nor emptiness
But noise and its cousins

Tones are musical
sounds are neutral
noise is awful
Noise is that distant siren that interrupts
signaling you are not only among the living
but also the dying
A musical note, say from the clarinet
or a jew’s harp, messes with your ears
tweaks them playfully…

A sound comes in but receives no evaluation
because you are too busy to chart it
or it is close to unchartable
You may not even know what it is
But a noise pierces, arouses, lays hard on the mind
Is one of the active ingredients in paranoia
To the languishing spirit, virtually every tone,
sound, or thud, is noise
The woman who finds herself
in an adulterous affair or
embezzling from her employer
or just bleeding too much
may well have trouble hearing
the bird’s song as anything but an alarm
On the other hand
let someone dwell a while in a place of bliss
near hysteria, out where few go
besides those taking ecstasy or LSD
and it does not matter if the sound is
later-years Bob Dylan singing
it soothes, sending the spirit soaring southerly

Imagine (or actually do it, if you can)
living in a land where they don’t speak your language
In a café in Paris (France)
no matter how in love with the French you may be
let someone breathe your native English
and your ears will hear its beauty above dish clatter
chair scraping, and hotsy-totsy expensive conversation
You turn, seeking to connect with that sweet melodious voice
Is it that, yes, I’m afraid it’s that
dangerous looking Yank there under the hanging basket
You fight the urge to wander over
to learn just what part of Texas he’s from
But then you remember the mantra
“Don’t mess with Texas” and you think better of it
Texas is not a whole other country
France is a whole other country
Be that as it may
although they speak southwestern
down in Texas
it will sound like home
to the lonely traveling American ear

Noise: that which makes music sound so sweet
Noise: the hammer hitting the anvil in the stirrup
Noise: the signal’s main competition
Of course something so ubiquitous
would get turned into a metaphor
Noise: that clutter in the head that drowns out joy
We could go on this way

I suspect some of having so much noise up there
in the head I mean
that they must stay active
keeping something happening
relegating the disquieting
(listen to my loud string of ing words)
to the background
I have awakened on certain mornings
with a roar in my ears and wondered
if I will be this way forever
Is this the beginning of my undoing?
Will it only grow from here?

Maybe the final words on noise are these
Without it, life would be
just sound and fury, signifying nothing (original huh?)
The meaning of noise only becomes clear
as part of the flow of living
After the din of the madding crowd
and the gong goes goioioioioioiooiing
I want to curl up beside a crackling fire
with a good book and celebrate its end
To be thankful for the sense of hearing
and on occasion, the hard-earned sound of silence

You may be one of those people
I sort of hope you are
Emily Dickinson-like enough
To lie still and learn
As much as anything I know
I wish for that capacity in you

Not even the piercing scream
“Get up and do blah blah blah”
can change your essential nature…
a creature sensitive to the differences among
tone, sound and noise
May you always discern so well
Consider it your own special way to wisdom

S.O.S.

Symbols of sanity (or why love is like a hammer)

I call them symbols of sanity,
but they are really
what I have learned at hardware stores
and what the B&W painting,
General Home repair crew
did at Arby's on Old Hickory
every morning before 7:30
These symbols have to do with the way you sip your coffee,
how you talk with sincerity about sincerely ordinary things,
what you don't say,
the way you demonstrate care by listening,
how long between thought out expressions,
how little concern you show for your own pain,
I call them symbols of sanity (SOS),
They FIND YOU on spring evening walks
while you're planting Azaleas or overseeding your lawn
Or when you get up early and have tea with your daughter
They are what lovebirds find to talk about after the lovemaking
when the outsider would think there is nothing left to say
Stuff, a great SOS word,
like how many times the average person swallows in a day
or why people's toes are shaped the way they are
or why it feels so good to enter the summertime...
It's funny lovebirds should creep into this twist on sanity,
but I've learned something about (wo)me(n) and love, and it is this:
it is best to love everybody and every moment a little bit,
and to save the head over heels for special occasions
Pure, unadulterated, sanity is mentally flirting with that gorgeous person while you're picking out the right sized nails for that storage building
and being willing to admit you are that complex
and that somewhere between the desire for the person's body
and the selfless construction of a handy hut
is where we all ultimately find ourselves
alone...
not quite smart enough to understand how our biology incorporates into a sensible existence but never dumb enough to just let it take over.

