A Glass Half Full

Are you an eternal optimist?

Do you always see the glass half full?

Do you constantly look for that

Silver lining? Live with a hope that

Springs eternal?

Liar!

Or misguided fool.

Either way you miss the mark.

Setting yourself up for disappointment

At every little twist and turn.

Nothing wrong with wanting better.

Nothing evil achieving goals,

Courting hope until we see that

All will be as it should be.

But,

And you knew there was a but,

Keeping a base in reality,

Towing a line of logical measure

Helps to define the finite line,

Keeps us on course,

Uncovering treasure.

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Brace Yourself

Uncle Billy’s been hauled off to jail.

Sheriff said he hadn’t paid support

For almost half a year.

Brace yourself. There’s more.

Cousin Tommy turned seven today,

Precious little wart.

They caught him getting drunk off beer.

Brace yourself. There’s more.

Sister Sally’s getting married.

Such a grand surprise.

They said she’s in the family way

Like her sister was before.

She’s marrying that biker dude,

Everybody’s prize.

He’s going to take her far away.

Brace yourself. There’s more.

Poppa fell and broke his leg.

Can’t work for seven weeks.

We could likely starve by then

Since we’re already poor.

Momma’s sick and took to bed

So we are on our own.

Cupboard’s bare and we don’t care.

Brace yourself….

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Carpets of Hardwood

I love the feel of carpet soft and

Plush between my toes,

Cushioning and cradling my bare feet

In its tender arms.

Smoother than a feline’s fur to

Soothe my weary bones.

More welcome than the distant shores

Of South Seas island charms.

But you seem to want to give me

Hardwood carpets, nothing more.

Plagued by nail heads, warped

Uneven, tripping shards of oak.

Why do I deserve such mental anguish?

Silent torture? This

Harsh hardscrabble treatment

Is a cruel uneven joke.

You need to lighten up your act,

Need to take a break.

This vile pathetic treatment

Would cause any heart to ache.

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Forward to the Rear

Sometimes, no matter how hard the effort,

In spite of every best intention,

I only seem to be moving backward

Into a state of futility.

Just can’t seem to catch a break,

Smitten with the curse of Job

Whose patience here was challenged

More than humans need to be.

Progress is a fragile flower

Sore in need of tender care.

Fertilized with vigilance,

Nourished by a single tear.

Dogged by persistence,

Determined to endure.

I’ll carry you on weary legs

Forward to the rear.

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Piecemeal

Patchwork is for making quilts

Or for plugging holes in inner tubes.

Pieces are for picking up when

Shattered lives break all apart.

One carries on,

Finds the glue,

Works the mending, healing plight of

Grieving sailors lost at sea, of

Helpless, hopeless, hurting hearts.

Wise men make a vain attempt to

Put the puzzle back together,

Tiny flakes so miniscule that

They escape the naked eye.

Running out of patience as the

Shadows stretch to lengths unknown,

Making nervous witness of

Unintended passers-by.

All the pieces.

So little time.

Much too soon to

Say goodbye.

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Sounding Board, Sounding Bored

Please, don’t turn your back on me at

A time like this when I need you most.

Don’t turn into a lump of coal, or yawning

Flesh with your eyes half closed.

I need you for validity, or vilification

Should the need arise.

Keep me in check, eyes pointed level

So that I may see clearly when truth is exposed.

Don’t let me whine. I

Hate people who whine and moan and lament

Over miniscule matters.

If I obsess, say enough is enough.

Once said is said. The rest is just prattle.

Keep my mind sharp like a finely honed razor.

Keep my thoughts flowing like streams to the sea.

Blessings abound for the seeker of knowledge.

All are welcome

And passage is free.

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Aggravate My Tush

You really know how to scorch my shorts,

Rag my rotors, fray my flaps.

Such muddle-headed mutterings

Should bring a child to shame.

Your beastly, bonehead brandishings

Are biting at my heels until I

Feel the strongest urge for

Bashing bones, to slash and maim.

Were I not born to know restraint

You may have fallen hard already,

Punished with a caning stick

For crimes as yet unknown.

But you keep harping, grinding,

Grating, pummeling my patience with

A finely tuned persistence that

Can dig right to the bone.

Oh, please Lord, let my ears fall deaf.

Allow a blessed hush.

This mindless addle prattle

Only aggravates my tush.

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Running With the Bulls

Now, let’s talk about something really nuts.

Let’s beat our heads against the wall

To find the logic, make some sense of

Running with Pamplona’s bulls.

How does such insane tradition

Find its’ feet? Much less a home.

How did this get started? What sad fiendish fluke

Has done us in?

Humans are of poor design to

Challenge nature’s noble beast,

A snorting, snarling mass of muscle,

Power-packed on cloven hoof.

But no one ever said that every person

Is of genius born,

And ego plus stupidity is

Just enough to do us ill.

Oh, Dear God, please have pity.

Show mercy on these fools,

These addle-minded idiots

Running with the bulls.

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Please, Put That Cigarette Out

Aren’t the rings so lovely as

They float above your head?

