these stale thoughts
infect my thoughts
making them too pressing
too heavy to hold
or chew
or swallow
or lug
in this massive bag
of regret
my thoughts
my madness
spawned in the bone-white lies
of morality plays
immorality plays
mortality plays
I will play a dirge
sing a bittersweet song
as we come together
as we join
to peel back
all these noxious layers
these caustic
thought
layers
held fast and firm
by this oppressive
cruel sun
whose faux smile sours
in the brittle moonlight
that rises
through the fog
in these dark nights
a brandished
weaponized smile
his radar eyes
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in our minds
squelching our truth
standing over
he looks down
icy eye’d
he sees my scabbed lips
cracked and dry
“cruel sun gotcha”
he smirks
with lethal contempt
let us all cry out
“no more”
let us rip away
this venom
this lethal virus
this heartless evil
so that a new dawn
a new sun will rise
spread its light
and warm our hearts
with the radiance of rebirth
let enlightenment rain
let love pour down
drown this cruel sun
and rekindle the flame of hope
I think I’m going to Mars today
it’s been on my mind for quite some time
a break from the norm is long overdue
no finer distraction — that isn’t taboo
my daily tasks will just have to wait
boredom has been pestering me lately
what to do, who to call, what to read
nothing on tv of much interest tonight
lazin’ ‘round doin’ nuthin’ — yeah right!
I think I’m going to Mars today
travel always seems to be exciting
new things to see when on a trip
new things to learn new places to be
such stimulation is calling to me
it’s been on my mind for quite some time
always the same short trips to be made
dropping the squabbling kids off at school
odds and ends from the same old market
checking on mom to see she’s on target
a break from the norm is long overdue
the rocket ride alone sounds amazing
the martian surface up close — mindblowing
the big red sand dunes seem surreal somehow
the Medusae Fossae Formation — just WOW!
no finer distraction — that isn’t taboo
though leaving does have its concerns
who will take fido for his morning walk
who will make beds, pack lunches, fix dinner
sorry family — mom just don’t have it in her
my daily tasks will just have to wait
In recent months I have been in the very capable care of the Evergreen Neurosciences Institute, waging battle against the challenges of failing memory. I do not plan to go quietly into that empty darkness. I am raging against the fading of my identity. As the challenges increase, so does my determination. I wrote this poem as a response to my situation. It is also a promise to myself that I will never put down the fight.
when that final sundown comes my love
I’ll not be lost in darkness, nor be alone
you’ve made life brighter that the sun
you are my light — you are my home
Texas Hold’em is a type of poker in which players can make their best 5-card hand out of 7 available cards. In Texas Hold-em, players receive two facedown cards as their personal hand (blind hole-cards), after which there is a round of betting. Then three board cards are turned face up simultaneously (called the flop) and another round of betting occurs. The next two board cards are dealt face up to the table, one at a time. The first is called the “turn”. The next card is the last. It’s called the “river”. There is a round of betting after each of these last two cards. A player can “fold” (drop out) at any time.
