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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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?

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

Big Fat Liar

Bogus lips who wave and waddle in

A wind of fabrication.

Bastardized capitulation to the

Terms of simple reason,

Killing any last good hope that

Principal might will and win.

Withering on sun-dried porches,

Wallow in your dismal dregs.

 

When did it become such labor?

Such a ruesome journey just to

Find a fact and lay it out in

Rhythmic sweet simplicity.

 

When did stealth subversiveness

Become the ruling master plan?

Is it greed? Is it mead to

Grace the face of conversation?

 

Am I ill to be pragmatic?

Wanting fact in place of ilk.

Cast your fate with yellow dogs

When truth subverts to holiday.

 

Together for Never

We can’t seem to get together

In this helter-skelter mix.

Pathways never quite converge in

Forest green or meadow bright.

Often time it’s hill or mountain

Blocking view, come between.

Even when we find a tunnel

Funneled miles without the light.

 

Seeking grand and righteous virtues

You fly high above my brow,

Teasing me to grab your wing, to

Fly beside you on your quest.

But flying high above the crowd,

Beyond the clouds, is not my cup.

Grounded here on common soil,

I seek only happiness.

 

No doubt somewhere eons hence

Our kindred souls shall meet again.

But for now we close our blissful eyes and

Dream what might have been.

 

Heartbreaker

Hail to the heartbreaker,

Standing tall.

May you get all you consider your due.

May the puppy you thrashed

Bounce back biting you

In the ass as you sit high on your wall

Looking down, sad, smug smile on your face.

Never imagining you’re the hard case.

Never considering you’re a disgrace

To your gender,

Pumped as you are with such gall.

 

Truce and truth…

Let the moment subside.

Pry yourself from the crack

Where you hide.

Sample humility… swallow some pride…

See what your stifled mem’ry recalls of

A time you sat in opposing chairs,

Totally baffled, unaware of

The lead ball headed straight for your heart,

Leaving you desolate…

         Lost…

                  And small.

 

Breakdown

Smothering clouds hold the sunlight at bay while

The raven’s scream cuts deep in my soul.

Spirit sinks low in a bottomless pit of despair

Where no one can find their feet.

 

Drifting in aimless, directionless haze.

Shifting position, adjusting my gaze.

Lift me please from this impossible maze.

Sifting out options, however discreet.

 

Where is my mindset?

Far gone my passion.

Blasted to pieces – a million and one.

Washed up on beaches as

Fodder to seabirds,

Or left undiscovered to shrink in the heat.

 

Tear-stained,

Mind drained of any compassion,

Weakened to sniffling, sniveling flesh.

Yield to the travesty.

Abandon logic.

Embrace the comfort of utter defeat.

 

History Speaks. Is Anybody Listening?

Echoes bounce back constantly,

Reminders of transgressions, blind

Oppression, sad impressions,

Allegations of what might have been.

Someone even wrote it down,

Polished every detail, printed,

Sold it retail, turned a profit

Baked in mortal sin.

 

Prepubescent innocence is quell

To feed on fervorance,

And dies e’er it becomes intense

Enough to feed the quakes.

And we forget, or just don’t care

To read the notes of yesteryear,

And so are doomed beyond repair

To make the same mistakes.

 

The Right Tool

Sometimes it takes a hammer,

Other times… a sponge.

Driving nails, driving home a point,

Or simply cleaning up,

Absorbing all the overflow

Emotions generate.

Tearing down the bitter

Brick and mortar of mistrust.

 

Raise the sword of savagery

When faced with fearsome foe.

Embrace the dove and laurel leaf

When beckoned to converse.

Face the world with pen in hand

To foster your belief.

Seek the book of knowledge

In ravenous repast.

 

Measure twice your choices

Before cutting them to fit.

Level every surface, every

Angle neatly squared.

Keep your tools in order,

Cleaned and ready; within reach.

Choices make the difference

Between sanity and strife.

 

It Gets Better

Rent is due, funds are scarce and

The landlord is a putz.

Johnny’s failing all his classes.

Suzie is a klutz.

 

Momma says she needs new shoes.

Dad needs a new shirt.

Both bemoan the plight that comes with

Being poor as dirt.

 

Grandma called. She thinks that Grandpa

Should be in a home.

Can’t remember diddly-squat,

His mind has turned to foam.

 

Bubba fell out of the truck;

Broke an arm and leg.

Won’t be working for a while.

At least he saved the keg.

 

Aunt Fannie’s getting married

For the twenty-second time.

A slight exaggeration…. But

It should be a crime.

 

Maybe I’ll sit down tonight and

Write the Lord a letter,

Offer up a midnight prayer and

Hope that it gets better.

 

Gamble Gambit

Anti up and deal the cards.

Face down. Face up. Call your game.

Call my bluff.

         Perhaps I’m lying.

Shrink and fold

         If you’re so lame

You can’t endure the hot/cold sweats,

Take a stand without regrets,

Lose the battle?

Lose the farm?

Face the challenge?

Place your bets.

 

You might be a first-move-maker

If you have it in your gut to

Gnaw and gnash and bare your fangs,

Claw and climb the rotting rut.

 

Taking chances.

         Lashing out.

                  Slashing deep

                            The unkind cut.