The Six-Sided Cell

WANTED

2009-06-23T07:35:00.001-07:00

One Higher Power,
understanding, kind,
all knowing, patient, wise,
forgiving, near, compassionate,
attentive to mankind,
More powerful than TV,
pizza, beer
and sex.
From you I'll ask
but won't expect
that miracle,
(the little ones will do).
Just so I'll pray
you'll keep disasters checked,
for justice, vision,
peace and mercy, too.

Adore me,
keep me honest,
make me laugh, feel needed,
special, healed and whole.
I need your silent help
on my behalf
to live,
each day abstain,
rebuild my soul.
And what I’m grateful for
you'll hear from me on hold,
while pumping gas,
and as I pee.

IF ONLY I COULD HAVE SAID

2009-06-23T07:33:00.003-07:00

Hey, parents.
Back off.
Thanks, but leave me be.
I've got a mind to stretch and
flex and tone
to challenge speed,
test time,
tease gravity.
I've got to do it now
and on my own.
You want to help?
Okay.
Hear my demand:
Safe space,
all day,
some friends and
open air.
Please trust me.
Let me build
my "what if" land,
a stage to act out
triumph and despair.
Those hyper ads
would make me beg and
yearn to hoard
the moving, plastic,
painted stuff.
The more each does for me
the less I learn.
For pure imagination
its enough to give me
mud or snow and
sticks and rocks.
Return that gadget,
but I need the box.

WHAT I'M OFFERING YOU

2009-06-23T07:33:00.001-07:00

First, my attention,
you will have, my time
my thoughts, my energy.
Soon all I'll seek
will be to meet
your unmet needs,
for I'm committed to your wants
before you speak.
Next, I'll embrace your family
and your friends.
Your teams will be my teams.
Your schemes my schemes.
If I offend,
I vow I'll make amends.
My dream come true--
to see us live our dreams.
You'll have my ear.
Your secrets I will keep.
When asked
you'll have my feedback,
frank but kind.
You'll have my hand,
my lips
when you're inclined.
My body heat
will warm you when we sleep.
By day your back
I'll cover on the street.
At night your back
I'll cover with a sheet.

WHAT I NEED FROM YOU

2009-06-23T07:32:00.004-07:00

I need to know
you're really here for me,
that I can be myself
and you won't mind.
I need to know
it's safe for me
to be exposed or
silly,
furious or
kind.
Like cloudy days
please tolerate my moods.
Be playful,
patient
as we learn our roles.
I'll need some privacy.
Ignore my feuds.
Respect my time,
as I too have my goals.
And tell me you need me,
often, please.
When I'm at my worst
I'll need you most.
I need the truth.
Watch how you scold or tease.
What joy to break my fast
with tea and toast,
and see you raise of your brow
without a word to bust me,
as I'm reaching for my third.

THE MUTABILITY SONNET

2009-06-23T07:32:00.003-07:00

Though no one really changes,
many try
or say they will.
Some mellow
freed from strife,
a lot betray themselves,
yet feign and lie,
and most adapt to loss
with scares for life.
It seems we all get more set
in our way.
The bold wax bolder
till they're grandiose.
The frugal seem
more miserly each day.
The quiet don't grow chatty,
just morose.
As kernals linger
for the sun and rain
An avalanche
awaits one falling flake,
Believe me
change can come,
transform,
remain.
With kindness,
love,
a new man you can make.
I'm stuck.
See past my gut and
snatch that hunch.
Grab hold my ankles,
curse me as I crunch.

CUPIDITAS AND CARITAS

2009-06-23T07:32:00.001-07:00

At dusk
the city's restless crowd
begins to thin
into a park, or
cemetery,
beach or
alley way.
Each contemplating sins,
their need for love, and
hopes beyond their reach.
It's dangerous and yet
the drive is strong.
The risk of punishment,
attack or
shame
cannot detour
the longing to belong
the rapture
each one's seeking to proclaim.
This urge
will not be satisfied alone.
It seeks
another's touch,
one other soul,
a fellowship of wounded
seeking to atone
a hopeless life
with needs beyond control.
A shifting shadow lingers
with the wish another's foot
will dare complete a fish.

MY BURNING HEART

2009-06-23T07:31:00.004-07:00

I some days get
this scorching in my chest.
It might be I just live
too rich a life.
It might be
all the tension I digest.
I stuff my feelings down.
I swallow strife.
And most days
fending off the jerks and fools,
the stupid things I do
just make me ill.
My stomach churns
when battling the ghouls.
I'm trapped.
I've yet to find a helpful pill.
And some nights
I'm afraid to rest my head.
Too tired to think
I doze off for awhile.
Then bam!
I'm facing scenes and fiends
I dread.
I scream and gag
as bounding out of bed,
I feel and taste
my spurting issues, vile,
That acid sting
of my subconscious bile.

NEVER EXPLAIN, NEVER COMPLAIN

2009-06-23T07:31:00.003-07:00

You ever notice,
if you break your arm,
each friend shows such dismay
at your account
and then,
(though you're the one
who's come to harm)
each tells THEIR tale of pain
the type, amount?
You ever notice
how they know
so much about the ins and outs
of treatment,
share the symptoms, warnings,
firm advice and such,
as if your doctor
doesn't know your care?
They mean well.
But they wonder why I stall,
as each detail and clue
they try to learn.
It's really not
about MY health at all.
Their OWN health ought to be
their main concern.
I'll not report, excuse,
take heed or whine.
Now all you need to know
is that--I'm fine.

CONFESSIONS OF A FIVE YEAR OLD

2009-06-23T07:31:00.001-07:00

Upon the cellar door
I wrote my name in chalk.
I scrawled it backwards
to avoid detection.
Bored.
I did it as a game.
My parents guess.
Once more they were annoyed.
How tempting was
the dust upon your shelf.
I wrote my name
without a second thought.
I'm sorry.
I was only thinking of myself.
I meant no harm,
nor thought that I'd get "caught."
You thought that was my way nasty
to say that you're a slob.
If you did that to me
that's what you'd mean,
I fear
But can't you see
Perhaps my only motive
was to play.
No, I'm not minimizing what I did.
It wasn't me!
That was my inner kid.

LET'S MAKE A DEAL

2009-06-23T07:30:00.002-07:00

Though seldom seen
he's always hanging 'round.
You're never safe.
He'll elbowed his way in.
I fear if I deny him
he'll confound my plan,
surprise me with his killer grin.
I keep out of his way,
because I hope
if I ignore him,
he'll ignore me too.
I tease him sometimes
(it's a way to cope)
A moth and flame game,
one cannot undo.
I fear he likes his humor
gross and grim.
I've lately thought
"Should I make him my friend
till he gets bored with me?'
I bet the end will come too soon
when I've forgotten him.
I ask
(though I seem morbid, prying, rude)
What deal have YOU made
with that reaper dude?

DIRECTIONS FOR USING THE ENCLOSED

2009-06-23T07:30:00.001-07:00

The best ingredients,
some fresh, some aged,
in new, exciting ways
have been combined.
For your delight and health
they have been gaged
to please you senses,
aid both heart and mind.
The contents packaged here
have been condensed.
When prepped and ready
just add water warmed.
A small amount
need only be dispensed.
With gentle needing
you will feel transformed.
Apply,
let set,
rinse well,
and then
repeat.
Forewarned:
void excessive cold or heat.
Discretion recommends most
for adults.
Do not expect
immediate results.
Assess effect
when process is complete.
(Not pleased?
reply!
Get refund--with receipt.)

CANDLE POWER

2009-06-23T07:29:00.002-07:00

Some at attention,
standing on display,
anticipate that one important night.
In drawers the others
let their scent of
bay,
vanilla,
citrus
mingle out of sight
of lipstick red or
holly,
votive white.
They long to warm,
to move,
illuminate,
to be consumed,
to flare up,
flashing bright,
to be enjoyed
a simple,
ancient fate.
The tallow in me
longs to radiate.
I want that sudden flash,
to feel aflame.
I'm burnt.
I'm gutted out.
My wick awaits
the glance,
the touch,
the calling of my name.
If I'm a stub,
left lonely,
lost,
confused,
Ignite me.
Bliss arrives
from being used.

MY BEST RECIPE

2009-06-23T07:29:00.001-07:00

In one bowl
scoop in truth
with fine milled grains.
Too much is data,
less seems trite,
though which way will affect
the wisdom this contains.
Next measure beauty,
cause too much is kitch
and less seems dry.
Tradition makes this rise.
When foaming mix
(or you'll get lumpy prose)
Then knead the words
to build good lines
that ties it pliant, firm.
Next leave it it's repose.
While ferment builds,
the magic's starting,
for it's up to chance.
Then, when it's at it's prime,
you punch it down.
Then punch it down once more.
Next shape to form,
let rise, and
bake in time.
Then test it if it is done.
You'll pay for haste.
This sonnet's hot and fresh.
You like the taste?

