3 more haiku on death & dying

Ending transitions
Matter to anti-matter
Life turns into death

********************

Flesh will decay fast
When life is present no more
Bones will decay slow

********************

Circumstance unknown
I know neither time nor place
When death comes for me

3 haiku on lightning

Across the night sky
A visual symphony
Heat lightning flashes

*******

Disturbing the night
Punctuating the darkness
Heat lightning dances

*******

Dark blanket of Night
Heavens dome with light flashes
White doves in dark skies

diamond in the rough

we are diamonds
born of the earth
the diamond does not understand the jeweler
the diamond seeks to defend itself
against the jeweler’s knife
we struggle to hang on
hang on to absolutely everything we can about ourselves
not realizing that every little bit that is cut away
reveals a facet of the inner self
the diamond only sees
a piece gone here
another piece gone there
another hit, another blow from the chisel
piece by piece it sees itself whittled away
and it is afraid
for it cannot yet see it’s shining glory

coastal haiku

gulls flight in the night
coastal lights guiding their slumber
humans haunting sounds

————————————–

seagulls on the prowl
dive-bombing at lunch in hand
McDonald’s french fries

From The Coast

REJOICE! it’s what we do

REJOICE!

Humanity will become

                      a slave to its creation.

REJOICE!

Just as God became 

                      a slave to humanity.

REJOICE!

Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

REJOICE!

I sometimes feel sorry for God.

REJOICE!

Maybe one day our creation will feel sorry for us.

REJOICE! Again, I say REJOICE!

imagination and practical reality

Imagination And Practical Reality
(6/11/19)

Where are the words
that have escaped me?
All I find is an empty wire cage
I hear the fluttering of wings
in the darkened corners of the room
Yet I see nothing clearly
vague inferences and impressions
opaqued shapes
undulating slowly
in a heavy pre-dawn fog
Yet I am happy

And once the sun rises
and the fog is burned away
all will be made clear
Without mystery
Without inspiration
Forgotten worlds
Like the man who looks in a mirror(*)
and when he turns away
immediately forgets what he looks like
Left to wander
groping in the clarity of
the harsh light of day
Lost in the multi-sensory overload
Writing without understanding
the words on the page
And I am sad once more.

 

*  James 1:24

What Happened To My Country? (this messy slam poem)

What Happened To My Country?

(5/2019)
What happened to my country?
I feel like an alien in my own land
where everything old is new again
old arguments
new context
the earth is flat
we never landed on the moon
the return of nazism returns and
white supremacy, nationalism, dictators
abortion rights
suppression of the press
the end of free speech
power of the gun
more walls fewer bridges
tiki torches over electricity
more bombast less wisdom
voter suppression
denial, deny everything
forcing yes by saying no
lie, lie, lie like there’s no tomorrow
the holocaust never happened
domestic terrorism rules the day
a normality of school shootings
armed teachers
corporate kings keep half of America
addicted to opioids
never once asking if they should
they knew they could earn a ton of dough
from the drug trade
so they would
act now apologize later
Is this the death of America or just democracy?
the all-you-can-eat
brimstone and treacle buffet

Every moral notion I’ve EVER had
is being crushed by
the people who taught me
everyone has their religion but no one believes
religion is politicized, weaponized and bastardized
everyone is talking
no one is listening
technology moves forward
while humanity falls
faster backward

Where are the lovers the haters have killed?
we pray for ourselves by cursing others
we pray for our kind and curse differences
as if only we matter
sameness perpetuates division
diversity has become a word
to bring attention to our differences
not the things that unite us

Everyone wants to be Goliath
the bigger the better
determined to change history
but they forgot David won the war
believing they can turn back the clock
moving forward in the delusion of progress
taking a life synonymous with birth
the rights of the living aborted for
the rights of the unborn, the nonhuman,
the corporate, the government, the powerful
the dog serves its master
the worm serves the fish
and the pigs shit everywhere

America, where is your
o, beautiful for spacious skies?
when did the battle hymn of the republic change?
Now we only trample through the vineyard
where we grow our own grapes of wrath
and prepare to loose the lightning
of our own swift sword
beating the drum to war
unnecessarily we forgot the
beauty of the lilies and
Christ irrelevant born
forget about his glory transfiguration
it’s just you and me

(sung) Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
glory, glory hallelujah
only the lie is marching on

America America
God shed his
onward christian soldiers
white privilege freedom thieves
now crown your good
white brotherhood
from sea to shining sea
and Jesus doesn’t love the children
all the children of the world
red and yellow, black and white
white are precious in his sight
that’s not the way the fucking songs go!

