Cyclone Scene 3

The letter "A" mysteriously appears in the clouds. Lots of interesting words begin with this letter. Which one d'ya suppose the clouds had in mind?

 

POEM STORAGE LOCKER

 

HOMELAND INSECURITY

 

Remember the Weapons of Mass

Destruction? The ones they never

Found? There are those who’ll tell

You they still exist somewhere, but

It’s a secret. With all the technology

And good old American know-how

They still can’t tell us what became

Of those WMDs, their excuse for

Spilling all that blood. When they

Shrieked 'the sky is falling, let us

Save you', the whole country bent

Over and said 'as you wish'. Now,

As then,they don’t even need an

Excuse, never mind a court order –

To spy on you because they think

You’re interesting. Better not be

Too interesting. Better be a bland,

Dull, boring little drone, otherwise

If it’s a slow day they’ll aim all that

Technology at you just to find out,

In the name of public safety, who

An interesting person gets to sleep

With, and whether you’re concealing

A WMD between your sheets.

 

 

SHEEPDOG

 

When I come up with something

That seems halfway intelligent,

I try and put it into some form

I can share with you, because

Most of my day I’m just as

Speechless as everyone else.

I look at things and just go,

What the f—k. I feel like a

Sheepdog trying to keep my

Charges from falling prey to

The freedom that comes so

Naturally to them, and which

Wolves depend on. And who

Do they get mad at? The wolf?

No, me. Need I explain further

Why I’m mostly speechless?

 

BOOKS

 

What a sentimental dinosaur I

Must sound like, seriously sad

That the era of books seems to

Be ending. Global warming will

Mean fewer trees for paper, and

A cheap alternative to printing –

Texts right to your computer -

Already exists, so it’s really a

No-brainer. What paper that

Remains will be needed for

Toilet tissue, until computers

Can wipe our asses too.

 

SANTA

 

Consumerism and spirituality dance a

Mutually suspicious tango together

In December. Alas, my letter to Santa

Would reveal I’m just as materialistic

As anyone else. But if you were Santa,

I’d ask that you slide the benefit of a

Doubt down my chimney. And were

I to find even the smallest present of

Your trust under my tree, that would

Move me far more than any glittering

Bling from the mall. I’d put forgiveness

On my wish list, along with healing,

Acceptance and grace. If we could

Share the gift of understanding, then

I think we’d be getting closer to what

Christmas is all about.

 

JIMCARE

 

I know I should have asked you

First, but you're my doctor - that's

All there is to it. You've got the

Cure if you ever want to use it.

 

SKIN

 

My skin may be thick but it’s full

Of nerve endings. Honestly, my

Thoughts can’t all come from my

Well-ordered, logical brain, which

Actually prefers the comfortable,

Logical, practical, and reasonable.

Nope, my edgy thoughts must

Come from my skin when it rubs

Against poison plants or gets

Surly over weather variations or

Bristles at certain personalities.

My normal conversation wouldn’t

Resemble some of my more out

There observations, unless you

Were to listen to my skin.

 

CONFUSED WITH FOOD

 

Don’t you just wish sometimes

People were like food, existing

Just to please, just for your

Benefit, just for you well-being?

Don’t you love how food says,

Do anything you want with me.

Eat me hot, freeze me for later,

Spice me to your taste, bathe

Me in seasoning till I make

Your mouth water. Yum, yum,

Honey I’m home for dinner.

I believe I’ve illuminated the

Obesity epidemic spreading

Across America insidiously as

Communism in the ‘50s, but

Were I your food, I’d sincerely

Want to be a balanced meal,

Lots of what you like but also

Lots of what’s good for you.

 

WITCHY

 

If magic wands weren’t standard

Issue just for wicked witches, I’d

Wave one and say presto, abra

Cadabra, it’s all sorted out and

Everyone’s happy. All loose ends

Reconnected, all pressing questions

Answered or rendered irrelevant,

All with Heaven’s smiling approval

Because it’s done right. That’s what

I’d do if I had a magic wand. While

We’re at it, a broomstick in lieu of

Plane tickets would be great too.

 

MAGIC

 

You can’t rely on magic, but that

Doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s

Fickle, it hides, it’s unreliable, it

Would make a lousy employee.

