“You don’t enter an open door but you enter an open face.” This Somalian proverb was shared with me by Mo, who does building maintenance in Boise and whose grandfather was a poet. I met Mo while standing at the base of a staircase downtown, writing down an idea; he walked by and smiled.
Poetry for Strangers will take a two-month summer vacation while my family and I do some traveling. Wishing you a summer abundantly full of the good things!
The Stranger: Mo
The Word: Freedom
The poem I wrote:
My son said, so
you are forty.
Now you can’t
go up into space.
*
This is enough,
I tell him. More
flowers than fit
in the vases,
balloons on all
the doorknobs;
a purple blanket
and love enough
to wrap me until
I turn a hundred.
*
And a sword placed
in my hand to slice
the neck of a bottle
of champagne.
I did it, trembling,
and drank without
cutting my mouth.
Now my son wants
to joust, his wooden
sword delicate
as a flower.
*
I’ve been waiting for this,
this, my whole life.
This freedom from outer
space. This blastoff
into inner space, into life
as it will be. The moon
will circle full seven
hundred and eighty times
more for me, with
luck—I swear on the sword
to glow back at it.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
June 28, 2019 at 6:22 am
Live Girls
The bright sign
along North Avenue.
shouts
“Live Girls”.
One of those live ones
was choking on it every night.
She thought a long time about Congo Square,
about buying her own freedom
about how words matter
about her hand
taking hold of that sign.
She broke off the bright red E
and walked away
with her freedom.
Day after day
neighborhood girls
walk under that sign.
They laugh and shout “Liv, Girls”,
and make up stories about doing it,
day after day.
July 2, 2019 at 9:37 pm
I Pledge
Standing to attention.
Hand placed over heart.
Under God, indivisible.
The game’s about to start.
We are pledging our allegiance
To our country and our flag.
For some folks, this is rote.
For others questions nag.
Some few want to call attention
To the way they feel
That there is something wrong here.
With respect, they kneel.
I might be offended
If they were mugging, talking
Or expressing signs of boredom.
These are no acts of mocking.
I can see their honor.
I add my voice to their defense.
Respectful opposition is
Done with no pretense.
Is this not what America
Is supposed to be about?
Freedom of expression
Is what makes us proud.
Next time I pledge fidelity,
I might stand or take a knee.
Solidarity with the brave
In a land that’s free.
I feel really grateful.
It’s a wakeup call.
So now, can’t we get on with this?
It’s time that we play ball.
recycled from PFS- “Grateful”
June 2018
July 4, 2019 at 6:01 am
On the Riverwalk
Locked eyes
Tired reluctant brown and early morning blue
She dared him to continue with his chosen task
His freedom reduced to this –
Finding relief between the evergreen and brick
Locked eyes
Tired reluctant brown and early morning blue
She accepts his need but requests patience
He acknowledges the request with a slight nod
And turns his tired brown eyes to the oleander shrub
July 7, 2019 at 1:27 pm
Elisabeth Sharp McKetta
Took her family on hiatus.
She has me reassured
It doesn’t mean, “I hate us.”
Freedom, Too
So today, I picked up my morning copy
Of the Quotidian Outrage
To see what might madden me or sadden me
Leaping from the page.
The headline boldly screamed
“World at an End!”
I thought that I should read on
To see what might portend.
The first line of the article
Began “All Hope is Lost”
With my attention piqued,
I further sought the cause.
My eyes sought salient words–
Handbaskets gone to Hell
It seems the place had finally frozen
As close as we can tell.
Our oppressed pal, Sisyphus,
Had broken from his curse
At last, he’d topped his rock
And avoided the reverse.
From his lofty perch,
Upon the mountain’s summit,
He announced that, from Mt. Doom,
He’d soon be running from it.
Then I read that Gollum
Was seen emerging from a crack,
Cackling with joy,
He’d gotten Precious back.
None of this sounds good, I thought,
Might be time for some despair
Or maybe I should step up
And grow myself a pair.
