Pintos, Okra and Fried Green Tomatoes

Some harbor favor for gourmet cuisine:

Caviar, pheasant or filet mignon.

Trendy like crepe suzettes, crème brulee, sushi,

Mildly to wildly exotic in theme.

 

Others, like me, have a simpler palette:

Meatloaf, potatoes, hot apple pie,

Pintos, okra and fried green tomatoes,

Coffee, no sugar, and light on the cream.

 

Buttermilk cornbread to crumble like sugar,

Biscuits with jelly, a savory sweet,

Mother’s fried chicken, a finger-food favorite

Served up on Sunday, a family buffet.

 

I would not argue or offer a protest

To anyone’s favor for fanciful foods, but

Pintos, okra and fried green tomatoes are

More than enough to get me through the day.

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The Green of Summer

The passing of unsettled skies

Makes way for more pastoral days

Where green is nature’s uniform

And sunlight clings to the horizon.

 

Bold the forest spreads its welcome,

Gives itself up willingly to

All who seek its gentle comfort,

Shelter from the noonday sun.

 

Fields and meadows roll with laughter.

Children’s voices ringing bells of

Simple joy while we sit watching

Keeping vigil as they play.

 

Nighttime cannot quench your colors, 

Hide the flavor of your hue.

I can taste the green of summer

Though my eyes see only gray.

 

Oh, that you could stay forever,

Wear your magic on my sleeve, but

Seasons come and seasons go

Leaving little time to grieve.

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Sanctuary

Run to cover, shelter from

The fire-belching dragon who

Would have your face for breakfast and

Consume your flesh at dinnertime.

 

Holding faith with vigilance

In stalwart measure, self-assured,

Tasting of adrenaline rushing,

Pumping to the bone.

 

No one knows where courage musters,

Cannot guess the origins of

Fight or flight, wrong or right.

Still it finds us in the dark.

 

Let me be your sanctuary.

Let me still your angry skies,

Be your comfort and protector

When the monster storms your gate.

 

We will face the beast together,

Sword and lance held to the sky.

Two as one, invincible,

Striding out to find our fate.

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Obnoxious Willie

Willie is a worry-wart who

Whines and wiles away his day

Making matters miserable in 

Messy, muddled, mocking ways.

 

Carry on, you cranky critter,

Gripe and groan and bellyache

Until you make the masses moan

Bleeding green for distant shores.

 

Must you be so damned contrary?

Moving in concentric counter-clockwise

Circles, opposite of

Every other point of view.

 

Who made you the center of

The universe? The oracle?

The last, the first, the only word

Authoring authority.

 

No one wants to hear your humor.

No one dotes your droll display.

If we’d only seen your smoke

We would have run the other way.

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On the Other Side

Magic misty gray horizon

Shadowing the rising sun,

Secreting the land of plenty

Waiting on the other side.

 

Filling minds with wide conjecture,

Mysteries in cloak and veil

Seldom fail to mystify.

Questions only, if you please.

 

Not a soul has ever bought a

Round trip ticket to your shore with

Beaches that go on forever,

Never crowded, never full.

 

Never-ending holiday of

Voices lifted high in praise,

Leaving joy and happiness the

Only order to fulfill.

 

Let my heart be fanciful.

Let my mind be open to the

Widest spectrum of belief

Where grand imagination rules.

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Death Kills

Highly inappropriate to

Speak of death when

Sunlight dances playfully

Upon the hillside casting

Very little shadow on

The meadow, if at all.

 

Cannot, must not kill

The dream, cry the scream of

Dreadful mourn,

Place a burden to be

Born on shoulders

Fully unprepared.

 

Open-eyed, yet unaware of

Danger lurking in the trees,

Tiger-quick, apache fearless,

Ready to spring forth with ease.

 

So involved, preoccupied,

Dreams of conquest to fulfill.

Defiant to the bitter end,

Scratching, crawling up the hill.

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Blisters on Your Backside

Riding along in your broad barcalounger,

Bucking recliner, couched in a crouch.

Waiting for nothing to silently happen,

Hoping that something will make you worthwhile.

 

Parked on the sidelines of life’s little gambit,

Chewing-tobacco stuffed in your pouch,

Shifting but little to reach for your spit-cup,

Grossing out children with vices so vile.

 

You used to run with the quickness of foxes

So far ahead of the hunt-hungry hounds.

