3 WINTER HAIKU Winter ice on trees glitters like festive tinsel under morning sun *** When days are shorter fiercely blows the winter wind piling snow in drifts *** Frigid air on skin Persistent chill burrows deep Winter wet and cold
I would not expect you to live your life based on my life experience; DO NOT force me to live my life based on YOUR life experience.
4 haiku for the end of Autumn. (12/01/21) Leaves begin their fall. Colors changing while you watch autumn's rich pageant. (11/27/19) Cold, dark, windy night; trees shudder; dead leaves unchained make fierce their escape (12/01/21) Distant in the dark. Sweet sounds the soft piano. Music in the night. (12/01/21) Chill'd, damp autumn night. Sleepless bare trees sway slowly. Unwrapp'd, expos'd heart.
(untitled) 1/29/19 1AM … with bigoted clam-shelled-shut heart pinched accusation and fervent digit all gesticulation their unctuous moral fortitude no reverence for creation razes the standard none can achieve happy to fail, happy to fall into the boiling cauldron of righteousness reason lost Who will avail the good, decent, compassionate and forgiving soil? … planting seeds to each grow its own kind fruit bearing and fruitless watered by streams of untethered acceptance. Virtues are best left in deep shadows where they are not exposed to the light of… …haughty self-aggrandizement, bleached by self-promotion or discolored by false humility…. … left in the heavy darkness when eyes close and sound fades to sleep… … perchance to dream.
HOLES IN MY CITY (2014) There are holes in my city where buildings used to stand. Empty spaces are all that remain where factories made my world. A dream that never was cannot be remembered or built upon. There is no foundation there is only dust and wind. Remembrance is only a delusion sickness of mind and soul for a community that is trapped in its struggle to free itself from nothing. There are holes in my city where buildings used to stand. Places where people lived where the voices of children could be heard. Now there is silence even the ghosts don't linger here. Some say silence is golden but the same silence can drive a person mad. There are holes...
PLAYERS SONG (date unknown) 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?
11/6-11/16/21 EYE OF THE STORM Dark brooding sadness and anger storm clouds swirl all around me warning and threatening A shadowy pretense of power I see the rain like spit from the heart of those who should know better pummel and drench and flood loosing all the foundations of decency get trampled in the mud I hear the wind roaring out of the mouths of fools nostrils flaring like steeds being driven by demons tearing and stripping away wounding and destroying all that was built but I stand in the calm sun blazing, giving countenance to the peace within me a centered solution to the storm the hardest place to be rage on, rage on o’ storm you will not defeat me I am within you and without you and will remain until you sputter out and dissipate all your venomous energy wasted --------------------------------------------------------- Ephesians 6:13 "Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." Some times just being able to STAND is all you need. https://youtu.be/zWhDbkTmJHA
POEM FOR LATE AUTUMN (*composition date unknown most likely sometime between 2007-2009)
Skeletal beauty Parade of bones Rooted in mire Grasping heaven A bridge between divine and profane Waiting for winters blanket Redemption in white Covering past sins Peace and rest in a season of sleep *while I don't remember when this was written I do know it was inspired by a line "snow falling, falling like forgiveness from the sky" in the song "Darling Christmas is Coming" by Over The Rhine from the album SNOW ANGELS (2006) https://youtu.be/IinpwBPwRZI
10/27-28/21 ENTER THE EVENING A shadow crept across early evening. As I was retrieving the mail I stopped in my tracks and looked up. A thousand wings whispered across the autumn sky in undulating murmurations of velvety simplicity. None collided with the other but danced a ballet in perfect synchronicity across heaven. The tinted hues of sunset; royal purple and brilliant orange painted against a dark blueing background. Even the cricket at my foot that stopped its chirping and, propped up against my shoe, seemed to look up in amazement. A pair of local chipmunks scurried about in the chilled air foraging for nuts and berries to store for winter - oblivious to the magic in the sky. In one step I had travelled from the reality of a chaotic and stressful day into a calm, quiet and peaceful evening.
