An in-person reaction….
colors add nothing
to dim lighting
dark wood panels
evoking creepy scenes
of disciplinary
sessions. Spa-like
ambiance collides
with strict Catholic
teachings. "how
many days will you
be staying with us?"
Bars (plural)? Sure,
tolerated then, now.
Amoral 'cosmic
travelers'? More
problematic. Why
wonder about your
nightly bill when
surrounded by such
groovy wonderfulness?
42/100
Stuck on this raft
of my own making.
Floating life's river,
ostensibly like you
but it's not great
over here. It's not
'copacetic' or 'hopeful'.
I'm hitting shoals while
you sail freely. This stretch
doesn't measure up.
41/100
This one’s a definite work in progress and likely an opening act for something much larger, perhaps joined to another couple I’ve written lately.
"Smoke 'em if you've got
them," and baby, do we.
Fires ravage more than
brush, trees, meadows.
Fires ravage lives, plans,
communities. Where smoke
lies, fires burn: why don't
I see smoke in my mirror
each morning? Where's
smoke as I gaze on my
love? Doesn't smoke
envelop me when when
I read or hear headlines?
How can I see out of my
car, encountering those
who lack driving skills?
How can we see our dawn
when fires surround us?
Our world's on fire,
yet we bemoan smoke.
40/100
Everything poetries
around me. Words pool
at my ankles, crowd
my shoulders, cry,
"Use me! Use me!"
Barely can I focus
on those here before
another set taps me
on my shoulder to
get my attention.
I'm a stenographer
in this crowded room
of strange voices.
39/100
Jenny, Jenny, I've got your number
It opens up this bathroom door
Lost my house, my job, my prospects
Now I can't take a pee no more.
Became a crime just by living
"I'm sorry, bud, don't be sore.
I don't make rules, just enforce them
Only patrons get our code that's for
Our riff-raff blocking bathroom door."
38/100
Yesterday we arrived a meeting with our financial planner, located in my old hometown. I needed to go to the bathroom. I was given a code, “five, four, three, star” to open the men’s room located in the lobby. We were on the 13th floor and this firm owned the whole floor. We passed two security guards to get in the elevator. I’m wondering, “why would you secure a bathroom in that circumstance?” Driving around we noticed many homeless people camping in public spaces. Today I noted the same to our hosts as we toured all the changes. Their response? “Yeah, the police can’t keep up with keeping them out of the parks. ” We wound up at a large brewpub in a building with two other tenants. There was a code to get into the restrooms, located in the hallway. Gotta keep the riff raff out, I guess.
I’m not doing much about it by supporting these businesses, but there isn’t much I can do for this community. When I get back home though …
REALITY BITES:
New candy? Snack?
Those little video shorts
which interrupt my sci-fi show?
Philosophical stance?
Exclamatory response to events?
New television show?
Those little pieces of my
memory which seem to be intact?
Everything said
Resonates with poetry.
Meanings double upon
meanings, symbolism
wearing various guises.
Language delivering
beyond expectations.
English's beauty.
37/100
Making friends should
be easy, but it's not.
Casting them aside?
Much easier: just
leave; stop calling;
move away. Soon your
life will be pristinely
friendless. No one to
mess up your agenda of
uninterrupted nothingness.
36/100
I wrote it while flying cross-country at which point food and drink became more important. The clock kept ticking. By the time dinner had finished, it was nearly time for bed, and I just plain forgot the poem. (But will he post one tonight?…)
Sing, Muse!
Come, Muse! Grace
these cells laden,
encumbered, bracken-
masked, alone
Swing Inspiration's
sword, cut these bonds
which cruelly imprison.
Sing! May these cells
quiver for joys just
now birthed, for new
connections made,
for purpose kindled,
for feelings restored.
35/100
Severely compromised
immune systems
require bubbles for
environmental
safety. What will
protect us from our
world's toxicity?
What bubbles have we built
which protect? Which ones
trap us in noxiousness?
34/100
Missing my old choir buddy who died last December. He always, always, stayed deeply involved in life. In his 80’s, having just beat his battle with cancer, he trained for our local crisis hotline and began counseling the suicidal and the abuse victim. Anyway, thought of him today in mass, and this poem began.
Why his clarity, his ocular spark,
so near does death's shadow creep?
Others, with near-dead eyes, long
encumbered by that dark shadow,
seem to have surrendered. What?
Something. That spark, that signal,
that engagement. Oddly, we note
both say similar words: "I'm
ready to die. Take me, any time,"
but our engaged example
has said it all his life.
33/100
all the voices in my head 