Never a doubt or a question of capture.

Smarter and faster, you lived for the chase.

 

Lately it seems you’re not up for the contest,

Don’t even touch your feet to the ground.

Did you grow old or just get lazy?

Hanging your head in defeat and disgrace.

 

You can just sit there petting your pride

Trying to hide your unspeakable stunt,

Rubbing the blisters on your backside,

Or you can climb back into the hunt.

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Time Marches Sideways

Bated and battered by mindless meanderings,

Waiting and watchful with vigilant vision,

Passing the muster of youthful exuberance,

Pressed for a time into servitude’s locker.

 

Prancing and pacing and mark-time-march,

Seven mile hiking to nowhere and back.

Searching for what? For something amazing?

Waiting for my quarter-hour of fame.

 

“It takes time,” the ne’er-do-wells tell me.

“Must be patient,” they throw in my face.

But treading in time is like treading on water.

Must keep moving else sink to the bottom.

 

No one is patient. It’s just a façade.

No one make waiting a chosen profession,

Hated regression, silent confession,

Wandering into the stagnant congestion.

 

When will I realize I can’t be immortal?

Who keeps the watch ticking endlessly on?

Waiting for me? Waiting for no one.

Time marches sideways; never keeps still.

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Don’t Forget Your Hat

You say you’re leaving;

You can’t take it anymore.

Put your coat on

As you’re walking out the door.

 

Turn to lash out

One more time before you go.

Hateful trash-talk;

Something I don’t want to know.

 

Changes found you,

Can’t say why or how or where.

When it happened?

I don’t know and I don’t care.

 

I won’t stop you

If you’re so dead set to leave.

Won’t come running,

Pulling frantic on your sleeve.

 

Only one thing

I can truly say to that.

Give your keys up

And don’t forget your hat.

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Blasted Cell Phones

They’re everywhere you go these days; those

Loud, obnoxious, boorish louts,

Land-line shirkers, hand to ear

Talking just below a shout.

 

Outside office, on the street, crowded

Restaurants, cars and bars,

Trains and planes and subway stations,

Doctor’s office, super mart.

 

What could be so urgent that

It truly couldn’t bide?

Are we so self-important that

We lose all sense of pride.

 

And what’s become of privacy,

Courtesy and grace?

And as for common sense, they’ve

Launched it into outer space.

 

Time and place is everything,

Or so it use to be.

Except for cell phone addicts

Who reject civility.

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Poker Face

Reaching deep into the void for

Traces of humanity

I come away with nothing,

No display, no commonality.

 

Emotion shriveled like a week-long

Petal fallen from a rose

Crumbling beneath my step,

Nothing real to be exposed.

 

Where does one acquire the skill

To hide behind such steely mask?

Is it learned or is it gift?

Is knowing far too much to ask?

 

Can a heart learn to suppress the

Smallest twitch, the slightest glint?

Muscles under such control they

Fail to give a single hint.

 

I could reach out, offering a

Helping hand, a warm embrace,

If I could only know your thoughts,

If I could read your poker face.

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Thrust Upward

We had it all, begging no pardon,

Accepting no quarter from frequent distracters,

Keeping a light over our pretty bedclothes,

Feeding the meter with coinage aplenty.

 

Happily, snappily, jauntily singing,

Running through sprinklers in childlike joy,

Bracing for nothing, braking for less,

Flying full-throttle through oceans of air.

 

We never thought the world could come crumbling,

Never imagined us coming to end.

Tolls left unpaid coming due with a vengeance,

Sipping the bile of indifference and change.

 

I ran with blinders; did not see it coming

Til you stopped me hard, dagger in hand.

Stabbing me deep to the pit of my stomach

You thrust upward straight to my heart.

 

I can’t imagine my world without you.

You can’t imagine the damage you’ve done.

Heart soundings mutes to eternal silence

Joined with the undead in their zombie walk.

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Take a Tissue

Sitting in silence, head bowed, eyes lowered,

Awaiting the tribute that sorrow bestows.

Most stalwart patrons are stoic, unmoving

Except for a jostle to reset position.

 

Dressed up in finery, scrubbed and bejeweled,

Ladies in hats, overdone in perfume.

Men pulling ties from the back of the closet,

Hoping that no one will notice the stain.

 

Laughter of children noticeably absent.

Dare not expose. Would not understand.

Craving a cigarette, fighting the urge.