Even Wizards get wounded when

Their spells backfire. Magic won’t

Make you a superhero. Magic is

Best approached with a certain

Humility, maybe a willingness to

Nurture without a constant eye

Towards a desired harvest. Keep

A pleasant garden for magic. It

Holds dear safe places it can rest

Without demands put upon it.

Magic wants to help, but knows

Too much help can be more like

Harm. Still, who knows, when it

Wakes it could always sprinkle

Your day with unexpected grace.

 

KITCHEN

 

This house feels like a home

Because of the ones who

Were here with me over the

Years, many long passed on,

But the kitchen feels like

They’re still here. This is

Where they took care of

Life’s most basic business –

Food, drink, doing dishes,

And I still live by what I

Learned from them. Do we

Really have any choice about

Ideas of right or wrong

Drummed into our heads?

Is it anyone’s fault the ones

Doing the drumming had no

Way of knowing the world

Beyond their kitchen?

 

SEE

 

How do you really see someone?

Can you put on sunglasses to cut

Their glare without perceiving

Them as darker than they really

Are? Does what you see through

Rose colored glasses really have

A rose fragrance to go with it?

Can you put someone under a

Microscope in the name of science,

Analyze their germs in the hope of

Curing their sickness without

Catching it yourself? Different

Ways of seeing give you different

Images, but the word image is

Always close to the word imagine.

The truest way to see someone

Is the way they see themselves,

But how would I know what that

Is when I can only look from afar?

 

LITERALLY

 

When they say don’t love the world,

They really ought to qualify that as,

Don’t love the world of man. As for

Our planet, it needs all the love we

Can spare. The world of man is an

Abstraction, indicating our species

Considers itself separate from its

Own origins. Just because man

Invented language, our definitions

And dogmas don’t make us more

Than a luckier class of monkeys.

Like monkeys that discovered how

Bones made excellent weapons

And proceeded to hit each other

Over the head just because they

Could, our so-called discoveries

Have just as often been our own

Undoing as our salvation. Relative

To our species’ long tenure at this

Address, we only recently

“Discovered” that we live on a

Rock floating through space. Left

To our devices, we ruin our planet

As casually as an infant soils its

Diapers. Don’t love the world?

Hey, the world gave you a tongue

To say those words with. And this

Is what you give back?

 

LAUNDRY

 

Carelessly piled in rude proximity

To each other’s soils and smells,

Pelted with goo or white flake,

(Usually by a white flake), then

Drowned in darkness as the

Heartless machine’s waters turn

Hostile. It’s receding leaves us a

Crumpled, damp distortion of our

Once beautiful selves. And as a

Final indignity, we’re spun about

Violently for what seems like an

Eternity till we collapse in a

Bewildered heap. Is this what you

Have to go through to get clean?

Beware, housewives of America –

What goes around comes around.

Precious, I’m on to you by now –

You throw me in that torturous,

Spinning thing, but I know you’ll

Just make me dirty all over again.

 

ACKNOWLEDGE

 

How do you acknowledge all

That you know, all that you’ve

Felt, and all that you’ve thought

Without making it seem all of

That's more important than

Everything you’ve yet to know,

Yet to feel and yet to think?

Only by choice. Sometimes

Even the wise pretend that

Yesterday never happened,

While only the most foolish

Pretend tomorrow never will.

 

SCALE

 

Hope in change for the better,

Fear of change for the worse –

The scale starts out balanced

Equally, then we start moving

Around, acting, reacting, beliefs

And feelings and feelings start

Shifting from one side of the

Scale to the other. I wish I could

Weigh in just on the good side,

But I’m only part of the balance

And sometimes my choices

Put me on a different side than

I’d intended. I need someone

To jump on the good side with

Me. We could tip the scale, I

Know we could.

 

PISCES

 

There’s a built in flaw with words –

It’s nice to catch thoughts, but

Thoughts are life fish, they don’t

Have life unless they flow. Don’t

Take anything I share with you as

The last word. Thoughts need to

Be fluid, not frozen, not stuffed

Like trophies, not canned, labeled

And sold at competitive prices to

Stimulate the economy, not made

Into sandwiches nor marketed as

Fast food hamburger alternatives.

Think living fish, moving. Truth is,

Like the moods of the sea, one

Thought flows into another, then

Into another, ad infinitum, which

Is why what’s hurting us today

We often end up laughing about

Tomorrow, and vice versa.

 

BAD STUFF

 

Nobody wants to hear about the

Bad stuff, but it’s what makes the

Good stuff good by comparison.