UNTITLED 4/24/2021 We are living in the time of parables and revelations choosing sides retributions morality plays we are “everyman” we are the evil that haunts our reality passport economy buy and sell only if you carry the number of the beast innocuous as an inoculation tremors and terrors of the soul as those who are weak from fear strike out and seek control of the courageous their souls listing off the coast of truth drowning in their desperate thrashing and gnashing of teeth marching and clawing up the mountain of victims they create toward heavens inverted hell fear of a zombie apocalypse the walking dead if we look at the soul it’s already here. We consume media we consume ourselves we consume everything humanity’s legacy on earth will be our consumption we’ve lost too much to turn back now in the past our consumption was tempered tempered by “out of stock” “special order” “import only” cash shortage but that has changed online everything is available all the time any time for a price on credit with our very own pay pal we forgot the payback we forgot the shark will come hunting for what is owed the environment culture social religion politics science all will come hunting and haunting enslaving for what they are owed.
WE ARE MEDIA (10/02/2021) Welcome citizen, WE are Media. WE are message. WE are massage. WE are information masturbation That you WILL enjoy. If you do not believe what WE tell you to believe, And if you do not act on what WE tell you to do, Even though WE show you only what WE believe you need to know, Even though WE show you a heavily redacted, edited, one-sided view, Even though, when WE do show an alternate view it is completely ridiculous, unbalanced and unbelievable, Then, you are a bad citizen. A bad and corrupt member of society. Suited only for OUR censorship. Dear citizen, You and WE both know that you, A mere individual, Are incapable of making an informed decision. Information is power that WE control for you. WE simplify the information for you. You are free only when WE say you are free. WE have done all the work for you. You may now bow down and thank US. You're welcome citizen. We are Media.
Toilet/Potty Poem (10/2021) Sitting on the toilet in Solemn contemplation Staring at the shag rug Covering the Autumn-chilled tile floor Faces and shapes emerge Beasts and people Both fantastic and frightening Revealing themselves Emerging in the trampled fibers Of bare footed traffic Before I roll them up To erase their existence In the reality of life's washing machine Like shaking an etch a sketch Re-setting the tabula rasa of imagination
TOWER OF BABEL (19.8.21)
you turn on the TV blah blah blah you turn on the internet blah blah blah you turn on your cell phone blah blah blah our tower of babel moment everyone talking blah blah blah people listen only to what they want blah blah blah preaching to the choir blah blah blah our tower of babel moment we live in a versus world us vs. them black vs. white police vs. everyone republican vs. democrat vaccinated vs. unvaccinated Christian vs. Muslim enemy vs enemy against the other our tower of babel moment when we speak the same language we speak different languages we’ll go our separate ways enlarge the distance between our pride shamed our arrogance wounded our tower of babel moment otherwise, we can do anything together ---------------------------------------------------------- What if this passage is not an "origin story" on the evolution of language but instead an allegory on human arrogance and it's consequences? Genesis 11:1-9 Now the whole world had one language and a common speech.... They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower the people were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.” So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel—because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. From there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth.
CHAFF IN THE WIND
I remember when Saturday
Felt like Sunday
And I was dreading Monday
Feeling like I’m strung out on junk
(Which I never tried)
I was strung out on life
(Which I couldn’t escape)
And it wasn’t pretty
I hated my life
The world I lived in
Staked to the ground
Face up in some tribal ritual
Eye lids propped open
Waiting for the sun to burn me blind
I just wanted to die
Outcast, judged and ridiculed
Was it done to me?
Or did I do it to myself?
In the back of my mind
In the shadows of
What I remember myself to be
I felt there was another side
I just had to get there
But the road was dark
There was no light to light my way
Shadows loomed large and mean
In my withdrawal
Happy is an illusion
And I wanted to get lost in that illusion
But knowing the magicians secrets
Is it possible to ever enjoy the magic again?