Hopefully artificial intelligence
will be ‘cause actual intelligence
seems to be the victim of extinction
let there be peace on earth
and let it begin with
someone else

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
God will not intervene!
even God wouldn’t deny the freewill
that humanity denies each other
God knows no borders
yet the rich and powerful use God
to force crisis borne of political expediency,
build walls and wage wars

Protect the money
grow the money
protect the money
grow the money
say it with me
protect the money, grow the money!

there is no happy ending here
man may have been made in the image of God but
God is still an extra-terrestrial alien creator
killed by its own creation
just as humanity will be killed by technology
the thing it creates
there is no rapture
the second coming came and went
it’s hard to imagine heaven
when all we create is hell
God damned humanity and
only humanity can save itself

I’m sorry if you were hoping for
words of encouragement
words of hope
words of inspiration
this vessel has been emptied and
washed clean
ready for a new beginning
let it begin
let the day begin!

On second thought
I think I’ll leave it empty for awhile

The Players Song

Players Song

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the end has come
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across
this sawdust clown

baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town

hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the naked man
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted
face of a clown

milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down
what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace
distant thunder smoking
cigar lifeline

rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

I don’t remember when I wrote this – possibly 2013-2014. But I only recorded it recently.

poem on silence (or lack of)

Silence Reaching (2013)

in the modern era
silence exists

a decision
a punishment

noisy with appeals
recognizes the imperative
goes on speaking anyway

an intention
an expectation

perforated by sound
enriching emptiness
a resonating eloquent silence

je pe deges parmi le solitude*
horizon
discovery
and formulation

never has less advanced itself as
more

soliciting total attention
strenuous modesty
actual debility
cleansed non-interfering vision
certifying the absence

long silences become almost palpable
spiritual nausea
harsh despair
perverse apocalypse
deployed with systematic irony

blood-tide of decadence
the approaching end
post political electronically connected cosmopolis checked by despair
leaves one without
any
breath
at
all

(*translation – I’m a lonely one)

I actually recorded this one. I always think poetry needs to be spoken/read out loud. Enjoy.

White Supremacy?

White Supremacy

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand
Leprous hand
White as snow
You sound like help and look like death

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
your heart is too close to the skin
you cannot see what I see
Your deformity prevents you
from feeling the pain you cause

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
I see the disease you bring
Hidden among your so-called gifts
Your virtues tainted by
The supremacy of your unclean hand

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The diseased heart has spread to the hand
You build your gated communities, armed fortresses
Of wealth, leper colonies, prisons of your own making
Separating you from a whole world of wonder

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
You seek to unify YOUR family
By separating ours… mine
You burn bridges and build walls
Usurper of truth, teller of lies

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The lesions of your thinking
Discolored by the deafening roar of hatred, intolerance & FEAR
I could feel sorry for you
If it were not for the swift kick
Of your Jackboot and the Searing heat of your tiki torch

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand, leprous hand, white as snow
The prophesy has foretold
You will starve, you will lose all you had,
You will die by your own white hand
And when there is no more white
Who will be left to dig your grave?

Forgive me if I do not take your hand
White hand
Leprous hand
White as snow.

haiku’s on fog

O beautiful morn

shrouded and clouded in mist

fogged o’er secret Spring

Links to the Pond smlr

wake up now dear Spring

shed the blanket of morning

wipe the fog away

Secret Gatherings

Where, oh morn are you?

Where are your budding flowers?

