Archive for the ‘poem’ Category

Those Two Brave Men

January 27, 2019

Once, but maybe never again,

two men

standing in the cold

one young and one old;

TwoMen

they meet

but decline to greet

in the middle of a confrontation

on hallowed ground of a dividing nation.

They do not speak,

for all around them arise a peak

of anger and resentment—

a country devoid of contentment

in the cauldron of history.

Seems now it’s become a mystery

what has become of our unity,

as now we’re obsessed with impunity—

blame the younger, not the older one

as the chieftain wordlessly beats his drum;

but while the young man struggles to maintain a smile

the world wide web spews a viral pile

of all the blame that’s fit to hint

as talking head trolls make their dent

in the warp and woof of the data tide

in which we slavishly slouch to hide

the downing of civility

and the haughty thrusting of hostility.

We ride the wave of accusative gestalt—

let us assign a verdict who’s at fault.

But whose fault it is I think i know;

let’s blame it on the undertow

of madmen on the right

pulling young men into the fight,

or maybe let’s blame it on the leftist cadres

who would depose those maga padres,

while all the while the widening gyre

spins up in streaming twitter fire.

Hourly it whirls higher higher

while all the while it was nothing more

than a clueless kid who for one moment tore

our torrent stream of data angst asunder,

generating for a moment some online thunder.

So what once was our peace and tranquility

slips beneath the dearth of our virility.

’Twas on a cold gray day, I say,

we beheld it— but  for never again—

those two brave men

standing in the cold,

one young and the other old.

Glass half-Full

Advertisements

This is for the birds

January 25, 2019

I thought I’d take a gander

at our nation’s slow meander

into polarized politics’ clown’d identities,

as chronic deficits  drain our amenities.

Meanwhile back at the ranch

not much chance in extending an olive branch

in  the present  state of our union,

cuz our leaders share no communion.

They find it advantageous to split  into camps

which somehow blows out our Liberty lamps.

So obsessed with the clown scenario showdown,

congress anoints the annual guvmint shutdown,

until  the farcical politics runs its course

while our nation’s deficit’s on a runaway horse.

Someday no credibility will be left in the US dollar

as Fed and Treasury in red ink they waller.

Someday dollars will be valued as turds,

cuz their politicking’s all for the birds.

ArguBrds

Glass half-Full

Fidelity

January 4, 2019

Marriage is the best.

I believe it’s better than all the rest,

safer, more satisfying, more productive than the horde

of various pairings, trysts, hot encounters this fast life may afford.

While Frank did croon back in the bygone time

of old love affairs being like fine old wine

I find fidelity to be the best kind.

Sleepin’ around aint worth a dime.

I’m entitled to my opinion, you know,

‘cause our Constitution says it’s so.

I know you may disagree with me,

and that’s your right, as it should be.

I’m just sayin’ one man one woman is the way to go,

Since way back when and long ago.

I mean I know in our g-generation

we thought we had some great revelation

that it was all about free love and blahblahblah,

but when the dust settled, race was over and last hurrah

’tis best to settle down with just one mate

and plant your seeds, your vines, and you know—procreate.

I find that children are where it’s at;

watching ‘em grow—nothing better than that.

Long time ago

in the big flowerpower show

Steven sang to love the one you’re with

and while it seemed a cool idea, it’s really just a hippie myth.

I’m glad I found the grace to settle down

instead of baying like some heated hound

at every pair of flashing eyes and bouncing breasts.

I’d rather have our shared memories in the old hope chest.

Judy blue eyes, joking, compared Steve to a dog;

the audience laughed, re-visiting their summer-of-love fog.

But where have all the children gone,

long time passing,

where have all the children gone

long time ago?

Where have all the children gone?

Gone to divorce, so many of us,

spirited away by lust, mistrust, diamonds and rust.

When will they ever learn?

When will we ever learn?

I mean I know its the cool thing to say

to let us all be trans and bi and gay

but give me marriage straight any day

and time will reveal it’s the best way

‘cuz when you get old and gray

you’ll have a mate with whom you stay.

Yes, Virginia, a lifetime of shared fidelity

is more precious and productive than wild revelry.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it,

‘though you are free to live however you want to do it.

You go your way and I’ll go mine.

Just give me my wife for the rest of my time.

TwoBlooms

King of Soul

On Questionable Apples

December 22, 2018

Long, long ago and far, far removed from this present day and time, it is written

that our ancestress Eve was pondering an apple or something similar

on the infamous tree of knowledge of good and evil.

Whilst she pondered, neither weak nor weary,

o’er forbidden fruit of not-forgotten lore,

suddenly there came a hissing,

as of someone gently kissing,

kissing her cognitive mind

with a curious temptive find.

Her visitor, the serpent, was speaking.

Thereby was her curiosity peaking,

and as her imagination was being fed,

the subtle serpent said

take a bite

it’s all right.

If you do it, your eyes will be opened.