Cuddling the rafters, filling

Every little nook.

Didn’t the aroma of the shop

With all its’ blends fill you head

With silent notions as it set

Its fatal hook?

Pity. There, I said it.

I feel pity for your soul.

That one of your intelligence

Could be so far misled

By the sirens of Virginia who

Seek no earthly good,

Who manipulate and procreate

With anyone they bed.

And I mean not to be unkind,

Do not want to scream or shout.

I’ll ask you once, then once again,

Please, put that cigarette out.

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Fussy Fussy

Holy crap! Must I endure this

Never-ending fussy, whiney caterwauling?

Bleating sheep-calls,

Snorting gruffs of Billy goats, grating slowly.

Pouty pouty feline folly,

Picking every nit or gnat

Til every nerve of my endurance

Has been stepped on at least once.

Can’t you just accept a little

Imperfection now and then?

Don’t you know mistakes are human?

Can’t you learn to start again?

Must you be so fussy fussy?

Give a little.

Lighten up.

All too soon it will be over.

Details only interrupt.

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Blast the Politicians

Every time I settle in to catch a

Glimpse of the evening news or

Crack the spine of a magazine or

Open up the black on white,

I get the sinking feeling and

It’s much to my chagrin that

All good has gone out of life

And logic is on holiday.

Tell me, who’s to blame for this sad state?

Who is responsible?

Why can’t things be like they were?

The way that we remember from

Our golden days of innocence.

Things keep changing,

Common sense as foreign as an

Alien from Jupiter.

Who’s to blame?

We could blast the politicians for

Not reflecting moralistic views,

Worry where they’re leading us until

We lose our hair.

But when it comes to nuts and blots

We must accept the blame.

We’re the ones who let it happen.

We’re the ones who put them there.

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Reborn

It is theory eons old of

Souls reborn, riding on the everlasting

Wings of hope,

An act of faith so magnified

As to bring hope to huddled masses,

Destitute and starving in the massive heat

Of desert sun, or on

Frozen prongs of winter’s ice

Til all are gone.

Imagine for a moment that

The reaper’s scythe has little dread,

That hearts are light, and eyes see clearly

Destinations up ahead.

Fear evaporates to dust.

Anxiety is vaporized by rays of sunlight

Trickling, sparkling on dancing feet.

Waiting now and welcoming,

Never fearing

Life reborn.

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Buzz Me In, Stupid

How long do you intend to keep me

Waiting in this dire position?

Open and exposed to every

Elementary element.

Blatant brazen passers-by.

The dirty looks, the snidely sneers,

The loud loquacious laughing louts

Out to do no earthly good.

Any moment it might rain.

Darkness filtering the trees,

The buildings, every sidewalk crevice,

Blocking out the evening sun.

You’re the one who holds my fate.

Only you can make me whole.

Only you can be my savior from

This wicked, wretched state.

Please, be kind and heed my call.

Do not let your ear go deaf.

Lifetimes do not last forever.

Now’s the time to buzz me in.

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Wrinkles

I don’t spend a lot of time in

Front of mirrors so I seldom

Notice any subtle changes

Written upon cheek or brow.

Time digs deep upon its canvas

Painting furrows line to line.

Signs of wisdom, silent witness

Tended with a painless plough.

You won’t find me bent with caring

Wrought with anguish,

Quashed with woe,

Fearing for the reaper’s harvest,

Knowing that the end must come.

Every ending has a new beginning

In the next dimension.

Every step is one step closer to

Rekindling nature’s womb.

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Stay Home

Sanctuary. Cradle of contentment

As the day winds down.

Craving of the working stiff

From 8 AM til the whistle blows.

Longing desperately to

Cross her threshold

And to melt into her arms

Where I’ll be safely settled.,

Coddled in her restful womb.

Not a thought of leaving her

Outside of grave necessity.

Feet propped up, the dishes done,

TV rolling out its’ senseless drivel

Drowning, droning until

Eyelids gently fall to peaceful slumber.

Now the day forgot,

If only for a little while.

No more obligations this day.

No more rat race cluttering the mind.

Content to let the world go by.

Content to just stay home.

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Blow Your Nose

Here, take my hankie and

Go do your business.

No one is watching so

Don’t feel ashamed.

It’s not the first time you’ve

Tear-stained the linens so

Reign in the waterworks til

It be tamed.

I don’t mean to sound hardened

Or cynical,

Beastly unkind to your heart-felt emotions.

It’s just a dose of reality talking,

Soothing the soul with its

Dark healing potions.

Tomorrow you’ll wake to the bright

Sun of morning,

Fresh from your slumber

As the dew on the rose.

For now, simply struggle,

Suffering silence. Lost but not alone.

Go…. Blow your nose.

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Latent Heterosexuality

Something about the opposite sex

Captures my fancy. I’m not sure why.

Perhaps nothing more than the curve of a limb,

The curl of an eyelash,

A bowed upper lip.

Leg man, breast man, ass man, who knows?