How to stay off those subjects

When they’re part of what forms

The story, part of why things are

The way they are today? The bad

Stuff is like a horrible creature that

Emerges from the sewer at night.

The bad stuff will hurt you, and

You know very well it’s there but

Not how to talk about it. Yet it

Holds the key to unlock the

Reservoir of pain, let it empty

So something more joyful can

Fill it instead. The bad stuff is as

Ugly as sin. Have you got the

Guts to look it in the eye?

 

COOL AS ME

 

People cool as me never admit to

Needing someone. People cool as

Me are expected to act like if they

Want company there’s a menu of

Willing individuals only too happy

To comply, but mostly they just

Want privacy. People cool as me

Act like they’re married to their

Mission in life, regardless of how

Long ago we got a messy divorce

From it that we’ll forever be

Paying off. People cool as me are

Alone on Valentine’s Day, wishing

They had someone they could be

Themselves with, someone to

Hold in confidence, someone to

Enjoy the world with, someone

By their side to while away those

Lonely hours even the coolest

People can’t avoid.

 

VOICE

 

I found a voice, and dammit,

I’m gonna use it. Do I really

Have anything to say? Does

Anyone? Actually, I do have

Something to say, but it’s

Not something you’d say

Outright. It’s there between

The lines. And it’s not just

Having a voice that makes

Speaking worthwhile, it’s

Knowing there’s someone

Listening. You have more

Power than you realize –

You’re really the poem,

I’m just the voice.

 

SUPERHERO

 

Superhero, now we need you. Go

Make Russia mind its own business.

Throw their tanks back across the

Ukraine. Make them stop being

Such vodka brains. Superhero,

Scare off their armies, tell them go

Direct traffic in Communist Square,

Not invade other countries. Cause

Russians are weirdos with nothing

To lose and a chip on their shoulder

From way too much vodka and too

Much cold weather and no rock and

Roll and they’re mean to Pussy Riot

And Communism never worked

Anyway - no wonder they’re mad,

But when mad equals stupid, we

Need Superheroes for villains like

Godzilla and Russia under Putin.

 

WISH I KNEW WHAT TO BELIEVE

 

Wish I knew what to believe.

Is it just up to me? Would you

Leave such a crucial definition

To the village idiot? If nothing

Else, at least you’ll get an

Unusual perspective, but alas,

Not necessarily one that will

Change things much. Is it the

Acceptance of things as they

Are or the persistence in trying

To make things different that

Defines an idiot? Or is it both?

Someone said no, no, that’s all

Wrong, it’s all about where

You’re coming from. Well, I’ll

Have you know, I aspire to

Come from someplace clean,

Honest, honorable, true, but

All I know for sure is, I come

From my mom. Or so I’m told.

Wish I knew what to believe.

 

UNSOLVED MYSTERIES

 

Conspiracy theorists are already

Tweeting it was aliens took that

Plane from the sky. There’s a

New Bermuda Triangle up in the

Skies above Asia. Planes fly in but

Don’t come back out, or maybe

They all will in 500 years, when

The Triangle expunges the lot in

A single eruption, like a giant fart

In the time-space continuum.

Unsolved mysteries suggest too

Many possibilities, that’s why we

Don’t like them. If it wasn’t aliens

It could have been hungry clouds.

Or there’s a giant bird up there

Collecting planes the same way

Some of us collect butterflies. Or

The plane flew into a time warp

To 1000 years in the future, the

Planet of the Apes, where a fuzzy

Faced Sarah McLaughlin is on TV

This very minute singing “In The

Arms Of An Angel” on behalf of

The passengers and flight crew.

 

BEARS IN WINTER

 

Winter sends her message in

Such a cold way. We need to

Learn secrets of survival when

All turns to ice for awhile. Only

For awhile – in time even this

Freeze will melt so the water

Can flow again. For now, time

Out, red light, cease fire, halt

Till further notice, hunker down,

Carry on as usual – if you want

To freeze to death. Unlike the

Bears who have the right idea

And sleep through it, I’m awake,

Feeling every cold moment.

 

DEMANDING BASTARD

 

I guess I could get better pictures

If I used a fancier camera, but as

I’ll explain to anyone who’ll listen,

In my experience life goes by too

Fast to focus a fancy camera on it.

