Ode To the Bitter Storm.

Ode To The Bitter Storm

Ode to the bitter storms that weep;

And cry and hate and love and sleep;

Ode to the weathered storm,

Where lovers are in houses warm. 

Ode to the rivers that are vast,

And the snow that falls is bitter last;

And all the cold in the northern winds,

Are yesterday’s forgotten lonely friends.

In the darkness of the night,

The wind sounds lonesome and full of fright;

Ode to the skies above,

Where the clouds form in maiden’s love.

 

All the hate and light of life,

Are burdened by the dreams of strife;

Take the heart and show the dream,

Of a cold and lonely driven stream.

Where fish are full of maiden fair,

And flies fly lonely through the air.

All the night that dimly sleeps,

And cries and mourns and sins and weeps.  

Love From a Distance.

Love From a Distance

“I have to love you from a distance,”
I said, as I smacked my lips on a piece of

Bubble gum.  This was how it was and how

It always shall be, a little like an apple

Falling from a tree.  Destiny is far from reach;

Some people never obtain it.  Look at life as if it

Is going to bop you in the eye because you don’t

Understand anything else.  Once you said,

“Why don’t you love me?”  But you never loved

Me back in the way that you were supposed to

Love me, as if I were no one else alive in this

Crazy, mixed up world with its crazy mixed up

Rules.  Nobody said it was going to be perfect

But it has got to be better than the alternative,

Something you don’t seem to quite understand.

The letter of it is that nothing is quite the same

And that everything is turned backwards;

Everything is turned inside out and I don’t know

Anything about anything except what I know.

Things aren’t always quite what they seem,

But sometimes they are and you have to get used to them

Before things change and you don’t know what

You are doing or where you are going and nothing

Is ever the same again.

All it is is you are my long lost friend and I miss you,

Far away and forgotten.  I am miserable without you.

Pizza.

Pizza

Eating pizza is done by culinary experts

That ride on the shores of Grimm Lake;

Short pools of nothing fade to expectations,

And move to resounding resistance.

Thinking is futile.  The experience of differences

Is nothing short of amazing, and the head

Of the crowd is often the least likely person.

Don’t think about anything twice.  Think less

About things that matter.  The lake is just as

Bland as others are; we love the turn of the

Movement, the heart of it all.  Drown out

The sound of your mother’s calling; go walking

Out into the unknown.  I think about it

Sometimes, about what could have been if things

Hadn’t turned out badly; destruction may be imminent,

But don’t say I didn’t try.  I tried to fix things,

To make it work, but it didn’t end up that way

And now I feel sorry.  There is nothing more to say

About that and I can’t thank the person enough for

Bringing it to my attention.  The burden of proof is

Hard; something else is least forgotten.

Simple Lessons.

Simple Lessons

Some people think you have to be rich or

Pretty or popular.  I say you have to be nice and

Kind, you have to dress warmly and say appropriate

Things.  I say you like what you like and if people don’t

Like it then don’t care about them.  Life is what you

Make it.  You can go fast or slow if you want to.

Don’t let anyone tell you to deter you from your

Track.  Don’t let a man break your heart unless you are

Willing to go the extra mile for him.  Don’t talk back

Unless someone is disrespecting you.  Don’t be bitter.

Don’t hate.  Don’t spit on the poor because they will

Spit back, in one form or another, through their

Smell or lack of money.  Some people can’t help but

Be poor because of their friends or relatives and it isn’t

Really their fault, but you can get help if you look for it

And then you will be well.  Wellness is a great thing,

A wonderful thing, something you shouldn’t take for

Granted.  And by wellness I mean a healthy mind

And a healthy heart.  You don’t have to be a genius

And you don’t have to be a supermodel.  You have to

Have a kind heart.  Because the kind heart will always

Win and the mean heart will always lose.  Be kind

When you must.

THE NOTE.

THE NOTE

You told me this wasn’t the way you

Wanted to end it.

That you wanted something different,

You wanted to make it last.

You were adamant about it,

You said you couldn’t let us say goodbye.

I guess you could say goodbye in many

Different ways, like, skywriting or writing

It in a poem, you don’t really have to tell

Someone goodbye, you can just think it,

Like so many forgotten dreams.

Most people forget about having dreams.

They let their lives drift by slowly, moving as

If in a trance, not really thinking about anything

But falling in love, having children, and

Getting a job, but they don’t really think about

Who they are married to or who their children

Are or what their job is really about, all they

Think about is doing those things and getting

Life over with as quickly as possible.