DISCLAIMER

2009-06-23T07:28:00.004-07:00

FOREWARNED:
all works within
are pressurized
as image, metaphor or simile.
Mature material
(so be advised)
enclosed
could irritate complacency.
Proceed with caution.
Do not drive and read!
These may induce
strange day-dreams,
fantasies.
Rare nightmares
may occur or
sleep impede.
A blush or gasp
might some displease.
You will be teased.
You will encounter rhyme.
At your own risk
you read between the lines.
Remember,
you can stop at any time.
To reproduce unauthorized--
face fines!
Misread--
you risk the loss
of hand or eye!
Misquote--
you're banned!
Dare misattribute--
die!

HOW I SURVIVED

2009-06-23T07:28:00.003-07:00

First fact of bitter life:
all parents lie.
Not just the loss of Santa
made me grieve
I was a fool!
That I could not deny.
How could I've been so stupid
to believe?
Humiliated,
shamed
I grew morose.
My parents feared
I wanted to be cruel
as I absorbed the gruesome
and the gross.
I mastered farce,
sarcasm,
ridicule.
Years later,
overwhelmed by sex,
the lewd gave me relief.
We come to terms with death
through satire, wit.
We learn what's cool, what's crude.
Those jokes of puss and barf
and snot and shit
were more than just rebellion
on my part.
It's so absurd!
Just laugh.
We belch!
We fart!

WHAT IS APPARENT...

2009-06-23T07:28:00.001-07:00

To be a parent
is the greatest charge.
You must provide and guide,
protect and cheer,
Yet slowly backing off
as they grow large
Empowering away
what you hold dear.
I'll never be a parent,
but I write.
The words I pick with care,
the lines I hone.
With pride, I seek to share,
to teach, delight,
Empowering away
what I would own.
No test, no standard,
no prerequisite now separates
a from a daddy from a dunce.
Some worry
if a birth's legitimate,
While any fool might breed
who fucks just once.
And any fool
can fill another tome
with words on paper,
calling it a poem.

DOG IS GOD BACKWARDS

2009-06-23T07:27:00.000-07:00

If puppies know a canine God,
how can He justify
the wanton ways of man?
This world was once
the land of dinosaurs
till suddenly
they all became extinct
by nature
(who creates and
then ignores us all) or
by a nodding God
who blinked.
Who keeps the bees
so social in their hives?
Their age old dance
communicates the track.
Each working
to insures the clan
survives disasters and
intruders who attack.
A Group Of Drunks
all longing to connect
who pray some
higher force will intercede
to heal the wounds
of strife, abuse, neglect,
create a Power
out of human need.

THE WAY I SEE IT IS

2009-06-23T05:37:00.000-07:00

"Oh, God,
here comes another load."
"Whoopee!"
Beneath their helmets
two guys scratch their heads
deep in the bowels
of an old factory.
"So much, so fast, so gross!"
"Look it spreads.
There's just no placed to put it.
Every crack and cranny's full."
"God damn,
I don't see why
we have to store it all"
"Just shove it back!"
"Remember that
'down-SIZE-ing memo' lie?
The way I see it is
we need a break."
"Or force a new extension."
"Maybe two!"
"You'd think he's see
just what's at stake.
We know he knows the risk and
what to do."
"Let's tell the Big Boss
'Wouldn't it be great
if you got off your ass and
lost some weight?' "

THE REST

2008-08-18T09:12:00.001-07:00

I later heard
she almost died.
Although she didn't try
to keep the fact from me,
the how and how come
wasn't mine to know.
My feelings
weren't her first priority.
So when I heard,
I had the time to think.
I didn't see her, call--
as I was bid.
Another time
I might have forced a link.
She didn't want my help,
yet help I did.
Musicians read staff measures
scanning notes.
The order, tempo, volume,
are displayed.
A rest is more than silence.
It devotes a value, beat,
a presence still conveyed.
My absence, silence,
were not crass neglect.
They proved my love,
support, - trust, respect.

BREAK TIME

2008-08-18T09:11:00.004-07:00

Consumed with anger
and self-pity too
I heard
my wounded inner-toddler whine.
Before the vending shit machine
I knew to poise above the C,
to thumb the 9.
As good as chewed and flushed!
"Oh God, I hate myself!"
I fed the bill.
Without a doubt it sucked it up.
I said, "Now it's too late."
My chin dropped
as it spit the dollar out.
The jones-ing was still running
in my skull.
I pray to God to show his love
and then...
My second thought
was "It's a miracle"
My first was
"I can't put it in again."
I bought a Diet CokeÆ.
Then pinched my jaw.
Left feeling weird,
yet with a kind of awe.

WAITING FOR THE FAT LADY TO SING

2008-08-18T09:11:00.003-07:00

So awkward I feel,
agitated, trapped,
but I feel that way
even when alone.
I checked my watch
while everybody clapped.
Why aren't you here?
I hate it on my own.
What's all this ruckus?
I can't comprehend what's funny,
tragic, planned coincidence.
It just goes on and on.
When will it end?
Repeating louder
doesn't make more sense.
But human nature
tweaks the line of life.
In every trial, marriage,
death, and birth
we seek a graceful arc
to give us worth,
as if were living tales
of joy or strife.
They're lies.
All lies.
It’s years since you've been gone.
I don't know how
I keep on keeping on.

MY INHERITANCE

2008-08-18T09:11:00.001-07:00

I have his plyers,
hack saw,
ruler, sledge,
the tools my father
taught me to maintain.
and which to pick to cinch,
or torque, or plane
and when to grab a chisel
for a wedge
I have her grater,
pitter,
rolling pin,
utensils mother
used for every need,
She said
"You picked the right one,
then proceed
to whisk, or slice,
or chop, or strain, or skin.î
They were so skilled.
Each gesture was concise.
They often said "You can't..."
How I'd resent it,
chided "hasty, lazy, ignorant."
I learned to spot the cheap,
the imprecise.
Just so you can't rely
on what you've heard.
You have to think and
pick the proper word.

REHEARSAL

2008-08-18T09:10:00.004-07:00

The theatre is empty, dark.
The stage is bare.
My heart is all I hear.
My temples ache.
I'm caught within
a piercing spot light's glare,
That follows every step and turn I take.
I'm tired, pissed.
What contract did I sign?
Where's my director?
Feet up in some seat?
Why am I here?
Who said this script is mine?
I long to stop,
yet once more repeat:
"See HOW you ARE?"
I scream, "Just go way!"
I whine "Why me? Poor me!"
and then I start:
"It's fine. It's fine.
It really is okay."
I even hear me
speak the other's part.
A nightmare gives you
gifts that you can take,
But fret-filled day-mares
never take a break.

AS OF TODAY

2008-08-18T09:10:00.003-07:00

I left my parents
chanting few complaints.
Too hard I stomped my footprints
amid the crowd.
I did a lot
in spite of most constraints
to help by lending hand,
of which I'm proud.
Though many sought
to bury me with shame,
I owned my own.
I fought for what was right.
Though some may roll their eyes,
few curse my name.
In peace I dream my dreams
and sleep the night.
Though time erode
my epitaph of facts,
I chiseled deep.
I hope my words will hold.
And though I second guess
a thousand acts
the love I lived was staunch
and kind and bold.
No "If I hadn't,
had."
No "If I could."
If I should die before I wake
...I'm good.

MISTRESS MARY

2008-08-18T09:10:00.001-07:00

I bought a suit
then gave that suit away.
"It goes with everything!"
so said the clerk.
Not so.
My brown belt
made the pants looked gray,
but then the black belt
somehow didn't work.
I swear by day
I'd call the color stone,
but underneath a lamp
it could be sand.
In photographs
it had a purple tone.
It seemed by plan perverse,
but just looked bland.
Please tell me
why you contradict your boss;
claim yourself vegan
at a bar-bee-que;
at "Daddy's temple"
you wear "Mommy's cross."
You must know
it's a pain to be near you.
Your answer to each offer's
always "Nope."
Go die.
I bet your cosmic aura's taupe.

ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

2008-08-18T09:09:00.004-07:00

Braccae Tuae Aperiuntur

Ya, this is really awkward
I confess.
I'm glad you're friend enough
let me know.
Perhaps my troubled mind,
some sign of stress or chance,
uncovered what one mustn't show.
What I've betrayed
comes from my inner core.
It's vital to myself
and to my pride.
Though I sense your discomfort
most abhor what's dear to me
and will not be denied.
I am no fool.
I keep a constant watch
to hold in check
what I have hardly tamed.
Perhaps I had
to take me down a notch.
Though I'm embarrassed,
I am not ashamed.
Forgive my human-self.
I don't know why
somehow I've left undone
my moral fly.

AGE INAPPROPRIATE

2008-08-18T09:09:00.003-07:00

I wish I had
more heinous sins to hide
for all the grief I suffer
and for what?
Reflecting back
past follies pierce my pride
Aflame in shame,
my heart hides in my gut.
Who in their twenties
isn't foolish, lewd,
at thirty striving,
forty-five irate,
by fifty overwhelmed,
at sixty rude,
by decade seven bitter,
scared by eight?
We act polite, mature,
refined and fair,
but under pressure
we go just so far
until we snap,
each soul stripped bare.
At every moment
we are who we are.
We're liable forever,
but to live
we have to stop,
reflect,
ourselves forgive.

MOURNING

2008-08-18T09:09:00.001-07:00

The room was crowded,
somber, stale, dark.
A wake?
No Shiva!
(and I'm not a Jew).
The widow's look at me,
a question mark.
I didn't know them or
what I should do.
"And who are you?"
I froze.
"I'm Marty's boy."
Then from the back,
"Wait. Marty Fitch?
That guy with duct tape
saved my life."
I felt such joy.
With hand shakes, hugs I stood.
I thought I'd cry.
He was a handy man
who knew each tool.
From holding things for him
I'm sometimes deft.
He wanted better things from me
like school.
I'm older now
than he was when he left.
I woke up feeling grateful,
glowing.
Glad I was his son,
and proud he was my dad.

THANKS, I NEEDED THAT--NOT!

2008-08-18T09:08:00.002-07:00

Wooo! what a hateful,
hurtful thing to say.
Most people try
to hide their ignorance.
It's harder then
to take a counter-stance.
At this
I will not blindly walk away.
We will our wants
and push to make that change,
to have things new or
just the way they were.
You crave reaction
from a rough exchange,
but did you think
I'd thank you for that slur?
Just so the noir anti-hero
smacked his femme fatale
as if for her own good.
Who listens, changes
when they feel attacked?
I lean but never lash
although I could.
I'm tempted
just to volley back
your crap,
but no one,
no way,
ever needs a slap.

YES BUTTING

2008-08-18T09:08:00.001-07:00

I hear your pain, my friend.
You do seem stuck.
With every effort thwarted
you're depressed.
Yet, while you blame
your fated, lousy luck
you veto
every option I suggest.
You either have a god
you must appease
who seeks to do you ill
at every turn
or else
each time you do
ìjust as you pleaseî
creates a consequence.
It's what you earn.
You cannot change the past
although you try.
You cannot change the weather
or your lot.
You cannot take
because you haven't got.
You cannot win
because you rage or cry.
You whine,
yet seem invested in your mood.
You have the strength to change--
your attitude.

CHARLIE HORSE

2008-08-18T09:07:00.000-07:00

We drove to see a play
I'd only read.
I'm really glad
my seat was on the aisle.
Act V, scene iii
all eyes were watching,
while old Lear holds in his arms
Cordelia, dead.
The only dry eyes in the house
were mine.
(All tears
were beaten out of me  
when young)
Instead, a ham string knots.
I jump.
I'm strung out on the carpet,
bent,
with bouncing spine.
It's years since you have gone,
not months or days.
Not every thought's
disheartening to me.
Not every ache
springs from a memory.
I feel your loss
in many different ways.
Yet there are times
I find the slightest strain
can zap and twist my soul
in wrenching pain.

JACK ASS

2008-08-18T09:06:00.002-07:00

So just how stupid
do you think I am?
Did you think
you invented sex or crime?
Do you think
I can't spot a fib or scam?
Your silence,
jokes and jabber
waste my time.
Today your body
may be at its prime,
but, trust me, not so
is your growing mind.
Your nasty wit's not wisdom.
Mostly I'm annoyed
by all the many woes you've whined.
I'd rather have a mule.
Though unrefined
they're sterile,
tough,
and don't shit where they eat.
I'm sure less stubborn,
lazy or unkind,
not prone to blame,
sarcasm or deceit.
It walks the day it's born.
You're life ain't rough.
Just nine months?
Twenty years is not enough.

TIME FOR A CHANGE

2008-08-18T09:06:00.001-07:00

I can't forgive myself
for feeling trapped.
Resentments grow.
This isn't what I planned.
My faith begins to fade.
I can't adapt.
I slither off
from where I used to stand.
My old convictions
simply do not fit.
It think it's time
for me to slink away.
Campaigns and hobbies, tasks
I have to quit,
abandon games and music
I don't play.
It's time to throw out
worn out clothes.
It's time to toss
old books and odds and ends.
To free myself
of tastes and creeds
all goes.
It's time to shuck off
relatives and friends.
It's not betrayal
or fear of what's ahead.
So I'm a snake.
Well, this one's got to shed.

ALLERGIES

2008-01-30T11:37:00.001-08:00

It doesn't have to be
a germ at wait.
Just anything
my body thinks is strange,
some substance
I inhaled or touched or ate
and instantly
my body starts to change.
My skin grows hot or cold.
I sweat or shake.
My head
becomes too heavy for my spine.
I gag. I gasp.
My muscles cramp and ache.
All this
for what may really be benign.
I marvel at
each ready white blood cell.
I'd give them
shiny metals to parade
They're on patrol
for agents to dispel,
defend me well
and seek to be of aid.
We must maintain the best defense
and yet our fear
may be more harmful
than the threat.

TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS

2008-01-30T11:34:00.000-08:00

In your dismay you cried,
"Look, I've been bit!"
"You play with serpents.
You, the charmer charmed."
Distressed you wept till,
flailing in a fit,
the shock set in.
At that I grew alarmed.
I'm scouting trained.
My friendship I can prove.
I lanced your wound
and sucked and spat
and sucked and spat again,
the deadly poison to remove.
I saved your life,
so why do I feel fucked?
And even then I thought,
I can't ignore I risk this venom
getting in my veins.
And what's in this for me
for all my pains?
And haven't we done
just this thing before?
I watch you limping back
to find that snake.
How often must we make
the same mistake?

AM I CRAZY?

2008-01-21T10:58:00.005-08:00

Just stop and listen.
Don't you have some song or other
always running 'round your brain?
Why THAT tune?
Each one's driving me insane.
Some dawns I think:
"Did that play all night long?"
And worse yet,
there are voices in my head.
"You dassen't do that!"
How she'd pinch my ear!
"A nigger might have touched it."
I still hear my grandma shout again,
though long since dead.
And I confess
I hear your voice as well.
I'm thinking thoughts
I'm sure that are my own
but hear them spoken
in your rhythm, tone.
I'm glad.
I guess it's just part of your spell.
My life is moral,
sound and never dull
while you are living
rent free in my skull.

THE PROFANE AND THE SACRED

2008-01-21T10:58:00.001-08:00

"You green shit" Koko, *
"Dragons of Eden" Carl Sagan

My father said
he knew he loved me
when he volunteered
for my first diaper change.
It wasn't something done
by men back then.
"Your poop was green and gooey,
really strange."
All life seems one long,
time consuming quest to separate
the good things from the bad.
We hoard the precious
and discard the rest.
If we are not that other
we are glad.
Alas, "shit happens"
much to our dismay.
We often panic
trying to stay calm.
We search in vain
to find some other way.
But ask a farmer,
artist,
healer,
mom:
In life
there is no me or you or it.
'Cause everything is sacred,
even shit.

MI CASA, SU CASA

2008-01-21T10:57:00.003-08:00

Hello, come in my friend!
You're welcome here.
I have an extra toothbrush,
towel and comb.
You got here safely.
Hope I sound sincere as I say,
I want you to feel at home.
But I'm not sure
just what home means to you
and what if
how I live
to you seems wrong.
Well, be yourself
and somehow we'll make do.
I only ask you
not to stay too long.
With every year
we're more set in our ways.
As we grow strict
we're destined to offend.
So let us make the most
of these few days.
You wouldn't be here
if you weren't my friend.
Sit down,
relax,
be real.
Just understand,
you cannot be
both comfortable and grand.