Fancy cameras are for when you

Have the luxury of subjects who’ll

Hold still for you. I need my quick

And dirty little point-and-shoot for

The kind of subjects I catch. I want

People living, not posing. What a

Demanding bastard I can be. Am I

Enough of a cunt yet that you’d

Consider me some kind of artist?

 

SHE HAD A TERRIBLE VISION

 

She had a terrible vision in the

Post office parking lot. She saw

Samoa fifty years from now,

When most Samoans will look

Like me, in denim instead of a

Lava lava, and worse still, part

White. All I did was get out of

My car and I gave this old lady

A terrible vision in the post

Office parking lot. I know I did.

It was written all over her face,

I felt her terror and sorrow,

And now I’m just as scared.

 

FREUDIAN SLIPPERS

 

Psychological mechanism, whether

You’re aware of it or not, it’s what

You do on impulse, without thinking,

Almost as if it did itself. Like when

You shut me out, not just once, but

Time and time again. Makes me

Wonder what you’re thinking, why

You believe that’s what I deserve.

When you spoke to me, is that the

Impression I gave? In my company,

Is that how I made you feel, like

Someone you need to shut out, not

Someone you need to open up to?

What you need to know is, I don’t

Have a clue. I take my cues from you,

But sometimes I wonder whether

You even know why you so naturally,

Spontaneously, automatically shut

Me out like you’re a vampire and

I’m sunlight.

 

ALL YOUR FAULT

 

Investigate, detective, analyze

The crime scene. Compile a

Profile of the perpetrator, try

Guessing their motive. Using

Wit and intuition, crack their

Puzzle, expose them in the

News, soothe public concerns

The criminals are taking over.

No, criminals are predictable

And secretly long to be caught.

They just crave the stimulation

Of knowing they’ve engaged a

Mind as brilliant as yours to

Figure them out. In fact, were

It not for you, detective, the

Criminals wouldn’t find crime

Even worth it.

 

PRODUCTS PROMISE

 

Does roll-on or spray keep you cool,

Calm and collected better when

Someone you care about gets you

Really upset? Can this glue can hold a

Relationship together? Which plastic

Container will best protect my heart

From being jostled and bruised?

Which of these scissors is quickest

For cutting through the bullshit? If

She drinks this cola, will she really

Open her happiness for me? Every

Single item in this store says made

In China. So what would Chinese

Buy if they were trying to connect

With someone special? Whatever

Looks most American? That would

Not quite explain overpopulation,

In China, unless their condoms are

About as reliable as their radios.

 

ROCK & ROLL

 

Old folks can’t rock & roll so well

Anymore on the dance floor, but

In their hearts the music never

Stops. When I say you rock me,

I mean you move me. I don’t

Know why, you just do, for or

Against my will, either way, and

I’d rather celebrate it than hate it.

We needn't drag each other through

Hell. Rock & roll has a dark side,

As does most things first intended

For a more Heavenly purpose. It’s

Just the way we feel each other’s

Rhythms, and when you and I find

Our groove, it’s like the angels

Are rocking out.

 

CIRCLE

 

In the days when Samoa was further

From the center of western society

Than most could even contemplate,

White men who saw it would jump

Ship and hide in her mountains. They

Thought they’d found Paradise, and

By comparison America or Europe

Was a hell they had no wish to ever

See again. Nowadays we don’t worry

Much about sailors jumping off ship,

More about locals trying to jump on.

Western society has always had some

Trying to escape from it, so now we’ve

Come full circle and some from here

Are trying to escape island society.

I guess your perception of Paradise

Depends a great deal on what you

Can compare it to. I wonder whether

Those longing to escape island society

For its first world counterpart could

Ever see Samoa the way it looked to

Those first eyes that knew enough to

Make that comparison so long ago.

 

FROM BABIES

 

Babies know joy instinctively, even

In the midst of the worst troubles

Going on around them. When adults

Aren’t causing pain under a misguided

Notion it will keep pain from being

Inflicted on them, they’re desperately

Trying to dull whatever pain still

Penetrates their armor, even though

Not feeling is just the same misery

In different makeup. With all the open

Pain warfare around us, it’s not as if

We’re unaware that others hurt too,

It’s more like we don’t care. Pain is

The currency of exchange between

Our bodies, minds and spirits. Spirit

Pain is the deepest hurt a person can

Feel, and many don’t realize how deep

Into darkness their spirit has sunk until

Something or someone unlocks the

Chains and their spirit can fly again.