All around the world
More omens of more troubles
And nasty situations,
The bursting of our bubbles.
Numerous volcanoes
Are blowing up their stacks.
There are lava flows and quakes
The world’s off its track.
It is said that in Vegas
And all across the land,
Dual Aces and two Eights,
Appear the Dead Man’s Hand.
“Expect impacting asteroids,”
Said the pretty weathergirl,
“Tornadoes, and wildly scattered hurricanes
To consistently unfurl.
There will be tsunamis
Beginning soon tsuday.”
She was attempting levity
By stabbing at word play.
It seems that the apocalypse
Is not a pack of lies;
Everything begins
And everything must die.
“That does it,” I thought,
“I guess, at home, I’ll stay.
Why waste my time at work?
I’m calling in a sick day.”
If freedom is another word
For nothing left to lose
Soon, we will all be free.
I’m bidding you adieus.
July 11, 2019 at 2:12 pm
I still have a writers’ group expecting a weekly performance so the word is Freedom until it’s not.
Wanhope
I suppose that there is freedom.
Freedom in despair.
Freedom from wanting.
Abandon hope and care.
Freedom from desires.
No reason to be moping.
No reason to be worrying.
It’s all beyond our coping.
Wanhope is one way
Who cares what is, whatever?
Embrace your ennui
And the ending of endeavor.
Don’t be making lists.
You’ve a listless look in eye.
There exists no “do.”
There are no attempts to “try.”
So, isn’t there some freedom
For those who have ceased daring?
I know this is anathema
To those who still are caring.
You go on your own way
And I will go on mine.
Enjoy dissatisfactions.
There’s no reason I should whine.
I find that indifference
Is at the center of my solace.
We don’t need your pity
Or feeble essays to console us.
You can take it as your mantle;
It is your own sorrow
As I indulge my apathy.
Who cares about tomorrow?
Lowered expectations.
That is my super power.
I’ll not strain to be smiling.
Neutrality is dour.
July 22, 2019 at 8:30 pm
Truth = Freedom, No. 4
It is often said that
Truth will set you free
But what may be a Truth for you
Might ring as false to me.
Can you see what I am getting at,
That at your Freedom’s core,
Truth may depend on vantage point
And what has gone before?
They say we view our lives
Through our own existence’s lens
Filtered by experience and
By what happened when.
Remembering the parable
Of the blind men’s experience
Of a full-grown pachyderm
They found in subsequence.
One man felt its trunk
And pronounced that as his take
The elephant that he found
Is like an enormous snake.
Another at its tail
Said he had found enough.
He pronounced it very rope-like
As he pulled upon its tuft.
Grabbing ahold of one ear,
Declared the third blind man,
“I think you guys are wrong.
It is like a fan.”
The fourth man, at its head,
Said “I am standing here,”
As he touched its tusk,
“It feels like a spear.”
“No, no, no,” one said
“I must tell y’all,”
As he ran his hands along its flank,
“It is just like a wall.”
The last guy knelt at a leg
And put his arms around its girth,
“An elephant is like a tree-trunk,
That’s for what it’s worth.”
Most conclusions of this moral tale
Have a message they are sending;
As the group comes to blows and fisticuffs
Over viewpoints they’re defending.
Everyone was right
And everyone was wrong.
We should not be recalcitrant
Or we’ll not get all the song.
If Truth is like an elephant,
How best should we eat?
One bite at a time and in full
Until we are replete.
July 26, 2019 at 11:12 am
Freedom From…(no.5)
There are as many aspects of Freedom
As there are entanglements, constraints,
Shackles of outright bondage,
Links found in ironic chains.
Freedom is not free.
Just think of what you owe
To your lover, children, boss…
Almost everyone you know.
Government, neighbors, parents,
God and church, society at large,
To Nature, even the future and the past.
No escaping. Always, there’s a charge.
Have you been taking liberties?
Do you dare assume
You’ve the freedom of Free Will?
That you control your Doom?
You are enmeshed in your entrapment,
Obligated and obliged,
More a passenger than a driver
Getting/going along for the ride.
