Poems

A Shallow Song

A song doesn't have to be

Heavy and meaty

And come from the depth of the soul.

It can emerge like a

Gentle bird flying,

A flower, a roll of the sea.

Everyone's serious. People are grim.

They cling with a smile to their group,

Many of whom they would happily choke,

I was told by a member who left.

9-9-13

Four Days

Four days. I can remember

The happiness, the hate.

Yet it takes an effort.

How quickly shuts the gate.

Will he come back uninjured?

There's nothing but to wait.

9-9-13

 

Evil

My mind is insane,

Evil and vile.

I don't understand it.

And the smile.

The thoughts I think

I do not think.

I do not want

The things I want.

They told me I'm

A wicked rat.

They crawled from slime

To tell me that.

I mean the patients

And their shrinks.

No one else.

Except the Sphinx.

9-9-13

Phone Call

He telephoned. I recognized his voice.

I said, “George?” He answered, “Who is George?”

Instead of saying, “Somebody I love,”

I made a joke. I thought he meant to play.

And he hung up and never called again,

And didn't answer when I phoned him back.

Since then his cell's been dead. And what an ass!

To think – in my absurdity believe

That totally insane, he meant to play.

And I haven't heard his voice since then.

9-9-13

 

Unrequited Love

To blame someone because he doesn't

Love you is insane,

Even if the bastard is your father.

It's not a thing a person can control,

But just to live in fiction and pretend.

The lover unrequited may

Condemn your soul to hell,

Manipulate, demand, until

The very lies feel guilty,

And the obligation is intense.

And you will die.

And he will lead the way.

Just the very strong survive a lover.

9-9-13

 

A Meadow

I see a summer meadow, sweet with gold

Swaying in a free thalassic breeze

That's salty with the scent of ocean spray.

I see two birds sink slowly in the sky,

And rise again, descend, as of they were

The shadows of two branches in the wind.

To sit upon a stone and see the sky -

A whisper overhead, the sky appears

As happy as a baby's nascent smile,

Without a mist, where random bits of clouds

Like cotton ragged-torn from larger hunks

Without direction wander in the blue.

 

Pococurante, the sea

Pococurante, the sea

Once was the mother of me.

There in the fog and the mist

By the waves and the swells I was kissed.

Nurtured and warm

By a storm on the sand

I was giving my form

By a hand

From the soul of the sea.

 

After he had summoned up

After he had summoned up

A dream out of the sea

And made the universe, - this deity,

What did he then?

He caused himself

Not ever to have been.

 

The Story

The simple matter is

I failed him as a friend,

As did all the rest of them

That took and never gave.

Incapable of love,

I'm not incapable of love.

I gave. I gave too much.

I'm happy giving presents.

Almost from the outset

He scared my love away.

Then find yourself a better friend.

He tried. And they were bastards!

And now he's gone.

His ersatz friends

Are worried and afraid.

At 4 a.m. three days ago,

He left without a sign.

On the verge of tears,

I haven't cried since I heard Hoffman.

I love him.

But I do not want him back.

Unless we lived together,

We'd never speak at all.

Is everything a paradox?
The truth is never simple.

Baffled 67 years

By everything I saw.

He was (another paradox)
A very simple man.

9-8-13

 

People die or disappear

People die or disappear

And no one cares and life goes on.

And if he's dead, everyone

He ever knew that I know

Pulled the trigger.

I didn't give him half the love

He craved. I went to Denny's.

I sat there drinking tea

And making jokes and writing poems.

I wanted to.

And he sat home alone.

He wanted my support.

He was ferocious when I gave it.

He scared me off, goddamnit!

I'm not an evil man,

Although I am unfriendly,

Indifferent at times.

He wanted more than I could give,

Or knew how to give it.

9-8-13

Injustice

You see injustice. And let it pass,

Like ignoring a little gas.

Martinets, bullies and thieves,

What a rich Republican thinks,

A cat on the highway and no one grieves.

Nothing's important! A round of drinks!

Ants who trample each other down

And continue running. A funny clown

Who's mad and dangerous. And a goat

The world eschews. He doesn't vote.

9-9-13

Autonomy

Who knows whether these shrinks are right

Or know anything or not?

Madmen wander the streets at night,

Crying, laughing, gesturing, grimacing.

No one gives a jot.

But let one try to kill himself!

That's the magic number.

He'll be whisked to a mental ward,

And there, at last, he'll slumber.

All the cops and Jacqui Shiff

Know too much to give

A hand to a man who has no feet.

It's his life to live.

To give a hand is “rescuing” -

Which you must avoid,

Say Jacqui Shiff and the local fuzz.

To Berne it's paranoid.

The public always knew this truth,

Though it weeps collectively.

And the earth is flat, the sun goes round it,

Witches float, and Republicans

Are men of god. And the sea

Once again for aye

Will flood the world – all of it needy -

And wash the thing away!

9-9-13