Comments Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas

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The word: Voyage

Destination Reckoning

Life is a voyage or,
For some, it is a journey.
Either way that you perceive it,
It ends up on a gurney.
Metaphor or Simile
It is, like, y’know–
Is there an end to travels and travails
When it’s your time to go?
For most, our faiths tell us
What happens when we die.
Myths tell of the wheres and whenfores
If not the reasons why.
For some, they find some comfort,
For others, abject fear.
Most likely, some of both
As our endtime’s drawing near.
One moment we are here
Then we slip on past the veil
But few, if any, return
Once gone beyond the pale.
The Celts got around
They took turns upon time’s wheel
Life’s end was a beginning
A new birth and a reveal.
In like manner for the Hindi,
When you end your term,
If you’re bad, you might reincarnate
As a lowly, squirming worm.
Heroic Vikings had Vallalla,
Others went to Hel.
She, half radiant/half grotesque,
Goddess of Beauty and the Fell.
The Elysian Fields were Heaven
For Greeks of gone times tolling
But punishments of Sisyphus
Were what got the boulder rolling.
Is a judgement awaiting?
Is Saint Peter at the gate?
Was your life spent loving?
Or was it one of hate?
What’s at the end of your montage?
All I wish for your sending off
Is to have a “bon voyage.”

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On January 13, 2018 @ 3:21 pm

The word: Generosity

Dear Father Winter,

When it was hot last summer,
We often thought of snow,
Pristine blankets and some icicles,
It seemed the way to go.
But now that you have come here,
I don’t like it though I’ve tried.
My car’s radiator is frosted.
It’s battery just died.
I’m stuck here at my house.
Don’t know why I have been chosen.
Can’t get a drop of water
‘Cause my pipes are frozen.
I can’t even flush the toilet.
The situation’s sad.
Forgive me, I’m not grateful.
It really is that bad.
Thanks for your generosity
But too much is quite enough.
It’s become atrocity
Please stop it with your stuff.

Respectfully, Me

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On January 5, 2018 @ 8:48 am

The word: What if


“What ifs” are what give us
Reasons for a change.
Without new possibilities
Wouldn’t life be strange?
“What ifs” breed invention
And new discoveries
So that our lives don’t end up
In stasis and at seize.
Entertaining “what ifs”
At this time of year
Is part of our tradition
With a slate that’s clear.
Resisting those temptations
Or vowing to improve,
To ourselves we promise
That we’ll get in the groove.
So, as the year is passing
From the reaper to the babe
You may hear me nuncupate
On how I may behave.
I am going to “what if”
And it shall be resolved
That, with the coming New Year,
My “me” problems shall be solved.
And, if I fail myself,
I’ll probably say, “So what.
It’s been pretty comfy
Living in my rut.”

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 29, 2017 @ 1:12 pm

The word: Antiquarian

The Luck of the Find

Archaeologists and Antiquarians
Visit potter’s fields
To see those who are in shard’s there
For historic insights they may yield.
It is rare, but on occasion,
They may find a vase or pot
Intact and in situ
Within a sinner’s plot.
Who can know the joy they feel
On finding artifacts unbroken?
And the luck of unsullied contents
Must be taken as a token.
The romance of such endeavors
Ain’t no Indiana Jones.
But still it is exciting–
The finding of old bones.
These ancient folk had lived their lives
So that we might be here.
It’s a kind of eternal life
That we can hold as dear.
I like to feel the reverence
I find in a museum.
I’m sure that they’re there in spirit
When the living come to see ‘em.
I think I could be happy
With trowel and brush tools for my toil
Uncovering those ancient lives
Living still in soil.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 21, 2017 @ 5:11 pm

The word: Chapter

You’re all Wet! End of Story.

Life is like a river, she said
No, it’s like a book, said he
(Her) I insist that it’s in constant flow.
(Him) But it has stops and starts, you see.
She seemed to be quite adamant
That the boy accept her view.
He, in turn, was recalcitrant.
Manifests of much ado.
The river flows from highlands
Until it reaches sea.
There may be placid pools, falls, and rapids.
That’s her reality.
He still thinks that life’s a story,
From nascence until doom,
One thing follows another in
Chapters, verse, and volumes.
At the time it seemed important
For each one to have their way.
You may know how lovers struggle
To be heard and have their say.
They did not know how to do it.
This is a thing that is not taught.
To seek a balancing together
Not a dominance that is fraught.
Many years have passed.
That river soon ran dry.
The plot thickened, never finished.
Neither one knows why.
Water over the dam
Or underneath the bridge
Never reaches denouement
The narrative is abridged.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 19, 2017 @ 9:05 am