Before I go around that final bend I would like just once to
hold hands with "everywoman" I've never met (and never will literally), look her in the eye,
and say to her with the honesty of a B&W painter, you are stunning
and you represent your gender well but no better than I mine and
neither of us serves our kind better than that
lovely sun setting does the stars
and that all my life I have admired those you represent from
sometimes up close and sometimes from a distance but that
way beyond the sky we will unite
and along with the sun, moon, water, other men,
other women, machine, emotion, we will learn
to represent understanding and the ceremony
to celebrate the occasion will be called a marriage,
the wedding of the physical (flesh) with
potential (ideas)
But before then I will go on studying the symbols and searching for that perfect combination of
hardware (hammers and nails) and software (desires and glances).

Hope

Churchill rallied England asking for blood, sweat and tears
Roosevelt said “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself”
I say our hope is courage in the face of fear
Here with thoughts in my head and ideas on my shelf

During the mid 90s In the Balkans, people preferred the poetry book
featuring tough characters who persevere against long odds
But when it became clear to survivors they had what it took
Danielle Steele’s stories returned with love from the Gods

Sometimes in life we must throw our defiance a bone
Thoughts of transcendence up to the point of despair
And though desperate take solace our endurance is long
Cozying up to words that in better times we could not bear

If circumstances are to conquer the spirit in us
It must happen during an early attempt
For hope dies hard once we feel delight in overcoming self-doubt
Despair must sneak up on the vulnerable
and snuff them quickly,
for if the person survives the first wave of attack,
desperation is in for a protracted battle

In the best of possible worlds, no one would face tough times
But then we would never learn the worth of companionship
in the school of loneliness,
the assurance of positive thinking
in the classroom of dejection
the power of self-control
in the college of unlimited options
Real peace of mind is always earned
The light of hope is brightest
for those who endure the dark

On the eighth day God created the U.S. Constitution and Guns

On the eighth day God created the U.S. Constitution and Guns

Will Rogers said he never met a man he did not like
I have met people who never met a gun they did not like
I even know people who like guns more than people
Of course there is no amendment that says you can carry people

Jesus did not pack heat, but he is not on record as being against it
(It’s too bad we cannot get Jesus’ opinions on current events
If they ever have a church meeting where they perform this séance
I might have to dust off the old Sunday-go-to-meeting brogans)

The first bullets from guns must have been a marvel to get your mind around
Before - killing had to be done by throwing things or with your bare hands
Now, glory be to God, you could sit on your porch
And send a neighbor to eternity from his porch

Automatic washers and dryers got nothing on guns
Fancy cars and even airplanes can’t compete
If you want a job done right, forget Maytag or Boeing
Get yourself a Smith and Wesson

I would like that semi-automatic Glock to go
And, here, wrap it up in this copy of the constitution
And then yipeeiiaa, out of my way
Cause I am a good ole boy from the US of A

But really folks, let me get to the point
No yolk, yuck-yuck - serious as a heart attack
Projectiles vomited from metal tubes
Beget blood and guts like tapping a maple

To the Family of Joy

Sam said on Facebook she was terminally restless
And I thought - the story of my life
But of course, it was a medical term
Describing her state of mind

She went to Florida looking for treatment
But they said her heart couldn’t take it
So, she said, look on the bright side
I’m in sunny Florida
While you guys are stuck in the cold

I don’t want to make too much of it
But Joy was strong and beautiful
And did what only a few will do
Teach others in life
And in death

I am studying your lesson
Taking notes to prepare for
My own test
Thank you teacher Joy
May you rest in peace

Inner Me and Outer Me

Some of me is outside and some in
The in parts do not always agree with the out
What you see is not always what I am getting
The iceberg in me sometimes nicks my big boat
I can see a thing with this inside eye
And never quite name what I saw
Inner me meet outer me
Now play nice

I wanna live where they love people

Do you live where they love people?
Where they want everybody to get a fair shake?
Where they bring in cooked food when a neighbor is sick?
Promise to pray for each other?
Pound them with cards?
Talk for hours on the phone about how they are doing?
Jump for joy when Johnny hits a jumper?
Hold up traffic for a friend’s cat hurt in the middle of the road?
Joke in the middle of hell breaking loose - to help out?
Flirt with one another to pick up spirits more than anything?
Cuss fate, then ask for quick forgiveness?
Carry pictures of one another’s children?
Hurt deeply when Jim loses his job?
Give money when Jenny gets hitched?
If you do…
Stay put.