So she did, and they were;

her eyes were opened.

Meanwhile, back at the Eden ranch,

her significant other was wondering,

What’s up with Eve?

Where’s my woman to whom I cleave?

So he ambled over to that mysterious tree

to see

in what circumstance his Eve may be.

And there he found her partaking

and little did they know that history was in their making

when Adam grabbed the thing and took a bite

from that forbidden fruit which expanded their sight

because the serpent had said it would open their eyes,

as Genesis says indeed it did open their eyes,

so now they would know not only good but evil as well

and so from that pivotal tasting ’til now, all hell

breaks loose;

hence all the bad news

from then till now,

and all the trouble that human traffic will allow,

which only goes to show

what maybe you already know:

A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

Now in this present world we find

a similar situation in our mind.

When’er we partake of  world wide web,

by a tree of virtual good and evil are we fed:

implanted with some good talkers and  bad stalkers,

and many types of souls and trolls,

with all stripes of porn and scorn,

even hateful tirades of race

opposed by traces of amazing grace.

Apples

So regarding any fruit therein you find

be judicious and take your time.

Don’t partake of anything in haste;

Be careful what you taste!

In the web of evil and good

be careful to partake of what  you  truly should.

So this  ancient lesson to your mind I bring:

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

King of Soul

Religion Relapse

December 20, 2018

How odd it is—as a 21st-century scenario sets itself up—

we see the world gone mad preparing again to erupt.

So unforeseen it was that our great Argument of the Ages,

the dogmatic contentions of cadres and sages

should abandon the trappings of intelligent delusion

and revert to jihadic religious intrusion.

 

Europa intelligentsia had decided that God was indeed dead,

and they talked for a few generations of what to do instead:

whether a capitalist path or the communist wrath,

then a communist road or a big fascist goad—

And in the midst of all that

polarizing ideological spat—

we waged two world-class wars to settle the matter

of who should wield power and who should be scattered.

You know the drill;

it persists among us still:

Who should be in charge?

a strong-arm few or the people at large—

a fascist state or some proletarian rabble,

by authoritarian edict or sectarian babble?

  

After all the holocaust horror and gulag gangrene

we plummet again to mucky slog of humanic bad dream.

Obsessive jihadi encircle the world;

believing their fanatic flag will fully unfurl.

Back at the hub the elite are perplexed,

while their technocrat cadres compute the complex

as the widening gyre of the jihadi fire

leaps higher and higher and higher and higher.

  

Perhaps the privileged, enlightened elite

should renew communion with the (wo)man on the street

whose faith in a sacrificial, Prince of Peace deity

ChristCruc

brings resurrection instead of  jihad enmity.

Could it be that the God who was tossed aside

by the godless secular bureaucratizing tide

is actually the same eternal entity

who spoke our world out of chaos infinity?

Oh, let us recover some providential indemnity,

and by this testament regain our serenity.

After the Enlightenment, the Ideology, the Decline and the Fall,

Think about it the repentative way: Selah, y’all.

King of Soul

Shifting Sands Sublime

November 3, 2018

Beneath the appearance of things

behind the wonder that contemplation brings

there lies a universe of joy and pain

entrained upon whatever relics still remain

of a world colored by some eternal stain;

and wherever that stain remains

things are not and will never be the same

provoking some to surmise it’s just a game

that they can play and then refrain

from any effort to name

or explain.

And yet,

so many live for what they can get;

they allow no time to pause and let

life just happen along the way

so they can soon look back and say

what a joy it is to pause and stay

in the lingering light of a well-lived day

while the world just turns on come what may.

Oh, history breaks on sands far away

while here we enter into the fray;

we laugh or cry along the way

tomorrow and today,

I say, I say:

If I could comprehend this troubled world

so creative, yet destructively unfurled

I’d grasp the mystery, so sublime

that slaps between the sands of time

on this ever-shifting, long shoreline—

this consciousness of mine,

maybe it’s in or out of line

and maybe with a little sip of wine,

yes, I’d dream up some silly little rhyme,

and whether it be sublime and fine

or not worth a dime,

it nevertheless is mine,

and yet it can be thine

if you take the time.

 

King of Soul

How BabyRow Be Made

September 26, 2018

Up there in the maternity ward is where the babies come out. After they’re born, the Ob staff lays them in little cradles all in a row, where fathers, friends and relatives of mama can gawk at the newborn and ooh and ah.

There they are all in a row, behind the glass, experiencing life in this world for the first time, not that they’ll remember this moment or anything. But there they are all in a row.

In another ward nearby, expectant mothers wait to have ultrasound pics taken of their developing unborn babies. There they all are in a row—the expectant mamas, waiting to get baby’s first pic.

Back In the ultrasound room, the tech person dawbs some gooey stuff on an expectant mama’s bulging belly; then she presses the ultrasound device  to bare skin and moves it around.

Suddenly BabyRow appears on the screen.