The Divine Right of the 1%

The wealthy aren’t afraid.
They even promote their own denials.
They say our climate isn’t changing.
They will survive our trials.
Preserving status quo
Means satisfying greed
For revenue enhancements
Beyond what one might need.
They think that wealth and money
Has accrued to them by right.
Why should they care, anyway?
They will escape our plight.
After all, if you’ve got the money
You know you’ll be okay.
As circumstances change,
You know you’re here to stay.
So what if the planet’s heating?
It’s an opportunity to sell
More air conditioners
While others dwell in hell.
As coastal areas flood,
They can sell more boats
And, if some areas get cold,
They can sell more coats.
Is there any downside
To promoting ignorance?
Not if you pay the piper
To play your favorite dance.
The Titanic may be sinking,
Will soon be out of view,
But if you’ve got the lift raft franchise
You’ll get what is your due.
But they should beware of retribution
Because a drowning man
May be one to climb on top of you
As you extend a helping hand.
Is this the final chapter
Of the Trilogy of Man?
I seriously doubt it.
Man does what he must and can.
We’re here and we’re survivors.
That’s something in our genes.
We’ve always been revivers
And seekers of our dreams.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 17, 2017 @ 7:12 pm

The word: Crestfallen

Bad Rooster! Let’s Put Him in a Pot.

He was the cock of the walk.
He had all the ladies.
He had wealth and power.
Drove in a Mercedes.
With an inflated sense of self,
He could not be refused.
He was an Alpha! Man
In case you were confused.

“I take what I want.
Pat them on the tushy.
I can’t be resisted.
I grab them by the p…y.
I am irresistible.
I’m a force of nature.
There are too few superlatives
In my nomenclature.
They have it when I want it
Do you say, ‘Oh, really?’
When you are a star,
You can more than cop a feely.
There can be no objections.
Protests are all pretended.
All of my girly chickens
End up as the upended.
I think it is a good thing,
That the hen gals in my flock,
Never get together—
They’re too ashamed to talk.
It will never happen.
My comb remains erect.
The public, by and large,
Well, I guess that they suspect.
They know that I am gettin’ it.
‘Cause I’m an Alpha! Dude.
The limits aren’t for me.
I am rude and crude.”

Well, You know what finally happened.
The ladies found their voice.
Alpha roosters are crestfallen.
It seems they have no choice.
It’s time for retribution
As hens come home to roost.
Strutters do the perp walk.
The victorious abused.
Let this be a lesson.
Women find their power
When they organize and take it,
It will be their hour.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 8, 2017 @ 2:19 pm

The word: Peace

Requiescat In Pace

Peace on Earth
Is the message of the season
Goodwill to man and womankind
In the easing of our pleasing.
Be at Peace.
Turn off the TV and the news.
Walk your dog on a forest trail.
That path is less confused.
Be at Peace.
Watch some children hard at play,
No concerns for the tomorrows,
Just the pleasures of today.
Be at Peace.
Perform a selfless deed.
Be a boy or girl scout
Helping those in need.
Be at Peace.
Sit down and read a book.
Indulge your imaginings
In the comfort of your nook.
Be at Peace.
Take time to smell the roses.
Aromas inhaled orchestrally are
A symphony for our noses.
Be at Peace.
Slow down and take some time.
What’s the hubbub and the hurry?
Add some reason to your rhyme.
Be at Peace.
Take time to make some art.
Craft something that’s beautiful
And sets yourself apart.
Be at Peace.
Sit quite still and take some breaths.
Follow flowing ripples
Expanding consciousness.
Be at Peace.
Cross your problems off the list.
Tell yourself, “I’ve got no worries,”
Your pisstations are dismissed.
Be at Peace.
Acquiesce to make a pax.
Accept serenity and tranquility.
Do so and relax.
Requiescat In Pace.
Everyone gets ripped.
We take the tumble through our lives.
Our fall will end the trip.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 5, 2017 @ 8:12 am


Requiescat In Pace.
Everyone must get ripped.
We stumble/bumble through our lives
Until our fall ends the trip.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On December 4, 2017 @ 11:03 pm