MAINTENANCE

2008-01-21T10:57:00.001-08:00

I have to brush and floss and
clip each nail,
take aspirin, vitamins
to ward off ills,
clear gutters,
flip the mattress,
sort my mail.
I can't forget
to pay the rent and bills.
It's time to change the oil,
inflate my tires.
There's laundry,
windows, dust,
electric wires and cords to check,
shampoo and trim my hair.
These tasks
when done
all build my self-esteem.
Self-care's the price you pay
for being free.
These make me fit
to function in a team
and no one else can do them,
only me.
I know if I don't start
these things today,
tomorrow I will
pay and pay and pay.

MY INVITATION TO YOU

2008-01-21T10:56:00.001-08:00

We're all alone.
Sit down.
Relax.
Lay back.
I'm here for you
and, yes, for me as well.
Adventure's what I'm offering.
You lack experience, excitement.
I can tell.
A bully makes one small
to seem more tall.
I don't seek private joy
at your expense.
I won't make you
do anything at all.
If safe,
if free,
if fun,
it just makes sense.
I think there's part of you
who wants this too.
Let's get past shame,
embarrassment and
fear.
At every step
there is a choice for you.
Your every secret wish
I want to hear.
Come feel.
Come taste.
You want to.
Don't just guess.
It's ripe.
It's sweet.
It's here.
It's yours.
Say "YES!"

THIS EVER HAPPEN TO YOU?

2008-01-21T10:55:00.000-08:00

From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
"FIRE AND ICE" by Robert Frost

You're trodding on your track
from day to day
when suddenly
you see a trick of light,
a twirl of water,
gush of wind,
a play of shadows,
sizzling stars at night.
Perhaps
a phrase of music pierces you,
a cookie's taste
pulls moments from the past,
a detail in a painting
strikes you new.
Just so a flash provoked
me fading fast.
One day,
at school,
some class,
a film:
"THE BLIND."
(At that some moron slurred
"Another 'tard!")
A woman reading braille
another signed.
"Some say the earth will end in fire..."
Off guard,
Surprised by joy!
By me as well!
I forgot (had been so long)
the first tears spurt out hot.

THE REAL REASON I LEFT

2008-01-21T10:52:00.000-08:00

I went into the staff room
on my break.
I opened up the 'frige and
got inside.
The door slammed shut.
That made the bottles shake.
Good sign at least,
the light stayed on.
I tried but failed
to find a latch.
I thought:
'Cold trap!
To yell
would use up all the air in here.
To sleep
I might not wake or
I could tap in hope
that someone, sometime
just might hear.'
I woke without a scream
but wet with sweat.
The trap was not my job
but my despair of doing
what I someday might regret.
To get such good advice in life
is rare.
I faced a truth
I never would admit.
With no excuse
I said "I have to quit."

SNIT

2008-01-21T10:48:00.000-08:00

How dare you take away from me
the love that others gave me,
leaving me alone.
We're trapped.
I gnash my teeth and groan.
We're pushed around.
I wince with every shove.
We're not like you.
Our world we can't control,
Ourselves as well.
Addictions feed our face.
In pain inflicting pain
we stay in place.
I won't give up
but cannot save my soul.
I hate you.
Hate myself.
I stink of gall.
Let's have it out right now
and then be done.
I have my hostage
pinned against the wall
and at my temple, look,
I place a gun.
I'll shoot!
No?
Yes?
I want to see you nod.
I dare you!
Show me that you love me, God.

MORE ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET

2007-11-12T20:26:00.000-08:00

Perhaps you don't want me
to know you're done.
Your thought's complete.
Perhaps you don't want me to note
an insert,
clause, or
series has begun, or
when a thing's possessed, or
strange,
foresee omissions,
"quotes", or
something that's left out
--as in an after-thought,
some (F.Y.I.) or
something emphasized.
We read without a hint.
I fear we often go awry.
A play is written
for the eye and ear.
When reading one
you search the text for clues.
Once poems were heard and seen,
passed year to year.
Please make me write your poem.
Please be my muse.
Give me the signal
when to pause or
wait and breathe and think.
Please, poet, punctuate.

A COMPLAINT TO RACHAEL RAY of "Thirty Minute Meals" (tm)

2007-11-10T22:29:00.000-08:00

It's not the food
that makes me dread your show.
It's "sammies,"
"stoups" and "choups"
"E.V.O.O!"
Just so I hate to hear,
"It's time to PLATE UP."
Someday "eat" will be "de-plate."
You grate my nerves like cheese.
Why make each noun a verb?
The urge to "fork" a pie crust
I would curb.
Things change,
perhaps evolve,
to meet new needs.
New foods, new tools
demand new words, new deeds.
"Pop-OVERs" make me smile and
"simmer DOWN."
At "finish OFF" like
"Where's it AT?" I frown.
"To stir" makes sense.
So why so much ado?
You stir it "IN" or "UP" or
"AROUND" or "THROUGH."
I sit and eat and watch you
just to scoff.
Perhaps it's time
to turn my TV OFF.

A PERSONAL HABIT

2007-11-01T17:38:00.001-07:00

That brilliant paradox
on Keats' Urn would seem
the pinnacle of art.
But truth is rarely beautiful
I've learned
and beauty's seldom truthful,
ask my heart.
In some way
every simile is true,
yet faced with truth
we mostly ask for lies.
While often pretty things
please me and you,
an ugly image
can be fresh and wise:

I get a metaphor.
I pick at it for days.
Perhaps it rose up
from within-- a mental boil,
or maybe something bit me in my sleep,
or scarred my soul's thin skin.
And when I pull it free,
oh, such delight,
Relief as well,
"That's one less poem to write."

TO YOU (PLURAL)

2007-11-01T17:37:00.000-07:00

For all the times
I made you ill at ease,
for all the times
I showed up unannounced,
for all the foolish things
I did to please you,
all those times
you felt your boundaries trounced,
I want to thank you all.
You were so kind.
You tried to firmly stop me
at the start.
You showed how much you cared
as you declined to match my efforts,
take my willing heart.
You would not
let me cheat myself,
divert you efforts
that I sought to misconstrue.
So easily you could have
used or hurt me.
You know I'd have let you do it too.
For stares,
unwanted words,
my many tries at closeness,
I hereby apologize.

NOTE LEFT ON A PLATE AT A BUFFET

2007-10-11T20:43:00.000-07:00

I like the way you eat.
It says a lot about a man,
your way with fork and knife.
You're careful,
cautious of what's hot.
But with each bite
I watch you relish life.
My God,
if you could see yourself
right now as I do.
Did you know your eye brows
dance each swallow?
Others munch and gnaw
like cow or pig at troth,
like zombies in a trance.
You savor,
pace yourself and
wisely pick.
You breathe.
You drink
not greedy gulps but sips.
And when just now
that sauce I saw you lick,
I thought
'If only I could only kiss those lips.'
But now your face
reveals dismay, surprise.
Look up
and see the hunger in my eyes.

MY ARSENAL

2007-10-01T21:49:00.001-07:00

I like to stack them tall
or end to end,
but then I dread
I'll find a dud I've penned.
Each syllable feels heavy
in my hand,
a sharp, slick sound
to pierce and then expand.
Like shrapnel
multi-meanings pack each shell.
A shot with match-grade words
set to propel incendiary sentences.
I use the slightly fraying phrases
as a fuse.
Oh, the satisfaction,
oh the fun to set with care
then hide the trip-wire pun.
or plant an ode or sonnet meadow
with no hint of hidden mines
of symbol, myth.
Believe me
no offense meant on my part,
but every bullet's
aiming at your heart.

INTERVENTION

2007-10-01T21:48:00.000-07:00

They toddle.
It's a phase.
Each used to crawl.
They watch and try and
master how to climb.
A little more they'll learn
with every fall.
Soon each will run.
They'll speak in their own time.
They bite.
Get bitten.
It's a phase.
We pick one teacher to observe,
intrude, prevent.
Once Mouth was all and
minds are quick.
Complex emotions
words must represent.
The bitten need words too.
So much to say and then
to learn to listen
to what's said.
I'm full of feelings
I would wish away.
I bite.
But now I bite myself, instead.
Where are the arms
to hold me and appeal
"Nope.
Use your words.
Speak out.
Say how you feel."?

MY BRAND-NEW DAILY PLANNER

2007-09-28T19:12:00.000-07:00

I like to plan,
I like these pages bare,
my future fresh.
(I never mind the cost.)
So many possibilities!
With care I keep it,
fearing, dreading it might get lost.
My old one seems so fragile,
patched and stained,
with names and numbers
crammed on every line.
So much crossed out
and yet a lot remained,
Insertions, too,
but not by my design.
The heedless youth believes
"I'll never die!"
The old
"Is this the day?"
We in-betweens obsess,
"By greasy valves?
By sugar high?
By bug bite,
bomb,
false step?
By threats unseen?"
I can't control
the where or when or how.
Still I prefer
to start my planning now.

