POEM - EeeZeePee

Hey there kid

You got a good thing going

A sincere smile

With sunny eyes

That keep you

Out of the worst trouble

Your mother tries her best

To get you to slow down

Your father asks

Until he’s blue in the face

That you hold still

For just thirty seconds

But that’s not you

You are a kinetic ball

Bouncing from scream to scream

With the rapidity of a fly

Until you find something

A point to focus on

If it is making Josie scream

You are in trouble

If it is building an elaborate structure

From the massive pit of Legos

We are delighted and relieved

But lest someone wonder

You are a good one

There’s a reason we keep you around

You say the nicest things

And when I have an extra-long day

And I missed dinner one more time

You notice

You make a point of finding me

Let me know I am a good dad

Even ask if I will be at dinner tomorrow

I will try E-z-P

            I love you kid

He even spares half a breath

To say he loves me too

Before slamming our bedroom door

Bounce-bounce-thump

As he jumps across his sister’s beds

Like we till him not to

Every single time

POEM - The Down-low on DMB

The proper way

In my experience

To attend correctly

A Dave Mathews Band concert

Is with a significant other

With whom you have amorous intent

I offer this as an expert

Of the wrong way

The first time I went

I took my youngest brother

Because Linda hates jam bands

But I was unprepared

For the mood of the show

For the unprovoked resentment

Towards by blissfully unaware sibling

He thought we were having a good time

I knew what would make it the best time

So I swore then and there

The next time would be different

And it was not

Generosity began the next show

My friend Peter had won tickets

Three tickets to be precise

Who gives away three tickets?

Even numbers people,

That’s the formula for tickets!

So I was invited

Third wheel to Peter and his wife

At least they were doing it right

As consolation I showed off

Sat in the back seat

Spouting off DMB facts and tidbits

To let them know I appreciated it more

Make sure they knew I knew

That I liked them better

Really it was a tantrum

In the guise of a fan

Born of jealousy

Spawned by anticipation

That attends a live show

So do it right

You owe it to yourself

Go see Dave Mathews

Take your sweetheart

Do not

Under any circumstance

Invite me

POEM - Bit Player

Sometimes I am Hamlet

Mostly I am Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

I’ve noticed this fact

Revealed by a more connected world

Where I can peek at the recollections

Of people from my life

Discussing historic events

That I know I was present for

But I failed to be involved

Where I read the list of characters

And I’m not at the beginning

Or even in the top half

And I even have to share my credit line

With another name

Sometimes I even languished

In formless anonymity

With many nameless names

A member of The Chorus

Or wallowing in abject indiscernibility

As a Various Townsperson

As richer and fuller details

Emerge and surface

I wonder which play I was in

My Guildenstern seems very thoughtful

My Rosencrantz easily distracted

Was I servant to the main character

Or was I experiencing my own reality

With my back to the audience

A life lived in asides

And countless demolitions

Of an implied fourth wall

Then the question forms

Who were the Hamlets

That I lurked behind?