Some of those lives are riddled with misery,

Like day-old newspaper on a sad, tired old

Rug on a bathroom floor in someone’s house.

And then you have to remind yourself you are still

Alive, that your dreams count for something,

That you don’t have to settle for seconds.

You can go for firsts.

Incident At the Barbershop.

Incident At the Barbershop

Tomorrow is not like it was today.

Yesterday is gone but today is not.

You told me you were going down to the

Barber shop for a haircut, but you came

Back ten minutes later, crying your

Eyes out because you had made enemies

Of the barber.

He wasn’t very nice, you said.

I asked you to give me specifics,

But you insisted the cause was not just,

That it was just better to keep it to

Yourself.

I didn’t bother you after that, because

You seemed so distraught.

I can make out everything in my mind,

The way you must have sounded when

You spoke to the barber,

And the way you must have fled,

Crying, from the barbershop.

I never liked the barbershop, either,

It was as if you were losing a piece of

Yourself that you could never get back.

One day, maybe you will tell me,

And tomorrow will begin as if it had not

Stopped, and yesterdays were not promised,

And all endings will begin again.

ALL THAT'S FLESH.

All That’s Flesh

All that’s flesh is wrought of flesh,

All that’s bone is wrought of bone.

Bone and flesh mingle together,

Forming a xylophone. 

The music that’s in the tone,

Goes together as if going on forever.

All that’s there is mourned of flowers,

Are burdened by light, and wrought with powers. 

In the season of the flesh,

The folding of night is pushed inside.

Just like a blessed mesh,

The heart and joints will not abide.

All that’s flesh is wrought of flesh,

And all that’s bone is wrought of bone.

You put everything together in a mess,

And hope for the sound of the bone.

Under the Moon.

Under the Moon

The morning after it was like the sun

Was rising in the east,

The golden sun on that April morning

When we first made love.

It was as if the whole entire world was

Awakening at that very moment,

Filling to the brim of it the way I was filling

Our cups with orange juice,

And drinking it down.

Making love had become just like breathing,

And everyone knew about it but no one

Knew nothing.

It was a secret we had kept during the night,

While we tossed and thrashed among the bed

Covers, looking like banshees going out for

A morning walk.

It was a divine moment the first time our

Lips entwined, like a fiery hot fire of burning

Flames shooting from here to infinity.

Then the caresses and everything in it,

Flesh upon flesh, sheets upon flesh,

And the niceness to it that was everything.

That was the lovemaking on that very first night,

That lasted a lifetime under the moon.

Somewhere, I think, a wolf howled.

Or maybe it was me.

Life.

Life

The purpose of life is not waking up

Thinking you’ve lived a half-assed life.

In the dreams that you seek, you begin

To dwell on the fact that nothing will

Ever change, that change takes time,

That nothing will ever be the same again.

Buddha says everything takes time.  Buddha

Says there are all things great and grand.

Life is in how you live it, not in what other

People tell you.

If you want to buy a motorcycle, then buy

A motorcycle.  It is very simple.

Life is simple, my friend said, late one evening

In September, after the torrid rains had torn

Everything apart, to the smallest miniscule. 

The smallest microscopic organism. 

Some people are very polite; others, not so

Polite.  We weed by example.  We are not

The example.  Somebody once said,

That to dream is to be of the flesh.  I think it

Was my brother, who was a motorcyclist and

Had gotten a parking ticket late one afternoon

While getting his hair cut.

To dream is to err.

IN A CIRCLE.

In a Circle

The adjacent simplicity of water is

More like the lateral movement of

Destruction.  Everyone encompasses the

Movement, that is in the movement of us.

Some people steal purses; others steal credit

Cards.  But all people are on this world

That spins and moves in circles around an

Interstellar sun.  Sometimes it is hard to get

Ideas from not moving; but, when the spirit

Moves you, this is the time to respond

To the utter realization of thus, that all moves

On this planet, including the wind.

The wind is moving my hair.  It is moving

The flag.  It is moving your clothes. 

See, what did I tell you, that anger does not

Really mean you should be angry, but

Have fierce realizations that time goes in a

Circle, that everything moves and goes in

A circle, too.  This is what poetry means.

I guess you could say this is what anything

Means, and how anything goes, what with

Destiny and all, shaping our minds and helping

Us move forward, move forward.

We are always moving forward.

Didn’t you know that?

WHAT INFINITY IS.