BUFFING MY SOUL

2007-09-28T19:11:00.003-07:00

Okay! I feel the pain.
So where's the gain?
We limp through life.
Some keep the march.
Some inch.
Avoiding hazards,
longing to complain
we scan our scars and,
fearing death, we flinch.
We all want bliss.
Aroused, entranced we think
the gross, the grand and
everything between
will fill the void.
And so we eat. We drink.
We screw and shop
to try to feel serene.
Of course,
there never really is enough.
Too soon
the over-loaded senses fade and
faced with anxious fear
we bluff, evade, and
leave our hidden needs betrayed.
I often think
I'd rather die than feel.
At least with every wince
I know what's real.

MY RIGHT BIG TOE

2007-09-28T19:11:00.001-07:00

My mother taught me
how to clip my nails.
Just one more parent's duty
I suppose.
Self-care creates self-worth
with such details,
and how you treat yourself
shows in your toes.
She had a nail, I know,
that went astray
It's funny how kids
never miss a flaw.
I clipped away
and suddenly
one day same nail on me
had curled by nature's law.
Today I noticed
that one had turned black,
but when and how it bruised
I can't recall.
It had to have been
quite a nasty whack.
It's weird
I don't remember it at all.
Though,
while in three month's time
it will be gone,
The mysteries of what and why
go on.

GETTING PERSPECTIVE

2007-09-28T19:10:00.001-07:00

A blind man told me
what he thought of sight.
"As if you open up a Russian doll
and place each front to back.
If you have light,
the near one's big.
The farthest one is small."
We learn from decibels,
from rods and cones,
from sour, sweet
from rough and smooth.
Begin from heat and cold,
from pheromones
to recreate the outer world
within.
So YOU know ME.
You've got a lot of nerve.
You THINK you know me.
You don't have a clue.
It's clear
you never listen or observe.
The me-inside-you
isn't me, it's you.
I hope some day you'll see
why I won't stay.
Watch me get smaller
as I walk away.

MY RUMMAGE SALE

2007-09-28T19:07:00.000-07:00

Step up and check 'em out.
Oh don't be shy.
You like disaster? horror?
Got this from a plane seat neighbor.
Stock tips from a guy at work.
Dumb humor?
Travel tales of Spain?
From waiting rooms here's
cures for troubled minds.
Take one, take all!
A one-date song of woe of jilted love.
While trapped in check out lines
here's stacks of seedy star dirt.
All must go.
Old books you toss
or sell or give away.
A book you pick and choose to read
or not.
But stories, lore and rumor
find their way into my brain
to clutter, rattle, rot.
Please help me clear my mind
to think or sleep
There's really nothing here
I want to keep.

WHAT IS APPARENT...

2007-09-09T05:10:00.000-07:00

TENNIS ANYONE?

2007-08-20T06:58:00.001-07:00

I envy them.
I watch them serve, receive.
The forehand, backspin, smash,
each smacked with care.
Except to rest or
stopping to retrieve,
the volley rhythm
builds between the pair.
Engaging conflict
would be a delight.
I stare and wait.
My racquet arm is sore
from bouncing balls
against my guts
strung tight.
The mystery to me
is how to score.
More couples come.
I shift and scratch.
Pretending my approach, my slice,
I pray to find a mate and
maybe meet my match.
I don't have to win.
I need to play.
It's just a game and
I should to be a sport.
Guess love means zero
on and off the court.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

2007-08-20T06:57:00.000-07:00

Back here are storage rooms
crammed to the beams
with trunks of costumes,
coats, and shoes and hats,
old scripts and notes in boxes,
powders, creams and
tables, chairs and
thickly painted flats.
The stage is set.
It all has been arranged.
Whichever role I pick to play
I know my lines, my moves,
what must be changed.
I'm planning
quite a lively, moving show.
For many years
I've fought off my despair,
rehearsing what I could alone.
I bought this nice cologne,
here's naughty underwear,
which lights, which sheets, which wine
took lots of thought.
I hoard these props
still hoping to attract
another actor
for my opening act.

TIES

2007-08-20T06:53:00.000-07:00

I fix the windsor knot
just like my dad.
You said "Oh, no!
The style is now the half."
Debated often
I would not get mad
I hid my meek defiance
with a laugh.
I found the perfect tie
for you today.
You're colors,
flashy, playful but not bold.
I set it down
but couldn't walk away.
So strong the urge
I bought it just to hold.
It's shop until you drop
then shop some more,
but now by proxy
as it were on cue.
The last tie I picked out
you did adore.
Like dad
I won't see it again or you.
Enough of fantasy,
denial and lies,
I know the truth is
dead men tie no ties.

MULBERRY CIRCLE

2007-07-20T10:37:00.001-07:00

Jack's back.
That jack's an ass.
He's so damn crude.
He's all I hate.
He'll catch me unaware,
embarrass me,
make me look crass and rude.
He'll itch me
till I scratch and people stare.
He got me in such trouble
in my youth.
Around and round we go.
But he's no fool
The stupid grin's on me
as he speaks truth.
He must be very wise
to be so cruel.
At night his weasel eyes
invade my dreams.
I'm calm. I'm cool.
He's planning his attack.
The better I become,
the more he schemes.
I'd kill him if I could.
But I am Jack.
I ought to let him out,
yet I buy locks.
One hand on lid
I shove him in his box.

FIG TREE

2007-07-16T12:29:00.002-07:00

Strolling in a garden, I bent
And stooped beneath a branch.
Looking up I saw
Two swollen sacks, swaying,
With darkened skins unwrinkling,

Tapered above but bulging below,
Suspended before my eyes.
Sagging with the burden
Of their sweet seeds inside
About to burst,

I cupped one in my hand.
Warm bulb, heavy in my palm,
I dared to stroke my fingers down
As my thumb rolled up
In a gentle squeeze and whispered:

"Dare I pull you close to me,
To tease you with my breath,
Draw you in beyond my kisses,
Hold you captive with my teeth
And caress you with my tongue?

"Right now, would you again retreat
(Instinctively to hide,
Unable to endure such pleasure
And NOT be in control) or
Surprise me with your trust?"

TOYING WITH YOU

2007-07-16T12:29:00.001-07:00

First ears:
I would like two.
One either side,
I'm not a cubist.
Eyes:
the same as mine
Though others have their charm,
and all if spied
reveal a soul's design.
A nose:
but often that's the problem part
(there are so many),
Lips: both full and fine,
to make a smiling face
to move my heart.
How many of us are consumed,
obsessed, with other,
secret parts,
and private glands
and drool at genitalia,
butt, or breast?
Yet having all the pieces
in your hands
and none of them impaired.
the real trick?
To find that
not yet rotten spud to stick.

NOTE: MR. POTATOHEAD by PLAYSKOOL(tm) now includes a plastic potato, which says something, doesn't it?

GROOMING

2007-07-16T12:12:00.001-07:00

(poem left above the bathroom sink)

Such sharp and brittle fingers
comb my hair.
Within the narrows
of each pit the speed stick ®
leaves its scented spit.
I turn and stare
"behold a wet
but lucky fool indeed."
Free of it's cap,
fat in my palm,
I grip the toothpaste tube.
It gobs just with the stress
till with a squeeze
it spurts.
I take a drip.
The bristles
fail to mold to my caress.
I've shaved
and yet again
I gently wipe stale foamy cream
that's seeped out of the spout.
And leaning in the mirror
the fog I swipe
to see if kisses
show on lips I pout.
I'm off to work.
You sleep.
I have to fight the urge to crawl back.
Thank you for last night.

FROM THE CAR-SEAT BEHIND ME

2007-07-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

Enthroned within her realm
she asks me "Why?"
Why what?
Can I recall?
(She wants to know)
I answer logically.
"But why?"
I lie this time.
(a phase? a game?)
I let it go.
"But whyyyyyyy?
she asks again.
I feel attacked.
My face turns red.
I glare.
I clench my jaw.
(If I were you
I would have gotten smacked.)
I use the default setting,
"Just because."
Well, "Why?" indeed.
Don't we all fret and strive to know?
But get the answer--nothing's solved.
I've seen
injustice and addictions thrive.
Small comfort,
waste of time,
and what's resolved?
But asking,
(Joy!)
her learning has begun.
"Not all 'Why questions'
have an answer, Hon'."