Some say we take our sensitivity too

Seriously, but when we stop giving in

To the agitation of disquieting ideas,

These same sensitivities can make us

Sensitive to joy. This might take some

Re-learning, some remembering but

Luckily you can learn a lot from babies.

 

RECIPE

 

I speak to you in my mind and maybe

Occasionally say the right thing. We

Are more than just our ideas, way

More, but ideas shine a light on

What’s going on inside our walking

Balloons of flesh, blood and bones.

I put things together for you, like

A recipe, hoping my creation is to

Your taste. There’s a taste in my

Dreams, engages all the senses,

And I wake knowing there’s only

One real point in coming back from

Slumber at all. Whatever powers

I have of thought, speech or action,

I wish only that they be right for

Bringing you the recipe that comes

To me from somewhere inside.

 

NO WAY TO TREAT A GUEST

 

Goes by like a shadow outside the door.

Shiver. Ghosts don’t show up during the

Day – must mean this one couldn’t wait.

Is something urgently needed before it’s

Too late? Ok, I’m waiting, but I haven’t

Got all day. What is it you want me to

Realize? Is there something you hope

That I’ll recognize? I’m wide open to

Suggestions, but can you do more than

Just skirt the shadows of my awareness?

Uh oh, I think I’ve just insulted the ghost –

Spoke before thinking - you’re supposed

To be mysterious and it’s very special,

Very sacred, even very blessed in a way

That an entity from the other side would

Feels strongly enough about something

Here on this one to intervene. So here I

Sit, calm, clear, open. Seconds tick,

Nothing happens. Apprehension grows

I’ve insulted the ghost. I like to believe

I don’t intuit spirits when there really

Are none, but now there really isn’t.

No mysterious tingle, no strange noises,

No unusual signs. Not even a hint of what

It meant or what it wanted. It could be a

Misunderstanding, true, but there’s no

Mistaking the emptiness of feeling sure

Something came to me but wouldn’t stay.

 

MOON IN ARIES

 

My sun sign is Cancer, but my moon

Sign is Aries, which coincidentally the

Sun just went into. Man, my planets

Get kind of mixed up sometimes. I

Googled “moon in Aries” and was

Kind of horrified to find that what

It described wasn’t the person that

I am, but rather the person I try not

To be – impatient, inconsiderate,

Innocently self-centered, as in, why

Of course I’m the center of the

Universe. I’m Jim and your’re not!

No, no, I’ve consciously cultivated

Being kind when I can and even when

My first impulse is to kill dead. I take

Things very personally. Treat me like

Someone you want nothing to do with

And I will have a very, very hard time

Ever opening up to you. Treat me like

Your friendship is genuine, comes as

Naturally as breathing, and I’ll never

See you any other way. If I scare you,

Congratulations, your wits serve you

Well, but even celestial egomaniacs

Are capable of evolving. Honest.

 

MOTHER HEN

 

It’s really funny you feel threatened.

Hey Einstein, if I was capable of doing

Something crazy I already would have.

But my craziness takes the form of

Expression, and if anything I’m more

Of a threat to myself than anyone

Else, just like Van Gough caught a

Form of craziness that caused him to

Cut off his own ear and offer it to a

Prostitute, not as payment but as

Some kind of token. True story. Pure

Madness, but look at the paintings

That came out of him. As for me, I

Can say with about 95% confidence

My ear is safe. At heart I’m more of

A mother hen, taking care of other

People hella more than anyone takes

Care of me, but that’s my token, I

Just try and look after things. You’re

Not threatened, you just bring out

The part of me that wants to express.

 

PEACH

 

Aries is the time when impatience

Comes naturally – when it feels like

Whatever is supposed to happen

Should have happened already.

There may be a time and place for

Such a sentiment – it keeps things

From getting stagnant, shakes up

Our routines, reminds us that life

Needs to move, needs to feel new.

Once man feels the power of his

Actions to effect things, he thinks

Action is the answer to everything,

And inaction is worthy of contempt.

But what happens when you want a

Ripe peach right now, and the tree

Says sorry, it’s not ready yet? In a

Fit of impatience and contempt,

Should you take an axe and show

The tree who’s boss?

 

COLD ON A SUNNY DAY

 

Anxiety causes tension that affects

The body, weakens the immune

System. Anxiety can be like birds

Making noise, birds that feed on

Feelings, constantly announcing

Their presence, attracting even

More birds, making more noise.