What Infinity Is

The proclamation of infinity is, without

A doubt, a half-realization.  This stands above

The rest, that all has been and all shall be.

We have been moved when all are moved.

I do not want to brag, but I have been broken

Many times like a broken bottle, a clock

That runs backwards.  The time is not in

The time.  Do not be straightforward because

We are all fragile, like shards of glass on

A highway.  The highway is full of old cars.

On the side of the highway is a landfill.

I dream of a place where I can be free and not

Be afraid of being thrown into the wind like

A song.  We are beside on the times.  Sometimes,

We hear the things that should not be said

And say things that should not be spoken.

It is how humans are, the need of it, the greed of it

Is much better than what was given.

Some people will do anything to go on a vacation.

Others will do anything for love.  Still, there are those

Who do both and I do not wish to brag, but I do not

Like either, I simply like listening to jazz on my

Way to work, hoping for a better tomorrow,

Hoping for something much better than here.

It’s a stone’s throw away.

Grandmothers Are Happy.

Grandmothers Are Happy

The drunken shadow was on the wall of

Forgetfulness.  My mother forgets me

Every single day.  She walks up and down the

Stairs, while whistling a tune, sometimes

I can make out what she is singing,

Other times, I can’t.  Her mind used to be

Sharp as a whip, but now it is gentle as a cow,

And I am getting used to telling her how

Things used to be, and where things are.

There is a difference in the times, now.

She used to whistle up a storm.

The storm has grown dim.  Everything is dim

As a cow’s butt.  I wish my mother was how

She used to be, so playful and loving, but

The disease took her away.  It is a disease

Of the mind.  She doesn’t dream of anything

Anymore, she just sits and whistles and

Laughs herself silly.  I never know what she is

Laughing about anymore.  It is like a joke

I don’t know anything about.  She was married

Once.  Her ex husband left her the children

And the old rocking horse.  She loves the

Rocking horse more than she loves her children,

And she says, one day, she is going to put

Her grandchildren on the back of that rocking

Horse and whistle her heart out.  That is what

Should happen.  Grandmothers should be

Happy.

Some Love Doesn't Last Forever.

Some Love Doesn’t Last Forever

The light is bitter and waning,

And I am growing old.

I have always loved you, dear,

But I am growing old.

The green pastures are fading,

And the light is growing dim.

My true love is yearning,

But soon I will be gone.

Tomorrow will be here before you

Know it,

And today will always live forever.

In my heart, I will never, belong to anyone

But you.

My love is aching and beautiful.

You say you love me now.

Sometimes your love will stray,

But you say you love me now.

I never knew what to tell you, all those times

We were together,

That love is ever-lasting, but some love

Doesn’t last forever.

I Live In a Forest.

I Live In a Forest

The forest was a grim place of

Destruction.  The night is dim like

A lamp.  Stars want to come out to play,

Like the rodeo that they are.  The wishing

Well is damp.  Someone had fallen in it over

Ten years ago, and their ghost haunts the water.

Sometimes, you can see his face if you stare

Down into it, and wave.  Sometimes, waving

Makes things seem better than they actually

Are.  The distance is the becoming of it.

The distance is grand, and flocks like the

Ocean.  The waves are turbulent.  Surfers surf

On the surface of it.  A locket, a dangling necklace

Of greed washes on the shore of the waves

Of the ocean.  The grandness is in the theft.

Some days are better than others.  Other days

Are bland, like apple sauce or bad vibes.

We seek what no one else will seek.

The darkness is in the light.

The light knows that.

I want to go to the Greek islands,

I want to go to the Greek islands,

You said, tossing your hair back over your shoulders,

And staring intently at my face,

Trying to garner a reaction that I didn’t want to give.

And how will you be paid?  I asked you, as if I didn’t

Already know the answer to this long burning question

You had, as if there was no time other than the present

To seek the answer to the question that no one had

The time to ask. 

I will be paid with my life, you replied, and got together

The dinnerware and silverware, putting them on the table

With the white tablecloth, moving around the plates and

Silverware, to position them just right. 

What I mean is, I said in exasperation, where is the

Money going to come from?  How will we get there?

By boat and then by plane, you answered.  I am going to use

My funds that I got from my grandfather. 

You got funds from your grandfather?  I demanded.  Why was

I not informed?

You were not listening, you replied,

And then you sat down to eat your dinner, which was

Also mine, too.

HAVE YOU TRIED TO SEE?

Have You Tried To See?

There is a whirlpool in the middle

Of the ocean where the fish do not lay eggs.

