Sunday, October 31, 2010

At Last, Revenge!

So long ago, in 1978, I was 23 and remember still
The way the Missouri Tigers, those ruin-ers
Of our best happiness, from beating the Sooners,
Sent us into a bleak dark funk
And Cups of pain and bile were drunk
As we were forced into an evil replay
Against Oklahoma land-thieves
Against our will,
On a new year's day...
Well, those Black & Gold eaters of roadkill,
Hung-over from their big win
Over the dirt-burglars in Columbia,
Came to Lincoln prideful, in sin,
And got their butts kicked instead
By the good guys in red,
Who got the final laugh today

Mandarin Cocktail Lounge

Walk into the bar, and there they wait
For me, and I have this
Queasy feeling, caused by a realization
Perhaps a beat too late
When I see the beer
On the table, surrounded by "old boys"
Who make money from information
But I put aside the fear
And think "Great"...
"I'll just play this by ear"
Which I do, and leave 45 minutes later
With a lager buzz and
Emotional dehydration.

Fall Takes A Sudden Fall

From somewhere north
The winter wind, cold and mean,
Like a frigid leaf-blower,
Sweeps the park lanes clean...
And the benches
Where lovers sat together,
Are emptied by
The ice-cruel weather

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Nonchalance (Another Word For...)

I've looked it up,
But keep forgetting what it meant,
That wondrous word:

One of those that's best
Left for the SAT test.

Friday, October 22, 2010


I try to make plans --- I really do,
Eat breakfast, get ready,
Embark on actions, follow-through,
Pursue what I yearn,
Achieve results, slow and steady,
And put in the bank,
What small money I earn…

But there’s times when I hit
A wall, and stop,
Hard to describe, it
Is like strength and energy
Weaken and drop,
Into lethargy
So numbing, that
While perfectly able,
I can’t even clean-up my table…

Maybe it’s depression
From knowing,
That my best-laid plans can fail,
A nagging suspicion,
The seeds I planted aren’t growing….

But wait!
What’s with those sunflowers?
Golden, glorious,
Growing along the fence,
Tall and straight…
Volunteers, not planted intentionally,
Random gifts from life’s powers,
Which uplift, steadily,
That hopeful, fragile part of me,
Gently and happily,
Away from the dull-dark hours.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

From "The Economist", 20 March 2010

"Modern poetry seems all too often to be associated with coy, small-minded ironists; teasing, finicky word players who often write in disappointingly short lines and seem to lack the ambition, the emotional force, the rhetorical reach, and even the range of subject matter of great poets of the past. Where to go these days to find the real thing?"

Yes, indeed...

Sunday, October 17, 2010

The Advantage Of Being Covert

Bedbugs are making a comeback.
From their box-spring bases,
They rise and attack,
Biting the sleepers in various places...
Bedbugs bloodthirsty, on-track
To becoming famous,
After being considered dead,
And subjugated,
They will become targets, instead,
To being chemically eliminated.

But cockroaches have always been here,
Hiding under someplace near,
Waiting for the lights to go out,
Then conduct their forage roundabout,
Hurrying, scurrying, they don't fight,
They don't bite,
And are sure to outlast,
The giants above, as days turn to night.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Commuter Noodles

At a rush-hour train-stop,
Bending over a bowl of udon
In the stand-up noddle shop,
With 20-odd men in suits,
Slurping in unison.
- - - - - - - - - -


The cold front passes through
Sun,wind, rain -- suddenly changing,
Like her moods.

Solving World Hunger

Politicians and diplomats
Exchanging words over tea,
Trying to divert the flow
Of hate into lethal reality...
Fear of those we do not know,
Like a self-fulfilling prophecy,
Festers and spreads, a noxious cloud,
Smothering tolerance -- An atmosphere
Where compromise is not allowed.

Politicians and diplomats
Wringing their hands in worry,
As the world they think they lead,
Heads to chaos in a hurry.

Pavement Encounter

After the rains
Hoping for cleaner veins,
I sudden-stop -- hard heart-beat!
There's a snake at my feet!
Instinctively I freeze,
Then I start running, thinking,
As the snake slithers in retreat,
It's not always so harmless,
When reptiles and mammals meet.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Handheld Forest Fossil

Freshly sharpened
I can smell the tree
In the pencil I hold...

I wonder
What hillside or glade
Welcomed its roots,
Until it was cut,
Felled before it got old,
Cancelling its shade...

It offered
No screams or fighting,
Thereafter sawed, planed, and made
Into a Mitsubishi 9800 * B *,
Tool for General Writing.

Tuesday After A Three-Day Weekend

Some mornings I get up roaring,
Feet already running as they hit the floor;
Other ones, I keep on snoring,
Until the monster walks through the door.
It always strikes me as strange,
How energy levels wag and change,
In the wake-up moments after daylight breaks,
Before I have my breakfast flakes.

Monday, October 11, 2010

In Memorium: Happy Mondays

In your youth,
Did you Rave?
Feeding the crave...
Marching fearless
To the pounding late-80's beat,
Fun-frantic, peerless,
Chemicals, body-heat,
In the smoky haze
Of darkness and flashing lights,
Music-bending nights & days,
Stinky fingers, drunken fights,
Getting-off 1,000 ways...
Did you Rave while young?
Or will it be the
Only song you've sung?
Age is no excuse
Not to cut-loose,
DIVE into the
Techno-funky tunes!
Why not?
All that's ahead are ruins.

Seasonal Sales Decoration

The giant Jack-O-Lantern, suspended
Above their heads --- Inflated
To a super-spherical size,
Supernatural and splendid...
Looming Orange, evil-black eyes,
Which see the ghosts and curses rise...
Its laughing mouth serrated
Into a jagged smile,
Looking over shoppers flowing
Below, full of cash, not knowing
Why the pumpkin spirit floats, while
Mobbing towards a harvest sale,
Jack-O-Lantern beckons, to no avail.

Ode To Bill Gates

How much of my life
Will pass,
Looking at the
Microsoft hourglass...

Monday, October 4, 2010

The 3 Cool Heads

Look up! Look up! What do we see?
Millions of stars in the nighttime sky
And a notion of cosmic reality
Peering through the space-junk orbiting by
Inspecting our lives and wondering why
Humanity is messing-up history
Crapping in Eden, or so it seems
To the 3 Cool heads, who, in their dreams
Pursue metaphysical mystery.

Look up! Look up! Can't you hear the voice?
Proclaiming, from the gods of our choice,
To follow their edicts and copy their ways
Give homage and requisite outlays,
In preparation for the end of days...
The 3 Cool Heads behold and appraise
The natural state of chaos and chance
The dissonant, dispassionate galactic dance
Which rules, un-believed, both men and ants
Who strive to build order on happenstance.

Look up! Look up!
And what do you see?
Nothing, my friend,
But you and me.

Memory Dregs

The bar empties into midnight,
An empty, quiet street...
A drunk screams at the silence

Washing the bed sheet,
A faded wine stain spurs
A memory of forgotten love.

A gut-deep bonzo-belch,
Spreads like a chemical bomb
Last night's jalapeno special.

Paper Has Not Died

They tell me to download,
Be connected and wired...
But I'll stick to old books,
No batteries required.

Seen On A bathroom Wall

Like toast that got burnt,
Our "would" was changed to "weren't",
A tough lesson I have learnt.

Earthly Habits

Dozens, maybe hundreds, of options,
Are always there for the choosing,
But I always cut-down their number,
To a manageable minimum, using
Those left, in a way less confusing:
Freedom channeled into habit,
Chaos reduced to a comfort zone,
Providing the feeling of keeping, not losing,
Shielding the fact I am all alone.