Will anyone notice if I sneak away?

 

Somewhere a whimper, a sniffle or cough

Reminds the gathered that life still exists,

Moving with surety sunrise to sunset, then

Resting a bit to start over again.

 

After the weeping and wailing is over,

After the tissues are all thrown away,

After the sorrow evolves to remembrance,

Let there be laughter;

Let there be food.

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Setback

‘Must keep moving forward,’ says the boss,

‘Must outpace competition.’

Cannot pause to rest the weary.

Barely time to dress their wounds.

 

Fix this, patch that, leap a hurdle,

Quick step, side step if you dare.

Zero tolerance for stooges.

Even less for Looney Toons.

 

Deadlines loom as thunderheads.

Setbacks threatening to drench a

Fateful plan, to wash away all hint

Of progress, kill the dream.

 

Deadpan faces dressed as zombies

As they goosestep in close ranks.

Worker bees surround the hive

Dead set to protect their queen.

 

Can’t afford one more delay.

One more setback does us in.

Too much pressure,

Little pleasure,

So much hassle just to win.

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Freelance Forgiveness

It’s so hard to be your friend.

I know. I’ve tried for years.

Time and time and yet again

We’ve languished over bitter tears.

 

Times of sore frustration

I could clock you to the ground. Then

Considered situation of

Not having you around.

 

Times of panic when it seemed

The whole world was our foe.

Simple odd-lot soul mates teamed

To weather out the flow.

 

Often times in anger

Muted conversation reigned.

But never was there danger

That we wouldn’t speak again.

Whether others share our cares

Is simply not our business.

We are multi-millionaires in

This freelance forgiveness.

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Stepping in Dog Poop

Climbing in behind the wheel,

A day like any other.

Everybody buckle up before

The gears engage.

Calm and steady,

Racked and ready,

Primed to face the day.

Not a thought of malcontent,

Not a hint of rage.

 

Then from out of nowhere comes

A frightful affectation, a

Cruciferous, odoriferous,

Cankerous projection

Stepping onto senses like

A giant squashing bugs,

Quick to recognize the smell,

My mind keys the connection.

 

Find a curb, a patch of grass to

Dance the stench away.

Kiss my happy mood goodbye…

Another ruined day.

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Did I Do That?

Leaves me wondering…

Leaves me wandering…

Leaves me worrying,

Could it be true?

Could I have been so

Completely distracted?

Uniquely detached from

Reality’s realm.

 

Caught in the maelstrom of

Everyday wishes,

Tedium’s puppet just

Waiting to dance.

Sightless to change

Bouncing off of my forehead,

Stilled til my senses

Become overwhelmed.

 

Sudden, my sight becomes

Keen as a cat.

Leaves me to wonder…

Did I do that?

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Forgotten

No one wants to be forgotten,

Vanishing into the foggish

Memory of misbegottens,

Tapering to miniscule

Fragments of frenetic thought

Oxidizing into rust.

 

Large in life, behemoth that you are

In lavish local lore,

Can’t imagine that your memory could

Fade into the night to

Nothing but a radar blip

Scarcely noticed to trained eyes.

 

Much more frightening than dying,

So much angst to toss about,

Think about,

Talk about,

Howl and whine and shout about.

Will history and legacy be filled with fact

Or lined with lies?

 

Though the thought be bittersweet,

Kind, unkind, unjust.

Someone please remember when my

Aging bones return to dust.

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Frozen

Could I but capture this blissful moment

Frozen in time, I would.

Were you to bait my soul to surrender,

It would be well understood.

 

Seeking caresses of your midnight flower

Leaves me in ecstasy’s wake

Taunting my senses to new heights of freedom,

Challenging to elevate.

 

I was but callow, shallow, emotionless

Prior to the being of you.

Fighting off daylight, shrinking to midnight,

Living in deep shades of blue.

 

You are my gulf stream, killing off  icebergs,

Leading me to pristine shore.

All that my frozen heart needed to thaw.

Filled…

Never wanting for more.

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Fried

Chicken, mushrooms, green tomatoes,

Ice cream, mozzarella sticks.

Deep fried, refried, home fried

With pride. Momma! Cook it quick.

Fried zucchini, fried potatoes,

Pork chops in a pan.

Shortening, lard or olive oil,

I’m your biggest fan.

So, my blood gets sticky platelets.

I’ll just take a pill;

Eat a drumstick or a wing

Until I have my fill.