The word: Happiness

Oscular Oscilations

If it’s welcomed, it’s seduction.
If not, then it’s assault.
When the lady asked if I would kiss her,
I had to go to my default.
Would that make you somewhat happy?
And would you agree to testify?
I don’t want or need any trouble.
Please use this form to tell me why.
Fill it out in triplicate.
I’ve a team of attorneys who review.
They parse requests for my lips’ pursing.
I pay them for the process due.
We’ll note exclusions and exceptions and
When we’ve whys and wherefores satisfied,
Then we might engage in osculation
I must be thoroughly indemnified.
If they agree, it might be prudent
For us to seek a doc’s advice.
Disease is easily transmitted.
It has happened more than twice.
I am sorry it has come to this.
Are you the type to kiss and tell?
I’ve seen so many stories in the media
As lives devolve in living hell.
Oh. You have something else you want to ask me?
A question you think that might be bland?
I think I could entertain an offer
That we be seen while holding hands.
Just fill out this form in triplicate…

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On November 18, 2017 @ 6:35 am

Happy Hunting

We Declared our Independence
By what we may pursue–
Life, Liberty, and Happiness.
We say that they’re our due.
It does not mean that you will get them
Be ever vigilant
Our poor lives may be defined
By not getting what we can’t.
Life, Liberty, and Happiness
Are our Holy Trinity,
Ideals which are as elusive
As bluebirds in a tree.
I’d settle for satisfaction
Or I’d like to be contented
I might leave the sappiness of happiness
For those who are demented.
It seems these states are fleeting.
Have you seen the news?
It’s enough to make one seek
His happiness in booze.
But you must not give up
Please, do not despair.
As you go to the Happy Hunting Grounds,
Show them that you care.
Maybe that’s the secret
In the pursuit, happiness is found
Save your melancholy for
When you’re lying in the ground.
Honest Abe, he said it.
This is his reality–
Folks are usually about as happy
As they make their minds to be.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On November 16, 2017 @ 11:25 am

The word: Proactive

Cutting Edge Language

Aren’t we fond of our new Buzzwords?
We’ve no longer use for the old saws.
Catching up with new Catch Phrases
Sometimes has me giving pause.
When I use them, I feel modern.
Still, at times, they make me fret
I’m no longer young and hip.
It’s too late to Hit Reset.
But, do they have Sustainability?
A Sea Change at the End Of Day?
Do they have the Bandwidth needed?
Are they merely Viral or here to stay?
They want to be New Normal,
To Empower and Enable,
Seemingly, Out Of The Box
Bringing value To The Table.
Going Forward, a Paradigm Shift.
A new a kind of Synergy.
It’s a Win-win, this Shibboleth,
But what’s my Exit Strategy?
Let us Throw Them Against The Wall.
Do the Optics Stick or Stay?
We can then Break Through The Clutter.
The Metrics tell if we will pay.
Remember when a #HashTag
Was on a can with some corned beef?
Now I see it everywhere 24/7.
I shake my head in disbelief.
I remember when “to Hack”
Meant to do some shoddy work.
Last week, it changed to Innovate
Or gain advantage, a kind of Perk.
That, in itself, was once meant for coffee
Or what happens to dogs’ ears.
I am finding that my Wellness understanding
Is an Algorithm in arrears.
These days, I’m to be “Proactive”
Do you think I should “proactivate?”
‘Cause being both “pro” and “active”
Is, like, a move from good to great?

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On November 9, 2017 @ 3:30 pm

The word: Home

Tabloid Interview or… For a Good Time, Call Harvey or… So, You Want to Be a Star

It seems your bad behavior
Has come home to roost.
You are getting retribution
For acts of past abuse.
Here come the repercussions,
The pounding of the drums,
The balance sheet will tally
Indebtedness and sums.
You’ve used your mighty power
For the making and the breaking
Of promising careers–
Ripe fruit for the taking.
Too bad you did not listen
To your mother’s lessons.
Instead your mal intent was
Couched in salacious sessions.
“Be a gentle man. Be considerate.”
That’s what Mom once said.
Instead your wealth and power
Led to engorgement of your head.
You became a boorish man
Of swollen appetites
And certainly enjoyed
Their humiliated plights.
What did you say to them?
This may be deduction.
What well-oiled line of bull
Did you use in your seduction?