We like to think being free is affirmative.
There is good in that temptation
But let us take a deeper look,
AttemptIng further contemplation.
Freedom is not a thing.
What defines it is a lack.
One hopes to benefit from an absence,
Some burden lifted from one’s back.
To be freed is an experience
Found in some release
Or, perhaps, in some cessation,
Respite in some surcease.
One man asked another,
“Why do you hammer your head on top?”
Replied his hapless friend,
“It feels so good when I can stop.”
There are many aspects of Freedom
Some as simple as relief
From painful situations.
This is my belief.
July 27, 2019 at 5:59 pm
Uncaged
She sniffs the gap
Between uncaged and freedom,
Early morning shadows
Long with possibility,
Stiff haunches tense at memories of sprinting
My silent prayer: Go!
August 4, 2019 at 10:51 am
Freedom: It’s Messy! (no. 6)
Amber waves of grain, purple mountain majesties…
Standing for the pledge or kneeling as you please.
We celebrate our Freedoms in this country that we love.
We are one nation under Gods that we place above.
One country with its flaws, and sometimes we do forget,
We take our liberties with our past and the sins we did beget.
Bombs bursting in the air, gunfire on the ground,
Politicians scheming, Ponzi, stirring passions all around.
We, certainly, have our problems. More than we can enumerate
But let us not forget, our Freedoms make us great.
Fortunes rise and fall. We have freedom to aspire,
Pursuing our own happiness. Find what will inspire.
One can change employment. Move from state or town.
Seek skills or higher learning. Opportunity abounds.
Read or watch what you will. Engage in deeper thought.
Share ponderings with some of like minds, or others who have not.
Here we can mount protests to conditions we oppose,
Voice our indignations, go at it nose to nose.
Worship as you will Beings in the sky,
Religions, traditions, money. Give it all a try.
Criticize your leaders. Ridicule, despise.
Call him a f***in’ idiot, then vote for other guys.
Freedom is Imperfection. It has its ebbs and tides.
It swirls, at times, in foment. Contentiousness betides.
So, exercise your Freedoms. You’ve the Freedom to Insist
But remember that the other guy has equal Freedom to Resist.
You have the Freedom to Love. He has the Freedom to express Hate.
When it’s done in a lawful manner, it’s that which makes us great.
Sometimes you’ll step on my toes. At times, I’ll step on yours.
In advance I say, “excuse me!” It’s my effort to abjure.
We’re in it all together, this grand experiment,
This glorious endeavor in Humanity’s ascent.
August 7, 2019 at 11:08 am
Infernal Inferno (Freedom no.7)
August in Central Texas.
It’s a time of turning brown,
Daily highs around a hundred,
Dust lies upon the ground.
There is very little moisture
Except here where I sit.
I can feel the drip, drip, dripping,
The dampness from my pit.
Dew to my perspicacity
I stew in perspiration.
I marinate in sudor,
Hidrosis exudation.
It isn’t the humidity.
Damn it! It’s the heat!
I just burned my thighs
Sitting my car seat.
Grass, even on the other side,
Alas, it is not greener
Unless my neighbor wastes our precious water
Not improving my demeanor.
I try to find an upside
At least the skeeters are on vacay
But chiggers climb my legs
For a bloodfest staycay.
At least, the turf is going dormant,
A silver lining in the sward.
I have no need to mow
Or go out in the yard.
I may use my freedom for a movie,
Sit in the cool, dark womb,
Sip on an icy beverage,
Forget our hellish doom.
They’re having a retrospective.
I may have to go.
Steve McQueen and Paul Newman star
In “The Towering Inferno”.
August 16, 2019 at 6:30 pm
Too much freedom. Not for me. This is no.8
Freedom Found in Ignorance, An old proverb:
“Where ignorance is bliss,
‘tis folly to be wise”
You might think on this:
Are you feeling ostrich-ized?
Are you like the famous fowl?
Want your head thrust in the sand?
Evading ugly truths
That are getting out of hand?
Are you feeling overcome
By too much information?