I know of another world

Where I have a starring role

Where I get to be the main character

But I am nervous there

I wonder what is happening

Just out of my sight

Flashing in my peripherals

Who are the minor characters

Going through motions

In the shadows I cast

But I know I am not in Shakespeare

The tragedies aren’t as severe

No, this is definitely the Stoppard play

And the minors are the majors

And the majors are just a play

And I may be dead

            Or lost in a shared dream

Perhaps just in limbo

And I may flip a coin

And flip it once more

And every time it will be heads

POEM - The Sky Knew

The Sky Knew

She was a good lady

And the sky knew

For a month the clouds swirled

In turmoil and anguish

Reflecting and projecting

A feeling that things weren't right

She hadn't been around lately

Ever since that day

When she went into the big building

The one that had taken away so many

That the sky liked to watch

But she was a special one

Always seemed to be happy

Even when the sky was full

Bloated with precipitation

Falling in buckets on her head

She would whisper thank you

For letting her know bad weather

So that good weather was sweeter

But lately her head didn't look up

She didn't gaze at the sky

Like she had done

For so many years

And then she went to that building

And the sky knew

She wasn't coming back

So he threw a fit

Sucked up the rain

And spit it out

In a violent splattering deluge

Shooting lighting in angry bolts

Crashing thunder as loud as he could

It just wasn't fair

So the rain kept going

For a month and a day

And lighting and thunder

And dark rolling clouds

Attended the funeral service

Blasting and hollering

Leaving the earth washed and cleansed

Ready to accept his special friend

POEM - Hard Decisions

That’s how it was

Headlong running

Found the rock

The way back blocked

By everything that is the hard place

It was one too many holidays

Dropping everything

Running to the hospital

To roll our eyes

Throw our hands up

Half listen to all the lies

Look like the bad guy

When we don’t believe a word of it

The Well of Compassion dried up

About fifteen times ago

But that’s what you do for family

Now there are other things to do

Taking away their freedom

Regulating their lives

Putting them in permanent day care

Because they need to be baby sat

And there will be screaming

And there will be tears

And hurtful words

And feelings rubbed raw

And maybe it won’t be appreciated

Not right now anyway

            But when she dries out

You might finally be able to stand her again

POEM - The World According To

I am fifteen different people

Just on the drive home

Each new tune

Recreates my world view

It happens to everyone

Techies are inspired by Trekies

Hard science scours science fiction

For which fantasies

To create reality from

Flights of fancy

Inform the process

Sets the farthest bar

Creates the pool of dreams

That dissipates

Distills

Leaks down

Through the sticky ether

To condensate

In wrinkly recesses

Of the spongy gray matter

Betwixt stereophonic ears

Back to my disorder

Today I was a scientist

Based on the facts I learned

From Modest Mouse

Firstly astrophysics

            The universe is shaped exactly like the earth

            If you go straight long enough

            You’ll end up where you were

Followed by biology

            Some day you will die somehow

            And something’s going to steal your carbon

Rounded out by sociology

            My friends, my habits, my family

            They mean so much to me

With a tap of the screen

I change my persona

Suddenly I was much angrier

For no apparent reason

I felt I need to rage against some sort of machine

Or smash a pumpkin or two

Driving along in my four door sedan

            I'm calm like a bomb

            Rollin down Rodeo with a shotgun

            I am still just a rat in a cage

            Despite all my rage

Then I had to calm down

Get ready for dinner

Flipped to something smoother

My favorite calm down groove

As Steely Dan laid down the knowledge

            They have a name for the winners in the world

            I want a name when I lose

            They call Alabama the Crimson Tide

            Call me Deacon Blue

That’s something good

A note to end on

Closer to who I am

 . . . Most of the time

I click off the radio

My schizophrenia subsides

I leave it on the dash of the car

            For the next commute

POEM - And this pocket is full and so is this one and this has a rock in it and I brought you a note and a donut in this one I think . . .

The thing

I like

A lot

Is a good pocket

Or

In fact

Many pockets

What I like is

A plethora

A bunch

An overabundance

Of cleverly placed

Well made

Hole-less

Pockets

The only reason

I  condone

The foolish tradition

Of wearing suits

Is the jacket

That monument to pockets

With one

in the upper left quadrant

Two

In the lower front region

One

On each side

At breast level

Within

And if lucky

Another

Inside

Down low

For something extra

Pocket watch

Pen knife

Plastic wrapped mints

In my youth

My most enduring dream

Was the pocketpalooza

The Venerable Overall

I wanted them

I begged for them

On occasion

I would inherit them

From my country cousin

But I grew like a weed

And our time

Was often brief

Pocket O pocket!

Holds my stuff

Holds my treasures

Holds my mysteries

Holds my heart

POEM - Backgammon in my Blood

Looking in my father’s open briefcase

The typical fare is found

Some anonymous papers

Collected in unremarkable manila folders

His mysterious leather wallet

That I avoided examining closely

Some weight of responsibility

Signaled through the slightest touch

Something I wasn’t ready for

Then there was a book

I used to look at it often

For extended moments

Repeat the title in my head

Think on it for hours

Sure it was forbidden

Lately my dad had begun

To teach me a new game

Of ancient origin

And has invited me into the group

The brotherhood of backgammon

Vogue game of the business professional

Resurgent in the mid-70s of my youth

I loved playing the game

Partly for the company

Partly because I could win

There’s not much for a young boy

To best his father at

He could run faster

Talk better

Think faster

Know more

But I could beat him at backgammon

Not often

But it did happen

The taboo book appeared

After I had already jumped in

Both feet and in over my head

Backgammon for Blood

Was the book hidden in the briefcase

The cover showed the smoothest guy

Leaning over the coolest backgammon set

Each piece had jagged edges

Deep crimson and exquisite ivory

My first bout of envy

For something of sophistication

I would think about holding those pieces

Imagine their stone like weight

Their polished smooth faces

And the geared sides

I could visualize engaging the gears

Rolling them across the board

Like single wheeled tractors

Supporting my heavy hand

Then I would play the game

On the refined and elegant board

Maybe wear a long sleeved black shirt

Feather back my hair

Turn down the background lights

And raise my eyebrow in a knowing look

Then I would be dangerous

Playing for keeps

Dangerous as blood

Envy of all men

Desire of all women

Champion of this game of ancient tradition

Roller of double sixes

            Skilled remover of my checkers

The one who put you on the bar

            And left you there in tears

POEM - Blessed are the Poor

The secret thing I grew up with

Is that I was oblivious

I never knew we were poor

That it was a big struggle

We weren't impoverished

But we weren't wealthy

It was a middle class

Check to check

Skin of the teeth

Type of upbringing

I take that back

I sort of knew it

Sometimes it was obvious

When dinner was pinto beans

            And there was no ketchup

                        And it had been for the last 3 days

I knew it a little then

But it didn't bother me

            OK, not having ketchup bothered me

Have you ever had a plain  bowl of pinto beans?