Are these fancy words for a poem,
A memoir or just letters jumbled with meaning
meant to get lost and scattered like
so much chaff in the wind
I once saw a fish
washed upon the shore.
I stared down as it lay
on its sandy grave
taking its last breath
then stepped away
as the seagulls came
tearing away at the carcass.
And I thought.
This is the best we can hope for –
not to be remembered –
but to provide for whatever comes after us.
Knowing, like the fish,
when to live
and when to die.
The older I get
the less optimistic I feel.
Fantasy is for escape,
reality is for living;
however unpleasant it may be.
No more dreams to live
Heart stops, brain ceases, life ends
A cold grave welcomes
Freedom on the wind
A bird will fall from the sky
Its heart beats no more
And when the end comes
Can there be beauty in death?
Flowers in the snow
Matter to anti-matter
Life turns into death
Flesh will decay fast
When life is present no more
Bones will decay slow
I know neither time nor place
When death comes for me
When death comes to call
Alone I will fade and fail
remembered no more
When the body dies
Software will be deleted
And hardware destroyed
Autumn to Winter
All life has been drained away
Dry leaves in the fire
Weathers town crier
Thunders crashing box of rocks
announces the rain.
The pink noise of rain
With distant lightnings white noise
A cool breeze for sleep
Music in the night
This ambient symphony
A chorus of rain
Restless dreams at night
Toss’d ’bout on flashes of light
Ships on stormy seas
A thunder not heard
The storm can’t hide its approach
Bright lightning flashes
The quiet of night
Static on the radio
The rain comes lightly
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
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
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
knowing when to
“make someone’s day”
means not being selfish
like knowing when to give
when not to give
being sensitive about what you say
when you say it
and when not to say it
knowing when to do nothing
knowing that to
“make someones day”
means knowing when
to leave them alone
alone to their own devices
alone in their misery
no matter how much it
bothers you to do so
there are just some things
people need to work out for themselves
Knowing that if
you don’t leave them alone
you may make their misery worse
knowing that if you help
help them figure things out
they are being forced
to deal with their problems
in a way that may be unnatural to them
knowing that “being there”
may be all they need
your presence is enough
your gift is your silence
your gift is not the answer given
but the question shared
your gift is the answer
discovered together in their time
knowing when to
“make someone’s day”
means that sometimes
the less you do
is the most you can do
the best thing to do
and that’s okay
knowing that sometimes
we have this wisdom
sometimes we don’t
and it all depends on
how “invested” we are
in any given situation
RAMBLINGS ON SUFFERING (6/21/19)
Of all living things
the most fortunate are
those who escaped….
I saw a still-born hippo
floating in a pool,
it’s legs reaching to the sky
as it’s grieving mother swam, circling around it.
Why did the opossum cross the road?
Did it not see the car speeding onward?
Now just another memory of life
flattened on asphalt.
There’s a black man hanging from a tree, like my savior,
with a sacrilegious cross burning in the yard.
The sounds of wailing through tears
mocked by fleeing hooded jeers and laughter.
And I’ve seen a black man stopped by police
because of the color of his skin
Unjustly harassed, searched and thrown against the car
only to find nothing.
My dear Ophelia, drifting underwater
what was your last thought
watching the last air bubble, wobble
and rise toward a liquid sky?
To a woman: Did you feel free
the moment you jumped
from that high blue bridge
and flew toward the earth?
The broken red wings of your spirit
spilling through your cracked skull
onto the pavement one summer morning.
Your twisted body, lying there
in front of me behind the wheel,
on a street called North when you went South.
The subject of a undisciplined and indiscriminate passerby
who just had to wiggle out of her red van,
before the police arrived, get up close
and take a photo with her cell-phone.
The mosquito gorging itself
on the blood-feast of its host
takes no notice of the hand that will kill it.