Feel your daily dose of fear
Invites your degradation?
I may have a partial remedy,
At least, providing some relief.
All that it requires
Is suspension of belief.
The notion you must know
All that is going on
Just may be a sign
You are doing something wrong.
Throw away your paper.
Turn off Fox and CNN,
The talking heads all squabbling
‘bout what this and that portends.
Maybe you could be happier.
You should try rebooting.
You might escape the helplessness
That comes with every shooting.
Avoidance of the bickering
Or some politician’s gaff
Might help you savor sanity
By diverting from what’s daft.
Oh, my god, the drama!
Do you need to participate?
Are you becoming inured to injury,
Overwhelmed and insensate?
Stop and smell the roses
Go walking in the woods
Have some playtime with a child
Find some pleasure in the good.
Engage in flights of fancy.
Enjoy the freedom of the birds.
Have a hearty laugh
At something found absurd.
You’ll be surprised at what you find
If and when you take a stand
And what you see with ostrich eyes
Buried in the sand.
August 21, 2019 at 7:15 pm
Burned Bridges (Freedom #9)
Have you been burning bridges? Have a scorched earth policy?
Severed your ties with others in an effort to be free?
When I travel in my Mustang on my way into our city.
I see the usual suspects begging for our pity.
You know of whom I speak, there with their cardboard signs,
Anointing us with blessings and some sacrificial whines.
Sometimes, I give them money. Many times, I don’t.
I don’t like feeling like a tightwad but I find reasons that I won’t.
On my shoulders, the two argue. The Angel says, “You could assist.”
“Don’t encourage,” says the Devil, “Look away. Resist.”
“He’s a veteran,” says the Angel, “He fought for you and me.”
“He’s a conman” argues the Adversary, “He wants to get what’s free.”
I guess I should feel good that I’ve not run out of luck
And that, when I’ve been unfortunate, I’ve summoned up some pluck.
I’ve never had to go hungry for more than a day or two
Or had to sleep outdoors when I did not choose.
I have always had some friends or could depend on family
To give me a helping hand up when I’ve fallen to my knees.
Why have you burned your bridges, accepted your defeat,
Or are my deliberations founded in conceit?
Have I just been lucky to have what I have got?
Do you have what you deserve, the condition of have-not?
I wonder was it worth it, your decisions to be free,
Quit your job, your family, lovers and are, now, living on the street.
Is there no one left to help you? You’re begging for largess.
Have you abandoned your humility? It no longer means distress?
Did you lose by choice or was it due to circumstance?
What has brought you to the point where you no longer dance the dance?
I realize, in reverie, I have lived by obligations,
Sacrificed my time and toiled to meet other’s expectations.
Do I own all my possessions or are they owning me?
As the light goes from red to green, what is reality?
Underneath the overpass. Have you got your own free way?
Is this some kind of metaphor for which the rest of us must pay?
September 2, 2019 at 2:28 pm
Feral Freedoms (Freedom #10)
Wild Abandon… Express your exultation!
Uninhibited, unrestrained. Freedom’s great expression.
It is rare that you will find it except, perhaps, in dreams
Or in flights of fantasy where naught is all, it seems.
There are ways you can approach but, beware event horizons gate.
The bridge that is too far is where the danger lies in wait.
It seems loss of sense of self opens some new realms.
But with self-conscious dispossession, who knows who’s at the helm?
Some are drawn to chemicals. They might be found as a solution,
Though in reaching for euphoria, you might only find pollution.
Are there safer ways to get there? Freeing fetters that are fraught
While being blessed and benign, that honor tenets we are taught?
With the glimmer of a glamour, wishing well we had some magic,
A way to be transported around/beyond the mal and tragic.
We have our proven ways, although abandon’s not complete
It’s more or less controlled: the way of the aesthete.
You may find that overwhelming overjoy might be overtly overdue,
But at least you will have tried and trod the path of safe and true.
Ceremony, faithful fervor, music, art, and dance.
Rooting all for “our” team may find you in the trance.