AT THE MOVIES

2007-07-16T12:09:00.002-07:00

Alone, with friends,
a date, amid a crowd
I shuffle up an incline,
down a stairs.
Why does the music
always seem so loud?
I navigate the knees
and coats and chairs.
And as the house-lights dim
my gut grows tight.
The endless ads bear down.
The trailers race.
I'm stretched
with sinking feet,
a skull too light.
I sense the pained look
twisting on my face.
I can't remember
what I've come to see.
My head's confused,
cold hands,
dread fills my heart.
Did I forget
what fiction does to me?
As from atop
a roller-coaster cart
the screen I scan
"Oh shit."
I'm caught in this.
Once more I speed
into the new abyss.

PRIORITY

2007-07-16T12:09:00.001-07:00

PRIORITY

Whatever! Sure!
What's your bizarre request?
I've worn assorted panties,
briefs and thongs for others,
sitting still as they've obsessed
of life, of love,
and catalogue their wrongs.
Like there's the guy
who had me call him "dad."
I'm cool.
So what's your preference?
"Sir?" or "Son?"
Come on.
It's no time to feel tired or sad.
You paid for this.
The evenings just begun.
We all pay.
God, by masters
I've been trained in guilt,
betrayal, denial, and jealousy.
Intimidate or plead.
You're choice.
Your feigned concern is nice.
Tonight's 'bout you not me.
No matter how mistreated,
tricked or scarred,
Right now,
it's all 'bout you
and keeping hard.

MY ARTHRITIS

2007-07-16T12:07:00.001-07:00

If once more
I could move just as I please.
Some days are not so bad.
Some days I cry.
You know, I feel it
in my fingers, knees,
My body's breaking down.
I don't know why.
Just thinking of the past
makes me more ill.
A future life of pain
seems cruel and strange.
And yet there comes a time
when sitting still hurts more
than getting up
and facing change.
The past is gone.
I know it in my heart.
And yet I long for you
through out the day.
I have to face a life
with us apart.
This is the hardest thing
I'll ever say.
I must move on.
I need to set you free.
I have to ask you
not to talk to me.

BEFORE I DELETE YOU

2007-07-16T12:05:00.000-07:00

(if you haven't deleted me already)

"... as she saw nothing but young men all day long ... this sight of her fellow-traveller was completely lost in her mind, as the crooked pin dropped by a child into the wishing-well twirls in the water and disappears for ever.
Virginia Woolf-- "Jacob's Room"

I bet you don't remember me.
Dismiss this if you don't.
The gravity of time
sucks all we know
down deep into a dark abyss.
The wonder is
how much we can recall.
A straight pin
would have fallen down
without resistance,
swiftly in the dark.
That crooked pin descending
circled round a little slower
in its spinning arc.
I want to say,
however brief our bond together was,
just know, before you drop away,
some human bent in you
made me respond.
I wanted here
to honor that today.
My wish for you,
"Good luck."
Just thought I'd tell you,
while you're sinking,
whirling down my well.

TWO LEGS OR THREE, IT'S ALL ABOUT ME

2007-07-16T12:04:00.000-07:00

Each night in dreams
I face a knight or snake.
I seek a maiden, fair
or hermit, kind.
I fly or fall or flee before I wake.
It's said each is
an aspect of my mind.
My boss is not my shadow,
not my dad.
To see him so
is just a mental fraud.
I've seen myself
within the grocery lad.
Like me,
they're foolish, fallible and flawed.
I thought I loved you.
Yours for me seemed real.
But was it more about
my loving you?
I grieve,
but is it still your loss I feel
or is my grieving
all about me too?
"How can I know another?"
I complain.
"The Devil's Pitchfork's
twisting in my brain."

DE GUSTIBUS NON DISPUTANDUM EST*

2007-07-16T12:03:00.000-07:00

I'm writing
with carnations at my side.
On one pinked, ruby rim
I press my lips.
Its musky scent
I suck in gentle sips.
Have I some rule
of tact or taste defied?
The intimate
is earned through modesty.
Who breaks
a strict taboo or sacred rite?
One person's dread's
another one's delight.
Will you explore
forbidden realms with me
with blushing cheeks
on tablecloth or sheet?
I seek to taste and feed
forbidden bliss.
Forgive me
if I'm forward, indiscreet.
Please don't deny me.
You will be remiss to bar me
from the privilege
just to kiss the purple bud
you're pressing to your seat.

De gustibus non disputandum est: "there is no accounting for taste"

SHE SAID 'SAVE YOURSELF'

2007-07-16T12:02:00.000-07:00

My friend,
if you mean save my mortal soul
before the pass/fail test
when I decay
for pre-paid bliss
or face the heated hole,
I'll run the risk.
I'm Sorry,
I won't play.
Or do you mean
I ought to hoard my goods to barter
in the market of the tough?
Or how I should survive
the world of shoulds?
Addictions say
there never is enough.
Or do you mean
I ought to bide my time,
as if I am a resource to conserve,
for all too soon
I will be past my prime?
I doubt if I am worthy
to preserve.
Do I need rescuing?
It's plain to see
That no one's saving me,
my friend, but me.

BE MINE

2007-07-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

Dear valentine,
list on the space below
the three things you won't eat,
won't do in bed.
One joke.
Two dreams.
Describe when "No" means "NO!"
Five quirks
and what you ought to do instead.
Why YOU love me.
Define your need for space
not just alone,
including closet, shelf.
The proper length of time
for an embrace,
to punish,
sleep, and
to forgive yourself.
Note with your binding signature you vow
to be on my side,
demonstrate you care
to look at me and listen,
starting now,
talk openly and
promise to be fair.
So "Are you true or false?"
To end this quiz check:
yes_ or no _
"I will take you ... 'as is'."

DON'T TAKE ALL THE SHEETS

2007-07-16T11:58:00.000-07:00

Hello, excuse me.
Hate to interrupt you
when your teeming thoughts
are coming fast.
But I'm here too.
Don't mean to be abrupt.
I'm waiting
for your great climatic blast.
Is there a reason
why you want to share?
Go be alone.
Don't waste my time.
With all or in succession
I don't care.
I only ask you
make me sense we rhyme.
My eyes! Look deep.
Caress my ears. Don't shout!
I mean,
if you want my attention
be attentive too.
Ya, okay, get it out!
But first surprise me,
stir me, be with me.
You've got a journal.
Scribble safe at home.
As far as I'm concerned
we're not a poem.

NOT FIRE

2007-07-16T11:57:00.000-07:00

I'll go with ice
and maybe death
will come to offer me
a frosty rest.
I know I'll feel no pain
as all my limbs grow numb.
I'll sleep beneath
a comforter of snow.
The body's wise.
First nose and ears and toes
seem distant, silent.
I'll try not to care.
My chest and arms
I'll willingly expose.
To fight against injustice,
I don't dare.
When I despair,
I simply give up hope.
No more to feel
the burn of jealousy
and pride subsides
and anger too.
I cope with loss, with grief.
Indifference sets me free.
My flame burnt out.
I know it seems unkind,
but nothing matters.
Trick is not to mind.

ENDGAME

2007-07-16T11:54:00.000-07:00

I try not staring at the guy
who stares at me all day.
These cubicles get stale.
I keep out
of our company's affairs.
One sight of HER,
we all turn pale.
Can't even look back at the boss,
I'm told.
I see them shifting past,
some bounding stud
or biased holy,
rookies buffed and bold.
It's war,
not work.
They're out for blood.
They say
they'll treat me royal
if I make it through the ranks.
Across,
the other team's new guy,
the rumor says,
is out to take my spot.
I ask
"Who sets up these extremes?
Who move the mover of us pawns?"
Next I expect to hear
the queen is dead,
the king's been checked.

I AFFIRM

2007-07-16T11:38:00.001-07:00

I am alive.
And even when alone,
I have the skills and peace
and all the stuff I need to thrive.
I'm more than good enough.
I value,
honor,
all that I have known.
My love's immense
My humor is profound.
I show respect
in everything I do.
I see the best in all.
My word is true.
I now embrace my health.
I'm strong and sound.
I will be gentle
with myself today.
I will fulfill
commitments I have made.
I will confront,
forgive,
and be of aid.
I will pursue my dreams
and pray
and play.
Right here,
right now,
I claim and own what's mine.
I am prepared
and this day I will shine.

I COMMIT

2007-07-16T11:37:00.000-07:00

To change my life today,
I'll not ignore injustice;
covet what I haven't got;
repress or
pity myself,
placate, plot.
I can,
no matter what I've done before,
create the person
that I want to be.
I'll look for lessons
when I feel attacked.
I'll own my feelings,
think before I act.
I know I can live
should-less, shame-less, free.
Today I will not take or
risk my life,
nor harm myself
by little suicides.
I'll shun what sabotages me or
hides my worth or
aggravates my inner strife.
And as I dare today
to show my face
I vow to make our world
a better place.

