Sunday, June 9, 2024

poem

 Boys to Men

Some men look like little boys

Trapped in giant bodies

With their gray hairs and ill fitting shirts

Pinched faces of petulant ire

After so many years 

Not being taken seriously 


Then there are the little boys

Coming home from school

Who look like beatdown men 

Just getting off a ten hour shift

At the metal processing factory.

Carved frowns hinting 

At the jowls to come.

They sit at quiet kitchen tables

In empty houses alone

Eating snacks

Before homework and chores.


The men who never lose 

Their boyish mien

Wage war against the boys

Of hardened visage

When they grow up.

It ends the way it always ends:

With scrapes and bruises and burial

Mounds of unspeakable tragedy.


All that remain

Are the boys who look like boys

Playing in the backyard dusk

And then the men 

Who look like men 

Concealing silent wars

Fought within themselves

For as long as they can.

They save their final doubts

And anguished tears for when no one is home.


Every day is a battle to stay alive. 

Thrashed by the froth and churn 

They man the helm

Until their sons are ready

To take a turn 


6/9/24

poem

 Happiest

I am happiest when I forget who I am,

When I lose all sense of self.


The big joke in life is that

All your friends and lovers


Love a person 

You can’t recall.


When they speak of you

They speak of a stranger 


You can’t remember 

How to be.


6/9/24

poem

 Infinite Peril

Never forget the inherent danger

Fibrillating at the heart of infinity

In an infinite amount of time anything 

Is not only possible but inevitable.

Us here, me and you, it isn’t special

It was always going to happen

We just didn't know when. 

Think for how long we’d been

Patiently waiting on deck

Bats on our shoulders

Wondering if we’d ever get to hit. 

Infinity explains the existence 

And the meaning for everything

In due course.

And also the absence of meaning 

In a world that doesn’t yet exist

But will.

Infinity will snatch your joy 

And spit on your wonder.

Who do you think you are

Other than what you’ve always been?

Infinity is the golden goose wryly 

Grinning as we clutch at its hatched 

Little eggs of time, which are

Quickly traded in for material trinkets

Of immeasurably lesser value. 

Somewhere along the infinite timeline

You’ll become the sort of person 

Who learns the lesson

Of the pricelessness of time

Just before a voice whispers:  it’s too late,

By the time you get it, you’ve missed the point.  

So you get dizzy with acquired time,

Lose your balance, fall face down. 

Laugh at your peril. 

The only way to save this

From utter trivialization

Is to join a doomsday cult.

Become a man on a sidewalk 

Wearing a placard proclaiming

THE END IS NEAR 

Not as a warning

But hope.


6/9/24

Sunday, June 2, 2024

poem

 Maslow

I have no memory of being held 

When I was born

But my mother assures me

She never put me down

Until I stopped crying 

Nor will I recall after death

Whether I was held

As I lay dying

But heaven or hell hinges

On whether certain needs

(Remembered or not)

Get met.


6/2/24

poem

 Upside Down Flag

My upside down flag is a poem

I’ve written under duress

The siege is still ongoing

We’re all under attack

No one feels safe

These lines provide only

A few moments of security

Please send love

And a sliver of beauty


6/2/24