In loss of self-absorption, finding ins and outré outs,
A tribal pogo with your spear, casting off one’s doubts.
It’s why we sing in church in imperfect harmony,
Though we are in choiring not in chorus is a sad reality.
Some attempt with rock ‘n’ roll, a concerted kind of whirl
Pit in a moshing hellhole, fleeting freedoms found unfurl.
Maybe you’d prefer a classic overture or some other heard mentality,
Aspiring transcendent moments and suspended temporality.
Assimilate in the communal. Throw your horns into the air,
Do some collective clogging, wild moments you can share.
Be at best within the beast. Find and lose within the fevers.
Do you dare to derestrict? Be be-losers and believers?
What about in solitude? On a mountaintop, the ocean?
Becoming one apart with nature and nurturing devotion.
Or, perhaps, in your inner cosmos… Meditating to transcend
Your corporeal preset boundaries, the ones that you defend.
When you adjust your attitude, the Devil may or may not care.
Find God or other deities. Reflect on what is and what’s not there.
How will you complete abandon? Indulge your wildness?
Be your best with the bewildered? How will you pass your test?
In the bosom of the mob, might you find your strength?
Engage in violent riotous rapture in haste, repent at length.
Just one more completes my list: The crossing of the chasm.
Engage in carnal congress and the little death- orgasm.
September 9, 2019 at 2:08 pm
Call from Jail
Phone line snags,
pulls me into your undertow
No visits, you say–
Then there’s nothing they can take away–
Freedom from hope, your version of peace
Maybe mama is right about boys like you
September 10, 2019 at 10:27 am
Knowing When to Stop (Freedom 11)
Appreciating Freedom;
It stands the test of time,
Never, ever, getting old or stale,
Providing reasons for our rhyme.
One can’t have too much Freedom
It’s a word that bears repeating
Some think that it’s a dead horse but,
I say, it could use another beating.
Bang the drum of Freedom
Sing it in refrain
Not in the meaning of withdrawing
But intoning once again. And again.
Ad infinitum and ad nauseum.
Add another Freedom poem.
I might go on forever
In the writing of a tome.
Take paeans in written word
And owing what we’re ode,
I find I’ve been taking liberties.
Freedom’s cup has overflowed.
Have we quenched our thirst?
Do we find that we are sated?
Had enough, already?
Is persistence overrated?
I think that it is time,
Lest I become absurd,
I find that I’m at wit’s end.
I’ll await another word.
September 18, 2019 at 10:08 am
Assassignation: Finding Freedom (#12)
I’ve never killed anyone who
Did not deserve to die
And there are a few I’ve let live,
Sometimes, not even knowing why.
I have an instinct for these things:
Deciding who has misbehaved,
Who tends toward the divine
Or is mostly found depraved.
If you are having problems
And you want someone retired.
Come to me with good reasons.
Judgement will be required.
Do you require Freedom
From repression or restraint
Or they sang their “Done You Wrong” song,
That is your complaint?
When you want someone went-and-gone
Know that I am skilled
I am the go-to-guy
If you want somebody killed.
But I have my code of honor,
There is work I might refuse.
I’ve a moral kind of compass
For detecting overdues.
If I’m the hand of retribution,
You will be the finger.
My methods are discreet but
For you the blame may linger.
Let this be a warning.
I’ll not accept betrayal.
Retribution will be swift
You will fall without fail.
Now that this is done,
You have heard all my disclaiming,
Let us get on with it.
Proceed, now, to the maiming.
Let us begin the planning
Be deep in contemplation
In pursuit of desired outcome,
A successful assassignation.
September 24, 2019 at 10:08 am
Absolution? Absolutely! (Freedom 13)
Forgive and Forget.
Easier said than done.
Why give up on tit for tat
When retaliation and reprisal are so fun?
That old law about ‘an eye for an eye’ leaves everybody blind. The time is always right to do the right thing. -Martin Luther King, Jr.
If your karma runs over my dogma,
Leaving me in pain and crushed as roadkill,
Reckoning might seem required as a remedy.