Birds only know one song, but they

Give the performance their all. I’ve

Heard the same song interpreted

Many times, and you have to give

Them credit for staying faithful to

The original. It never changes, it’s

Constant as the color of the sky.

No one complains about the color

Of the sky, they just learn to see

It as beautiful. My immune system

Isn’t applauding the constancy,

But birds aren’t about to change

Their tune just because of me.

 

WHY IS THE DEVIL?

 

Why is the devil so attracted to this

Family? He must like our banter, the

Pomposity of our place in society

Echoed in our accents of faraway lands.

Why does Lucifer join us at our table

Every time the whole family’s in the

Same room? He must delight in seeing

Supposedly civilized community icons

Turn into savages after a few drinks,

Cutting and bashing each other with

Words instead of clubs, the nervy ones

Jockeying to establish dominance like

Apes forming a mating hierarchy. Why

Is God’s fallen angel always co-counsel

To our lawyers whenever our family

Mess inevitably winds up in court? The

Devil specializes in turning imported

Laws against the importers, reminding

Us that the higher the privilege, the

More prolonged the payment.

 

QUIET MONARCHY

 

America’s mainstream spirit lives

Under house arrest in the gated

Community where the quiet

Monarchy bide their time. Now

That they’ve captured the voice

Of the silent majority, have you

Noticed it’s endless variations on

The same commercial? The ads

Promoting our country as global

Cash register, moral arbitrator,

Cultural enforcer? America’s

Mainstream spirit sleeps in its

Comfortable prison, its dreams

Often tormented by the older

Ghost of American humanity and

Idealism. America’s mainstream

Spirit doesn’t mean to demonize

The excluded, but in celebrating

The included, well, that contrast

Just has to stand out somehow.

Like a golden vision of perpetual

Prosperity, at least for some, the

Rockets’ red glare shines forever

In the lights of Las Vegas, where

For every spent Elvis waiting to

Die one morning on the toilet, for

Every spent engine of industry like

Detroit waiting for the scrap heap,

There is one more diamond in the

Crown of America’s quiet monarchy.

 

QUIET ANARCHY

 

We all make our own choices, and

Mine have grown mellower with age

But once in awhile there’s still this

Quiet anarchy I feel, where I want

To just burn down everything and

Everyone who’s ever caused me to

Hurt, caused me to believe you’ve

Been dealing me cards all along

From a dirty deck, cause me to

Realize I’ll never succeed in any

Way unless I play a bullshit game

That feeds someone else’s control

And profit. See the old anarchist

Walking his dog with plastic gloves

And a paper bag. I have to clean up

My mess or else face a fine, while

You go scott free every time you

Take your glorious dump on me

And everyone else.

 

PUNISHMENT

 

Such a painful situation

You wish you could punish

Somebody for it. Wish you

Could cast the first stone,

Wish you could bear damning

Witness, wish you could join

The witch hunt, but you won’t.

Punishment might provide a

Pleasurable revenge, but don’t

Forget, in love it’s better to

Give than to receive. Can you

Say the same of punishment?

 

CONSISTENCY

 

I’m always wrong, but at least

The reason keeps changing.

One day I’m wrong cause of

This, next day I’m wrong cause

Of that, in a week I’ll be wrong

Cause of something else. I’m

The barometer or baseline by

Which you gauge what’s wrong.

If I’m always going to be wrong,

What can I do? Be wrong in

Creative ways, be wrong in

Original ways, be wrong in

Inspired ways, be wrong in

Ways that are at least true

To myself, be wrong in ways

An impartial observer might

Conclude are only wrong

Depending on one’s point of

View, which I’m sure you’ll

Immediately shift accordingly.

 

OIL AND VINEGAR

 

It isn’t someone whose faith

Blinds them that we need, it’s

Someone whose faith opens

Their eyes. And perfection

Isn’t what we should seek in

Another, but rather someone

Whose imperfections mix with

Our own like oil and vinegar

Rather than gasoline and fire.

Oil and vinegar are not terribly

Romantic, I know, but see how

Together they elevate the

Salad from bland to sublime.

 

GOING COWBOY

 

I don’t feel so at home on the

Range, where the deer and the

Antelope make territorial noises,

While my own thoughts about

Unclear boundaries compromise

The night’s quiet. Like a Hamlet

On horseback, the uncertainty of

A stalemate situation eats away

At my peace of mind. Any kind

Of move would be going cowboy,

Riding in with pistols blazing.