NOT AVAILABLE IN ALL STATES

2007-07-16T11:28:00.002-07:00

For you,
a special offer!
Rare! unreal! exclusive!
All your day-dreams
you could see fulfilled.
You'll never get a better deal.
Invest in character,
in whimsy, style!
Mature, yet barely used,
much more than show.
This could be yours alone!
Unique! worthwhile!
(See glowing testimonials below)
Act now!
Redeem this coupon for my heart.
It's priceless, precious.
Please don't miss this chance.
Your interest will gain interest.
So be smart!
You too
can have security, romance.
Your satisfaction guaranteed.
Supply is short.
(Note: some exclusions may apply.)

MY SECRET PRAYER

2007-07-16T11:28:00.001-07:00

Strange, super-human powers
I possess.
I know what's hidden, where,
and I can guess your history
from your breath,
and what things weigh.
My ears can hear a rip
from rooms away.
I know what's in your frige,
your cart, your bag.
What's missing from a shelf,
what's on a rag.
Pie diagrams
my inner eye divides.
I never asked for this.
Beside I'm powerless.
I fret to see folks frown.
Observed alone,
a guest, or on the town
they think me rude.
"What nerve!" "What gall!"
They watch me
stare and drool and scheme at all that's
gulped or sucked or licked or
bit and chewed
I pray then:
"Thank you, God,
that's not my food."

ENTOMBED

2007-07-16T11:27:00.003-07:00

Down deep,
down steep, dark tunnels I descend,
till statue, scroll or frieze appears.
I scan the gilted images.
Might each portent
grand rites and mysteries
as old as man?
Behold a cat, a boat,
a frozen scene of sacrifice,
a priest in bird-faced cap.
A coiled cobra,
could that mean a Queen?
Rebirth's a scarab?
Life, a sandal strap?
I've read how old reliefs
can crumble, fade or rot
from light of day
and human breath.
These works were wrought with hope
to outlive death.
They die
by those who sought
to give them aid.
Just so,
though I would hoard them,
yet it seems each dawn arrives
to dissipate my dreams.

SAILING THE SOUND

2007-07-16T11:26:00.000-07:00

SAILING THE SOUND

We shoved off.
I took starboard,
you took port and rudder,
I the jib.
The rising sail puffs proudly,
slackens then inhales in sport.
Will we have
shifting gusts or calm or gale?
Above the ribbons,
one on either side,
take turns,
to flutter, fall, flash red or green
to signal changes in the wind and
guide us where to steer,
which way to shift and lean.
I want today
to be a special day
and yet I fear
you'll see my anger flare.
If we can stay in rhythm,
task, and play
perhaps I won't observe
your jealous glare.
By dock
will there be tears amid the brine?
I scan your face
for any tell-tale sign.

FIVE-THOUSAND PIECES

2007-07-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

Not just a game
(a test of patience,
skill,
a chance for us
to scratch our heads
and rap our fingers)
It was fun.
Oh what a thrill,
surprised and satisfied,
to hear that snap.
A few I tried to force in with a tap.
No competition here and
nothing scored,
I offered you an edge
to fill a gap.
I didn't want to think
I'd been ignored.
The picture's incomplete.
Did you get bored?
Lose interest in the helpful clues
I tossed?
At first I didn't want to think
you'd hoard the ones I sought.
I know they're hidden, lost.
Yup, you're not here for me
and I concede I'll never have
the pieces that you need.

MY WARNING CITATION

2007-07-16T11:23:00.001-07:00

On Being Stopped after My Day-Care Shift

Exhausted, overwhelmed, confused.
As when a toddler flails
and bellows on the rug.
So small and powerless,
her needs unmet,
she fights me,
but I know she needs a hug.
(My loving parents
would have belted me
or worse ignored my plight)
Though she resists
my arms encircle her.
She can't get free.
"When you relax,
I'll let you go."
She twists and bends
and yet I know
she craves restraint.
She longs to know
that someone's big enough
and cares enough
to answer her complaint.)
Just so I need him
constant, careful, tough.
"Thanks, officer,
for making me slow down.
Our town is safe.
I'm safer in our town."

GO FLY A KITE

2006-09-04T16:47:00.000-07:00

Once more.
Please notice how
I keep it taught
by only letting out a bit.
You try to keep it high enough.
Then once it's caught,
let go.
I'm certain we can make this fly
and once we get it up
you'll see how long the tail is.
Sunshine makes the panels glow.
Don't stand there!
Come on! Run!
The breeze is strong.
You changed your mind?
You could have told me so.
'Cause I'm prepared
to fix a flimsy frame or
untie knots,
face winds that gust or shift
and I'm not hear to play
the game called "blame"
but I can't do this
if you let it drift
or drop the spool.
Oh hell!
Just cut it free.
It can't fly
if you don't believe in me.

THE TENACITY OF ARCHITECTURE

2006-09-04T16:45:00.001-07:00

I'm back.
I dread returning to a town.
I rented there once.
That has a new door.
And there I worked.
This block is so rundown.
I said I'll never step back
in that store.
I crashed a party there.
That's new, to me.
Those folks divorced.
Their neighbors moved away.
I guess that lady died.
They closed her bakery.
Remodeled.
Gone.
That's here till Judgment Day.
New cities never frighten me
because I re-create myself.
But could I here?
So few remain
who might recall my flaws.
Could I forget my past?
No, ever near are haunt houses.
I know every ghost.
The ones with my own face
I dread the most.

PLAQUE

2006-09-04T16:45:00.000-07:00

Used wrapping paper,
plastic cups, faux hair,
cliff hangers, instant coffee,
child-proof caps,
repeated jingles,
static, squelch, dead air.
Oh, every other driver,
cell phones,
snaps, all pokadots,
and pot-holes, power lines,
stringed lights, long cords and cables,
tiny type, those packing pellets,
pop-up windows, signs that flash,
most garnish, all election hype,
those cards that fall from magazines,
stuffed birds,
chewed gum, cheap sandals,
copy ink, frayed ends,
words mispronounced, misquotes
and made-up words,
my friends' ex-lovers,
worse! ex-lover's friends,
all surveys, pet hair,
floral scent shampoo,
rude waiters, shower scum,
cigar smoke,
you.

A CONFESSION

2006-09-04T16:44:00.001-07:00

As if we had been plundered
we went room to room.
"That's gone!"
"Just look at that"
"And there!"
In time we all rebuilt.
Yet we assume disaster
will return,
so we prepare
with batteries and matches
water, gas.
We keep our family photos
by the door or somewhere
near the bins
for paper, glass
or lost amid
the useless crap
we store.
God! avalanche my magazines;
and rain away my relatives;
old clothes flambè;
tornado through commitments;
hurricane me clean;
tsunami all my shit away!
Even as I ponder all at stake.
I sometimes really wish
the earth would quake!

PAY NO ATTENTION TO THAT MAN BEHIND THE...

2006-09-04T16:44:00.000-07:00

You're looking for a wizard?
Don't look here.
(I'm no Professor Marvel.
I'm a sham.)
Whenever I sense
someone's need or fear,
I play the part.
I let them think I am.
It's true I lie,
but as a poet lies.
We both were boring Kansas
born and bred.
(I think it's black and white life
we despise.)
We long
for rainbow tinted lands instead.
To raise an emeralded city
was their dream.
Don't hurry back too soon,
for as you view it
so you build it too
and it would seem the old
(if I've done my job well)
is new.
So make your own Oz.
Find your own way home.
Now go.
Don't trust this poet,
trust your poem.

TO A NEW FRIEND

2006-09-04T16:43:00.000-07:00

Now everything is cool.
We're at that stage
when trust,
respect feel sure.
We sense a link in struggle,
pain and hope.
As we engage
things fall in place,
we think in sync.
But some day
I am going to let you down
and then you'll feel betrayed.
I'll be too late.
I'll fib.
Put myself first.
You'll see a frown.
Will I then be
the focus of your hate?
As best I can
I pledge you truth
and vow to you,
within fair limits,
to be near.
Least friendly
I will need you most.
Hear now:
I'm fallible.
I'm flawed.
Be brave with me.
Be clear.
Forgive me.
Treasures lie beyond.
I claim I will forgive you
when I feel the same.

STUBBED

2006-09-04T16:42:00.000-07:00

Sure-footed, nimble,
stable, sturdy, swift,
So I present myself
and so I've faired.
I do so much.
Endurance is a gift.
Does anybody know
I'm running scared?
You swept me off my feet
the other night.
We hugged and kissed
and fucked and talked till dawn.
Doors opened bravely
(God, it felt so right)
I dared to cross.
I tripped.
I found you gone.
I just kept right on going anyhow.
(Perhaps that night together
never was)
You're free.
Perhaps you'll call
and I'll be glad.
I 've no regrets.
I doesn't hurt right now.
I know it will.
Not yet.
But when it does,
Real soon,
it's gonna hurt
and hurt real bad.