Vengeance, best served cold, get my fill.
But vengement, as a meal, tastes like ashes.
Am I not the one, who in anger, is consumed?
Am I not perpetuating a noxious, vicious cycle
Where all are destined to be doomed?
“What power has love but forgiveness?” -William Carlos Williams, poet
What Power has Love but Forgiveness?
What Freedom in that Power can be found?
These questions, often asked by the sages,
Posit less of what goes must come around.
Breaking chains of retribution can be freeing
But may require a muster of great strength
Would you seek satisfaction in the short-term
Or find solutions, long lasting, at great length?
Some of us find that we are lacking.
We’ve not the will required for what we speak.
For us there is always passive-aggression.
Call it the power of the meek.
Guard within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness. -George Sand
September 30, 2019 at 2:47 pm
Freedom 14 (Freedom 13, revised)
Absolution? Absolutely! Or Not…
Forgiving and forgetting or taking teeth and eyes,
What to do with pain? You should see the other guy.
Your karma crushed my dogma. I am damaged, mocked, contused,
Roadkill on life’s low shoulder, at once debased, abused.
Vengeance is best served cold, that is what they say,
But tempers tend to hot as anger comes to play.
Do I do as the Lord sayeth, leave punishments to Him
Or shall I be wreaking wrack and ruin with the vigor of my vim?
Vengement, as a thought, is often sought as sweet,
Though, time and again, it turns bitter; spat ashes at one’s feet.
But am I not the one, who in anger, is consumed
As amity lays in waste and redemption is reproved?
What Power has Love but Forgiveness? What Freedom can be found?
Sages posit answers: Less of what goes must come around.
Breaking shackles of reprisal may great strength require.
Do you seek shallow satisfaction or hostilities retired?
Letting go, accepting pain, and moving on are most onerous of tasks.
Must we present a second cheek for slaps on face or ass?
Many find that they are lacking. They have not the will
For forgiving and forgetting or seeing blood is spilled.
For them, aggression in passivity, the hidden power of the meek
May provide the satisfaction and apparent innocence they seek.
October 3, 2019 at 10:52 am
Ain’t So Bad (Freedom #15)
There is Freedom to be found in simply getting old,
Employing your gained wisdom, now, not doing what one’s told.
It’s time to be unique. You can say outrageous things,
Express some observations even if they sting.
Go ahead, be eccentric, in an orbit you define,
Albeit, one that is decaying but, that can’t be declined.
For some time, you’ll be aloft as you travel ‘round,
A circuit for each year until you run aground.
Enjoy it while you can. Too soon the crash and burn
Everyone alive has an ending to their turn.
Meanwhile, you should savor what are called your golden years.
Perhaps, make some peace and settle some arrears.
No one is getting out. It’s not for all our trying.
All beginnings end. All living ends with dying.
You’ll get some respect, maybe, help across the street.
When you ride the bus, you may get somebody’s seat.
Just for getting old, many people will be kind.
Try not to get too crabby as your clock unwinds.
There is much that you have learned but, don’t be overbearing.
Employ your smile, nod, and wink. Just show that you are caring.
This may be your last chance as you are declining.
Not first, but last, impressions may be the most defining.
You can give advice, the benefit of years
But best wait until you’re asked by those that you hold dear.
Now, we understand why it was often said
That youth is wasted on the young. We got it through our head.
The arrow of time, it only points one way.
Best to keep on moving, appreciate your stay.
You’ll have your aches and pains. You’ll find your joints may creak.
You may not be hearing as other people speak.
You may lose your vision but there is less and less to see,
Looking to the future gives way to memory.
If you haven’t been a jerk in complete totality,
Others might take care of your remaining needs.
What about hereafter? You can worry if you please.
Doesn’t do much good but, if you can bend your knees,
You can ask All for forgiveness or act without a care.
Probably, won’t make it matter but do as you will dare.
Here’s hoping final Freedom, as you shed the bonds of Earth,
Has folks appreciating that your life had worth.