Even birds whisper

Behind the Fence Line smlr

 

haiku on spring flowers

In brush strokes
Spring flowers white, yellow
Daffodils

+++++++++++++++++++++

Spring grows warm
Magnolia trees bloom
Not for long

+++++++++++++++++++

Spring flowers
Temporal beauty
One moment

haiku on birds 2

regal, pompous
purple martins majesty
live in mansions

******************

run, run away
a honking, snapping terror
the goose is loose

******************

blue heron
fishes in reflections
one stiff leg

haiku on birds

flock of pigeons
flying over — blue skies
poop on my head

*****************

feeding time
excited sparrows chirp ’round
flower box

*****************

egg adopted
screech owl hatches wood duck
one family

A tree dreams of branches

A Tree Dreams Of Branches

 

A TREE DREAMS OF BRANCHES

 

One broken limb

splintered and

disconnected from its roots

frozen in time

a tree locked in its icy reverie

dreams of branches

becoming whole once more

veins growing outward

with the hope of leaves

only cracks in reality

Springs slow thaw

 

 

 

whissspers

WHISSSPERS

You whisssper in my ear
your palpable smile
some mystery
or a secret that only I am privileged to know,
some master plan,
some wisdom or
some knowledge
or just “I love you.”

The warmth of your breath
softly radiates
entering by hearing
and “hearing by the word of god.

Familiar as a breeze
rustling the leaves
on a humid Summer’s day
under the shade tree.

These whissspering waves
ripple through my body
steadily quickening
the beat of my heart.

My pulse registers . . . . .
excitement, a cherished connection
words and meaning lost in anticipation
virtue swirls into sweet sin
tingle of unending hope
inspiring passions aplenty
I dream of grabbing you and
holding you closer
than my own skin.

3 haiku on spring

Feels sooooo good!
First warm day of Spring
Steps lightly

======================

Shining Bright
Birds sing in mid-flight
Spring sunshine

======================

Looking clearly
A glass wall separates me
from Spring outside

 

4 haiku on aging

Daily progress
with pain in every step
These “golden years”

+++++++++++++++++++

Unable to sit
Unease prevents stillness
My restless legs

+++++++++++++++++++

Time goes faster
Losing track of days
One more bare limb

+++++++++++++++++++

Once, clarity
of a happy, sad youth –
memory fades

spring morning rain

Spring Morning Rain

The beat of the
windshield wipers begins
and holds steady
as the dark clouds
of the worlds concert hall
slowly open
to the rhythm of the rain.

Passing headlights
provide the light show
joined with
the whoosh and hum,
a tire chorus
on wet pavement.

Spring’s early morning
experimental symphony.

why i write poetry

I cannot say I’m a great poet.
I’m not even sure I can say
I’m a good poet.

But, I do like words
their power to
evoke and invoke
feelings and emotions
pictures and memories.

And so I struggle
ever so humbly to
express my self into being.

office balloon

A half-deflated balloon
decorated with

colorful stars and
“You’re So Special”

tethered to its cubicle

now
bobbing and weaving

now
drifting listlessly in

currents of stale
recirculated air

its metallic surface
reflecting the

bright
white light of
office fluorescents

“I don’t make mistakes”

“I DON’T MAKE MISTAKES”

“I don’t make mistakes!”

Hmmmmph!
arrogant, ballsy fraud.
Elitist, cock-sure punk.

The claim
itself a mistake
waiting to humble
the utterer of lies.

Pop the balloon
of ego
(or is it id?).

Beat the
empty piñata
there’s no sweetness within.

Drink the curdled milk
soured by
time in the slow
heat of ignorance.

Remove the clothes
made dirty by
the ejaculation of foolishness.

Wash clean
the soiled
soul.

Rinse the body and
dress it in the clean
fresh clothing of
righteous humility.

Walk out into
the quiet morning of
birdsong
welcoming you
to a new life
where others sing
your praises,

as you practice
patience
for the mistakes
of others,

when they look
fearfully to your
criticism
only to find

the warmth
of the sun,
blue skies of kindness
green grass of compassion

in the welcoming embrace
of
forgiveness and understanding.

I was born….

I WAS BORN

I was born in 1960. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  I will turn 60 in 2020.
I turned 20 in 1980. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  I will turn 80 in 2040.
I turned 40 in the year 2000. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

All of my present has been
neurotically ricocheting
back and forth between
my past and my future.

I turned 40 in the year 2000.
When I turn 00
I will return to
what I was
before I was born

At peace.
At home.
In total oneness with
existence and nonexistence.

the writing blahs

The hand lies
limply on the page

Pen flip-flopping flaccidly
insipid, impotent inspiration

Desire, a
vacuous turncoat
betrays me

What to write.
What to write?
What To Write!

nothing.