There is a dark end of the pool where

No light can escape.  It is so deep and

Dark, it attacks the fish, and they

Run away, scared, terrified they will

Die.  Some people

Have tried to swim in it.  Including fish.

But no one has ever come out of it,

Safe and whole, they are always shuddering

And looking for a psychologist to tell them

Their prognosis.  Sometimes it does not look

Good for the fish, especially the porpoises,

Who spend their entire time swimming in circles,

Trying to capture the moment before they entered

The godforsaken hellhole, the prison that is

This whirlpool.  It is out of their hands now.

They cannot save anyone who dwells in it.

They cannot even save themselves. 

The whirlpool is there, watching and waiting,

Waiting and watching, and no one is safe from it

Except the fish who avoid it in the first place.

Avoid the dark places.  Always seek the light.

HEARTBEAT.

HEARTBEAT

The littlest heartbeat is usually the

Best one.

It is stuck between my finger and my

Thumb.

No broken bones, no shattered cartilage,

Everything is masked for us to give.

Seeds of destruction are no longer filled,

Time is a worry that cannot be broken.

I am here.  I am not.  Where are you?

I have been sheltered, like a princess,

On her way to the ball.  She will fall in love

With a prince and I will be left alone.

That is how love goes, on and on forever,

Like a blessed doll.  All things are transparent.

Reading is the fundamental of science.

The backbone of commerce is more than

Riddled with the guilt of deniability. 

Forced by half-drenched realizations, there

Is a steady thrum of reluctance, which is cast

Aside as reverence.  Everything we have we

Have worked for.  Everything we know is turned

Into a brand of knowledge that is not in our

Foreseeable future.  Some people have no future.

Others do.  But it is all taken in stride, just like

A landslide that has overtaken the realm of

All doubt.  I have not been given a way out,

But, still, I am looking for one.  How is that

Forgiven?  How is that a meaning of forget-fullness?

What is the dream of realization that eludes us?

And then, in the damn of hatred, we wait to

Be reconciled, even still.

May 17, 2016,

May 17, 2016,

I was out scouting with a friend and we

Found a turkey on the side of the road,

Drenched in sweat.  It was the ridiculousness

That made us stop and stare, and the kindness

That made us help the poor creature.

I gathered him in my arms and walked three miles

To the nearest vet, where he was placed in tender

Loving care.  We had to go over a bridge to get

There, and walking along the side of the bridge,

People would honk their horns at us and wave,

As if we were celebrities or something.

I named the turkey Ki.  Ki was given to an

Animal farm where he lived out his days pecking

At the ground and being someone’s pet turkey.

It was a dream come true for him.  He loved

Every minute of it and loved it even more when

We came to visit and brought over toys,

Even a ball.  There was a small kiddie pool and he

Liked to swim in it.  I never saw a turkey who liked

To swim as much as he did, and I guess that was why

We found him that day, because he was special.

We all felt that.

PEACE IN THE PICTURE.

PEACE IN THE PICTURE

The peace is in the picture.

I have been wallowing in it.

I have immersed myself in the stink

Of it.  Sometimes I go for a long drive

And relax.  It does the body some good.

Everything dwindles to nothing. 

The esteem is in everyone else.  I have

Tried to find myself in wallowing;

The darkness knows me not.  Some people

Love for the sake of loving, others, because

They do not want to be alone. 

I have immersed myself in the knowing

Of everything; in the believing that the darkness

Will rise out of the darkness, and the

Shadows will not be ripe for the taking. 

Everything is grand and grander still,

For the want of knowing something.    

Sometimes I think that maybe I want something

Else, better than what I had before,

But then I realize the height of it is respect,

And the depth of it is respect, even when

It is snowing or raining or the weather is doing

Something you do not like.

THE SNOW EGRET.

The Snow Egret

The snow egret has been flying

Forever.  The moon is over the water.

And it shimmers and shines.

The starlight overtakes the darkness.

Everything is not mine, it is in the

Water.  Darkness is more vast

Than the ocean itself.  The waves

Are large.  Everything is large,

As the ocean, including the waning

Moon. 

Some things do not happen soon.

Daylight overtakes night and houses are

Shaken on their foundations.

The night is great and wide.

People walk in the darkness; they are

Going towards their homes, or are

On a date.  Other people are already in

Their homes and wish to stay there.

The night is just like mine.

It moves and waves and bends, like

The ocean.  The ocean bends.

Everything bends in it.  Excitement

Overtakes me.  I know the ocean.