BabyRow

Lo and behold, it appears that BabyRow is already making some progress in physical and cognitive development.

Squinting, the tech wonders: what is that child doing? BabyRow appears to be counting his fingers!

Ultrasound Tech Barbie exclaims unexpectedly, “What in the world are you doing in there, BabyRow?”

Meanwhile, up in the stratosphere, something unusual is happening. From 93 million miles away, a Sonspot has just arrived at planet Earth. The wave of rogue  energy penetrates stratospheric earth.  Suddenly, without explanation, a phase change/spectrum reversal interchange  warps our planet’s delicately balanced spectrum of electromagnetic razzmatazz . . .

And sound morphs into light

while light moves into sound,

exposing presence of a planetary fight.

Perpetually in world it goes round by round.

While BabyRow counts on fingers

suddenly his musing ultrasound  lingers;

As Ultra forms image now of BabyRow

inexplicably his musing’s heard, roe by row.

Tech Barbie and Mama hear him, half-amazed

as BabyRow’s recitation changes phase:

“Eeenie meenie mynie moe,

  catch a fetus by the toe.

  Believe Brett and maybe I’ll come out alive.

  But believing Blasey I’ll surely take a dive.

  Don’t believe everything you hear on internet.

  I’d surely appreciate a chance at life to get.

  If judges abort the roe v wade,

  maybe then will BabyRow be made.”

  

Glass Chimera

A day in the Life

August 11, 2018

There we were, all in one place,

a generation lost in space.

Now here we are a half-century after

a life with all our pain and and laughter—

almost exactly fifty years to the day

since Sargent Pipper taught the band to play,

and though they been goin’ in and outa style

we are  gathered here to crack a smile.

So may I introduce to you?

–the one and only googled shears,

by which the great gargantuan engine hath snipped

every profound idle idol idyll mobile-friendly byte ever quipped:

HusPrague

I heard the news today, oh boy:

four trillion holes in tiny shiny mobile screens;

and though the holes were rather small

they had to rank them all.

Now they know how many holes it takes to fill

the mobile-friendly Mall

I’d love to turn your phone on . . . .

   King of Soul

Them two old trees

July 17, 2018

‘’Then Jacob was left alone, and . . . wrestled with him until daybreak.’’

From the smallest  of the small

through quarks at the bottom of it all

to the farthest galactic star,

through galaxies spun afar,

we wander in a maze;

we wonder at its ways:

Surely all this stuff did arise from the Creator!

Or maybe it evolved through Nature?

Contemplating incredible predetermined complexity,

yet astounded by so much intricate simplicity—

We find two data sources to uncover,

as if there are two original outgrowths to discover.

Now perched on a precipice of nihilistic trauma,

we recall an ancient hand-me-down, historic drama:

Two multi-branched entities with o’erhanging claims to maintain us:

Two historic flora-fauna, purporting to sustain us.

One provokes a quandary chasing endless  knowledge;

it arises from, like, stuff we learn in college;

the other, an affirmation, provides purpose for our strife:

we simply harvest belief from an ancient tree of life..

These two trees we see

manifested in humanity.

The smart ones manage to survive

Tree

while the faithful eternally revive . . .

Pinktree

‘. . . and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.”

King of Soul 

Sand Beach

June 13, 2018

(With appreciation of Matthew Arnold’s poem, Dover Beach)

The Ocean is strong  today.

The waves roll in; the sun is bright

upon the Pacific. In this island surf the light

sparkles and tumbles; the rocky shores stand,

steadfast and vast, under a friendly sun.

Let’s do the beach; this afternoon’s energy is vigorous.

But hey! from this long splash of spray,

where sea meets the sun-kiss’d land—

Sand1

Listen! we hear the pounding roar

of sand grains which the waves draw back, and fling,

forever, upon this high strand.

Beginning and ceasing, and then beginning again,

with a forceful rhythm it perseveres, to roll

The eternal resonance of wonder in.

Dear Matthew, back in the day,

heard this on the North Sea, and it brought

into his mind the ponderous ebb and flow

of our melancholy brood; we

hear it still the same; yet with that lamenting we discern

a reverberating of relentless purpose

in this pounding Pacific shore.

Oh sea of faith!

Persistent and unrelenting, all ‘round our earth’s shore—

you flap forever like folds of a bright banner unfurled.

Although I also feel

that ancient melancholy, the long, withdrawing roar,

retreating, in the breath

of the evening wind, laden with our roiling refugees

and the uncared-for masses of the world.

Oh, people, let us be true

To one another! For the world, which seems

to boil before us like a pot of strife—

so disjointed, so distraught, so stubbornly the same,

really has somewhere some joy, love, and even flashes of benevolence,

some certainty— here and there a little peace— even some easing of the pain,

while we here on this fragg’ed globe

get swept with fake news and tweeting dweebs who incite us,

as ill-informed combatants clash with their devices.

Glass Chimera