Might save the day, might just

Leave a big mess. Feels like a

Rescue is called for, though no

One is yelling help. It’s fine to

Go cowboy, follow no rules but

Your own, if you want to break

Free, but if you want to return,

You ride alone, trying to recall

The trail home on a dark night.

 

SPEECH DEFECT

 

Just a way to get a word in, talking

Without voices, without eye contact,

Just words symbolizing meaning,

Representing feelings, self-centered

By necessity because propaganda is

Always a distorted exchange, forever

Open to interpretation. Hardly the

Optimum way to communicate, but

The alternative is total silence, history

Interpreted in opposite ways, with no

Basis for agreement or understanding,

No common meaning because you

Can’t treat meaningfully someone

You don’t acknowledge even exists

Anymore. How strange to feel like a

Ghost in someone else’s world when

You’re not even dead yet.

 

COUNTRIES

 

American Samoa was born in 1900.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

Was born in 1922. American Samoa,

Which is not quite America and not

Quite Samoa, is still trying to figure

Out what it is. The USSR, which was

A Union only by force, rape by any

Other name, Soviet and Socialist only

For as long as it was convenient, until

Its Republics grew strong enough to

Assert they wanted to be countries

Themselves, is also still trying to figure

Out what it is. I was born in the late

1950s, and I’m still trying to figure out

Who I am. You were born in the late

1980s, so if you haven’t figured out

Anything yet, that’s understandable

Given historical precedent.

 

COSTUMES

 

Costumes and uniforms, I’ll dress

The way I need to. One day one,

Another the next, any kind of

Outfit to please you. What we

Wear will make some kind of

Statement. It’s better, I guess,

Than walking ‘round naked. Put

On, put on, take off too. Same

Old me but the costume is new.

 

MR. FIXIT

 

Poor Mr. Fixit has forgotten about

All the things he can fix perfectly

To obsess on one thing he can’t

Quite figure out how to repair. Yes,

He says, I’m well aware there are

Things only God can fix, but if He’s

Not working through me then it

Must be due to some fault on my

Part. To find the solution within, I’ll

Purify myself. Friends say, Mr. Fixit,

If you were any more pure you’d be

Invisible. Friends say it’s turned

Into a battle of wills, of pride, of

Honor, of ego between Mr. Fixit

And the one thing he can’t fix. He

Knows they’ll never understand

How desperately motivation needs

A victory or else accomplishment

May as well be an accident. Besides,

He wonders, how can they say I’m

Overdoing it if I can’t get it done?

 

SWEETIE

 

Sweetie, I think your poetry

Is beautiful, just like you are.

You move me, always have.

Sweetie, I think you’re scared

Of me, and I can’t say I blame

You, but come on - compared

To Jesus, we all kind of suck.

 

THE DREADFUL PINK EYE

 

If you don’t want to catch the dreadful Pink Eye

Don’t look at someone like you wish they would die

Because if they suss that that’s what you think

They’ll punch both your eyes until they turn pink

Don’t antagonize with the things that you say

Or you’ll wear sunglasses all night and all day

Don’t provoke somebody to charge like a rhino

Or friends will all ask if you’re turning albino

 

MIDDLE AGED PRAYER

 

Age brings the same old problems,

Just with a more thoughtful response.

Still the same old choices soon as you

Wake. Always wishing things could be

Better for everyone, things could be

Fairer, things could be kinder, but the

World’s the way it is like a cookie

Crumbles the way it does, sort of by

Design but mostly at random. Lord,

Deliver us from randomness, except

When it brings something wonderful.

 

QUESTIONABLE CONDUCT

 

Opinions on what exactly constitutes

Questionable conduct will usually

Vary depending on who you ask and

Whatever/however their relation is

To the one whose conduct is called

Into question. If we all understood

Each other perfectly, no conduct

Would be questionable because

Whatever question there is would

Already be answered. Therefore,

To question another’s conduct is

Really to say you don’t understand.

As to the question of whether or

Not understanding is any business

Of yours… That actually explains a

Lot of suffering and violence. It

Could just as easily be, how dare

You not care, as how dare you

Interfere. It can be harder to act

Than to understand, but I still say

You’re worse off when it’s harder

To understand than to act.

Done