SNAP OUT OF IT

2006-09-04T16:40:00.000-07:00

Depression,
grief,
the sinking pit of "Why?"
Fate's wheel turned down.
As I remember
when misfortune struck,
defeat or worse
how I betrayed myself,
I chant "If only...then."
Elation,
daydreams,
freaky happenstance,
perhaps good luck.
Just so
it seems my lot is better.
Spending nights
as in a trance
I blurt out "What if..."
as I dream and plot.
I circle round my brain
as if some how this time,
"Escape!" Behold a different way.
But "here and now."
This IS my "here" my "now."
To stop these thoughts,
(although I fear you'll say
"I've got some nerve."
We get what we deserve."
I pause, repeat
"This simply does not serve."

HAPPY MOTORING

2006-09-04T16:37:00.000-07:00

Some asshole cut me off
in my commute.
I swore.
At work I told a friend
still mad.
Said she
"I scream 'God bless you'."
I fell mute,
incredulous,
then foolish,
hopeless, sad.
'God BLESS you.'
Huh?
Just belch among your friends.
Your manners they'll deride.
But arch and huff,
spew out with germs
far flung
and others act
as if you almost died.
Perhaps this isn't
'bout that stupid lout.
(Controlling others
never really works.)
Perhaps ,
myself is what it's all about.
'Cause next mile
I don't want to be the jerk.
I wish we all would truly
seek to please.
Perhaps rude driving's
just a moral sneeze.

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO JUNG'S "MAN AND HIS SYMBOLS"

2006-09-04T16:36:00.000-07:00

Before my birth
words showered down on me.
Before I spoke
I understood.
I tried. I called. I named
I chatted thoughtlessly
engulfed in rapid discourse
Before I read
I knew the picture book.
From letters
sounds and syllables arose,
till I was swept away
at every look,
immersed in verse
and dialogue and prose.
Since birth
(before?)
I've dreamt.
But I forgot the horror
puzzle, bliss
before dawn's glow.
Yet after reading Jung
hot visions shot and spewed up
geyser-like from deep below
infusing my primed conscious mind
with awe, like Keller
at the spigot
shouting "Waaaaa..."

_________________________________________

Man and His Symbols is the last psychological work undertaken by Carl Jung. It is divided into five parts, four of which are written by associates of Jung: Joseph L. Henderson, Marie-Louise von Franz, Aniella Jaffé, and Jolande Jacobi. The book is meant to be an introduction to Jung's theories and was originally written for a public audience rather than psychology students.

I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD SAY THIS

2006-09-04T16:35:00.000-07:00

"The children now love luxury; they have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise." Attributed to SOCRATES------

Our parents, I think,
taught us to behave.
I know we kids
were often angry, sad.
It seems now happy children
parents crave.
But are they?
Often they act awfully bad.
Who's pleased
to hear a toddler's harsh lament?
But I improved
from feeling my distress.
Though when my will was thwarted
I felt stung,
safe limits
help me find my own delight.
To suffer is the cure
for being young.
I made mistakes.
I learned to do what's right.
Of course
I would be happy if I could.
Keen* consolation comes
from doing good.

______________________________________________

* keen adj 1: having or demonstrating ability to recognize or draw fine distinctions; "an acute observer of politics and politicians"; "incisive comments"; "icy knifelike reasoning"; "as sharp and incisive as the stroke of a fang"; "penetrating insight"; "frequent penetrative observations" [syn: discriminating, penetrating, piercing] 2: intense or sharp; "suffered exquisite pain"; "felt exquisite pleasure" [syn: exquisite] 3: very penetrating and clear and sharp in operation; "an incisive mind"; "a keen intelligence"; "of sharp and active intellect" [syn: incisive, sharp] 4: very good; "he did a bully job"; "a neat sports car"; "had a great time at the party"; "you look simply smashing" [syn: great, swell, smashing] 5: as physically painful as if caused by a sharp instrument; "a cutting wind"; "keen winds"; "knifelike cold"; "piercing knifelike pains"; "piercing cold"; "piercing criticism"; "a stabbing pain"; "lancinating pain" [syn: cutting, piercing, stabbing, lancinate, lancinating] 6: having a sharp cutting edge or point; "a keen blade" n : a funeral lament sung with loud wailing v : express grief verbally; "we lamented the death of the child" [syn: lament]

OUR FIRST ROAD TRIP

2006-04-16T21:12:00.001-07:00

I've not been one
to tell you how to drive.
It's your car, your gas.
I'm here for the ride.
Right now,
it's up to you
when we arrive.
But this is what I'm seeing
from my side.
When fearing that
we're moving way too fast,
you panic,
citing doubts and finding fault,
as somehow, something here
reflects the past
which brings our journey
to a grinding halt.
I don't expect
you'll trust me with the wheel.
Not asking!
You can navigate this maze.
And though I cannot change
the way you feel,
I'm here for you.
You have my faith and praise.
Believe me,
objects in the rear-view mirror
are more wonderful
than they appear.

WAITING FOR A REFILL ON CHRISTMAS EVE

2006-04-16T21:12:00.000-07:00

Who lives the candied lives
of greeting cards?
Old Santa's just the first
of many lies.
Who dare resists
when every song bombards us,
makes us spend, consume,
our life despise.
What if your past
was filled with scenes of strife?
Of feasts of gall, betrayal,
unsettled scores?
What if
as captive kids
you lived your life a hostage
trapped in dinner table wars.
If mandatory cheer
just makes you mad,
escape allotted bonds, genetic chains,
renounce the bad,
refuse what makes you sad,
create traditions new
of what remains.
How can you feel included,
safe and calm?
Just call that late night diner waitress,
"Mom."

THOUGHTS AT THE BEACH AT NIGHT

2006-04-16T21:11:00.001-07:00

Can cells sense something's wrong
when cancer starts?
The body as a whole
is self-contained, complete,
compatible in all its parts.
Its function, features, fate
are all maintained.
What is this maverick madness,
counter-fate, a tyrant spirit
rending all awry
to sap and warp,
confound and mutilate,
a manic mayhem
forced to multiply?
What kind of baneful guest
is so engrossed within the selfish
meeting of his needs
to damn his future,
jeapordize his host?
Now everything that eats
and shits and breeds,
the very stars and and waves,
and wind and sand,
must dread our gaze,
the moving of a hand.

TO AN UNCOY 'MISTRESS'

2006-04-16T21:11:00.000-07:00

I've met the virtuous
and they are rare
and many others seems so,
but are not.
(Their words are cool
and yet their blood runs hot
to feed the lust
beneath that pious air).
I'd like to think I try,
like most, to do the right things.
Carnal motives
you can tell in words and deeds.
They have their place as well.
(Have fun and yet be good).
And then there's you.
The rumor has it
you sure get about,
so fast and loose and free
(I hear you love to flirt
with old or young, a girl or boy)
but in the end,
some how
you don't put out.
Why die, dear,
with the reputation of a whore
and never really know the joy?

LINES WRITTEN ON A PAPER NAPKIN

2006-04-16T21:10:00.002-07:00

If you think
I'm just going to go away,
then you've got me all wrong.
And if you bet
I'll take offense
or get discouraged,
say "I'm done. I quit!"
Then you don't know me yet.
'Cause I'm a salesman.
Selling's in my core.
'And in the end,
No matter what you sell
you have to sell yourself.'
Yes, I'm a bore.
This is the only thing
that I do well.
But I'm not like
the others of my tribe
'cause I'm not one
to pressure or misguide, intimidate,
or bargain, beat down, bribe.
But shark or saint,
a salesman has no pride.
I'm still here.
Even if you grow irate.
'Cause as a salesman
I know how to wait.

CANOE

2006-04-16T21:10:00.001-07:00

"We won't get lost."
he says and I
"Or sink? Or drowned?"
I trust him.
"Hey, we'll have some fun."
("And how did I get into this?"
I think.)
Our journey cross the river
has begun.
("What will I do to be with him?"
I scoff)
"You hold the side for me
and I'll for you."
We're in!
"Sit still!"
and with a thrust we're off.
The gliding calms
the trembling canoe.
"You paddle on the left."
I clutch my oar.
"And not too deep
and not too fast."
(I guess, "You're thinking
what I'm thinking...")
I suppress a groan.
You joke.
"Tomorrow we'll be sore."
("...God,
what if he loves me
a little more than I love him
or worse, a little less?")