“In Texas Hold’em, the meek don’t inherit the Earth.” — David Hayano
A veggie grower named Alice I’ve found
whose fresh veggies I consume with delight
her veggie stand is on the far side of town
gotta get more of Alice’s produce tonight
her Wonderland Risotto is simply to die for
her own homegrown mushrooms are the key
I’m off to Alice’s in hopes she has more
these other ‘shrooms I tried just don’t agree
while heading to Alice’s alone — not a care
through some tall trees I happen to glance
there’s a valley nature conceals down there
what do I see — a woodland nymph in a dance
I can not believe the wonder I see
a vision joined by singing butterfly elves
this enchanted vale is awhirl below me
mythical creatures enjoying themselves
dare I go down there and join in the fun
Blu and Poppy are there – I feel no fear
so down the mountainside quickly I run
burst through the trees – Alice! you’re here
Alice my dear, this is not your veggie stand
no — but follow me, hurry, let us not wait
my place is just ahead — please take my hand
you’re halucinating badly on that mushroom you ate
you feeling small, then big, is your head in a spin
I’ve something at my stand to make you feel right
then go home, make risotto — put my mushrooms in
close your eyes, take a nap, you’ll be fine tonight
I start drifting away, didn’t take but a while
as I do, I realize that I now understand
I dream Alice is saying with a huge Cheshire smile
“for ‘enlightening’ risotto try my Wonderland”
the bow of love songs pulled just right
taut golden strings are pressed down tight
the passion-winged hearts of lovers unite
lift them trembling in sensual delight
to soar over moonlit rooftops above
ablaze in soul-fire magic of love
as lovely fate dances in moonlight
on this satin chill winter’s night
in her wondrous gown of stars
This city is my zip code
but it is not where I “live”
never has been
to me
this city
as are most cities
is empty of heart
void of soul
this city
that vibrates
with the rush and chaos
of synapse and sinew
this city
that vibrates
with the hum of networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
often the we can
beyond the reach
of should we
this city
teeming
with college’d clones
like-patterned minds
that surge with ambition
that submit to the agendas
good or bad
dreaming of early retirement
fearing an early death
this city
bedecked in stainless
and stone
poured
erected
glassen’d
this city
ablaze in halogen
aglow in neon
awash in tears
of the poor
this city
its haughty monoliths
of varying shape
differing size
flanked in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
blink and beep
that ring buzz belch hiss
— and stink
this city
that intimidates
in cold and calculated majesty
this empty city
as do most
abuses the human soul
it does not nurture
that seeks the folded petal’s mystery
that marvels at the smallness
of a changing frond
at the tart-sweet scent’d
gnarled bark
of mighty conifer monoliths
thrusting ever skyward
or the magic
of a budding branch
this city
does not touch my spirit
soothed by wind and water
thrilled by song of birds
or the swoop of hawks
this city
does not spark my wonder
stirred by the yelp
or bark
or bleat
of beasts
this city
cannot reach my soul
that needs to see a salmon’s trek
the open sky
the roll of unobstructed clouds
see the fall of stars
this city
has nothing for my soul
that needs to hear the crack of thunder
resound for miles across the plane
then off the mountain’s face
that needs the fresh embrace of rain
the crisp and quiet drift of snow
the hues and sway of living fields
this city
leaves my spirit cold
that needs to watch the orchard
blossom and bloom to fruit
see forests
thick beyond horizons
or feel the lift of cresting surf
no
this city
does not satisfy my need
to know the evolving natural wonders
that inspire
that swell my soul
that resonate my heart
this city
does not hold my soul
and so I look beyond
for my tomorrow
*
humans stacked in cubes
compressed so their soul can’t breathe
this is not the way
humans need nature
the heart and mind must be free
break the concrete cage
Here I’m wishing wishes for those days when life made sense. I’m thinking thoughts that tear at me for the things I failed to be. How I do welcome the damp dreary days of February, when my forlorn fallen face is commonplace. When no one intrudes to question what’s the matter. To tears I cry there comes no — why, because all around are caught up in the blues.
No, she will not excuse this sadly lost and broken man, who much too late understands I was a fool, and in this sorrow understands, love’ll not return. I am glad fouler weather will soon occur, to drive the joyful all around me to indoor spaces, so I’ll be spared the pain of smiling faces. My heart aches to feel her smile’s embrace. But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face.
This “found poem” is made from the first line from each monthly poem I posted in 2023. At the very bottom of this post is the title of each in chronological order. These first lines were not assembled chronologically.
The first poems from each month in their chronological oder:
Looking for America 1/3/23
Now 2/2/23
Hmmm… 3/2/23
Soaring Silken 4/1/23
I’m Here 5/1/23
Love’s Serenade 6/1/23
Kiss 7/11/23
Sweet Gold 8/1/23
Otherworldly Love 9/1/23
Femme Magique 10/2/23
Always 11/2/23