October 13, 2019 at 11:33 am
Pen Ultimate (Freedom at Last? No. 16)
You know I love my Freedoms though I am weakly bound
To provide a weekly reading, reasoned, sensible, and sound.
Or, sometimes, I engage in whimsy, fraught with fantasy.
I like to tell some stories, fanciful with glee.
For four months of formulations on aspects I find “Free.”
Revealing Freedom’s facets, I’ve been in reverie.
Sixteen musing weeks and their resultant poems,
Amusing and annoying, and how we’ve come to know them:
Freedom of Expression is where my effort started
Then Nothing to Left to Lose and Not Caring what’s departed.
Freedom is First in Truth but Truth can always Change.
It depends on where you’re Standing, the Familiar and Strange.
Sometimes it is Defined by something that’s a “Was,”
A Condition that one’s Spurned, a Removal of a Cause.
We’ve enumerated Freedoms. We’ve many in our land
That require constant Vigilance, the Making of a Stand.
There is Freedom in Escaping in Flights of Fantasy.
Also, in Not Caring, for what is Reality.
Wild Abandonment. Jettison the Past.
Look forward to a Future and a “New” that lasts.
There is nothing wrong with Knowing when enough’s Enough
And when to Make an End, Move On to other stuff.
Sometimes, there may be violence in a Refusal to be Bound
Revolution, Evolution. Determined, Stand your Ground.
Forgiving and Forgetting may be absolutely divine
In putting down your baggage who knows what you May Find?
Can I come to a Conclusion after four cyclings of the Moon?
Freedom comes in Contemplation of the Ultimate of Boons.
October 17, 2019 at 12:07 pm
Silver Alert (Freedom 17)
Perhaps, it won’t be so bad, when I become demented.
Will life become like dreaming? Disoriented but contented?
They used to call it something, that sounded more benign…
Oh yeah! The second childhood. Guileless freedom waxes fine.
I should try not to get too agitated. Dusk comes after day and dawn.
I’m released from daily charges, like keeping kids from off my lawn.
The other day, I had an inkling. I was driving in my car.
Going nowhere fast. You know it’s not too far.
Above, over the shoulder, the sign said alert was silver.
And don’t you know that license. Why did it seem, to me, familiar?
My gosh, it’s quite a day, when you pull off on the shoulder
And the men in uniform, tell you that it’s over.
Next, they took me home. Folks, there, said that they were worried.
If only I had known that, I said, I would have hurried.
Days may come, days, now, go. And so, I drift along…
I am rocking in my chair, as Sabbath sings my song…
I am looking obliquely through, A Hole up in the Sky.
It’s a gateway to heaven. I’m accepting with a sigh.
Somehow, a Spiral Architect, conjures madness with sorcery
I look inside myself and realize. It is as it’s meant to be.
For a moment, I close my eyes, and I am young again.
Memories swirl through consciousness, nows confuse with then.
I guess I’m being honored. Someone said I’ve got a plaque.
I’ve not had chance to see it. I guess they took it back.
No matter. I don’t care. I seem to want for naught.
Excuse me while I waft awhile and appreciate what’s got.
November 11, 2019 at 9:36 am
Buck It List
I’ve created a bucket list
It goes beyond the pale
Things must be done, do or die,
Self-imposed, I should not fail.
That’s not exactly true, is it?
Some tasks hang on lower limbs.
There must be a sorting
From fat chance to less than slim.
There will remain some scuttle, but
On some I’ll have to bail
Cause they’re on a sinking boat
Or, perhaps, that ship has sailed.
At least, I’ll not be listless.
Some goals will remain as dreams.
My vacay on Venus-
It’s unlikely, so it seems.
I’ll never become King of the World,
Have you at beck and call.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
I’ll not be deposed and fall.
I suppose I must be satisfied
When choosing undertakings.
I’ve freedom of generous wiggle room
For losings and forsakings.
Tomorrow, it is my plan
To party with the fairies
For that, I’ve planned and got on hand
A half-gal of Ben & Jerry’s.