“Let this be our secret.
I want you to collude
In your own abasement,
If I may be so rude.
It’s not really about the sex,
Though I admit that it is great,
It’s subjection to my will
That is bound up in your fate.
I’ve had so many victims
Fallen to my web.
I try to keep things quiet
I’ll pay for what’s not said.
And, as for your career,
I know you want it bad—
It’s pay-to-play, quid pro quo.
No need to get so mad.”

And now it’s…

“What is this that’s happening?
The cat’s out of the bag
And the cats have claws.
How the tongues will wag.
Call my PR man
For a non-apology–
If anyone was hurt…
It’s not my fault, you see.
I’m sure that it’s an illness.
I could not help myself.
I was seduced by my own power
And entitlements of wealth.
I’ll spend a month in rehab.
Then I’ll have the cure.
My life will be good, again.
Of that, I’m pretty sure.
I’ll make another movie,
And you can be the star,
About how the mighty fall
When they’ve gone a bit too far.”

X-rated Afterwards Addendum

“You’ve heard me say I’m sorry
If anyone was hurt.
I did not mean to harm
It was really just a flirt.
It was only locker talk and
A harmless pat upon your butt
Did you think I was implying
That you are a sl..?
Maybe, it’s a good thing
To be knocked down a tiny notch.
Won’t you come sit next to me?
Put your hands upon my cr….?
Why don’t we begin
With a massage à moi?
Then I’ll invite a friend
For a ménage à trois.
I have really loved being rich
And also being famous.
Now, don’t act like a b…
Put your lips upon my an…”

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On November 8, 2017 @ 2:23 pm

The word: Humanness

Human Nature, Divine or Depraved?

Our Humanness belies the doom in us.
Our humanity the profanity.
Be humane or be not sane.
Urbanity yields to the inanity.
Human beings are funny,
Accommodating comedy.
They exhume the humorous
And sorrow in their dramedy.
Is man inherently depraved
Or inherently divine?
As condemned, should he be saved
Or will we be just fine?
We have each of us a world view.
It’s a kind of lens.
For some of us, myopic.
For farsighted, it portends.
It’s a basic question
That colors what we see–
The divine/depraved divide
Eschews hues of reality…
On which side are you?
Are you a half-empty or half-full?
Are your glasses rosy?
Are you full of awe or awful?
Is that water in your glass?
Or maybe some clear spirit
Stinging nose and palate
Whenever you get near it?
Do we have free discretion
Or must we foot the bill?
The piper plays his threnody.
It’s the high notes that are shrill.

Verbose and morose.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On October 27, 2017 @ 11:47 am


Humanness/Doom in us.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On October 25, 2017 @ 8:49 am

The word: Love

Another Round?

For a time, I foreswore Love.
It’s certain I was bitter.
I could not risk exposure.
You could say I was a quitter.
It’s not that I was forever closed
But I became recluse
Soaking my sores and scars
In intoxicant abuse.
I was closed in many ways.
I worked and then went home.
It seemed so much safer
Not to search for love or roam.
In time I was convinced
That as a serial loser.
I was not deserving
And love is a confuser.
There’s security in loneliness
When there’s little risk of loss
But, when one sacrifices gains,
That must be the cost.
I still said that it could happen.
There might be a circumstance
Where I’d leave my wallflower chair
And join, again, in dance.
It seems that that has happened,
And though I bitch and moan,
There’s a girl who says she loves me.
This lovely gal is Joan.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On October 24, 2017 @ 9:03 am

“Write about a cicatrix”- ESM’s 52 Workshops for Writers, No.21- March 2015 and
PFS- Almost- April 2015

I’m Okay. Really!

You can almost see my cicatrice.
My psychic scar is mostly healed.
Deeply wounded from divorce,
Bravado, false, is now my shield.
Once our love was strong
Or so it was, I thought.
As I went along to get along-
Now it’s all for naught.
Some wrong turns upon our path
Led me to a place.
Standing with an unknown woman
Who said, “I need more space.
You are not the one I love,
Not even one I like…”
And with that she left me,
“Go on, take a hike.”
Friends and family tried triage,
Staunched my wound and bleeding,
But they knew that they could not
Give me what I’m needing.
Sometimes I want revenge,
Then to be left in sorrow.
They say that time wounds all heels-
Small hoping for tomorrow.
I’m OK now, looking good!
But please don’t bump my scar-
I could ignite in a rage,
A leap that’s never far.
So walk on pins and needles-
I know that it’s too bad.
I’d rather be one who’s angry
Than be the one that’s sad.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On October 19, 2017 @ 10:13 am

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