Grandma cooked with love and lard;

Lived to ninety-two.

Cholesterol and hypertension?

Words she never knew.

Okay. So, they did a study.

And my doctor says, “Take care.

Live in moderation and

Make yourself aware.”

Still, I have suspicions, thinking

Someone must have lied.

God’s cruel joke to make it bad

Just because it’s fried.

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Part Two

How you trickle silently,

Thoughtless of the grains already

Falling prey to gravity,

Filling up her bottom half.

 

Early on the hourglass was

So top-heavy, slow to empty,

Moving with the speed of trees

Left growing on the mountainside.

 

Then somewhere along the way

Your flow increased eleven-fold,

Smothering the future in an arid,

Acrid storm of dust.

 

Memories belittle any distant dream

Of wealth or fame,

Settling instead for hope of

Reinstated afterlife.

 

Let there be no sad regret.

Let there be no sorrow.

Part two isn’t over yet.

I wait to meet tomorrow.

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Half Way To…

Stuck here in the middle of

The muddle as we

Huddle just to cuddle in the

Puddle with the subtlety of fish.

 

Kiss the weary wanderers who

Happen by to ponder their

Decision, growing fonder of

A never-ending wish.

 

Look back over yesterday,

The freakish fracas of dismay,

The trifle trophies on display up

High upon a shelf.

 

Welcoming the changing tide.

Climb aboard the golden ride to

Sail tomorrow’s other side

Without a thought for self.

 

Come to center.

Brave the winter months

That lie in certainty.

Join the throng in blissful song.

Take me where I want to be.

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Perfect Pitch

Outside corner, low, away,

Paint the black. Strike three.

Hometown crowd erupts with joy,

Fanatics roar with glee.

 

Mezzo soprano sharpens. Ends

Her aria with ease.

Audience is mesmerized,

Mezzo soprano pleased.

 

Salesman standing, foot in door to

Satisfy my itch,

Amaze me with your talent for

Illusion, bait and switch.

 

Braced for failure, seeking out

Perpetual perfection.

Seldom finding sweet success

Advancing my direction.

 

Goes to show, one never knows

The what, how, where or which,

The subtle canvas that we paint

In finding perfect pitch.

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Sold Into Bondage

Once with a dream sailing off into daybreak

Probed to excitement by bold wistfulness,

Prodding the notion that nothing else mattered,

Dancing on razor’s edge. No second guess.

 

No fear of falling. No vain malcontent.

Challenging challengers. Beckoning more

With youthful exuberance, sad inexperience

Setting the stage for the heartbreak in store.

 

Out on the treadmill the dream becomes whitewashed,

Stripped of its colors, robbed of its gold.

Traded and peddled in markets of plenty.

Altered by robbers; finally sold.

 

Who are these heartless merchants of cunning

Selling off souls for a guilder or less?

Killing off dreams like assassins for hire.

Bloodless desires that never confess.

 

Waiting for rescue will not lift these shackles.

Cut off an arm if it helps to go free.

Back to the marketplace, into the fray.

Banner a dream for the whole world to see.

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The Private I

Come around some other time.

There’s no joy to share this moment.

Laughter just a distant mem’ry.

Smiles lost to unseeing eyes.

 

Unaccustomed as I have become to

Fits of melancholy,

These are strange emotions swarming

Over me like hungry flies.

 

Must need time to sort it all

In simple logical progression.

Must find reason, must make

Season follow season to conclusion.

 

Every cause must make effect.

Cannot let the sequence vary.

Cannot let deception carry off

My thoughts with vague illusion.

 

Focus!

Focus. Find the answer.

Scout the glen from mountainside.

Loose the falcon. Set him free.

Revel his unfettered glide.

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Get a Grip

What is this fantasy I’m in?

Could it be much more inane?

To dicker here and dawdle there,

To walk the boundaries of insane.

 

Must be in a sleepwalk state

Mesmerized by candlelight

Flickering. Bickering,

Trying to decide what’s right.

 

Can’t be any tried and true

Imaginings to lead the way.

Left to falter, left to flounder,

Left for yet another day.

 

Somewhere in this canyon deep

A river must flow out to sea.

Oh, to craft a simple raft to

Take me where I need to be.

 

Stripping out the colors until

Flesh is bared in subtle tone.

Reaching out to grab a limb…

Pulled into the safety zone.

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