Thank goodness we moved to Arizona

I learned how to make refried beans ASAP

Sucking on a lump of refried beans

Beats a bowl of pintos any day!

I'm still poor

And I'm kind of OK with it

I have nice kids

And they get over stuff

Mostly because they expect nothing

Everything is a gift

And being grateful is a better gift

Besides the poor meal has improved

We make refried beans and rice

With homemade tortilla chips

All from scratch

The kids even ask for it

            When we aren’t poor

                        It is just that good

I'm not saying it is easy

Struggling to figure it all out

Deciding what bills to pay

What can wait a little longer

Pushing everything to the last minute

But we are happy

And I know those that have

And they are never satisfied

And they can't be quite

And their world has to plummet into the abyss

Before they can just sit

Be calm

Find peace

And watch the clouds

Roll by in a parade

            Of crazy zoo animals

POEM - Sgt. Slaughter vs. The Upstart

Our first meeting was disconcerting

As he opened the inner front door

It was early afternoon

And the sun light prevented me

From seeing clearly

Through the  security screen

I was taken aback by sounds

Of what seemed like a dozen barking dogs

I could just discern an outline

Of a man of large stature

Possibly shirtless

            A glimmer of cigarette in hand

With what seemed at the time

A severe and gruff voice

Which politely requested

That I return later

            When his wife was home

Upon return I met the Mrs.

The lovely, smiling redheaded Glynn

She introduced her husband

Glen also, but spelled different

Her presence made him kinder

Much different than the first impression

But he maintained a certain look

One of playful warning

Alerting me to not feel too comfortable

Things could still get dicey

If the whim struck his fancy

I was approved of

Invited back for dinner

For a lovely meal with Southern accents

Glen’s barbecue was succulent

There was mint jelly

And black eyed peas

Then dessert was served

Huge California strawberries

Dipped once in sour cream

Then rolled around in brown sugar

As the first big bite washed over my palate

The windows of culinary heaven opened

I swear I heard harps strumming

As I savored pure bliss

With dinner in my belly

And satisfaction on my face

I was asked if I liked games

Would perhaps care to engage

In a friendly game of Scrabble

Despite the subtle warnings from Glynn

I acquiesced

It was then that Glenn left

And Sgt. Slaughter arrived

I began to understand the warnings

It was a foolish move on my part

I didn’t really know my opponent

His voracious reading habits

His Mensa membership

A love of games

            A greater love of humiliating his enemies

It was a massacre

            And I loved every minute of it

Who could feel differently?

            After a meal like that

                        And a smile like Glenn’s

POEM - Gradual Decline

Things are ageing

You look at the you

That is you

The now you

And wonder when this became you

I have been more like this me

Longer than I was that me

The kid back there

But those days still are as greener grass

When the me I look at

            Isn’t all that I recall

An inescapable condition of time

Exacerbated by fading memory

And early onset Nostalgia

With a Senility & Alzheimer’s chaser

Someone mentioned in passing

They were lucky to know me back then

Inferring I was something special

In the distant past

Like I was sort of a hottie

The thought that flashed across my mind

I wish that currency

Still had the same value

There has been a sharp downturn

In market interest

In my Hotness-s-s-s-s-s!

At least Linda still likes me

Lies to me in kind ways

Tells me I look thinner

After putting on five pounds

Says she still sees me

            The boy she fell for

Despite all my efforts to hide him

Someone posted a quote

The idea was poignant

Never live with someone

Who doesn't like what you do

She likes what I do

Supports my writing addiction

Makes sure I get my fix every day

Reads every line

Even ones that makes her cry

Corrects my spelling

Tells me when I'm getting cocky

POEM - Remember Our Town? I Was in That

Floating through my Senior Year

I found myself in the drama room

Trying out for the school play

On a whim

Or because everyone else was

I read a part

Tried on some pants

Then Mr. Miller kept calling me back

Had me read for George

He seemed impressed

But I got the idea

I really got the part

Because I knew the right way

To hang up slacks on a hanger

Then practice started

Lots of memorizing

Lots of hours after school

And Mr. Miller’s unique directing

Like the time I got to do my lines

With Nick while we held hands

We were cast as father and son

It was supposed to create familiarity

I think it almost made Nick pass out

It was a great show

By the second night

We were comfortable

Sitting back stage

Singing Hotel California

At the top of our lungs

We got chewed out

For not being focused

I still had a great show

Even if I did fake the kiss

Every single night

Every single time

I totally chickened out

At the end of the year

There was a banquet

For the drama kids

I wasn't a drama kid

But all of my friends were

And I was the lead

In the big school play

So I showed up

Who would turn down a free meal

Especially at the Spaghetti Company

I won Actor of the Year

Mostly because of my voice

And my ability to project it

The intrinsic evidence on tape

Showed that in our auditorium

Which was specially designed

To murder all acoustics

Mine was the only voice discernible

So I was the standout once

Instead of receiving another

In an ever increasing line

Of ”Most Improved” awards

It was straight up

No detractions

            Even came with a trophy

My name engraved on it and everything