It’s all in a package,

All made for capturing notice and

Interest in fools like me.

Cravings of eye-candy not meant to be.

Eyes flashing wantonly,

Lips pouting feverishly,

Turn of an ankle, a brief glimpse of thigh.

Hair tossed in flippancy, hinting of more to see,

Come-hither hinting that never asks why.

I plead voyeuristic,

A challenge of malehood

To stay my distance and only observe.

But keeping desires in check is not easy.

Constant vigilance must be preserved.

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Bilge Water

Chattering, clattering,

Nothing much mattering,

Ceaseless profusion of audio splattering

Eardrum to eardrum

Wistfully scattering all that is new,

Newsworthy or no.

You know the one,

Jittering, twittering,

Much like the hummingbird

Jumping and flittering

Flower to flower,

Sliding and slithering

Gulping each morsel to

Make itself grow.

You stop to listen

All in your dithering.

Cannot believe so much

Aggregate blithering.

Just so much bilge water,

Nothing for keeping,

But nowhere to hide

And no cliff for leaping

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Don’t Tweak My Nose

I’ve had my fill of your baneful excuses,

Your painful running off at the mouth,

The ceaseless profusion of uncensored gall,

The unending stream of vocal abuses.

This is the end,

No further extension.

The cord has run out on your flittering kite.

Billy-clubbed poses and

Bullied pretensions

Carry you only so far in this fight.

You have to leave now. Don’t try to argue.

Don’t be deceived into thinking you’ll stay.

Options are out, so head for the pavement,

And don’t tweak my nose as you’re walking away.

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Winsome Ecstasy

Oh, you creature of God’s great favor,

How is it you have chosen me to

Feast at your table, walk in your shadow,

Leap to your bidding, sleep by you side?

Of all the great fortune that could have befallen

This most humble servant, I could not ask more

Than the blessing of you, the essence of you,

A walk through the meadows where angels reside

Bestowing their message, their healing faith

That is only the breath of the One who endures.

Manna has fallen as sweet as the honeycomb

Filling my breast with the scent of its’ rose,

Keeping its’ promise to feed my soul, to

Lift up my spirit to levels unknown.

You are my garden, lovingly tended,

An island of passion where happiness grows.

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Lonesome Pinewood Theatre

How did you grow to be so high?

Taller than any building I knew

In my youth. Your limbs a cloud

Far above my head. Your carpets the

Soft down of my favorite pillow.

You have grown older and wiser

Than any human I know or have known

In my short term on Earth.

And you will be here long after

I’ve gone, putting on shows

For all who enter your chapel.

Your lush needles fold around me

Holding my heart as a wood nymph

Tickles my feet and the robin

Delights my ear with gleeful song.

The show begins as a cloudless sky

Refuses to penetrate your sacred shrine.

And I am left with an endless treasure,

One that I’ll own til all passes away.

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V is for Vacate

I was minding my business

When all of it started,

Had no intention of mixing it in.

Had no Illusions of being its Marshall.

Wanting instead to be left alone.

I am no savior,

Not from Samaria,

Not some vast organization of charity

Bent on saving the world in its suffering.

More Mother Hubbard without a bone.

 

So, why was I tagged? Why me the target?

Was it just happenstance calling my name?

Much more comfortable as a mere witness,

Innocent bystander, uninvolved

In this chaotic measure thrust on my shoulder,

Caught in the middle of conflicting views.

Next time I’ll walk away, vacate the zone.

Let someone else find the strength to resolve.

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Brushing Up Against Evil

Bring me my sweater to break off the chill,

Maybe a blanket to cover my shoulders.

I think I may never have felt so alone, so abandoned,

The steely breath bolder and colder.

Clenched teeth do nothing to ward off the feeling that

Something is somewhere, nowhere to be found.

Fist flexed in anguish, pumping, unpumping,

Ready to fly at the slightest sound.

Where did this come from? Where is it going?

Where can I hide til it passes away?

Ill winds, chilled winds howling in sorrow,

The voices of millions lost an afraid.

Flight would seem futile, nowhere to hide

From this eminent creature, this demon, this saint.

Pure in its way to the aspect of evil.

Searching, seeking, devouring the untainted

Hearts of the masses, one at a time.

Needing and feeding, then feeding some more.

Shield me, oh Heavens, from this branded torture.

Help me to win this battle,

This war.

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The Weight of All Evidence

Innocent! I cried. I am the victim,

Bashed and abandoned to deep wells of scorn.

Notice the scars left to blemish my spirit,

Violent cuts my soul to adorn.

 

Where is the justice? If justice be served.

Who’ll cleanse my wounds and lay bindings upon all the Bleedings? The pleadings? Who stops the tears?

Where is the solace now all hope is gone?

 

You were my hero, pedestal-rider.

You were the pinnacle, my source of light.

Steadfast and solid, a human Gibraltar.

How could I know you would ever take flight?

 

The scythe of the Reaper has torn out my heart,

Hidden away someplace I may not know.

Hopeful that someday I’ll see you again.

The weight of all evidence tells me so.

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