The fly for all it’s many eyes
still cannot see
that it feeds, mostly, on shit.
Does the flower feel pain
as each of its petals fall until
all that is left is a withered stem?
Does the tree feel pain
when its limbs are stripped from the trunk
during the storm or when
this living thing is cut down
by the chainsaw massacre of deforestation?
I’ve seen wild mice care for the injured young in a nest disturbed.
I’ve heard the piercing, shrieking squeal of injured rabbits.
I’ve seen the Killdeer risk its life to distract a predator
and I’ve looked into the sad, fearful eyes of an unloved dog.
I’ve seen a deer hit by a car get up and limp away
only to die by the side of road while looking back
as if to apologize for disturbing traffic.
I’ve seen a butterfly with a broken wing
clinging to hope while wishing it were back in its cocoon.
I’ve seen the fish
stranded too long on the beach
its glassy eye blinded by sunlight
its gaping mouth filled with sand and
its scales sticky with death
In Alaska, I found a cassette tape
by the side of the road
the middle of nowhere
the wilderness, no one around for miles
wet and muddy, its case cracked
I don’t know what made me
pick it up and take it home.
I let it dry, cleaned it, rewound it and carefully placed the tape in a new case.
My proud first attempt at restoration.
Then I put it in the player and pressed “PLAY”
I was assaulted by the sounds of thrown objects
hitting something and someone,
cursing, screams, cries, anger, hatred, vicious argument,
begging and pleading.
There were no names.
and the sound of a crying child hiding in a corner whimpering “please stop”
Threats and the dull sound of fists hitting flesh
meting out punishment where once there was love.
I sat listening. Frozen. Unable to move.
As the sun set I cried.
I’ve smelled living death
The stink of blood mixed with piss
as the cancer-fill man stood naked by the toilet.
His unbathed pasty flesh clammy with sweat.
He is too weak to bathe himself so I have to help
as I try to disguise my gagging reflex;
and I wonder if this is what the mortician sees, feels and smells.
And I’ve smelled the death of a slaughterhouse
the mindless cruelty and knock of a thudding blow
to the head of a cow with a stunbolt
the still live animal lying helpless, it’s throat now slit,
blood gushing in rivers onto the dirty, stained concrete floor,
the twitching limbs of a dying years supply of hamburgers and steaks.
I’ve even smelled the death
of a carcass in the hot summer sun
at the dumping grounds of livestock no longer “live”.
Cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, goats piled indiscriminately
the rotting remains, not yet destroyed
lying in an open trailer to a buzzing soundtrack
the pungent waves of nauseating stink
this unmovable feast for flies and their maggot young
The bodies juices oozing
from the rusted corners of the container.
I’ve heard the uncontrollable impulsive
wailing of the living that accompanies
the release of the recently dead
Maybe I’ve seen too much
Maybe I’ve heard and smelled too much.
Maybe I’ve even said too much.
But of all the things that have touched me –
Have I let them move me?
Or do I stand in shock,
immobilized by the glare of oncoming lights
that are driven by forces beyond my control?
I sometimes wonder
if the luckiest child is
the one never born
into this world of suffering –
and of those already born;
if the most fortunate ones
have already escaped
the suffering that is yet to come.
Humanity will become
a slave to its creation.
Just as God became
a slave to humanity.
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
I sometimes feel sorry for God.
Maybe one day our creation will feel sorry for us.
REJOICE! Again, I say REJOICE!
Imagination And Practical Reality
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
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
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?
What happened to my country?
I feel like an alien in my own land
where everything old is new again
the earth is flat
we never landed on the moon
the return of nazism returns and
white supremacy, nationalism, dictators
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
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
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?
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
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
God shed his
onward christian soldiers
white privilege freedom thieves
now crown your good
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
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
ready for a new beginning
let it begin
let the day begin!
On second thought
I think I’ll leave it empty for awhile